Chapter 5 Ollie
FIVE
OLLIE
FIVE
OLLIE
I watch Vince drive away. The tail lights disappear around the bend, and my pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the birdsong and the distant hum of the wind through the trees.
Kat's inside. Waiting. For me?
Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run to her. So why am I standing here like a fucking idiot? I should go inside. I should talk to Kat, but my feet stay rooted to the porch, my hands gripping the railing like it's the only thing keeping me from floating away.
I take a deep breath, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs, and force myself to move.
One step.
Nothing outrageous has to happen.
Then another step.
We can just talk. Talking is good.
The wooden planks creak under my feet, each sound an echo in the silence, as I make my way down the hall to the kitchen.
Kat is still sitting at the table, her fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee, her eyes fixed on the steam rising from the surface. Vince's old college band T-shirt hangs off one shoulder, her hair is a pile of curls on top of her head, looking more beautiful than she has any right to.
She looks up as I step into the room, and my stomach flips.
"Hey," she says softly, and I have to remind myself I’m not dreaming. "Everything okay?"
“I think so,” I say, taking a seat across from her, the space between us feeling both too small and too vast. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Sorry, that’s probably my fault.” Her voice is hesitant, like she’s unsure if she should be apologizing or not.
“No," I say, shaking my head. "Not your fault."
Kat exhales, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” I ask, getting right to the point.
She shakes her head, her curls bouncing slightly.
A smug smile spreads across my face. “So, I was your first?”
Kat’s cheeks flush a deep pink, and she ducks her head, but I can see the way her lips twitch—like she’s trying not to grin. “Yes.”
The admission settles between us, warm and electric. I lean back in my chair, studying her. The morning light filters through the window, catching the red in her hair, making it glow like fire. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“And? How was it?”
“And,” she begins. “It was…everything. I mean, I’ve thought about it. A lot. I’ve always known I was at least bi curious, but I’ve never had the guts to actually flirt with a woman, let alone kiss one.”
“What’s different about me?”
“Well,” she says, pushing herself up from the table and slowly making her way around toward me. “For starters, you never made me feel like I was an intruder in your friendship with Vince. I always felt pulled to you.”
She stops next to me and leans back against the table.
Suddenly, every word out of her mouth becomes static.
She’s still talking, her lips are moving, but all my brain registers is the expanse of her bare thighs.
Her pink shorts are gone. Vince’s old shirt hits her mid-thigh, the fabric clings to her body, the way her nipples press against the thin cotton, the way her thighs part just slightly as she leans back against the table—it’s all too much.
I swallow hard, trying to focus on her words, but my eyes keep drifting down her body.
An apology makes its way through the fog of my lust, and I look up at her, meeting her gaze, to find the same hunger reflected in her eyes that I feel burning inside me.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I say, interrupting her, my voice rough with need. I haven’t heard a word she’s said in the last thirty seconds.
She smiles, a slow, wicked curve of her lips that sends a jolt of heat straight to my core.
“Beauty doesn’t excuse my actions. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I’m sorry for being so forward.”
“I’m not,” I say, unwilling to filter myself around her anymore.
My fingertips brush the outside of her thigh, just above her knee.
A shock of warmth jolts up my arm. Fuck.
She’s so smooth. She doesn’t flinch; she leans into it.
Her breath hitches, and a slow smile curves her lips.
She doesn’t move away. Every daydream I’ve ever locked away is screaming in my head.
She bites her lower lip, a gesture so unconsciously vulnerable it makes my chest ache.
“Ollie.” Her voice is a whisper. “Can I kiss you again?”
“You can do anything you want with me,” I whisper back.
The nervous energy radiating from her shifts and transforms, becoming something so much hotter and more confident. I push my chair away from the table, but before I can stand up, she’s already closing the distance between us.
My heart hammers against my ribs as she leans in. This time, there’s no surprise, no stolen moment. It’s all intention. Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw, her thumb stroking the line of my cheekbone.
Butterflies take flight as her mouth finds mine. Not just in my stomach, but every nerve ending in my body is fluttering under her touch. A touch I have fantasized about so many times before, and feeling it for real is so much more amazing than my imagination could ever conjure.
