Oliver (This is Our Life Book 3)

by F. G. Adams

  “Sounds perfect, Ollie. As long as I can help. I grill a mean steak,” Fallyn comments as she turns in my direction.

  Hopeful, expectant green eyes stare back at me. Fuck me, cause I’m a sorry bastard and use this opportunity to gain more information.

  "Okay, I'll take it. But I have a request.” I pause to make sure she’s listening. “How ‘bout some quid pro quo? You share yours, and I’ll share mine. Come clean with me. Pretty please? I’ll let you help me. Hell, you can cook whatever you like. But you have to give me somethin’. One thing about you, please. I want to know more. I need to know more, Fallyn.”

  Fallyn stops walking, her body stiffening with resignation from my request.

  "Hmph. So, my body wasn't enough for you, huh?"

  She half laughs, but it doesn't reach her eyes. I’m a shit to ask this of her when she’s hurting.

  “Nah uh, Vixen. Your body is perfect, but I need somethin’ more. Can you do that for me? Can you give me just a little glimpse into Fallyn Blackwood?" I appeal, gripping her hand tighter in mine, pulling her into me.

  My eyes penetrate hers, trying to connect to her spiritually. Willing her silently to agree with me.

  “So, you’ll share yours if I share mine? Is that it?”

  My stomach feels rock hard. I can do this.

  Before I change my mind, I respond, “Absofuckinglutely, baby. We both can.”

  “Okay, Oliver. You’ve gotcha self a deal.”

  I nod my head and close my eyes for a moment, lips sealed before I say anything else. I’m optimistic that we can both share our past and our pain.

  We walk the rest of the way to my cabin. I pick up a couple of rocks, then a stick, chucking them into the woods. Fallyn does the same, giggling as she tosses the last rock into the brush. Fallyn was made for me.

  I’m excited she’s finally agreed to tell me more.

  Fallyn’s agreed to let me in.

  19

  Fallyn

  For years, I have been plagued by the memories of the nightmare I endured, functioning and living only because of Harper. She is my world, or the only world that existed for me. Only two years to go, and she will be eighteen.

  I’m on the downhill slope, racing toward the finish line, when out-of-nowhere Oliver enters the race. He not only runs the race, he obliterates each rival, leaving dust in his path.

  Just like that, and my well-planned existence becomes a topsy-turvy chaos of unknown wants and desires. He evoked feelings so deeply buried I forgot they existed.

  I was good. I believed I was doing the right thing. The honorable thing. The thing any mother would do for her child. Yet here I am, second-guessing my plans.

  I glance at the canvas. It’s not right. Something’s missing. Normally, the paint brush is an extension of me. It flows seamlessly from within, seizing a moment in time. I’ve been trying to capture Oliver’s essence, but every stroke seems wrong. My inspiration fading away to a blank canvas.

  The separation from Harper is taking a toll on me. After seeing her face and talking with her, I know a big part of me is missing. She’s safe from Roman, and by the looks of it, giving Lukas and MacGyver hell. A slight grin forms just thinking of the banter between her and Mac.

  Oliver’s attempts at filling the gaping hole has been sweet. The shooting range was beyond fun. It brought back memories of another lifetime. When happily ever after existed and unicorns were real.

  Sage was eight when a pistol was laid in her palm and told to practice. She wrapped her tiny fingers around it, shivering from the magnitude of what she held. A tool capable of killing. She believed guns were for ‘boys’ only. Boy, did she do an about-face after the first round found her target. Katy barred the door if you tried to take it away from her. Jo and I had a time getting a turn.

  It became a competition between us to see how many times we could each go without missing the bullseye. We dubbed her Pistol Annie.

  I miss them.

  Earlier, Oliver said he wanted more of me, and I agreed. What in the hell was I thinking?

  Movement catches my eye and instantly, my breathing heightens. He’s watching me, and by the look he’s sending my way, he wants me.

  “Thought we could start cooking dinner.”

  “Sure. Let me clean things up, and I’ll be downstairs in a few.”

