by Tessa Bailey
He made her breathless. This man who carried so much weight on his shoulders. She wanted to take it away from him, distract him from it for as long as possible. Remembering his tortured expression back in the kitchen, the sharp ache in her chest flared to life again. He’d been through so much—and while she still didn’t know the extent of it, she knew a man who lamented letting down his mother to such a degree was good at his core. And Olive could feel the truth of his goodness with every treasuring caress of her skin, every awed glance he sent in her direction. She was going to give herself to this man, wholeheartedly, because staying away was impossible. Painful, even.
Please, please don’t let me regret it.
Don’t let me find out again what it’s like to see him go.
Wanting to forget her remaining reservations about the future, Olive wet her lips, her voice emerging in a smoky croak. “Um, so. Are you planning on kissing me soon?”
He made a low sound in his throat, just as the back of her legs met the edge of the mattress. “Not yet, baby.”
“Oh.” The husky way he said baby caused moisture to gather between her thighs, making the thin material of her panties cling. “Why?”
Rory pressed their foreheads together. “You get so hot when we kiss. Trying to climb me and letting out those sexy, little whimper sounds.” He unwound his fingers from her hair, dropping them to her hips and squeezing. “I’m already hard as a fucking rock for you, Olive. Going slow is probably going to kill me, but my mind is set. I’m giving you the best I’ve got.”
The threads of yearning and determination in his tone made her nod jerkily. Made her understand. Rory needed to make tonight special, just as much as she needed it to be. Just this once, she needed to trust that someone else’s experience trumped her always-at-the-ready logic, the belief she knew what was best for herself. Just for tonight, she would trust Rory to know and give her exactly what she needed.
“On the bed,” he whispered in her ear. “Want to hold you for a while.”
Olive almost sobbed at being denied more kissing, but remembering her resolve to let Rory guide them, she sat down on the bed and scooted toward the headboard. Though the interior of the room was dark, the moonlight coming in through the single window allowed her to watch Rory render himself shirtless and prowl toward her like a sleek, tattooed animal on the mattress. When she swore he was going to climb on top of her—and prayed he would—he carefully removed her glasses and set them on his nightstand. Then he dropped down beside Olive, turned her body and spooned her from behind.
His heavy forearm draped over her hip, and after a slight hesitation, he drew her back and pressed her backside tighttighttight to his lap, releasing a long groan into her ear. “This ass of yours is ruining my life, baby, you know that? So high and sweet it hurts.” His tongue dragged down the slope of her neck, his teeth razing her shoulder. “Every part of you. Every part is so beautiful, I can’t think straight. Can’t decide what to appreciate first. Do I want to wrap your thighs around my head? Or just get those incredible eyes on me and fucking live there, because I should be grateful you’re looking at me in the first place? It’s a goddamn struggle, sunbeam. You don’t even know.”
The pressure Rory always created in her chest multiplied in strength now, pushing outward, robbing her of oxygen. Needing to get as close as humanly possible, she curled her foot around his calf, tucked her head back into the notch of his throat. “It’s the same for me. I want to do anything for you,” she rambled, her eyes closed. “I want to do anything with you. Maybe it was too soon? I-I don’t know, but it hurt so bad when you went away.”
“I’m sorry,” he grated into Olive’s hair, yanking her closer, ever closer, dislodging her foot when he slung a muscular thigh over both of hers. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”
She shook off the niggling fear of it happening again and changed the subject, refusing to dwell there when they were finally together like this. “Touch me, Rory. Please?”
What happened next was the most erotic moment of her life. Which was saying something considering this man had performed oral on her in a public shower. Rory’s fingertips slid slowly, slowly down her hip, moving beneath the high hem of her skirt. His breathing turned shallow at the back of her neck as he drew up the garment, inch by inch. Air kissed the flesh of Olive’s bare backside and she dug her fingers into the flannel bedcovers, feeling his hot perusal of what he’d displayed. A blunt digit tucked under the thin strip of her thong, running back and forth, the action causing his knuckle to drag through the split of her bottom—and oh boy. Still mostly clothed and she was already learning secrets about her body, because she’d had no clue a man’s touch there was supposed to feel good. No, amazing.
