by Marni Mann
“Hi,” was all I could get out.
His scent was filling my nose, and I was taking in the feeling of his lips while my mind was burning with memories from our last kiss.
And it was those same thoughts that continued to haunt me as he moved to the chair across from mine and sat down. His arms leaned over the wood, bringing us closer.
Before either of us could say anything, a waitress appeared.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
Oliver ordered a local beer, and I agreed to a refill, mine being close to finished. Then, we were alone again.
Almost instantly, a smile spread over his face. “You know what I was thinking about the other night?” His hand went to his whiskers, brushing them with his fingertips. “The time we were at my family’s cottage and you found that ancient cookbook that was my gran’s.”
I grinned as it all came rolling back. “Oh God, and I picked the recipe I thought was the hardest and bet that you couldn’t make it.”
His hands had expertly moved around that kitchen in a way I found so sexy.
As he laughed, a little bit of redness spread over the tops of his cheeks. “It was fucking dreadful. Worst meal I’ve ever made.”
“It wasn’t your best, I’ll say that.” The heat began to cover my face, and I couldn’t move away from it, especially as his chin pointed down, and he was almost gazing at me through his lashes.
“It was a good semester, wasn’t it?”
“The best,” I whispered.
The waitress came to our table, and I downed the rest of my drink, replacing it with the new one she gave me.
And when she was gone, Oliver held his small beer glass in front of my flute and said, “To the city of hope.”
I took a sip, watching him do the same. “That’s what Amsterdam is to you?”
He set his drink down and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Good things have happened to me since I moved here. I have a job I fucking love. I’ve met some really great friends.” He dragged his bottom teeth over his top lip. “You’ve come into my life again.”
There were words I had to say, promises I’d made to myself when I boarded the plane in Boston.
But now that I was here, the thought of speaking them hurt my heart so badly that I didn’t want to open my mouth.
What I wanted was to spend more time with this man. To hold on to his smile for as long as I possibly could. To feel the sensation of Oliver under my fingertips.
“And you know what? I might even have you for a little bit longer if you end up renewing your contract,” he continued.
I circled my hand around the champagne, pulling it to the edge of the table. “No one has said anything to us about that.”
But during the flight over, my entire team had been speculating about whether it would happen and what they would do if it became an option.
“With the way you’re performing, I promise, the in-house lawyer is already drafting a contract.”
The booze was helping, but I could still feel the tightness in my throat. “I don’t know what my life would look like if I stayed for another six months.” My mind was a storm with questions.
“You’d just fall deeper in love with Amsterdam.”
I felt the grin growing over my face, and I chuckled. “You think that’s what would happen?”
His thumb slid down the side of the beer, reminding me of the way he used to rub my face. “You haven’t fallen for it yet, sweet girl?”
That accent.
That gritty, growly voice.
I turned, glancing around the bar as though I would find the answer there, and when my eyes locked with his again, he said, “Outside those doors is the sexiest city in the entire world.”
“You must be talking about the red light district?”
As he paused, I felt a flicker in the base of my stomach. “The red light district is what lights up Amsterdam, but sex is what keeps it on fire.” His gaze dropped to my lips. “Have you seen any of the sex shows?”
“No.” I crossed my legs under the table, the tingling working its way between them as I thought of what might happen during those shows. “I’ve walked through the area, but it was early in the morning during my workout, and there wasn’t much to see at that time.”
He watched me while he swallowed the rest of his beer, his thumb wiping his lips when he was done. “It’s something you have to see.”
“Then, I’ll make sure it happens.”
He moved his beer to the side, so he had enough room to lean on the table when he said, “Go and get your coat.”
My eyes widened. “You’re kidding. Now? But—”
“Chloe,” he said before my thoughts ran wild, “let me show you a part of Amsterdam you’re never going to forget.”
My heart was pounding as I thought about the show and attending it with him and us spending more time together—things I’d never intended when I came to this bar.
“Stop thinking,” he said, nodding toward the elevator. “Get your coat so we can leave.”
Inside my head was the last place I wanted to be, so I pushed myself off the chair and said, “Be right back.”
And there was a whole new energy pulsing through me as I went to my room and slipped on my jacket, adding more lip gloss before going back to meet him. When I reached the table, I saw the receipt was already there with some cash lying across it.
“Tab is closed,” he said. “You ready?”
I didn’t realize how close we were standing until he reached forward and moved a piece of hair off my face.
His touch sent more tingles through me, and I shivered. “Yes.”
What I learned as we entered the notorious red light district was that walking there with Oliver and seeing it at this hour was an entirely different experience.
What was brown and gray during the day was lit with red at night, and the color stretched as far as I could see. It reflected off the water of the canals, shimmered over the black pavement, danced across our faces as we passed the red-lit windows. When the curtains were open, the most beautiful women dressed in lingerie were standing in front of the glass, their bodies speaking a language I understood.
And with every step I took, I smelled lust. It wasn’t Oliver’s cologne; this was from being surrounded by sex. But it wasn’t just the act that I saw; it was also the hints, the whispers.
