by Jade Allen
I saved her the trouble of deciding, picking my way through the crowd and popping up at her side. “All paid up?” Olivia jumped, turning and looking at me with slightly wide eyes. I hesitated for a second. “Look, if you really just hate the idea of spending any more time with me tonight, you don’t have to feel like you have to humor me.” I held her gaze. “I’m a grown-ass man, and like you said there are plenty of other girls here who would take me home if I wanted to just go fuck someone.” Olivia’s cheeks lit up with that pink-red color and she glanced at the rest of my band mates. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and I saw her chest rise and fall with a deep breath as she came to a decision.
“Come on,” she said, reaching into her bag.
We walked out of the bar together, almost completely silent. I nodded to the doorman, giving him the little half-grin that would maintain my reputation. It was one thing to be okay with not getting laid; it was a completely different thing to let it get out that I was following some chick who didn’t want to have sex with me like a lost puppy. Why am I even doing this? We started up the street to where Olivia had parked. She’s totally right. There were at least a dozen girls in there who would have come running to the table if I so much as crooked my finger. The hell am I trailing after the one woman in the room I know has no intention of having sex with me for?
“You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden,” Olivia said, taking her keys out of her bag and unlocking the Focus. I shrugged.
“So have you,” I pointed out. I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, looking over the roof of the car at Olivia. “Having second thoughts about inviting me into your home?”
“Oh, I had those fifteen minutes ago,” she said, opening her own door and ducking in on the driver’s side. I followed her example, pushing the seat back until at least my knees weren’t right up against the glove compartment. “I’m on third or fourth thoughts about it now.”
“I’m serious,” I told her. “If you don’t want me over, tell me no. I’ll kiss you on the cheek, tell you to get home safely and text me to let me know you haven’t died, and I’ll find someone else to shoot the breeze with.” Olivia stared at me for a long moment in silence and I waited to hear her say that she would prefer it if that was exactly the way things went down.
“If you don’t close your door I can’t drive,” she said instead. I suppressed the grin that threatened to break out over my face and did as I was told, closing the door behind me.
CHAPTER FIVE
I was both surprised and not surprised when we walked into Olivia’s apartment. It was one of those old, old beachfront apartments—not quite good enough to be a condo. Whoever owned the building had at least torn out the old carpet; probably after one of the bad hurricane seasons. Jules and Dan lived in an apartment just like it almost. “Not a bad place,” I told her, looking around. Mounted up all around the living room she had posters—signed posters, no less—from at least a dozen concerts.
“It’s home,” Olivia said with a shrug. She threw her bag onto a bookshelf near the door and kicked her shoes off her feet. Her apartment smelled good—like soap and spices and coffee. It reminded me weirdly of my mom’s place, something about the soap smell. “If I’m going to stay up the rest of the night working, I am definitely going to need some coffee. Want some?”
“Sure,” I said, turning away to peruse the posters on the walls so Olivia wouldn’t see me grin. For once the traffic up US-1 hadn’t been backed up; we’d gotten from Lost Weekend to Olivia’s place in less than twenty minutes. I heard her moving around in the kitchen, her bare feet barely making a sound on the tile. “OK Go, Depeche Mode, The Killers, Nine Inch Nails…”
“It’s not only local shows I go to,” Olivia called from the kitchen; but there were local posters on the wall, displayed just as proudly as the big name acts: Upper Class Trash, The Band in Heaven, The Mission Veo, The Darling Sweets, Deaf Poets and more. I heard a beep and then the puffing, churning, gurgling sound of coffee brewing.
“Did you really want to just watch me work? That’s sure to be pretty boring,” Olivia said. I looked over my shoulder and then turned around. I shrugged.
“I really just wasn’t ready to let you out of my sight,” I admitted.
“Nick, I’m not going to just sleep with you,” Olivia told me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m not here expecting you to jump me,” I said, holding my hands up. “Coffee, conversation, and at the end of the night I’ll call Jules or someone. Or catch a Lyft.”
