Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  I drew in a deep breath. “I love you,” came out upon an exhale.

  “I know, but I’d rather you tell me in person.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” I clicked the phone and tucked it back into my jeans and narrowed my eyes at the body sitting before me. Leigh was just another battle I had to conquer to get closer to freedom. A conquest.

  Leigh tilted her head, worry consuming her eyes. “Will this hurt?”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised.

  “Will it feel good?”

  “Leigh, I won’t be able to concentrate if you keep talking.”

  “I’m scared it’s going to hurt. At least try and make it feel good, Oliver.” Leigh looked up at me through dark lashes. “Be gentle and make me feel good. Please.”

  “Okay,” I said, waving her down to the edge of the sink, “but most likely, Ghost will do the same.” I slammed my hands on both sides of her, and lifted my head until our eyes met. “Have you ever been touched?”

  Leigh shook her head, her blonde hair falling over her pert breasts. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into with the Links, but I couldn’t deny her innocence wasn’t fucking with my head. I was confident it was the pill I’d taken. “Breathe,” I coached her, spreading her legs open and running my fingertips down the insides of her thighs to put her at ease, so it didn’t feel like I was about to assault the girl.

  “Does it look okay?” Leigh asked. “You keep staring at my fanny like it’s different.”

  It was different. “Your fanny is fine.” Not the one I wanted to be looking at, but this was the position we were in, and I pushed her knees apart to get a better view of what I was dealing with as my hands continued to roam over her thighs to get her comfortable with my touch.

  She bit her lip. “That feels good.”

  “Please, let’s do this without talking.”

  Leigh shrugged. “I know you’re not into this. Into me. I just wished the first time someone touched me cared, at the very least. It’s fine. You can just shove your fingers inside me and get it over with.”

  She didn’t value herself, which made me pity her. She didn’t deserve this. “I’m not going to do that.” I used two fingers to spread her pussy lips apart and soaked my thumb in my mouth before running it over her large bud. All this was completely unnecessary, but perhaps making her feel good would lessen the sting I’d heard about. I rolled my thumb over her clit, pressing against it and making circles.

  Someone pounded over the door, and Leigh recoiled, slamming her legs shut. “What’s the verdict, Masters?” Dex yelled, and I hung my head.

  “Bugger off,” I yelled back, dizzy and high from the drugs. The room grew hot, and I yanked off my hoodie. Leaning over Leigh, I pushed her stiff thighs apart again. “You have to relax.” I cocked my head, knowing I’d have to work her up all over again. “Pretend it’s just you and me right now,” she was so tiny over the counter, and I gripped her thighs and pulled them apart, revealing herself to me again, “and we’re somewhere else other than here,” I pressed my fingertip against her opening, “that I’m someone you fancy, yeah?”

  Leigh bucked her hips forward.

  “That’s right,” I placed a palm over her pelvis to keep her still and pull her skin up, working her opening with one finger. “but don’t get too excited or you’ll hurt yourself.” I offered a smile, and she sank backward with dark eyes on mine, rolling her hips forward. Her scent was the opposite of Mia’s, and I missed my girl. I missed Mia’s heat, her taste, the way I felt inside her. My stomach turned, pushing my finger a centimeter through her tight entrance, Leigh cried out, and I lowered my palm over her clit, rubbing up and down to take her mind off it. Surely, it couldn’t hurt that bad, but I wouldn’t know. “I’ll have to get one more finger in there, and you’re still not wet enough.”

  “It hurts.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” But fuck me.

  “Lick me,” she suggested.

  “No,” I scoffed, lowering my head and spitting on her sex. “I kiss my girl with this mouth.” I moved my palm up and down over her flesh, soaking her folds with my saliva, and Leigh whimpered, grinding against my hand. She was loving what I was doing. The girl was playing me.

  “I’ve never gotten off before, Oliver. Please, I bet it feels so good to feel your mouth on me.”

