Chapter 16
Darius
Oliver’s hands are on me before the lift doors have even closed behind us.
He’s pawing at my clothes, his teeth nipping at my neck as he pushes me through the entrance hall and into the lounge.
My back hits the floor to ceiling window as he undoes the button on my jeans.
His movements are rushed and frantic, his hands touching me everywhere they can reach, but never stopping long enough to actually feel me.
“Ollie,” I mumble, putting my hands on his chest and gently nudging him back. “Ollie, stop.”
He pauses and pulls back to put a foot of space between us. His eyes are dark, his lips wet, and there’s a stray curl over his forehead. I drag him back to me with both hands on his shirt, push the curl aside, then trail a finger down his cheek and over his lips.
“Slow down. We’re not in a rush.”
Air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, and he drops his chin to his chest, breaking eye contact.
“I don’t know how to be what you need, D.” He lifts his head. “I don’t know how to do this. How to go slow and make it meaningful. I know how to fuck, to take control and get it over with.”
My hands fall to his chest and I slide them up, rest one on the side of his throat and the other I place on his cheek.
“Is that what you want with me? A quick fuck? Because, that’s not what I want.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t either. But, damnit!” Oliver rubs the back of his neck, but I don’t move my hands from where I’m holding him. “I’m messing this up already.”
“You’re not. And you’re also wrong about not knowing what to do.” He raises an eyebrow and I answer the question he hasn’t asked. “When you called me that day, before Halloween, that wasn’t some rushed means to an end.”
“That was different.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. “No it wasn’t. Trust me, okay?”
He hesitates before answering. “Okay.”
Oliver’s hands are bunched at his sides, as if he’s too afraid to touch me. I take them in mine and move them to my hips, where he closes them, digging his fingers into my flesh.
“Tell me what you want to do to me?” I repeat the question I asked him that day on the video call.
His Adam’s apple bobs and I return my hands to his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt.
Oliver steps forward, his leg slipping between mine.
Gently, he guides me back until I’m pressed against the window.
“I really want to kiss you.”
Lifting my face, I bring my lips to his, holding them a breath apart.
“Then kiss me, Oliver.”
He closes the distance, slanting his mouth over mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips.
I part them, welcoming him in and groaning when he takes my tongue between his lips and sucks.
His hand moves to my chin and he tips my head to kiss me deeper and harder, with a fire and passion that sets my skin ablaze.
I’m breathless when Oliver breaks the kiss, pulling back to stare into my eyes.
Neither of us says a word, we simply stare at each other, a tendril of need spreading between us.
It’s me who makes the first move this time, slamming my lips to his while grinding my erection against the thigh he has slanted between my legs.
Oliver finds my hands, links our fingers together and then lifts them above my head, pinning them to the glass.
Slowing the movements of our mouths, he licks a stripe across my lips before peppering them with chaste kisses that then mark a trail along my cheek and to the skin below my ear.
He kisses lower, and I tip my head to give him better access.
“Keep your hands up,” he commands as he slowly unbuttons my shirt.
My arms ache in this position, but I don’t move them.
I let the window hold my weight as Oliver opens my shirt entirely.
I’m wearing a sky blue lace bralette beneath and he groans when he sees it, his fingers tracing the edges of the lace and then over my nipple.
“So perfect,” he mumbles under his breath before his lips are on me again.
Oliver’s movements are slow and measured as he tastes my skin with gentle sucks and nips that have me begging for more.
It’s only when he sinks his teeth into my collarbone, do I scream his name, my hands dropping to snake into his soft curls.
My entire body buzzes, pleasure simmering deep in my core.
“Kiss me again,” I plead, opening my mouth to seek him out.
When our mouths collide, I drop my hands to the hem of his tee and inch beneath it, feeling his stomach contract under my palms. His skin is warm, and as I slide my hands higher, I’m met with a thin scattering of hair.
Dragging my nails down his taut body, he moans into my mouth, shifting his hips.
I whine, thrusting my hips forward, chasing a release that is just out of reach. Oliver stops kissing me, his lips passing over my cheek and stopping at my ear.
“You need something, baby?” His hand is already working on opening my jeans and when he pulls the zipper down, I hold my breath, waiting for him to dip inside. But it doesn’t happen and I blow the air out of my lungs at the small space he puts between us.
“I feel like I’m opening a gift,” he says, using both hands to pull down my jeans.
“I knew there’d be something beautiful underneath these.
” Oliver crouches onto his haunches and works to free my legs from the tight fabric, throwing them over his shoulder.
He runs the back of his hand over my cock, hidden behind a pair of lace shorts the same shade of blue as the bralette I’m wearing.
“I could look at you all day.” His touch on my covered cock has me painfully hard and desperately needy.
“Please don’t,” I beg, my hands once again in his hair, using my grip to guide his face to my cock. “I need you now, Ollie. Please.”
Oliver opens his mouth and I gasp at the warmth that laves over my cock through the fabric of my shorts.
He sucks at it until it’s wet, spit shining around his mouth when he looks up at me.
There are no words for what I’m feeling right now as I look into his eyes and see nothing but desire tinted with adoration on a level I’ve never experienced.
This isn’t just sex. Not to him and not to me. It’s something so much more, and while my body is begging for the high of a climax, I also know I don’t want it to end.
Oliver grins, his eyes on me as he uses one hand to pull the lacy fabric of my underwear below my balls, while the other ventures around and settles on my ass.