“As long as you’re not going to start some shit at the magazine for me not sleeping with you,” Olivia said doubtfully. I laughed.
“Because it’d be great for my reputation to go around telling people that I couldn’t talk my way into a girl’s pants?”
“Obviously, you wouldn’t bitch about me that obvious way,” Olivia said defensively. “But like…”
“But like, I could call up your editor and say you were unprofessional or some shit like that?” Olivia hesitated for a second and then nodded. “And then everyone would know that the only reason I’d do something like that is because you wouldn’t put out, and that’d be the same thing as calling up to say ‘that bitch wouldn’t get in bed with me, you should fire her.’” I shook my head. “I’m not that stupid. Even if I was that mean, and I’m not that mean.” Olivia bit her bottom lip and looked at me speculatively for a moment longer.
“Okay,” she said finally, exhaling in a short, sharp burst.
“I get that you have to be careful,” I said with a little grin. “You’re cute, and you’re trying to get ahead. Everyone’s going to be looking to talk shit.”
“You’re right about that,” Olivia said, turning and walking back into the kitchen. I followed her. You keep saying you don’t want to sleep with me. I think you’re protesting too much. “Do you want cream and sugar, or do you take your coffee black?” Olivia started as she turned quickly and saw me only a few feet away.
“Black is fine,” I told her. I saw the quick rush of blood into her face, the way her eyes widened. I felt my lips twitch but managed to keep myself from grinning at that little confirmation of what was on my mind.
Olivia turned away from me towards the fridge. She pulled out a carton of milk, and I hung back and watched her bustle around, grabbing mugs, pouring the coffee with a surprisingly steady hand. She was flustered, but she was holding onto her composure as if it was life itself. A thought crept up in my mind. “Why are you so nervous about me?” I leaned against the counter.
“Nervous?” Olivia turned and looked up at me through her dark eyelashes.
“Blushing, jumping…and you keep insisting that you’re never going to have sex with me.”
“I didn’t say never,” Olivia said quickly, and the color flooded into her face once more. She stirred her coffee so fast that some of it slopped over the edge.
“You weren’t nervous like this around Dan, or Jules, or Mark. Or Alex, for that matter, but he’s got a girlfriend so of course you weren’t nervous around him.” I inched a little bit closer to her. “So, I have to wonder why you’re so flustered about me.”
“Nick, I think you know good and damned well the effect you have on women,” she said, turning to face me fully. I could see the look of doubt in her eyes, the way she was fighting with it. “So, asking me why I’m flustered around you…”
“The effect I have on women? Or the effect I’m having on you?” I held her gaze. I could see the swell of her tits in the bottom of my vision, the softness of her lips, the way the blush in her cheeks had begun creeping downward onto her chest, just above the collar of her tee shirt.
“You know good and goddamned well that…” Olivia licked her lips. “You’re fucking gorgeous. If you hadn’t decided on playing guitar, you’d make a killing taking pictures for Armani, or Calvin Klein or somebody.” I saw her hands tremble. “I doubt if you’ve ever had a single woman tell you no.”
“No
t many,” I agreed with a little grin.
“So, who the hell am I—I mean…how could I expect to make any kind of impression on you?”
“You already have,” I said. I moved just a tiny bit closer, so that we were almost touching; not quite, but almost. “Why do you think I beggared my way into your apartment? If I was just out for an easy lay I could have stayed at the bar, I could’ve had my pick.”
“That’s just it!” Olivia pulled back, until she almost collided with the counter behind her. “You could have had your pick. Why are you—what are you coming after me for? I’m not—I’m not the kind of person…” Olivia licked her lips, and for maybe the tenth time that night I thought that if women knew what that little flash of their tongue did to a man’s brain, they’d be way more careful about it. “I don’t want to just be someone you fuck and forget. I don’t want to be that to anyone.”