  “It does, you can ask Mia.” I pressed my thumb against her clit as I gently stroked her entrance, in and out, and going further each time. Leigh’s legs uncontrollably shook as she squirmed, but I stayed in control despite my high. Leigh’s pussy was tight, and I had to be careful not just to find the hymen, but not break it, all while keeping her in the mood to keep her relaxed. She bucked her hips back, her knees closing in as her orgasm climbed. I withdrew, grabbed her thighs, slammed her bottom against my pelvis, and pushed down on her legs. “Stay still,” I growled, then pressed two fingers back inside, gently pressing deeper until … There it was—her hymen. I quickly withdrew my fingers and rested my hands over the sink between her opened legs. “Good news. You’re a virgin.”

  “You’re not going to finish me off?”

  I hung my head. “Nope.”

  “She’s lucky,” Leigh stated, referring to Mia as I washed my hands in the sink beside her.

  “I’m the lucky one.” I dried my hands off on my pants and pushed her knees together. “Keep your legs closed and don’t let those boys fuck you.” I had some sort of attachment to this young girl now, had to keep her innocence intact.

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “Get dressed, Leigh.” I snatched my hoodie off the ground and left her in the bathroom to find Dex.

  He was in the kitchen with his bodyguards.

  “Well?” he asked with a smirk.

  “She’s a virgin.”

  He took my hand and brought my fingers to his nose. “Fuck, you actually did it.” I jerked my hand away. “Faint but delish.”

  “Don’t fucking touch her.”

  “Did you get her off, Oliver? Don’t tell me you left her high and dry here with a house full of horny blokes.”

  “I’m leaving. Your cash is already in your car.”

  “I’m calling Ghost’s right-hand man and telling him I have a Virgin for sale. His turn around time is a few months or so. Your job is to make sure she stays a virgin until then and not to disappear again. Keep your phone on you.”

  What should’ve only taken an hour to get back home had taken me three. I had to make sure no one was following me. This was the only home Mia has known. I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

  I walked into our home, greeted by a fire burning in the fireplace and the living room walls a lovely calming moss green. All the furniture was back in its original state, and my brows lifted as I looked around. We’d been in the house for a little over two weeks now, and Mia set a few framed polaroid pictures from Dolor over the mantle. I walked by, admiring our first picture we’d ever taken in the center, surrounded by a photo of Mia, Zeke, and me, Jake and Mia, and one of just me writing in my journal. The piano was open, and my heart soothed inside my chest, knowing she was finally able to play again since we lost Zeke.

  “Mia,” I called out, dropping my keys in the wooden tray over the coffee table. I pulled off my hoodie and peeked in the kitchen before making my way to our bedroom.

  The shower was going, and I removed the rest of my clothes, wanting to join her.

  “Ollie?” she asked, hearing me from the bedroom through the cracked bathroom door.

  Completely naked, I opened the bathroom door all the way and steam slammed into me. “Yeah, love. It’s me.”

  “What took you so long?” she asked, and I pulled the curtain back and stepped in. “And what do you think?”

  I looked her up and down. Water ran off her lashes and the tip of her nose as soap buds splattered over her ivory skin. Green paint was stuck in her wet hair and smeared against her cheek. “Perfection.” I brush
ed my nose against hers, not wanting to touch her entirely until I washed this horrid night off me.

  She pressed her lips together in a glowing smile. “I’m talking about the paint color.”

  “Oh, that?” I asked, squeezing soap over the loofah and quickly washed my body. I shrugged. “Eh.” Mia shoved my shoulder, and I wrapped her into a bear hug. “I’m kidding, love. I love it.”

  Mia lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed me under the stream. “Thank you for coming home.”

  “Mia,” I laughed, “Why do you say thank you like I did you a favor?”

  She lifted her shoulder. “Because you did.”

  It had been over a month since I’d arrived back into the UK, and Ollie and I kept to ourselves, for the most part, making up for the lost time and making the house a home. He had another book signing coming up, and I was beyond excited to sit beside him and watch him with people who read his work.

