The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE)

by Nelle L'Amour

  Still stuck in the heavy traffic and downpour, Owen flicked the satellite radio on to his favorite Big Band station. I didn’t recognize the song playing, but the irony of the lyrics sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Into each life, some rain must fall…”

  Too much had fallen into mine. Owen had been my only ray of sunshine. He had lit up both my heart and my body. Brightened my world. Tears welled up in my eyes again, knowing the end was in sight. Then just as I thought I might start to bawl once more, he took my hand and placed it over the stick shift, entwining his long fingers with mine. The rain reduced to a drizzle and by the time, we got to his house, it had stopped.

  As soon as we stepped inside my house, I peeled off her soaked clothes.

  “I think I ruined your mother’s dress,” she sniffled, tears still streaming down her face as I slid it down her lush curves. “I’m so sorry.”

  I kissed the top of her head, her drenched blond strands as soft as silk against my lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

  My mother’s favorite dress was indeed ruined. The rain had caused the colors to bleed, and now the donuts were more like splotches of paint. As much as I treasured this dress and the memories it held for me, kissing my princess in it in the pouring rain was probably the most sensuous experience of my life. I had never kissed a girl in the rain before, and the way she had succumbed to my lips had sent a lightning bolt of arousal straight to my cock. My cock was straining against my fly the entire ride home. Well, to be honest, it still was.

  I flicked away some tears before removing her lingerie. The print of the dress had bled through to the lace-trimmed, ivory one-piece undergarment turning it into a colorful but delicate abstract work of art. Wet from the rain, it clung to her body like a glove, the sheerness showing off all her luscious curves. Her full tits, overflowing in the cups, quivered as I lowered the dainty spaghetti straps down her arms. My fingers dusted over the goosebumps that popped along her creamy skin. When the garment fell to her feet, she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of it.

  She stood before me in her full womanly glory, but she was shivering. Sadness colored her eyes. She looked so, so vulnerable. Almost ashamed. Like a naughty little puppy begging for forgiveness. She was breaking my heart. It was my job to take care of her, make her feel protected and cherished. And loved.

  “Baby, you’re cold. Let’s get you into a hot bath before you catch pneumonia.”

  Before she could protest, I scooped her into my arms and mounted the winding stairs, taking two steps at a time.

  “Owen, why are you being so kind to me?” she whispered, her eyes shooting up to me.

  “Oh, sweet princess, don’t you know?” Whatever her past transgressions, the love I felt for her couldn’t be put into words.

  My custom-built claw-foot bathtub measured close to seven feet to accommodate my six-foot-four frame. Burnished gold, it was fit for a king and had room for his princess. Filled almost to the rim, the water came up to my chest as my long legs straddled Olive, whose back was to me, her head resting on my loving heart. Soft music filtered through the sound system, candles flickered, and the sweet aromatic scent of the bath oil I’d poured into the water wafted in the air. I’d created a bastion of pure bliss, a boundary between us and the rest of the world. I wanted her to relax, let down all her defenses. For me, this was another first. I’d never bathed with a woman before. Or had such an extra-sensual, intimate experience. The last thing on my mind was her past. Later we would talk about it, but right now, I just wanted her to let go and be mine. All mine.

  Holding a large sponge, I parted her long hair and drew gentle circles on her back and then across her supple breasts. Soft moans spilled from her lips. Her eyes were closed and a dreamy smile played on her luscious lips. Leaning forward, I flutter kissed the back of her neck.

  “Do you feel better, baby?” I breathed into her ear, my free hand cupping a breast.

  She inhaled and exhaled, her chest rising and falling beneath my palm. “Oh, yes,” she replied with a soft sigh.

  Smiling contently, I kissed her scalp and then trailed my fingers over her rounded belly to her inner thighs. Beneath the water, I caressed them, my thumb brushing against her clit. Her back arched against my chest as my already erect cock torpedoed. The beast inside me wanted her so badly. My cock was throbbing.

