“You know, I’m supposed to propose, right? I’ll be damned if you take that away from me.” He rolled over on top of me and settled between my legs. “You want to know when I knew?”
I nodded as he rocked his hips back and forth against me.
“I woke up one morning from a nasty hangover, made my way to the bathroom, and when I opened my eyes, there you were. Standing there, staring back at me, and I just knew.”
I pushed against his shoulder playfully. “We’d never even talked yet.”
“We didn’t have to. I looked up, and this voice inside my head said, ‘There she is, there’s the girl I’ve been waiting for,’ and you stared back at me with those bright light-brown eyes and I swear I almost fell to my knees right then. It took everything I had not to. In the mess hall, I thought you were an apparition, like a figment of my imagination, but the morning in the bathroom, you changed my whole world, and you had no clue.” He brought himself on his elbows as my head rested between them, and ran his fingers up my forehead and through my hair.
His passionate kiss left promises of forever across my lips. He lowered himself, scraping his lips across my jaw, down my neck, and over my collarbone. He took my hard nipples between his lips, gently pulling them between his teeth before slipping further down my torso. My breath wavered when his hands reached the back of my thighs, gripping as his lips marked their territory across my stomach.
Lower.
Ollie trailed kisses along my hipbone and over my pelvis. He rested his head against my thigh, between my legs, and looked up at me, helplessly in love. He didn’t have to speak the words; I knew.
His warm breath spread across my sex first, breathing on me and breathing me in. “I am embarrassingly obsessed with the taste of you,” he confessed. “Utterly addicted.” His words hit my insides, shooting rockets up the center. His warm tongue hit my entrance as he stroked through my groove before landing over my knot. “Infatuated,” he breathed.
“Don’t tease me, Ollie … I can’t … handle it.” Each word struggled to free.
Ollie grinned.
He reached for a pillow, folded it in half, and lifted my bottom over it. “Don’t move,” he demanded, and pushed my knees apart. “Keep these open. I want to see and taste all of you.” Then, in one precise and demanding stroke up with his tongue, his mouth covered my clit. The vibrations in his light moans only added fuel to the manipulation of his tongue. Biting my lip raw, I gripped the mattress as Ollie held the rest of me together yet shattered me to pieces at the same time.
His two hands put pressure down the sides of my sex, spreading and massaging me simultaneously. My vision went hazy as every muscle in my body tightened against him. His supple finger dipped inside, grazing along the spot he knew would push me over the edge, then he sucked his forefinger off between his lips. “You taste so fucking good, Mia.”
The heat from his comment ran to my cheeks as he smiled. And he drove his skillful tongue through me, flicking inside as his lips covered me, his thumb attending to my clit. It was all I needed to let go. I cried out as my climax pulsed against his mouth and his hands pinned me wide and still as he tasted my orgasm.
After landing three soft kisses over my sex, Ollie got on his knees and slowly eased his arousal inside me. His body curled over as his palms hit the mattress on each side of me. “My god, Mia …” he breathed. “You’re still pounding. I can feel you beating against me.” He stilled inside me as he kissed my neck, his hands roaming across my chest and down my sides as I whimpered. “Fuck, I’m going to come from your on-going orgasm around me alone.” He pulled my head between his arms and kissed my lips. “Did that feel good?”
“I’m … still …” I panted, unable to find words, so I nodded.
Ollie brushed his nose against mine. “You want me to stop?”
Pulling my trembling lip between my teeth, I shook my head.
Ollie smiled as he lifted himself back up on his knees. He watched himself slide out only to pump slowly back inside me. His skin tightened, every muscle flexing in his arms and abdomen, and he wet his lips before grinding into me once more. Every cell in my body was in a pleasured frenzy as my sight caved to his beauty.
Ollie cursed and praised my name in one word as my legs shook, trying to keep it together. Returning his eyes to mine, I only saw forever. He brought his thumb to his lips, sucked the tip, and rubbed it over my clit, repeating circular motions as he continued his torturous slow grind, grazing inside, attending to every sensation. He moved slowly at first, each thrust bringing us both closer. The battle between keeping the slow pace to outlast the pleasure and the need to arrive at the inevitable brink was written all over his desperate expression.
Ollie’s chest crashed against my breasts as he fell over me. He grabbed my hand and laced his fingers with mine and brought it over my head to hold himself up. Each grind grew faster and needy. “Baby, I love you …” he said to me, then kissed me, his sweaty body slick over mine through each thrust. His love penetrated deep into my soul. I gripped his soaked hair and tasted the salt on his lips and the fire, ice, and me on his tongue as we both released ourselves into a monumental and earth-shattering orgasm—together.
A love like this couldn’t exist in only one lifetime.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Gunpowder flowed from my heart, up my throat,
and lingered on my tongue. It tasted like pain
and shame. Each word was shaped like a bullet.”
—Oliver Masters
IT WAS CHRISTMAS morning. The sun wasn’t out yet, but the clock above my door read it was only 5:55 AM. Five minutes I had left before the automatic doors opened. In ten minutes, Ollie would already be completely naked in the shower like he always was at this time. The best thing about his early showering habits was no one else would be in there.
Grabbing my clothes for the day, which was nothing more than a black pair of jeans and one of Ollie’s shirts reading “MAKE LOVE NOT WAR” across the front, I snuck across the hall toward the community bathroom. He would disagree, but I was beginning to think he was a hipster.
Once I reached the bathroom, thick steam barreled as running water sounded. The mirrors fogged up, and I quietly laid my stuff over the bathroom counter before opening the curtain.
Ollie jumped back. “Dammit, Mia …” He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair and down his face with a bright, sleepy smile.
“I wanted to be the first one to wish you a Merry Christmas,” I said, closing the curtain behind me and taking in the amazing sight of him. His head almost reached the shower head as the water fell over his hair, off his lashes, down his lips, then through the lines of his inked, defined skin.