“Rory—”
“Give me a minute,” he gritted out, that knuckle continuing it’s back and forth journey, his breath hot on her neck. “I know you’ll go out with friends once in a while, Olive. I want you to. But can you save the short skirt and thong combo for nights out with Rory? Huh?”
His possessiveness should have been a turn-off. Right? Lord, it was not. Not even a little bit. It made her feel feminine and powerful and protected all at once. “I was hoping I’d see you.” Halfway through that revelation, Rory let the strap of her thong snap lightly between her buns and Olive saw stars, forcing her to break off in a gasp. “I didn’t expect to, but—”
Rory’s mouth suctioned hard to the side of her neck, his big hand gripping her right butt cheek in a rough massage. “Do we have a deal, baby?” His tongue licked over the spot on her neck where he’d definitely left a mark. “When it’s this easy for someone to get their hands on your beautiful ass, I want to be with you. Because that won’t be happening. Not unless it’s me.” He squeezed hard enough to make her sob. “Only these hands touch you here. Everywhere. My life flashed in front of my fucking eyes when I saw that guy’s arm around your shoulders, so I’m going to be a bastard about this one thing, Olive. Please. Make the deal.”
“No thong and short skirt combo when I go out,” she hiccupped, pressing back into his touch, craving more of it the more she was given. “Not unless you’re with me. I promise.”
“Good girl.” Before she could guess his intentions, Rory rolled Olive onto her back and slid down low on the bed, putting his mouth on level with her sex. His expression was focused and hungry as he stripped off her thong, exposing her for only a second before his tongue found her in a teasing lick that parted her wet folds. “Now I’ll show you my end of the deal,” he said thickly, kissing the lips between her thighs in the same manner he would her mouth. “Keep this all for me and I’ll make sure it’s always satisfied.”
Rory’s calloused fingers made a V to keep her open for his mouth, and with eyelids at half-mast, he dragged the flat of his tongue over her clit, back and forth, side to side. Side to side. Olive’s vision wavered, a cry of his name sticking in her throat. Lights winked on the ceiling of Rory’s bedroom briefly resembling the big dipper, her fingers tangling in his hair. Rory almost knocked her hold on the strands free when he slung her thighs over his broad shoulders, but Olive held fast, whimpering at the new angles the position made available.
“Goddamn, baby. So wet,” Rory growled, his shoulders flexing underneath her thighs, his hips shifting against the edge of the bed. “I spend every second of the day wanting to eat you up for a good reason. Your pussy is a drug. My fucking drug.”
A hard shudder went through Olive’s body. She’d always pictured her first time as a necessary evil. A gateway to eventual better things. But here she was, grinding herself onto Rory’s giving tongue, pulling his face closer, babbling incoherently up at the stars that continued to wink on the ceiling. Her thighs alternated between a melted butter sensation and bow-tight quickening, her throat straining with the need to scream. Better wasn’t possible. “Oh my God. S-stop. I’m going to…”
Rory’s thumb tucked just inside her entrance, rubbing at the flesh beyond. “You’re going to come? Good.�
� His eyes were glazed and hot, fastened to Olive’s face as he flickered his tongue against her clit, once, twice. “That’s what happens when I lick your pussy, baby. Just give in.”
A tether snapped inside of Olive and a hot river of relief tore through her, throwing her back up into an arch, her fingers tearing at Rory’s hair. His mouth was no longer teasing, no longer finessing. No, he was greedy. While her private flesh seized, released, seized, he lapped at her, making low sounds in his throat, as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. That visible enjoyment prolonged Olive’s orgasm until her sides started to throb with the strain.
When her vision cleared, Rory was above her, his harsh, handsome face shadowed, his hair a wreck from her desperate fingers. “We can stop now,” he said on a shaking exhale and Olive saw he’d unfastened his pants, one hand out of sight inside the loosened denim, forearm flexing, flexing, as he stroked himself. “I can stop,” he rasped, as if trying to convince himself.