  It was a short walk into Surrey where I would finally meet Travis and Summer. The sun didn’t set until after nine at night during the summers, and the clouds lifted, allowing the sun to shine over us and promising little to no rain. Most of the buildings were either made of brick or cobblestone, outlined with wooden green or white details, and shingled roofs with chimneys poking from the top. White flowers bloomed from the cracks of the storefronts, and I peeked through the windows of the quaint shops to see charming knickknacks, hand-carved details, and hometown feels. I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air with a hint of flowers in the rain and gripped Ollie’s hand. “I love it here.”

  “This is your home, Mia. You were born here.” His comment immediately made me think of Lynch, and I wondered if he knew I was back or wanted to see me. Ollie paused at the crosswalk, and I glanced up, admiring him and his style. He dressed like he didn’t care, in his hunter green pants, loose white tee, and a fedora.

  I picked up the bottom of my gray cotton dress that met my sandaled feet as we walked across a cobblestone street to the other side. It was close to sixty-five degrees today, but I pulled my leather jacket tighter around me when a gust of wind swirled in the air.

  “Do you want to stop for coffee?” Ollie asked, noticing the chill. “We’re almost there but there’s a coffee shop around the corner.”

  “I’m okay.” I smiled, and he kissed the side of my head.

  We made it to the restaurant, which classified as a pub, and found a seat outside under the trellis.

  If we had the choice, we sat outside. Ollie didn’t do well in confined spaces with his emotional intensity, and being too close to other people set off his anxiety. This past month, I’d learned more and more about him and how people’s vibes could affect him physically, mentally, and emotionally. After two weeks of being here, we’d both agreed to continue seeing a psychologist, together and separately. It took a few tries to find one we both liked, but we’d finally found one in London from a referral Dr. Conway gave us. She’d searched high and low for someone familiar with Ollie’s hyper-sensitivity and even pre-interviewed the lady over the phone just in case.

  I’d confessed openly about my wicked thoughts, the ones of murder, but only to the counselor. I hadn’t told Ollie about my demented dreams of death, and how it had been following me since I’d killed my uncle. Ethan had understood, but would Ollie ever know the sick delusions inside my head? Would he ever understand that a single threat made me want to rip someone apart and watch them bleed out at my feet with a smile on my face? Or how the morbid thoughts kept me up at night while he was gone, and he was the only one who could sooth me with his poetic lullaby?

  Ollie stood from his chair as soon as he spotted Travis and Summer, and I followed suit.

  “This,” Ollie looked down at me with a smile, “is Mia.”

  “It’s about time,” Travis said, pulling me in for a hug. “You know, Mia. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

  “I heard you tried to tell him I was dead. You wanted him to give up on me.”

  Travis frowned, shooting a glance over at Ollie. Summer laughed, noticing my sarcasm.

  “I like her already,” Summer announced, coming in for a hug of her own.

  “You look like you’re about to pop!” I tried hugging her back, but it was awkward with her big belly. “How far along are you?

  “Four more bloody weeks. I’m due July 21st, and I’m so ready,” she whined, rubbing over her belly in the flowy paisley-printed blouse hugging her stomach. Summer had golden hair and big, bright blue eyes. Her pale skin glowed against her navy shirt, and she set down her umbrella and took a seat. “Oh, fuck, Oliver. You didn’t!” Summer grabbed my hand and looked at my ring, “You fucking did,” she narrowed her eyes at Travis. “I’m having your baby, you bastard, and Mia already has a ring,” Summer scolded Travis.

  “In my defense, I told him to propose almost seven months ago,” Ollie said, holding his palms out in front of him.

  Travis shook his head. “Thanks, Oliver. Thanks for that.”

  “How did you do it?” Summer asked.

  Ollie raised his brows. “Do what?”

  “Propose. I love proposal stories.”

  Ollie snapped his eyes to me, and I clenched my thighs together at the reminder of me on the piano back at Dolor, and Ollie inside me.

  “I’m not giving your chap here any pointers,” he gripped Travis’s shoulder, “He’ll have to come up with his own.”

  The evening passed with laughs, drinks, and good food, and after a few hours, we said our goodbyes after promising to get together soon before the baby arrived.