“You have no idea how badly I want this,” Oliver says, his thumb wiping a bead of pre-cum down my shaft.
“Me...me too,” I rasp, whimpering when he leans forward and sucks the head of my cock into his mouth, his tongue toying with my slit.
My legs tremble, and I’m grateful for the solid wall of glass behind me.
Oliver uses one hand to hold the base of my cock, while his other sneaks beneath the fabric of my underwear, fingers dancing along my crease.
I’m watching him intently, my eyes fixed on the way his lips are stretched around my shaft, inch by inch, disappearing into his mouth.
The hand he has on my ass edges further between my cheeks until his finger sweeps over my entrance.
I thrust my hips forward, then back, trying to encourage him to press inside.
Oliver looks up at me, his eyes lust drunk, his finger firmly over my hole.
I nod, giving him the permission he’s seeking, but instead of pushing it inside, he removes his hand completely.
I whine, but before I can say anything, he’s on his feet, his mouth crashing into mine, our tongues vying for control.
When he pulls back, Oliver replaces his tongue with two fingers, pressing them into my mouth.
“Get them wet,” he orders, and I do, sucking and licking, tasting the salt on his skin.
It’s a heady experience, the way he pushes them into my throat, before twisting and rubbing them against my inner cheek.
When Oliver’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, then slants his mouth over mine in the most feral kiss I’ve ever experienced.
His tongue fucks into my mouth with a reckless abandon that has my balls drawing tight.
“Spread your legs,” he mumbles into my mouth.
He uses his foot to kick my legs apart and then he’s sinking to his knees, his spit slicked finger teasing my hole.
My body is a live wire of sensation, sweat coating my skin, my heart thudding out of control, and when Oliver’s mouth engulfs my shaft at the same time his finger presses past the tight ring of muscle, I cry out and lose myself.
My hips work on their own accord, fucking into his mouth and pushing back onto his finger in hungry, uncoordinated movements.
“Ollie. Don’t stop.” He adds a hand to my shaft, twisting as he sucks, while also pushing a second finger into my tight hole.
There’s a slight burn that fades as quickly as it arrived.
I’m so close to the edge, I can’t think, I can only feel and chase the pleasure building like an inferno in my blood.
“Gonna come,” I warn, but he doesn’t pull away, and when he twists his hand and his fingers brush my prostate, it’s game over.
The edge is there and then I’m flying over it, free falling as my orgasm blasts out of me.
And still he doesn’t stop or slow down. He fucks me with his fingers and he worships my cock and all I can do is whimper and thrash against the glass as he wrings every last ounce of pleasure from me.
When Oliver finally relents, sitting back on his heels, I fall to my knees and throw myself into his arms, kissing him hungrily, tasting the evidence of my desire on his tongue.
“Stand up,” he orders, breaking the kiss.
“Turn around.” I do as he says, facing the sparkling lights of the city below me.
Oliver pulls my shirt off my shoulders and presses his chest to my back.
He’s removed his shirt too, and his skin is scorching hot against mine.
There’s the sound of a zip and moments later, I feel the soft skin of his cock against my ass.
Oliver’s hands map patterns along my arms before he laces our fingers together and lifts them up.
“Put your hands on the glass and stick out your ass.” He moves his hands down my sides, until he has one on each hip, his thumbs pressed to my lower back.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw these sexy as fuck dimples.”
I’m shorter than him, so he must have to spread his legs to get the angle right as his cock slides between my crease. He holds a hand open in front of my mouth. “Spit.”
I spit into his waiting palm and then look over my shoulder, watching as he uses it to slick his cock, jerking himself over my lower back. His free hand never stops touching me. Squeezing my hip, mapping the curve of my spine, caressing my ass cheek, then pulling it to the side to spread me open.
“One day, I’m going to fuck you like this. Pressed to this window for anyone to see if they look up.” He increases his speed, his breathing picking up as Oliver works himself over. “It won’t matter who sees, because you’re all mine. Would you let me, baby? Let me fuck you like you’re mine?”
My cock stirs, ramping up for another round as I nod, my forehead to the glass. “Yes, Ollie. I want that.” And it’s no lie. I want to be his. I want everything with him.
“Say it.”
My mouth is dry, my breath stuttering in and out of my lungs. “I want you to fuck me, Ollie. To be yours.”
Oliver shifts, then lets out a guttural groan, his hand on my hip tightening as hot pulses of cum hit my skin. For a moment, the only sounds in the room are our heavy breaths and the slick of his hand as he wrings out the last drops of his release.
“Fuck, my cum looks so good in your dimples.” His hands slide along my back, spreading his cum over my skin.
When he’s content that my entire lower back is covered in him, Oliver guides me back with a hand around my upper body.
His fingers trace my lips until I open and suck the remainder of his release from them.
Sated, I lean my weight in his arms as he carefully turns me around, and with his lips on mine, and two hands beneath my ass, he lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist and we kiss as Oliver walks us backwards until he’s lowering onto the sofa.
I stay on his lap, our mouths hovering together until my eyes feel heavy and I let my head flop to his shoulder.
“Is this a bad time to tell you the glass on the window is reflective from the outside?”
He chuckles. “The thought is hot, though.” He kisses my forehead. “You’re so perfect, angel.” Oliver’s voice is soft and warm and I close my eyes and press myself a little harder into his hold.
“So are you, my love.”
I don’t miss the way his body reacts to that word. A momentary tightening of his muscles before he melts into the sofa, me on top of him and his arms a vise around my waist, as if he plans to never let me go.