“I haven’t even kissed you,” I told her, pitching my voice low. “I haven’t even kissed you and I can tell you I know I would never be able to forget you.” For a second Olivia just stared at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted just a fraction, looking like the most completely kissable woman on the entire planet. “You want to fuck me, we both know it. You don’t want me to forget you; I’m not going to.”
“How do you even expect me to believe that?” Olivia swayed on her feet, like her body was torn between coming closer to me and running away.
“Trust me,” I told her. “Just trust me. I could never forget you, Olivia. If I’m not still right there in your bed next to you tomorrow morning, sleeping like a fucking baby, then you can write that I’m the most disgusting asshole in all of Florida.”
“You act like I wouldn’t do that with or without your permission,” Olivia said, her voice breathless.
“So, if I’m gone in the morning, do that,” I murmured. “I won’t even argue. I’ll tell your editor that you’re completely and totally right.” I brought my hands up slowly, letting them barely—barely—come to rest at her waist. Olivia twitched, but didn’t try and break away.
“Can I get that in writing?” I chuckled.
“If you want me to put in writing that I’ll never leave your apartment without your permission, you’ll get it,” I told her. Before she could say anything else, I closed the distance between us. I brushed my lips against hers, just the tiniest little touch. I felt Olivia stir against me, just enough to encourage me.
I deepened the kiss, pressing my lips against hers harder, swiping my tongue against the soft, soft skin. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed her back to the counter, my hips rubbing against her hips. Olivia moaned softly, trembling just a little bit, and I let my hands start to wander over her body, taking in the curves and lines of her by touch. I cupped her tits, giving them as much of a squeeze as I dared, and god—god they felt just like I’d thought they would, heavy and firm, barely fitting into my hands.
At first Olivia just gave into me; but in seconds we were both pawing at each other all over, groping and touching. She was like a live wire, like my favorite Epiphone in my hands. I slid my hand along her waist and heard a little moan in her throat. I teased her nipple through the fabric of her clothes and heard a gasp. Just like a solo. Just like playing a solo… I smiled against Olivia’s lips as I played her body, finding the notes by touch. She shivered; she moaned, she cried out—a sexy little song to a tune that only I knew how to play.
I pulled her away from the counter, and Olivia came along with me, arching into every touch, twisting and moving to help me as I stripped off the tee shirt and let it fall to the floor, as I reached around to her back and unhooked the clasp on her bra. Her clothes and mine fell away bit by bit, as Olivia started to get more and more into the moment. I could feel her getting more turned on, heat building up in her body, sinking into me as we made our way stumbling from the kitchen to the living room, and down the short little hallway to her bedroom.
We stumbled through the door, and one of Olivia’s hands left me for just a second. Light flashed on in the bedroom, and I pushed her towards the bed, breaking away from her lips long enough to get an eyeful of her as she fell amongst the blankets and sheets and pillows, looking up at me breathlessly. “Fuck, Liv,” I said, my heart stuttering in my chest, my whole body heating up at the sight of her almost completely naked right there in front of me. I saw the spreading, darkened spot where she’d soaked through her pink, lacy panties. “God, do you even know how hot you are?” The pink-red blush that lit up her face and crept across her chest made her sexier than anything I could even imagine; the way her boobs shook just a little bit from her landing was enough to send a hot jolt right to my cock.
I climbed onto the bed on top of her, covering her body with my own, and kissed her again. I reached down between her legs, and I could feel the slightly sticky slickness of her fluids as I started to rub her through the fabric of her panties. She was soaking—absolutely soaking wet, just how I’d thought she’d be if I could ever get her to this point. I dropped my mouth down along the column of her throat, kissing and nibbling at her sensitive skin. Olivia shuddered and moaned, her hips moving in reaction to my touches, her nipples barely brushing against my chest as she squirmed and writhed underneath me.