  Dinner time with Oliver was an event to say the least. We worked around the kitchen as if we had been doing it for years. Listening to country music, cooking, and chatting about life made the time pass by quickly. When we finished, we cleaned up our mess. That’s when the fun began.

  “What would you like for dessert, baby?”

  I saucily reply, “Why, cowboy, never thought you would ask. I’ll take a side of Ollie, please.”

  I lick my lips slowly, adding fuel to the already burning flame in his gaze.

  “Damn, baby. Ya need to wipe that look off your face right this second before I forget all about dessert,” he demands, shifting his stance to accommodate his growing cock.

  I take a step forward, grab his outlined member, and boldly rub my hand up and down the front of his jeans. Instantly, his eyes flare with desire.

  “Are you threatening me? ‘Cause if you are, I think I can hold my own. Bring it on, baby. Do your worst. I’ve tamed many a wild horse on the ranch back in the day,” I inform him when he places his palm over mine and increases the pressure of my strokes.

  “Don’t ya want something sweet?” He roughly hisses, “Other than me…. maybe coconut or key lime pie?”

  I back up and sit down on a bar stool.

  “Key lime with a dollop of cream, please.”

  He groans and adjusts himself.

  “Wicked woman, best to remember payback’s a bitch.”

  Unable to contain the bubbly laughter from escaping, I eye him stomping around the large kitchen. He places a slice of pie on a small plate, then he adds an extra mound of whipped topping. He stops and looks directly at me with a raised eyebrow.

  At his unspoken question, I manage to whisper, “Perfect.”

  He picks it up and stalks toward me with a look of determination planted on his ruggedly gorgeous face.

  He wedges himself between my legs and offers a bite of the sweetness. I’m held in a trance by his devouring gaze. My mouth watering, I dart out my tongue to taste the sweet and sour morsel. Before I’m able to taste, he swiftly moves it out of reach, displaying a full-on dimpled smile.

  I sweetly pout, “I want some.”

  He confidently nods with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and replies, “I know.”

  Then he opens his mouth and eats the delectable yumminess. He sensually licks those gorgeous lips.

  I moan with desire.

  “So, you wanna play, Ollie? M‘kay.”

  I lean into him and scoop a portion of pie up with my index and middle fingers and trace his open mouth, chin, and pulsing throat, leaving a trail of sticky goodness.

  “Shit, Fallyn, you gonna clean up your mess?” His voice is laced with desire.

  I move my chin up and down, licking my lips in anticipation of eating him.

  “Key lime always was my favorite pie,” I mention and dive in. “Umm, so good. Just like I knew my two favorite desserts combined would taste.”

  He releases me when I sink further down his body. I lift the hem of his shirt up and push for him to take it off. He grabs the material from behind his neck and throws it on the floor, panting.

  I cover my fingers with more pie and trace the tattoos along his chest, painting a masterpiece for my eyes only.

  When my tongue reaches his glorious happy trail hidden by his jeans, I look up at him and wait. His teeth are clamped down on his bottom lip, eyes locked on me as he reaches for me.

  “Not so fast, sexy. I’m not finished with dessert. Loose the jeans, please,” I request in a sultry tone.

  He releases the button and lowers his zipper. Then he slowly inches them down his sculpted legs and kicks them off.r />
  My hands find their way to his hips, and I slowly savor the unwrapped gift waiting for me. His beautiful cock juts from the nestle of black curls and pulses, a small drop glistening on the crown of his shaft.

  I scoop the remaining pie and finger paint the sugary decadence over his cock and down his thighs, back up and over his heavy sack. A moan breaks free from his otherwise thin-lined lips.

  Sitting back on my haunches, I mentally take a picture of the sight before me. I never want to forget how he looks. His hands fisted by his side. His feet positioned shoulder-width apart, muscles rigid and waiting for my next move. His eyes blaze with arousal and need. Whipped cream and pie covering his lower half.

  “You look good enough to eat, Ollie. I’m going to slowly devour you. Inch by delicious inch, until there’s not a spot of pie left on your body.”

  I watch his chest rapidly inflate, and a rush of air is set free between his gritted teeth. My tongue follows the light trail of key lime pie from his belly button to his upper left thigh.

