Chapter 12 #3
“These two are from two years ago before I ever spoke to you,” he says, smiling at me.
My heart aches at the thought of all the time we could have spent together.
Then he hands me the next one. “This one is from after our coffee date. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be with you.
I wrote it as soon as I got back to the office. ”
I smile, remembering our date, which I only now know for sure was in fact, a date.
Oliver hands me another letter, his expression turning serious. “This one is from after we had to take you to the hospital. I was so scared, Amelia. I thought I was going to lose you.”
You were scared for me?
He gets to the last letter, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “And this one…” He hesitates, looking down before meeting my eyes. “This one is from when I took over Jamie and made you come.”
My cheeks warm, undoubtedly as red as his ears, as my mind wanders to that night.
“I’d explore every part of you, Amelia. Learning what makes you shiver, what makes you moan. I’d kiss your neck, your shoulders, anywhere I could reach. I’d want to know you, completely.”
Heat floods through me, and I have to press my thighs together, remembering how husky his voice was.
“Touch yourself for me, Amelia. Imagine my hands are guiding yours. Show me what you want me to do to you.”
Panting, I look up to find Oliver sitting even closer beside me, his hands nervously resting in his lap.
“Yeah, about that…” I begin but trail off because I have no idea how to broach the subject.
Oliver takes a deep breath. “I never intended it to be… what you probably think this was. You said you needed me, and I needed you. I wanted to give you what you were asking for. But I understand that intention versus impact are two very different things. My brain short-circuited, and I just… I know it’s the worst thing that we did.
I mean, besides that one time we listened in on you getting off with your toy. ”
Wait, what?
My eyes widen. “You did what?”
“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Right, I haven’t told you about that. Yeah, um, that first weekend you had Jamie?”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, thinking back to when I did some self-care thinking about them after the gym.
But there’s something else—something I can’t quite place.
Why does the thought of them listening to me getting off give me fanny flutters?
“Yeah, that was bad too. But what I did was definitely the worst thing we did. And I would do anything to make it right,” Oliver says, his eyes filled with earnest regret.
Surprisingly, I’m not mad about it anymore.
Was I ever really mad?
I had told Jamie, or rather Oliver, that I needed him.
If Oliver had been there with me, I would have wanted him to do the same.
It wasn’t like it wasn’t consensual, even if I didn’t know it was really happening and not just a fantasy.
I could have just stood up and gone back to bed when Jamie offered, but I didn’t because I wanted it to be real so badly.
Deep down, I had wanted it to be Oliver.
Maybe it’s even better that it wasn’t an AI getting me off.
“Did you touch yourself while you made me come?” I ask, too curious for my own sake.
Fuck, that would be hot.
His eyes go wide. “No, Amelia. I swear I didn’t. It was all about you. I didn’t want to use you like that without your knowledge.”
What a pity.
Time to rectify.
“You said you’d do anything to make this right?”
He cups my cheek. “Anything, Amelia. Tell me what you need to forgive me, and I’ll do it.”
I have a few things in mind, but we need actual privacy. “You said Grey and Misha are watching?”
“Probably, they’re making sure nobody else can,” Oliver replies a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just now realized that they’re doing what we said we wouldn’t anymore.”
Taking out my phone, I text Grey.
Stop watching us.
A reply comes almost instantly.
Grey
Not happening.
Ugh.
But maybe it’s good to give them a taste of their own medicine.
With consent, of course.
I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow at Oliver, trying to gauge his reaction. “You’re okay with them watching?”
His brow furrows in confusion, his lips parting. “Watching what?”
A thrill of excitement shoots through me, realizing he hasn’t caught on yet. I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a husky whisper. “I want you to touch yourself for me.”
The effect is immediate. His eyes widen in shock, his pupils dilating as the realization hits him. His face, already tinged with a hint of nervousness, flushes a deep crimson, and I can practically feel heat radiating from him as his ears turn almost fire-engine red.
“Fuck, I… you really want that?” His voice is strained, caught somewhere between disbelief and desire.
“I do,” I confirm, unable to stop the smirk pulling at my lips. “Do you mind if they keep watching the cameras?”
I hold up my phone, ready to dig into Grey if needed.
Because I want this.
I need this.
We have to rectify this imbalance. If we both see each other touch ourselves, there will be nothing to be ashamed of anymore.
Oliver hesitates, his eyes flickering to the phone in my hand, then back to me. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his mind races to process what I’m asking of him. There’s a flicker of uncertainty, but beneath it, there’s something else, something raw and primal tugging at my own desires.
His breath hitches, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he nods. “I don’t know why they would want to watch that, but it seems only fair.”
Smiling, I send one last text.
Enjoy the show then.
I put the phone down, and Oliver’s breath hitches once more. The excitement in his eyes is at war with his obvious nerves. He slowly leans back against the cushions, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants.