The secrets that were being left on these streets of Amsterdam.
And some of them were my own.
With Oliver’s arm stretched across my back, holding me tightly against his body, his lips pressed to the shell of my ear, and he said, “We’re here.”
The entrance was large, a neon-pink elephant sign over the doorway.
I stood next to Oliver as he paid at the window, and then he handed our tickets to a bouncer. I had no idea what to expect when he brought us inside, but I was surprised to see it was designed like a movie theater with the stage in the front, curtain closed, and just enough light that I could see where I was going.
With almost every seat taken, the bouncer placed us on a bench in the front, and there was a low murmur from the crowd as the curtain slowly began to open.
Oliver’s arm was around my shoulders, my body molded against him as I anticipated what I was going to see.
Slowly, the scene came into view.
Less than ten feet away was a woman completely naked on her knees, giving a man standing in front of her a blow job. Their eyes weren’t on the audience. They were on each other—hands tangled, moans filling the air—and I didn’t even think they knew we were here.
But I was close enough to see the details of their bodies, the wetness her mouth left on his cock, her fingers as she rubbed her pussy. Each time she brushed across her clit, she bobbed her mouth deeper to meet him.
She was enjoying this.
So was I.
And something inside me erupted, and my entire body was breaking out in a sweat.
&nb
sp; “Now, you feel it,” Oliver breathed over the side of my face as though he had sensed it too.
Spit began to gather on the corners of her mouth as she took in more of him, and he rewarded her with a second finger.
I felt myself wiggle over the hard wooden bench. “Oliver …” I didn’t know why, but I had the strongest urge to sigh his name from my lips.
Before I took my next breath, his hand was grabbing mine, and together, he slid them between my crossed legs. And when he felt the heat that was waiting for him, he growled.
Seconds later, the man on the stage pulled his dick out of her mouth with a pop, and he laid her down on a mattress, got on his knees, and positioned his face between her legs. While he held her gaze, a look passing between them that the entire audience could see, his tongue flattened, and he licked the whole length of her pussy.
My hands circled around Oliver’s wrist, and I moaned, “Oh my God.”
When he put a finger inside her, she let out a scream that vibrated past each row. I could see the wetness on his finger as he was pulling it in and out, the tip of his tongue flicking against her clit.
I could feel both … as though it were Oliver doing it to me.
Unexpectedly, the curtain closed, and the room turned dark again, soft voices misting through the theater like fog.
I felt Oliver’s eyes on me, and I gradually glanced at him, my chest heaving, sweat beginning to seep through my pores.
“Do you want more?”
I didn’t know what he was asking, but my answer was, “Yes.”
His fingers stretched in a little deeper, the tips of them moving toward my center and back as the curtain started to open again. For this act, a woman sat on a blanket with her legs spread, holding a vibrator against her clit. Her head was back, eyes closed. Every breath of hers filled the silence, so I could sense what was spreading through her body, what was building.
My clit felt like it was vibrating, the intensity of her screams moving through me.
I was already so warm, but I needed more and leaned my face into Oliver’s neck. I just wanted closeness. To feel him. To remember what it was like to have him as mine.
And it was wrong.
I felt that in the most powerful way.
But it also felt right, and that was what pushed me to graze my nose up to his ear, inhaling his scent.
The higher I got, the deeper his fingers dug until he said, “I bet you’re so fucking wet right now.”
Oh God.
I was trembling. A need running through me. Emotions darting in all directions that I couldn’t begin to process.
“Do you want more, Chloe?”
The woman on the stage was having an orgasm; I could hear her hips rocking out every wave.
“Yes,” I breathed against him.
His hand went to my face, thumb stroking my chin. “You’re sure? Because once we do this, there’s no more ignoring me.”
“I know.” I filled my lungs. “I don’t want to ignore you anymore.”
His hand was on mine, and we were out of our seats and leaving the theater. As we hurried to my hotel, I didn’t pay attention to the characteristics of the red light district, like I had on the way in. Because as Oliver weaved us through the packed sidewalk, I only noticed him.
And when we reached my hotel, I handed him my key, and he led us to the elevator and down the hall. Once my door was open, his hands were on my waist, tearing off my jacket. My shirt came off next, and he moved me to the wall by the couch. As soon as I was against it, his mouth was on my neck, sucking bits of skin as he lowered to my breasts.
“Chloe …” he groaned, ripping the lace of my bra to take a nipple into his mouth, biting, flicking the end with his tongue.
“Fuck!” I screamed, my hands rolling over his head, fingers gripping his hair.
Each time his mouth moved to the other breast, he pinched the nipple he’d left behind, making me cry out from the pain and moan from the pleasure at the same time.
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about doing this?” He took a nipple between his teeth, biting the end. “How I’ve thought of nothing but how badly I want to taste you and feel you and hold you and make you come.”
He had the button of my jeans open, the fly down, his mouth leaving my breasts so he could tug my pants off my body. As I stood in front of the wall in just a pair of panties, a smile came across his lips.