  “Delicious.”

  I nip his right thigh just below his cock and suck.

  “Fallyn…”

  “Just making sure you’re with me, Ollie.”

  Slowly savoring the unique flavor, my lips close over his sack, while my tongue cleans away the remaining pie. I make sure to give each a thorough inspection, not missing a speck of my Oliver dessert.

  I listen to the noises he makes, learning what drives him crazy.

  I bring him to the edge of ecstasy and back off. Nibbling and licking him clean.

  “Stop teasin’ me, Fallyn. I can’t…I’m tryin’ to give you…”

  I grab his large cock and run my tongue along the throbbing vessel to the crown. My tongue swirls around and around before adding my teeth to scrape the pie away.

  “Fuck, Fallyn. Stop playin’ and suck my dick.”

  I open my mouth and hover a moment, softly blowing air on his head. His patience is gone. He plunges into the warmth of my waiting mouth. I hollow my cheeks immediately, savoring the unique flavor of Oliver. The vibration elicits another sound from him and his hands thread through my hair.

  “Oh, shit! Baby, you’ve gotta slow down.”

  I quicken my pace. I want him to lose control. His grip in my hair tightens almost painfully and his hips propel forward and back. Reflexively, I gag when the crown of his cock hits the back of my throat, constricting his rhythm.

  Before I can blink, I’m lifted off the floor and my back is flat on the marble countertop, jeans halfway down to my knees and legs thrown over his neck, anchoring me to him.

  “My turn,” he growls and lowers his head between my legs. “You’re so wet. Fuck me, Vixen.”

  “That’s the idea, cow—”

  His velvety tongue skims the opening of my vagina and zeroes in on the engorged bud aching for his touch. Words cease to exist. I’m drunk on the pleasure coursing through my veins.

  “You…don’t stop. Feels so…”

  His tongue spears my center, causing a wave of unbearable pleasure. Hands fisted in his thick hair, I attempt to pull him closer or away from me. I’m not sure what I want or need as his mouth and tongue continue to ravage me.

  “Ollie, please. I…”

  He doesn’t waiver at my plea, gnawing, teasing, tantalizing me with his erotic kisses.

  Physically unsure I can handle much more, two of his large fingers breach my pussy. A scream of ecstasy barrels out at the same time my body convulses from the intense orgasm.

  I’m boneless, quivering from the fierceness he evoked, blissfully satisfied. I feel the head of his massive cock at my entrance and open my eyes. I’m not sure how or where my jeans are. My legs are hooked across his solid forearms, dangling near his hips, when he steadily begins to slide me onto his engorged member.

  Pain and pleasure swamp me as my body stretches to accommodate his immense size. It feels unlike anything I’ve ever known.

  “So damn tight, Fallyn,” he growls, bottoming out inside me.

  I watch as the flame tattoo along the side of his neck comes to life as he thrusts deeply, pulling me simultaneously onto him at a rapid speed. He’s in control now. My body is his. I cup my breasts and tease the aching buds with a frenzy.

  “Are you close?”

  “I’m…”

  “That’s it. Touch yourself,” he gruffly commands, powering into me.

  I whip my head from side to side as the pleasure begins to build again. I want more. Need more.

  “Harder, Ollie.”

  His hand moves to my clit and rubs. My oversensitive body clenches at the added stimulation.

  “I’m so close. Don’t stop,” I demand.

  “Come on, baby. Need you with me.”

  His palms scoop my ass off the counter for a new angle. He pummels me with a forceful need, hitting a sweet spot that sends me soaring over the edge into a fiery abyss.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and cry out, “Oliver!” as I convulse around him.

  He swivels his hips and thrusts deep. I feel him grow larger when he stiffens and throws his head back and roars, “Fallyn!”

  A little while later, I’m lying in his bed counting stars in the clear fall sky. My body is sated. Oliver’s chest is my pillow. I’m snuggled close to him. One palm secured on my left buttock’s cheek and the other wrapped around my head, buried in my hair. His even breathing indicates he’s drifting off to la-la land. I can only wish. Then we could delay the inevitable just a tiny bit longer. Who am I kidding? Sooner or later, he’s going to find out all about me.

