He laughs, a proper joy filled belly laugh, andfucking hell, I don’t know what swells bigger. My heart or my dick.
Chapter 16
Darius
Oliver’s hands are on me before the lift doors have even closed behind us. He’s pawing at my clothes, his teeth nipping at my neck as he pushes me through the entrance hall and into the lounge. My back hits the floor to ceiling window as he undoes the button on my jeans. His movements are rushed and frantic, his hands touching me everywhere they can reach, but never stopping long enough to actually feel me.
“Ollie,” I mumble, putting my hands on his chest and gently nudging him back. “Ollie, stop.”
He pauses and pulls back to put a foot of space between us. His eyes are dark, his lips wet, and there’s a stray curl over his forehead. I drag him back to me with both hands on his shirt, push the curl aside, then trail a finger down his cheek and over his lips.
“Slow down. We’re not in a rush.”
Air leaves his lungs in awhoosh, and he drops his chin to his chest, breaking eye contact.
“I don’t know how to be what you need, D.” He lifts his head. “I don’t know how to do this. How to go slow and make it meaningful. I know how to fuck, to take control and get it over with.”
My hands fall to his chest and I slide them up, rest one on the side of his throat and the other I place on his cheek.
“Is that what you want with me? A quick fuck? Because, that’s not what I want.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t either. But, damnit!” Oliver rubs the back of his neck, but I don’t move my hands from where I’m holding him. “I’m messing this up already.”
“You’re not. And you’re also wrong about not knowing what to do.” He raises an eyebrow and I answer the question he hasn’t asked. “When you called me that day, before Halloween, that wasn’t some rushed means to an end.”
“That was different.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. “No it wasn’t. Trust me, okay?”
He hesitates before answering. “Okay.”
Oliver’s hands are bunched at his sides, as if he’s too afraid to touch me. I take them in mine and move them to my hips, where he closes them, digging his fingers into my flesh.
“Tell me what you want to do to me?” I repeat the question I asked him that day on the video call. His Adam’s apple bobs and I return my hands to his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt. Oliver steps forward, his leg slipping between mine. Gently, he guides me back until I’m pressed against the window.
“I really want to kiss you.”
Lifting my face, I bring my lips to his, holding them a breath apart.
“Then kiss me, Oliver.”
He closes the distance, slanting his mouth over mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I part them, welcoming him in and groaning when he takes my tongue between his lips andsucks. His hand moves to my chin and he tips my head to kiss me deeper and harder, with a fire and passion that sets my skin ablaze.
I’m breathless when Oliver breaks the kiss, pulling back to stare into my eyes. Neither of us says a word, we simply stare at each other, a tendril of need spreading between us. It’s me who makes the first move this time, slamming my lips to his while grinding my erection against the thigh he has slanted between my legs.
Oliver finds my hands, links our fingers together and then lifts them above my head, pinning them to the glass. Slowing the movements of our mouths, he licks a stripe across my lips before peppering them with chaste kisses that then mark a trail along my cheek and to the skin below my ear. He kisses lower, and I tip my head to give him better access.
“Keep your hands up,” he commands as he slowly unbuttons my shirt. My arms ache in this position, but I don’t move them. I let the window hold my weight as Oliver opens my shirt entirely. I’m wearing a sky blue lace bralette beneath and he groans when he sees it, his fingers tracing the edges of the lace and then over my nipple.
“So perfect,” he mumbles under his breath before his lips are on me again. Oliver’s movements are slow and measured as he tastes my skin with gentle sucks and nips that have me begging for more. It’s only when he sinks his teeth into my collarbone, do I scream his name, my hands dropping to snake into his soft curls.
My entire body buzzes, pleasure simmering deep in my core.
“Kiss me again,” I plead, opening my mouth to seek him out. When our mouths collide, I drop my hands to the hem of his tee and inch beneath it, feeling his stomach contract under my palms. His skin is warm, and as I slide my hands higher, I’m metwith a thin scattering of hair. Dragging my nails down his taut body, he moans into my mouth, shifting his hips.
I whine, thrusting my hips forward, chasing a release that is just out of reach. Oliver stops kissing me, his lips passing over my cheek and stopping at my ear.
“You need something, baby?” His hand is already working on opening my jeans and when he pulls the zipper down, I hold my breath, waiting for him to dip inside. But it doesn’t happen and I blow the air out of my lungs at the small space he puts between us.