  On our way back to our cottage, Ollie pulled me into a shop beside a small bookstore that sold tea, coffee grounds, and bottles of wine with book quotes on the labels. He filled the basket with pastries and grounds and picked out a bottle of rosé wine. “Love is longing for the half of ourselves we have lost, Milan Kundera,” Ollie read. “This is the one. It reminds me of a book I read.”

  “Perhaps The Unbearable Lightness of Being?” I laughed, tapping the label where the title of the book was listed.

  “No, another book I read based on soulmates,” he smiled at the memory. “I’ll have to read it to you. After a few glasses of wine.” He shook the bottle and placed it into the basket.

  Halfway home, the sky parted and rain broke, and we ran the rest of the way until we reached our gate and crossed our bridge to our front door, drenched. Ollie dropped the bag in the kitchen as I started the bath, plugging the drain and sprinkling in bath salts. I heard his phone from the kitchen, which had been going off all night, but he didn’t answer. It was probably Leigh again, who’d rang nonstop at least once a week and beg for him to come rescue her from situations she’d get herself into. At first, Ollie had left to help her, but after two times, he’d had enough and ignored her calls.

  I slipped out of my dress just as Ollie walked into the bathroom, wearing only his boxer-briefs and fedora hat over his head, the bottle of wine in one hand. “Bad news. We’ll have to drink straight from the bottle. I’ll have to remember to get us wine glasses.”

  Laughing at his wardrobe, I turned off the water as Ollie set the wine over a wooden stool beside the clawed tub before shimmying out of my black panties and sinking into the water.

  “Yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, losing his boxers and following right behind me.

  Together, we drank the entire bottle and sat in the hot water as our fingers pruned, Ollie still wearing his fedora, and me making fun of him for it. “But it’s cool,” he explained, grabbing my hips and pulling me over his lap until my sex rubbed over his arousal. I arched my back, dropping my hair into the water, and Ollie’s hands trailed down the center of my chest.

  His mouth reached for my breast, but the hat prevented him from going any further. Giggling, I leaned forward, and my forehead collided with his chin. A harder laugh clenched my stomach as I hunched over the side of the tub. Water splashed over the rim, and I tried to recover, but Ollie’s frown only made my giggle fit worse,
bringing tears to my eyes and losing my breath. “Lose the hat, Ollie,” I said between spurts.

  His eyes glazed over. He was drunk. I loved drunk Ollie. “I don’t want to.”

  I tilted my head and flicked up the rim of the hat, and when my palm rested over his chest, my laughter faded. Ollie’s cock jerked against me, and I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his neck. His pulse ticked against my tongue, and my hips rolled over him, desperate for friction.

  “Oh, that feels amazing,” he whispered, tilting his head to give me more access as he dug his fingers into my sides. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

  My lips moved up his neck and across his jaw and to his other side. Every inch of his tattooed skin begged to be touched, and I sucked, biting him slightly. His muscles tightened, all the way down to his groin.

  I kissed his chin, then his lips, tasting the rosé lingering upon the soft edges. Intoxicated, my thumb ran over them before my tongue did. Ollie grabbed the back of my head and opened his mouth, catching mine, and his tongue slipped inside, falling into a wild kiss. Buzzing and utterly savage, he lifted me until our parts aligned, and I sank over his length. Ollie gripped the edge of the tub, his knuckles turning white, with his other hand in my hair. Chests crashed, and we both got lost in each other, grinding and letting this drunken haze keep us spinning and spinning …

  Eventually, Ollie carried me out of the tub—in his fedora hat—and we laughed as he stumbled all the way to the bed, dripping wet.

  We made love all hours of the night, pausing for pastries and to start a fire, then back at it until the sun came up … Because it was a Wednesday night, and Wednesday nights should be spent making out, making love, and eating glazed croissants. We could sleep when we were dead.

  By five in the morning, we had the blankets pulled around us on the back porch to watch the sunrise, our buzz long gone but still drunk on each other.

  “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always woke before the sun. Now, me? I love mornings. But you? You like your sleep. Why on earth do you always wake up at sunrise, then go back to sleep for a few more hours?” Ollie asked, tapping the tip of my nose with his pointer finger. “One of the many wonders of Mia Rose.”