  “Owen, please make love to me.”

  Holy fuck. She was begging for me.

  “Sit on me, baby.” Gripping her full hips, I lifted her up and put my hungry cock to her entrance. With a single thrust, I inserted my monstrous shaft inside her, inch by rigid inch, as she lowered herself on it, taking me to the hilt.

  She let out another moan, this one louder. “Oh, Owen!”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I groaned, feeling deeper inside her than I ever had thanks to this impaling position. “Ride me, princess.”

  “What do I do?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

  Her sweet innocence was such a turn-on. I loved that everything she did with me was a first—from her first kiss to her first orgasm. She was about to have another.

  “I’m going to hold you and help you. All you have to do is bounce up and down on my cock. You’re in control. You can go as deep and fast as you like.”

  My hands stayed fastened to her hips as she lifted her glorious dimpled ass into a squatting position and then slid it back down my cock. She repeated her actions.

  “Yes, princess. That’s the way.” I hissed. The sensation of my cock bathing in her warmth as I soaked in the tub was making me dizzy with pleasure. My Olive was a fast learner. In no time, she was riding me like a rodeo star as if her life depended on it. The water splashed around us as I rocked my hips to meet her fluid movements. She splayed her hands on my muscular thighs to give herself more leverage…and me one of the best fucks of my life. There was no doubt in my mind. I could fuck her until one of us was unconscious.

  Whimpers poured out of her mouth each time I hit her G-spot and I never missed. Squeezing my eyes shut with the extreme pleasure she was giving me, I tried to picture what her big beautiful tits looked like bouncing like beach balls as she slid up and down me, picking up her speed. My gorgeous Olive was like a thoroughbred, bringing me to the finish line as I raced to an orgasm.

  “Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh,” she cried out, those little words all I needed to hear to know she was about to implode all around me. On the next drawn out “oh,” she threw back her head and shuddered as she fell apart around my cock without reserve.

  “Fuck!” I groaned as my massive release met hers with a blast of my load.

  Staying inside her, I slid us back in the tub and then withdrew my cock. I coaxed her into a relaxing position, encouraging her to sit down and spread out her legs. Wrapping my arms around her, I hauled her closer to me until she was resting again against my chest. She fit between my legs perfectly, her curves molded to my contours, confirming that she was made for me. Meant to be mine. I nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweetness, but as I did the water in the tub began to cool, sending a chilling ripple of reality through my system.

  “Baby, we need to talk.”

  My bliss from the bath was short-lived. Wrapped in one of Owen’s fluffy terrycloth robes, I hugged myself as I sat on his bed, my knees tucked into my chest. My head rested on my kneecaps, my eyes cast downward, not wanting to meet his gaze. I had no choice when he tilted up my chin with his thumb. My line of vision met his. I blinked several times out of nervousness and partly at the sight of his gorgeousness lit by the moonlight. He was sitting across from me, a breath away, his chiseled chest bare with just a towel wrapped around his waist. A chill swept over me as his mesmerizing eyes held me with fierceness and determination.

  “Tell me what happened with your father.” His voice was commanding yet tender. A mixture of compassion and curiosity. Letting go of my chin, he stroked by damp hair, but his gentle touch did little to relax me. I bowed my head again in shame. Wicked Mallory had for sure told him.<
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  “Owen, please. I don’t want to go there.”

  “Olive, tell me. I need to know.”

  My stomach was twisted in a giant knot; my heart was beating a mile a minute, and every nerve in my body was buzzing with fear. Not because I was losing the career I always dreamed of—a chance at stardom. No, that didn’t matter. But rather, I was about to lose the only man I’d ever loved. The only man who made me feel cherished and protected. And ironically because of the other man in my life who made me feel used and abused, unloved and punished.