“No,” she breathed, physically aching with the need to have their skin pressed together. So much so that she whipped her tank top off, her shaking fingers fumbling with the front snap of her strapless bra. “Come here. Please? Come…”
Rory laid his warm hand on top of hers, lowering his mouth and distracting her with a kiss as he undid her bra, pushing the silky cups aside and palming her right breast. She could feel the weight of his erection drop to her bare belly, full and hard.
“I want you on top of me,” she said in a thready rush.
She couldn’t decipher his exact expression. It had notes of wonder, disbelief and deep sexual frustration. But it was intense enough to stall the rapid filling and emptying of her lungs. Rory braced his forearms on either side of her and eased down, giving Olive his weight little by little, both of them moaning at the contact. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned into her neck. “You’re wrecking me, sunbeam.”
Olive hadn’t known the meaning of the word decadence until that moment. Or at the very least, she’d always associated it with chocolate. There was nothing more decadent on the planet than having Rory’s weight pressing her down into the soft mattress, though. His skin was hot and fragrant with his distinct male scent, cut with the sharpness of liquor and fruit, probably because he’d been handling both at the bar. She could feel every shift of muscle in his abdomen, chest, thighs. Needing more—more—Olive slid her thighs wider and hooked her knees around Rory’s legs, conforming the arches of her feet to his calf muscles.
While she was busy reveling in the various textures of Rory, his breath was turning more and more shallow in her neck, his hips beginning to grind down, pushing the hard length of his arousal into her pelvis. His mouth opened beneath her ear, pressing seeking kisses to the ultra-sensitive spot. “You’re so sexy,” he whispered, laving her with his tongue. “So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Can’t believe I’m with you like this.”
She dragged her palms down the ridges of his back, straight into the loose waistband of his jeans, past the barrier of his boxer briefs. When her hands elevated and slid over the smooth curves of his ass, the decadence reached an even higher peak, because Rory made it obvious he liked her hands there. Liked having her hands anywhere. “I want you inside me,” she murmured, letting her nails score his buttocks lightly, then with more insistence as he panted. “Rory, please.” Olive lifted her hips and tugged his lower body closer at the same time. “I can feel how bad you need me.”
A vibration ran the length of him. “S’never going to go away,” he half-slurred in her ear, before dragging his mouth down her neck, over her cleavage, where he licked a nipple into his mouth, his hips punching against her on the first suck. “Be sure, Olive. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she moaned as he switched breasts. “I want you. Now.”
Rory surged over her, stopping to kiss her mouth hard, before reaching for his bedside table. He took a foil packet out of the drawer and ripped it open with his teeth, his hand vanishing between them to cover his erection. Olive’s relentless curiosity made her anxious to watch the process, but there would be ample time for that later. Watching the pucker of Rory’s forehead and the sweat beading on his upper lip was far more enjoyable. He was suffering. Going through hell in his hunger to be inside her body—how amazing was that? It was even more amazing that she could end that pain, simply by giving her own body what it cried out for. Contact. Rory. Relief. Intimacy with this man.
He didn’t push inside her right away. No, he dropped his forehead to Olive’s and rolled it side to side, eyes closed, as if in denial. She was prepared to beg again, to fight against whatever obstacles he’d inflated between them in his mind. In the end, there was no need, though. Rory fastened his mouth to hers and trailed a hand down her stomach, taking hold of his thick sex, rubbing the big head through her wealth of moisture.
“Give me the words, sunbeam,” he said, his eyes arrested on her face. “Ask for what you want by name.”
She shuddered as his flesh glided over her clit, circling it. “You, I want you.”
“What do you want from me?” He pushed the tip of his erection inside of Olive, his jaw losing power as he groaned. “What do you want from this cock?”
God above, was she supposed to love it so much when he said that word? Olive licked her parched lips and arched her back, showing him her breasts and watching his eyes glaze. “I want to…” She reached for the basest truth she could find. “I want to watch you enjoy me. Enjoy…fucking m-me. I want you to give yourself an orgasm with my body.”