  The euphoria from early slowly fades away when he kisses the top of my head and squeezes me closer. It’s time. Show and Tell. I’m just not sure what I want to share, or if I really want him to know an inner battle between an angel and the devil.

  “Tell me how you met Roman.”

  I release a groan before answering him, no longer able to disguise the uneasiness creeping up inside.

  “He was a newbie my junior year of high school. My father instantly hated him, and Roman wanted my attention.” I shrug, “It was a win-win. Grate on my father’s everlasting nerves and every girl within a thirty-mile radius was panting like a dog in heat over Roman. I had what everybody desired escorting me to classes and parties. God, I was such a fool to ever want him. If only I knew then…”

  “Then you wouldn’t have Harper, so stop goin’ backwards. The past needs to stay in the past. Besides, you were a kid being manipulated by a connivin’ devil old enough to know right from wrong. No one blames you. It was his fault. He’s the monster. Don’t blur the lines, ‘cause you didn’t know. No regrets, Fallyn. None.”

  Pent-up tension rolls off me in waves.

  “I’ve never thought about it like that. I’ve always assumed it was my fault for pursuing him. I led him on. Even knowing in my heart it was wrong, and at the time it felt…I don’t know, maybe too good to be true, but I was determined. I’m no beauty. I know that. Then, between the love-hate relationship I had with my father and the jealously from all the ‘good girls’ that Roman chose me was exhilarating. I was number one. Just me. No one else. Just didn’t realize I was backing myself into a corner I wouldn’t be able to escape out of.”

  “You were just a baby. Too young to know the difference between a threat of man or a teenage boy. And that comment about not being a beauty? We will talk about that later, Vixen.”

  “I knew something was different about him from the beginning. He had eyes for only me. He zeroed in on me and never wavered. There were a lot of girls who tried to get him to notice them. It was like he didn’t even see them at all. He made me feel special, like I was the center of his world. I guess I was. The way he was made to think at least.”

  “You know, from day one of this operation, I’ve had one unanswered question. One question trying to connect the dots, so to speak, and just couldn’t quite put my finger on the answer.”

  I try to distance myself from him, and his relaxed limbs tigh
ten. Instantly, my body softens to his unspoken demand.

  “Only one? What’s got you stumped?

  “Nothing’s made sense about Roman’s infatuation with you. He was a grown man livin’ in southern California, in line to take over the family business. His family was his life. He had been groomed from birth, yet he up and moved to Florida on a whim? It doesn’t add up.”

  “Good point,” I interject, trying to evade answering.

  “Yeah, but that’s not what’s bugged me.”

  “No? Well, do tell, Oliver. What’s the million-dollar question you’ve been searching the answer for?”

  His palm connects to my ass for the sassy remark, making me jump. I end up on top of him with my hands braced on his chest. He looks me straight in the eyes, and I see determination settle in them. There’s no getting out of this unscathed. He wants final resolution. He’s laying all his cards on the table.

  “How would he even know about you, much less select you as a target to start with? Then, when you ran, he didn’t just want Harper, his only heir returned to him. No can do for Roman Cabricci. The son of bitch wanted ya both. Alive and well. We know, ’cause he placed a three-million-dollar bounty on the two of you for safe retrieval with a promise of two million for you alone. That’s a whole shitload of dough for somebody who couldn’t care less about seein’ you again. He’s been relentless in getting you back, Fallyn. Why? What made him think you were the center of his world?”

  “Well, maybe he just wants to kill me himself,” I carelessly whisper.

  “Nah, I don’t think so. There’s something else, and I believe you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, don’t ya? Runs a hell of a lot deeper than revenge against you for runnin’ all these years.”

  I gasp at his words. He’s closer to the truth than he knows.

  “Retribution is required for the embarrassment and scorn Matilda showed Milo Cabricci on their wedding day. Atonement must be paid with your blood, Fallyn. You were chosen. You will pay for her sins. Over and over again for the rest of your life,” Roman promised all those years ago.