  I bit down on my quivering bottom lip. With the touch of a soft finger, he forced me to release it. Something about that sensuous, unexpected gesture gave me the courage to go on. I’d opened my legs for him; now I was going to open my heart. I swallowed past the giant lump in my throat and slowly lifted my head so my eyes met his again. “Baby, it’s okay,” they seemed to whisper. I sucked in a shaky breath, and the words poured out of my mouth as the horrific memories came back with the force of a landslide.

  “Oh, Owen. He was a terrible man. He cared nothing about me and abused my mother.”

  Owen’s face darkened with fury as he uttered one angry word: “How?”

  I had to take another deep breath. These ugly memories were ones I’d suppressed for a long time. I hadn’t shared them with anyone except the caseworker who was long out of my life. Tears stung my eyes as Owen tenderly stroked my face, coaxing me to continue.

  “Owen, he was an alcoholic who had no limits. Unemployed, he viewed my mother as nothing but a punching bag on whom he could take out his anger. He called her horrible names, and if she didn’t give in to his drunken whims, he beat her. Late at night, I used to hear her cry as I lay frightened in my bed. So many times I can remember her limping around the house with bruises all over her body, but whenever I broached the subject with her, she shrugged it off and just said she was getting old and fell.” I paused. “Her arthritis wasn’t genetic. It was because of him.”

  Owen held me fiercely in his gaze, unblinking. “Tell me about that night.”

  That night. Oh, God, that night! Why did ever have to happen? Why could I never make it go away? Inhaling a deep painful breath, I continued as shivers raced across my skin and a few tears escaped my eyes. I began to relive what happened five years ago.

  “I heard them downstairs fighting. It was beyond anything I’d heard before. He was screaming and my mother was crying. Pleading with him to stop over and over. I heard my father cursing at her and things crashing.”

  I swallowed hard, almost unable to go on.

  “I knew my father had a gun. He kept it hidden under their bed. No longer able to bear what I was hearing, I got out of bed and went to their room where I crawled under the bed and found the weapon. The weight of it surprised me, but holding it firmly in my hand, I tiptoed downstairs…”

  I couldn’t complete my sentence as the floodgates broke loose and I began to sniffle uncontrollably. Tears cascaded down my face.

  Owen brushed them away and then held me tightly. “It’s okay, baby.”

  “Oh, Owen! When I got downstairs my mother was sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Blood was pouring from her head. I screamed out for my mama and my father caught sight of me.”

  “‘How could you do that to her, you monster!’ I yelled at him. I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was beet-red with hatred and rage. He called me a fat little cuh-cuh-cuh—” I couldn’t get that horrible word past my trembling lips.

  Owen spared me from having to say it. He tenderly put a hushing finger to my mouth.

  “Oh, my princess,” he whispered, a mixture of shock, compassion, and fury on his face. “Did he assault you?”

  “He told me to put down the gun or he was going to come after me.”

  “My gut told me I was damned if I did, damned if I didn’t. I didn’t trust him. So I kept the gun in my hand and pointed it at him. And then, he charged at me.” I paused to catch another breath. “Oh, Owen, I had no choice. I pulled the trigger…” My voice trailed off.

  Owen cradled my tear-soaked face in his hands. “Jesus.”

  “He was dead. Lying with his eyes wide open in a pool of blood. I killed my father.”

  My voice trailed off as sobs wracked my body. Owen held me in his loving arms for as long as I needed. Finally, my sobs subsided and I was able to find words again.

  “Owen, my mama never recovered from my father’s brutality. She could barely ever walk again and had to stop working. We survived on food stamps and welfare. I wanted to work to help out, but no one would hire the sixteen-year-old fat girl who shot her father to death. And something else happened. I grew afraid of men. How they could body shame me and abuse me.”

  Owen smoothed my hair. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, princess.”

  Tears still stinging the back of my eyes, I looked into his piercing blue eyes. They held me tenderly in their gaze. “Oh, Owen, you’re the first man I’ve ever felt safe with. You make me feel protected. And beautiful too.”