A sound escapes me, a low groan I feel in my ribs, and my hands find her hips, pulling her roughly into the space between my knees.
Her body slots against me, a perfect fit, and she melts into the contact.
My fingers dig into the soft cotton of Vince’s shirt, clinging to the heat of her skin beneath.
She kisses me with a focused intensity that steals the air from my lungs. Our tongues taste each other with an unquenchable thirst.
When she finally pulls back, just enough to rest her forehead against mine, her breath is as ragged as my own.
“I take it back,” she whispers, her voice husky. “I’m not sorry at all.”
In a move that can only be described as lustfully graceful, she loops her leg around mine and lowers herself to straddle my right thigh.
The shock is instantaneous, and my hands dig into her hips on instinct, as my brain short-circuits.
There is not a single layer of fabric between my thigh and Kat’s pussy.
“Fuck,” I cry as she lets out a low, shameless hum against my ear and begins a slow, deliberate grind. The heat of her pussy is direct and overwhelming.
“Do you feel that?” she whispers, her hips moving in a slow, torturous circle. “I get so wet thinking about you.”
My fingers slide up her waist, lifting the hem of her shirt slowly to reveal the dips in her hips and a front row view of her bare, wet cunt sliding over the slick skin of my thigh, her pink pussy glistens with every frantic circle of her hips.
“Look at you,” I breathe in awe. “So fucking messy for me.”
I grip onto her hips again, pressing her harder onto my thigh. The grinding of her clit onto my soaked skin is obscene and perfect.
“You’ve thought about this,” I growl, not asking. “Tell me what you thought about, Kat. Tell me how to touch you.”
“Your mouth,” she chokes out, her rhythm breaking. “I dreamt about your mouth on me since the first time you smiled at me.”
I. Am. Wrecked.
A violent, possessive hunger unlocks in my chest, and I stand, lifting her with me and dropping her onto the edge of the table. I guide her backward, clearing plates and mugs with a reckless sweep of my arm.
I take my stance between her thighs, my hands shaking as I push her shirt up to her chin, exposing her completely to me
Her skin is a galaxy of faint freckles scattered across her chest and stomach, constellations I’ve stolen glances at for months, but can finally admire up close.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I breathe, running my hand up her waist, until both of her tits are overflowing in the palms of my hands.
I lower my head, my mouth closing over one peaked nipple, and her cry is sharp, sweet music. I suck harder, my tongue flicking, while my other hand pinches and rolls her opposite nipple between my fingers.
“Tell me what you want,” I demand between nibbles.
“You,” she gasps. “I want you.”
“You’ve got me," I say, kissing my way up her chest, resisting the urge to leave bite marks on her neck as I capture her lips again. “Now, tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”
If Kat were anyone else, I wouldn’t need to hear it so explicitly, but since it is Kat, I need to hear her say it.
Not only for my own sick satisfaction of hearing her perfect lips say the filthiest words of my fantasies, but because I need to know that we are both crossing this line together—with both feet.
Kat’s breath hitches as I pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes—fuck, her emerald eyes have gone dark, pupils blown wide. She’s so goddamn beautiful like this, so open and vulnerable.
“Tell me,” I growl.
She swallows hard, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Eat me. I want you to eat me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Fuck. The words send a jolt of pure, unfiltered lust straight to my core, but it’s not enough. I want more. I need more.
“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”
She grunts in frustration, her fingers curling into the fabric of my crop top.
“Ollie! Shut up and eat my pussy until I cum all over this beautiful face.”
Yeah, that will do it.
“Good kitty,” I praise, shoving her thighs apart, baring her completely to me.
Her pussy glistens, swollen and pink, her clit peeking out from beneath its hood, begging for my teeth. I don’t tease or hesitate. I drop to my knees and bury my fucking face in her.
The first taste is seismic. Sweet and intoxicating.
I run my tongue from her entrance to her clit and back again.
A choked sob escapes Kat, her hips bucking off the table. I hold her down, flattening my hand against her lower stomach, pressing down as I suck her clit between my teeth.
“Oh my god!” She arches off the table with a shattered cry. “Ollie!” Her hands fist in my hair, and the sting makes my own pussy throb in appreciation.