“My sweet fucking girl is being so naughty tonight.”
There was a hunger, a pulse.
Need.
And they owned me.
Oliver stayed on his knees, hands gripping the outside of my thighs as he looked up at me.
Two small steps separated us.
That was all.
And his mouth would then be on me.
As he gazed into my eyes, the ice blue staring back, his lips parted, fingers dragging down the corners of my panties. And when the material hit my bare feet, he looked between my legs and groaned, “That fucking pussy.”
But he didn’t close the gap between us.
He was waiting for me to do that, to surrender my body to him, because he needed to know I wanted it as much as him. I took a step and paused, needing that moment of hesitation, and I looked at the wetness on his lips and the hint of his tongue. I then took another, setting myself over his mouth.
His nose pressed into the top of me, and I felt him inhale. “You smell so fucking good …” He took another long, deep breath. “Jesus, I fucking missed this.”
Just as I grabbed his hair, he swiped my clit with his tongue, and I screamed, “Oh my God!”
He was licking up and down, and I was contracting beneath him, especially when his two fingers slid inside me and my back slapped against the wall.
“Yes,” I moaned, squeezing his hair, my hips beginning to move with him.
His tongue was flicking me harder, faster, and then I felt something foreign.
Something I’d never had before.
It was his finger circling my other side, a place that hadn’t been explored before, and while his tongue danced against the most sensitive part of me, he spread the wetness from his mouth. Once I was soaked everywhere, he was rubbing that back entrance, awakening it until just the tip of his finger was inside.
“Oliver.” I quivered, the fullness taking ahold of me, shooting through my stomach.
In there was a build. I felt it instantly. Between his tongue and fingers, I was to the point where an orgasm was just licks away. And as it neared, I began to buck against his mouth. “Ahhh.”
“Come on my face, Chloe.”
His fingers began to move harder, deeper, and when I felt the roughness of his whiskers, I glanced down, seeing his icy-colored eyes.
And in this moment, I knew I was looking at the man I never stopped loving.
With that thought came a ripple of shudders that shot through my stomach. My hips pumped as he licked, the orgasm moving its way through my body. And when I stilled, he lifted me off the wall and carried me to the bed.
“Fuck, Chloe, I don’t have a condom,” he said as he set me on the mattress.
I didn’t either.
“Are you safe?” I asked, feeling like it had been only seconds before when I asked him this the last time.
“Yes, I’m clean. You know I would never do anything to harm you.”
I reached for his belt buckle as I said, “I’m on birth control,” and I opened the leather strap and unzipped his jeans.
There was nothing romantic in the way Oliver kissed me, the way I was grabbing at his clothes and pulling them off. This was urgency, and I couldn’t stand that something was separating him from being inside me.
When I got him naked, I backed up on the bed, moving closer to the pillows to get a full view of his body. “God, you’re sexy,” I groaned. I remembered each edge and plane so well, but it seemed time had only made them more defined.
He climbed on the bed, and my legs surrounded him as I felt the
bareness of his cock at my entrance. It was sitting there, just taunting me, knowing how badly I wanted it.
“Oliver,” I moaned, trying to take more, but he wouldn’t give it to me. “Please,” I begged. In one second, he was buried inside me, and I was pulsing around him, shouting, “Yesss.”
“Fuck,” he breathed over my lips. “It feels like I never left.”
Oh God.
He tilted his hips back and thrust into me, working into a rhythm that only lasted a few seconds before he was lifting me off the bed, and I was back on the wall. Oliver was using the wall to hold my weight, pulling back to his tip and driving into his base.
“Yes,” I cried, my pussy convulsing from the friction.
More sweat was bubbling on our skin, and I could taste the saltiness of it as I licked his neck.
Each grind caused the plaster to burn my back, but the pain didn’t make me want to stop. It made me want to yell, “Harder,” as my body began to cry for a release.
But he didn’t allow for it to happen because he was moving me again, and we were on the bed once more, Oliver placing me on my knees. I crawled forward, and before I reached the headboard, he was behind me. In one stroke, he was fully inside me.
“Ahhh,” I grunted and then again when his hand touched my clit, rubbing it back and forth as I arched my back to meet him.
His speed was fast, intense.
Each drive bringing me that much closer.
“Not yet,” he warned, his other hand biting my hip. “I’ve waited six long years to be inside you. I’m not ready for this to be over.”
He was leading me so close to that edge, and every time I neared the peak, he slowed, and I would return to a simmer, my body having to build all over again. Just when I didn’t think I could take another second of the tease, he was putting his back to the headboard and steering me on top of him.
“I want to watch you fuck me,” he said, his gaze dipping down my body as his hands guided me over his crown. “Take all of my cock, Chloe.”
I lowered, feeling every inch fill me in a way that made me stop breathing.
“Now, ride me.”
With his finger on my clit and my arms wrapped around his neck, I rose over his shaft and dropped as I pressed my lips to his, and I took all of him in.