Rory made a hoarse sound and tucked another inch inside of her. Another. Olive’s knees shot up automatically as discomfort threatened, but Rory’s kiss blurred everything. Everything. All she could feel and think about was the slow, wet mating of their tongues, the savoring scrapes of sound in his throat as the kiss turned deeper, deep enough that she grew dizzy, giddiness tickling her ribs…and her thighs dropped open once more.
“You left out the part about you coming again, baby,” Rory murmured in between mind-numbing kisses. “We fuck, you come. It’s a given, you understand?”
Feeling hypnotized by a pair of intense, green eyes, she nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m going deeper now,” he groaned, rocking his hips forward and letting loose a string of curses over her head. “Olive. Olive. You’re too tight. You’re so tight.”
The sudden pressure wrenched a sob from Olive’s throat. Moisture pricked the backs of her eyelids. It was more the shock of being filled for the first time than actual pain. And the satisfaction of having Rory’s body locked together with her own was so powerful and right, she wanted to lean into the minor ache. Embrace it.
“Baby.” Rory studied her face, concern etched between his dark brows. “Ah, baby, are you okay?” He made a visible effort to swallow a growl, but it emerged anyway, his hips seeming to plow forward of their own volition. “Oh my God, Olive. Christ. You feel incredible.”
“You feel so good, too,” she said, awed, shifting her lower body around so she could memorize every new sensation. “So hard, Rory.”
He barked a humorless laugh, the muscles in his shoulders and chest bunching. “I can’t hold still when you say things like that.”
Olive’s hands traveled down his strong back to settle once again on the swells of his ass. “Don’t. Don’t hold still.”
Right before her eyes, the final traces of Rory’s control evaporated and he fell on top of her like a starving man. His mouth moved over hers like it held the secrets of the universe, their tongues twining, his flesh leaving her and pumping back in, slow and deep, slow and deep, the erotic rhythm writing itself on her soul instantaneously. The root of his erection ground against her hyper-sensitive clit with such incessant friction, Olive couldn’t stay still. Her thighs circled Rory’s hips, hugging them tight, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. She didn’t know where the desire for hard and fast came from, only that it was there. And undeniable. When she couldn’t find relief right away, she dropped her legs from aroun
d Rory’s body and spread them wide, wide, swallowing a strangled moan when his cock bore down, exploiting her nub of flesh while he watched her from above. There. There it was.
“My brothers won’t be home for hours, baby,” Rory gritted, his pace going from methodical to anxious. Hungry. Desperate. “Scream your little heart out.”
And she did. He angled his body to rub her more thoroughly and she let a scream rip, her fingernails burying themselves in his tight butt cheeks, holding him fast. Keeping him there.
He caught her jaw in his right hand, tilting it up and hovering his mouth right above hers—right above—watching her every reaction like a hawk. “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you feel?” His thumb tugged her lower lip down, then slipped all the way into her mouth. “God, a man like me should have to sell his soul to be your first, but you’re giving yourself to me. Saving me. You’re saving this black soul.” He pulled his thumb from her mouth, spreading the wetness over her lips while watching in fascination. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?”
Olive wanted to tell him he didn’t have to do a single thing to deserve her. He only needed to be his exact self. Just Rory. The man who carried unnecessary pain and tried to save her from himself, even though they were meant to be just like this. Together. And she hoped she conveyed that with her eyes before he dropped his face into the crook of her neck and began bucking into her in rough strokes, his broken grunts filling her ears, turning her on to the nth degree.
Finally being given that hard, fast, unfettered sex she’d been craving without even knowing how it felt, Olive’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, her thighs shooting together to ride on Rory’s driving hips. Now she knew. She knew being the object of lust was glorious when you shared that same lust for the man. The mounting pressure in Rory’s body was obvious in his frantic movements, the way he reached between them to tease her clit with the pads of his fingers. He wasn’t long for this world and his touch demanded she come along for the flight up, up and away.