I kissed her all over, hungry for her—for the sweet smell of her perfume, the salt of her sweat on my tongue. Olivia was totally wrapped up in the moment, touching me everywhere, exploring my back and shoulders, my arms, my ribs, moving down until she came to the hard, hot rock that my cock had become. I groaned as her fingers wrapped around me, as she started slowly—oh god, so slowly—stroking me up and down. Her thumb rubbed the tip of my cock in little circles, and I was almost gone right then and there. “What are you doing to me, Liv?” My hips thrust into her touch like I was already inside of her.
“Touching you,” she murmured breathlessly. “Just—just like you’re touching me.” I chuckled, kissing her hard on the lips for just a second before I started moving down her body with my mouth. I came to her chest and looked up into her eyes as I wrapped my lips around one nipple and then the other, sucking and licking until her hand on my shoulder tightened into a viselike grip, and her hand on my cock almost went still, squeezing a little harder but not hard enough to hurt.
I worshiped her tits for what felt like half an hour while I teased her with my fingers, sliding underneath the fabric to come up against her bare skin, slipping along her folds until I found her clit. We both worked each other until we were shaking; I was so close to coming that I could taste it, my nerves crackling with it. If I could play her like a guitar, she was turning me into putty in her hands, working me until it seemed impossible for me to hold out any longer.
“If you don’t stop torturing me,” Olivia said, panting and gasping as she shivered underneath me, “then I will—tell the whole world you’re like, one inch.” I laughed, looking down into her dark eyes.
“You’d be a fucking liar, and I’d prove it,” I told her. But I pushed her hand away and tugged her panties down over her hips. I was more than ready to finally get inside her—I didn’t want it; I needed it. I threw Olivia’s panties over my shoulder without even looking, and the next moment I was guiding my aching, throbbing cock up against her silky, slick folds. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I thrust into her, I felt her muscles ripple around me—the tightening, the resistance of her body. I gripped the sheets, holding back. “Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good.” I breathed in slowly as I pushed deeper and deeper inside of her, filling her up inch by inch. She was so tight, so wet and so hot, and every time I moved inside of her even a little bit I felt her muscles flex around me, rippling.
“Oh—oh God, you too, Nick…fuck!” I thrust the last little bit inside of Olivia all at once, my hips colliding with hers. I had to be still for a minute; if I moved, if I even breathed the wrong way, I’d come right then and there.
But then, only a few seconds later, we were both moving again; Olivia wrapped her
thighs around me, pushing her hips down to meet my thrusts, and her hands were all over me, touching and exploring. I kissed her everywhere, keeping my pace as slow as I possibly could. I wanted to make it last. I wanted to make Olivia come over and over again before I finished. I wanted to hear her moans and cries go higher, louder, and feel her body tightening down on me.
I picked up my pace, gradually moving my hips faster, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her; I could hear the wet, sucking, slapping sounds of our bodies, and over that the sharp gasps, the catch in her breath when I rubbed up against her g-spot every few thrusts. The sound of Olivia’s moans filling my ears was like music, and I played her body by ear, listening for the noises I wanted to hear the most, touching and kissing and moving to get what I needed.
I felt her whole body tightening, every muscle tensing; I heard her cry out, saw her head fall back against the pillows as she moaned again and again. I held myself back somehow, riding through her first orgasm, slowing down and then speeding up again to keep myself from tumbling out of control inside of her.
I built her up again, slowing almost to a stop as she shivered and sagged underneath me, gasping and panting for breath. I kissed her again and again, murmuring in her ear about how good she felt, how hot she was, how beautiful she looked when she came. Soon enough we were both at it again, pushing each other, moving against each other, and Olivia was twisting her hips under mine, writhing like something electric.
Finally, when I felt the telltale shivering grip of her muscles on my cock, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pounded into her as hard and fast as I could as liquid heat exploded through my hips, my cock twitching out of control. I barely even heard my long, low groans of pleasure as I came harder than I’d come in months—maybe years. I couldn’t even think, I couldn’t do anything but keep thrusting deep inside that tight, hot pussy, fire flowing through me and out of me until I was completely and totally emptied out. I was dripping with sweat, panting like I’d run a marathon, and my arms and legs felt like they were made of rubber.