“Ollie?” I say quickly as he grips my hips and positions me exactly the way he wants me. “You’re sore, too. Don’t hurt yourself, or we won’t be able to determine if either of us can withstand five sessions today.”
Instead of another growl or shoving himself into me as wildly as he did last night, he slowly nudges himself inside me, inch by grueling inch. The feeling of fullness he provides is unlike anything I’ve ever known. In spite of his gracious application of lube this morning, my sensitive skin stretches and burns to accommodate his length and girth. The pain balances the blissful ecstasy enough to keep me from losing my mind. This is Oliver. My Ollie. The man I wanted to be the first to claim me this way, but he never saw what was right in front of him all along. I want to be everything he wants finally, so I breathe through the discomfort of him hitting my innermost, tender wall.
“What do you want from me?” he pants as he obviously holds back, too. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you.”
I’m never going to be the woman he obeys. Never. My response, however, is still entirely selfish. “I want you to fuck me the way you’ve always wanted to.”
“I don’t have three penises,” he groans as he begins to pull his length back, only to slowly push in again.
His answer blindsides me. It takes me far longer than it should to translate what he means. Then again, I can’t exactly think clearly with his massive length providing more sensation than I ever knew possible. Already, the beginnings of an orgasm are swirling heat and anticipation low in my belly. “Prepare me for your pleasure, Ollie. I’ll bite the pillow. Tell me everything you want to do to me.”
Like he’s uncertain if I’ll follow through on my promises in the heat of the moment, he waits until I audibly gag on a large mouthful of pillow to readjust us to his liking. He must pull himself up to his knees because he drags my hips even higher and nudges my legs apart until I’m surely spread out as much as possible. The rough pad of his finger swirls in a slow, deliberate, circular motion around my asshole.
“I want to invade every part of you until we’re no longer separate,” he grinds out, his voice like gravel. “I want to fill every millimeter possible, so you can never be away from me again.” His movements stop. He applies deep pressure with his finger as he drags his thick cock in and out of me with mind-searing precision. “I want to feel you from the inside out, to know you in ways no one else ever has or ever will. I want to experience the fullness of your body to an extent I never dreamed of with anyone else. I want to possess you and make you mine forever.”
My breath hitches at his admission. His finger slides in, and he gets his wish. Muscles I’ve never used before reject my desire for him to be where no one ever has.
“Relax,” he bites out. “Allow me in fully. Breathe through it.”
I follow his directions to the letter because I want to. With every cycle of inhale and exhale, he sinks in further and further. I’ve never been this full before. I’m already on the verge of coming, but I repress it. I don’t want this to end so soon.
“Fuck, Liv,” he breathes as he begins to pump in earnest, sending me closer to the edge of the cliff. “I feel it. I feel me inside you.”
He drives deep in both places at once, and I can’t hold back anymore. I’m tumbling, freewheeling through space and time. My entire body vibrates with a rhythm he provides. I push myself back against him like an addict seeking more to go higher. All my muscles contract and seize, pulling him deeper inside me as I ride out wave after wave of nearly unbearable pleasure.
I spit out the pillow to gulp in lungfuls of air. My heart thuds against the mattress, pushing the boundaries of my chest to keep it contained.
Ollie slumps over top of me, his chest covering my back with searing heat. He slides his arms along my body until he finds my hands that are still clutching at the sheets, then intertwines our fingers together tightly. His thrusts are wild and as violent as promised, his grunts an unending echo in my ears.
On a long, loud, agonizing moan, he stills as his body trembles above mine. Heat fills me as he releases.
We come down together, both struggling for precious oxygen. His hands relax ever so slightly around mine, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I must remain inside you for at least five minutes to ensure no loss of fluid,” he pants.
“That’s what you should do. What do you want to do?” I can barely speak after what he’s done to me. My voice is definitely muffled against the bed.
“I want to wash all this stickiness off. I did not factor the viscosity of lubricant into my fantasies.”
My heart is really thrashing now. To fulfill any of Ollie’s fantasies is a dream come true. “This is a practice run. You can clean up now.”
“I am too exhausted to move,” he moans. “Are you in pain?”
“Not yet, but I’m being crushed.”
He rolls off of me. Immediately, my body feels hollow and empty without his presence. My clit continues to throb long after my orgasm has faded. Another new experience, courtesy of Ollie.
His eyes are barely open as he stares at me. His body is a limp heap beside mine. “I do not know if I can perform any more today. The way I feel currently, I sincerely doubt it.”
I bite my lip and swallow the pain of realizing he’s been performing for me, the same as he would for any other woman. “You performed very well. I would give you an A plus.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up, but his eyes close and don’t reopen. “I am happy that you are happy. We are happy together again. Can we sleep together, too?”
I reach for one of his sticky hands with my own. “Yes, Ollie. We can sleep together.”
We just can’t be honest together.
12
Oliver
I have broken her. I have committed murder through a lewd sex act. At the very least, I have rendered her comatose. Typically, the person I would call in a dire situation such as this would be Liv. Unfortunately, Liv is the person I have broken.
She sleeps through me washing her sticky hands. She does not even rouse when I clean her extremely sticky genitalia. Kissing her lips provokes no response. The scent of food and drink on the nightstand does not cause her eyes to open.
I am beside myself with worry. The feeling is so great, I am genuinely considering calling my mother for aid. To be clear, my mother is not someone I want witnessing the sight of naked Liv in my bed. To be clearer, I want precisely no one to ever witness naked Liv again.
My anxiety spins greater and greater out of control until my phone sounds an alert on my nightstand. I am very far off schedule.
Hoping for a miracle—and a clearer frame of mind with which to solve this latest problem—I begin my morning routine.
I am finally to the point of tipping the pill bottle into my hand when Liv appears in the kitchen. Thankfully, she is clothed in yet another of my shirts. Her eyes are bleary, her movements sluggish, and her hair is a wild mess of tangles jutting out in odd directions.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I abandon my task and cross the room to throw my arms around her. “You’re alive!”
She pulls back to stare at me with an obvious look of confusion. Her gaze bounces to where I have left too much evidence on the counter. “Oh.” Her eyes close again on a sigh. “My apologies. I miscalculated. I should not have compelled you to deviate from your schedule.”