  “I’d slay dragons for you, princess. No one is ever going to hurt you again. And if anyone dares to try, I’m going to cut off their fucking balls and that’s just for starters. They can say goodbye to their sorry lives. I’m going to love and protect you until the day I die. Do you understand that?”

  I nodded, in awe of this big burly man who was as rough as he was sweet. As powerful as he was gentle. As dark as he was light. Even with all the terrible things that had happened in my life, I still believed in God. I went to church every Sunday and prayed for my mama in heaven and for good things to happen to good people. I believed I was a good person, and as his lips consumed mine and kissed away my pain, I knew that only God had sent me Owen King because no one else could.

  Something changed in me after Olive told me her gut-wrenching story. After I heard it, I cradled her in my lap and rocked her in my mother’s favorite chair…the glider she’d rocked me in when I was a baby. Her head against my heart, I hummed Mom’s favorite Gershwin song, “Someone to Watch over Me.” My orphan princess needed someone to watch over her. And that person was me. I could have fucked her senseless again, but that’s not what I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold her, inhale her sweetness, and feel her soft skin. She should never have to endure what her mother endured. She deserved to be cherished, loved, and protected. And I was the man who was going to be there for her. I was going to be her knight in shining armor and fend off anyone or anything that threatened her. God help any man—or woman for that matter—who had even the slightest intention of harming her. My Olive had suffered too much and I vowed she would never suffer again. In the moonlit quiet, I rocked her until she fell blissfully and safely asleep in my arms.

  A few weeks passed and in no time emerged a routine of sorts. Olive was more than part of my life; she was my life. My raison d’être. She continued to be both my assistant and my great love. Despite Clint’s angry protests, I fought for her to be The Big O Girl. She was irreplaceable. My gut told me that when the media broke the story about her father, she would become America’s Sweetheart overnight. Everyone loved a Cinderella story and Jaime Zander couldn’t agree more.

  Like the sun, she rose with me and set with me. Every day, my princess went to work with me, making a daily stop at the original Donut King to pick up some donuts and coffee from Marge and Nathan, and in the evening, she came home with me. She gave my house, which used to be as still and quiet as a morgue, life, filling it with flowers, music, and her positive energy. Making it a home. Each night, she cooked me a wonderful dinner, and I, in turn, feasted on her luscious body. We fucked till we could fuck no more, and she fell asleep in my arms. I loved having her nestled against me, blanketing her supple curves with my hardness. Breathing in her sweet scent, I dreamt about her and babies. Occasionally, that recurring nightmare of her evaporating woke me up; it was the only time my euphoria was interrupted by my unfounded fear of losing her.

  Things at work were good. Sales
at the flagship Donut King continued to soar and they seemed to have a domino effect on other shops. While we far from being out of murky water, things seemed to be improving. I was more and more confident that our sexy new marketing strategy was going to totally turn things around, and that next year at this time, I’d be telling shareholders about significant profits, not losses.

  The commercial starring Olive was moving along quickly. Jaime had decided to shoot it on location rather than building a set. He said the original Donut King was ideal and would give “a realness” to the commercial. Marge and Nathan were going to co-star as the counter folks. Jaime and his casting director thought they were naturals.

  Other than keeping my creditors at bay, there was only one problem at work. My Olive. There was nothing wrong with the way she did her job; in fact, it was utter perfection. She was both passionate and meticulous, keeping me organized and always one step ahead. My staff furthermore really liked her. She was sweet and accommodating to everyone, from my top executives to janitors. I saw a noticeable change in myself. My normal belligerence, which often bordered on bitterness, gave way to gentility. Nice, a four-letter word that wasn’t part of my vocabulary, had crept into my bloodstream. I smiled a lot more, said good morning and good night to those I passed in the halls, and employees seemed less afraid of me. I was no longer the tyrannical king of my company, but rather a benevolent one. I knew wherever she was my mother would be proud of me.