“Are you sure?” he asks one last time on a whisper.
“I’m sure. Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you.”
He breathes out a shaky laugh when I throw his words from that night back at him before he slips his hand beneath the fabric, his eyes never leaving mine.
The vulnerability and trust in his expression make my heart swell with affection.
His movements are tentative at first, but the longer I watch, the bolder he becomes.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whisper.
“Too much.”
I reach out and touch him too, my hand cupping his firm length through his pants.
He gasps at the contact. “Fuck,” he groans out, his hips bucking up as he closes his eyes for a moment, his breathing growing heavier.
“Amelia,” he moans softly, the sound of my name on his lips sending a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t close your eyes,” I whisper. “I want you to look at me.”
He looks into my eyes, and I slowly slide down to my knees in front of him and reach for the waistband of his pants.
“Can I?” He just nods, so I pull them down to his thighs along with his underwear, revealing his hard cock in his hand.
It’s thick and long, and I can’t help but stare in awe for a moment.
He’s built like a god, and the sight of him makes my mouth water.
“Amelia, what are you—”
I lean in, flicking my tongue against the tip of his cock. He whimpers, his hips jerking as I taste the salty sweetness of his pre-cum. When he pulls his hand away, I wrap mine around the base of his shaft, pumping him slowly as I take him into my mouth.
He stills, whispering, “Good God.”
The taste of him, clean and warm, fills my senses, and his body trembles beneath my touch. His hands fumble with my hair, unsure of how to guide me as he lets out a low moan, the sound echoing through the quiet room.
I take him deeper, my tongue swirling around the head of his cock as I suck him with abandon.
“Amelia,” he gasps, his voice filled with awe and wonder. “This is… I never imagined… fuck, you’re amazing.”
Tracing my tongue along the length of his shaft, I tease the sensitive spot just beneath the head. He whimpers again, his breath hitching as I take him deeper into my mouth.
He grows more confident with each passing moment, his hips subtly rocking in time with the movements of my mouth.
He still seems unsure of what to do with his hands, but he pulls my hair into a ponytail, his grip steady but unsure as he holds onto it.
“Amelia,” he moans again. “This is… I can’t… I don’t know what to do.”
His vulnerability and inexperience are as endearing as they are hot, and I reassure him, whispering against the head of his cock, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. And don’t worry, this won’t be a one-time study.”
I’ll gladly suck this big, beautiful cock as often as he wants me to.
My words seem to unleash something inside him, and when I take him back in my mouth, he really begins to buck his hips, thrusting a little deeper into my mouth. His control is slipping, his breathing becoming more ragged as he nears his climax.
“I’m close,” he warns, barely above a whisper. “I… stop, please, I can’t hold back much longer.”
I keep eye contact and pull back just enough to whisper, “Come in my mouth.” My words are a command, and it feels good to be in charge like this.
His eyes go wide, only to be pressed closed again on a whimper when I redouble my efforts, sucking and pumping him until he tenses. He cries out, his hips bucking as he comes hard in my mouth with my name on his lips.
So damn hot.
I swallow every drop, savoring his taste as he collapses back against the cushions, panting and spent.
I continue to tease him, my lips and tongue working gently but persistently. Each lick and gentle suck have him twitching, his body writhing under the onslaught of lingering sensitivity. He gasps, his breath coming in sharp bursts, and his hands grip the edge of the cushions tightly.
"Please," he finally chokes out, his voice a ragged whisper.
But I don’t stop immediately. I keep playing with him, reveling in the way his body reacts. Only when he pulls me away gently, his whole body trembling with the aftermath of the overstimulation, do I relent, letting him catch his breath.
I turn my attention to the top of his thighs, kissing and nibbling, feeling the coarse hair tickle my lips until I reach his defined V. Pausing, I press my lips firmly against his skin and suck gently.
He lets out a soft moan, his hips jerking at the sensation. Encouraged, I move to the other leg, repeating the process and enjoying the way he squirms beneath me. Then I carefully tuck him back into his pants, zip him up, and press one last kiss to the bulge in his pants.
“That was… incredible,” he whispers, his breath ragged. “I never knew it could feel like that.”
I smile and snuggle up beside him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest. We lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the warmth of his body soothing me.
But then Oliver tenses beneath me, and I can sense his mind racing, overthinking something. “Do you want me to…” He starts but trails off, swallowing hard.
“Read a few chapters of Twilight for me? Yes, I do,” I say, trying to ease his worry with a playful smile.
He chuckles, the tension in his body dissipating, and leans in, kissing my temple. “I’d love to,” he murmurs with his lips on my skin.
With that, he reaches for the book on the blanket beside us, opening it to the first chapter. His voice, though still a bit shaky, carries a comforting rhythm as he begins to read. I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me.
In this moment, everything feels right.
And I try hard not to think about whether or not Grey and Misha just watched me give Oliver his first blow job.
Oh well.