Chapter Eighteen
Oliver
When I get into my apartment I fall against the door, my back hitting it with a heavy thud as the air rushes from my lungs. I gasp for air, my heart racing and my blood heating like someone’s set my entire body on fire.
I close my eyes and try my hardest to catch my breath.
“Holy fucking hell…” My head falls back against the door with a thud and I stare at the ceiling until my heartbeat slows.
What the hell just happened?
I swear, it was like an out-of-body experience. One minute I was stumbling over my damn feet, and then he was walking to my door and—
He kissed me. He fucking kissed me! But it wasn’t some accidental thing. It was deliberate. It was like I’d been thrown in a blender and spit back out.
The pieces of the puzzle clicked in place perfectly.
It’s all falling into place according to the plan, so… why do I feel like this?
This is what I want… right?
“‘Bout time you showed up.”
I freeze, the bitter, familiar sound a splash of ice to my system. My gaze drifts across the living room to the kitchen.
Robbie slides his hands into his pockets, his white t-shirt tight and taut across his chest, the sleeves showcasing his biceps. The low light of my kitchen casts shadows on him, making him look like some dark demon come to drag me to hell.
“Robbie… I… wasn’t expecting you.”
He saunters over to me, his dark gaze holding mine. My heart starts racing again, but this time it feels different. Terrifying.
“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d surprise you.” He leans into my space and I can’t help that I flinch. His eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong, baby? You seem a little… jumpy.”
“Nothing,” I say as he leans one arm out, bracing his palm against the back of my door, right over my shoulder. His dark gaze dips to my mouth and he leans into my space.
It’s not anything he hasn’t done before. In fact, he’s done this plenty of times. Come over unannounced. Pinned me against the wall.
I used to love it. I used to jerk off to the idea of him showing up here and taking me by surprise.
When did that change? I’m not sure.
My gaze drops to his mouth, flashing up to his eyes. “Just a long day.”
It’s not a lie. Today’s been a fucking roller coaster.
“I can help with that," he says, his lips curling into a sinister grin.
He traces one fingertip down my chest slowly.
All I can do is focus on my breathing. His finger slides between the waistband of my pants, and he yanks me closer with a force that rattles every bone in my body.
His hand slowly slides over my cock, and I keep my eyes trained on him.
My body heats, sweat breaking out on my brow.
“Looks like you missed me, too," he says, his voice like cold marble.
“Robbie…” I breathe, settling my hand against his chest. “It’s… late," I say shakily. “I have to work in the morning.”
It’s a lame excuse. I know it is, but suddenly, I feel like the room is closing in on me. Like I’m suffocating with him in my space.
“You trying to get rid of me, Oliver?” he asks, leaning closer to me. I expect the familiar scent of whiskey, but it’s strangely vacant.
“No,” I lie. “Of course not.”
Robbie settles his hand on my neck. His thumb slides around and presses into the column of my throat, and I gasp. His other hand slowly unbuttons my pants, his fingers torturously toying with my zipper. My cock twitches and I close my eyes, trying to breathe normally.
My heart thuds in my chest as panic swells in my stomach, turning over the knots forming there.
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to leave before making up with you.”
“Making up?” I swallow hard, the pressure of his thumb making it difficult. His fingers slide through the opening of my boxers as he grasps my cock.
It doesn’t feel good. Not like it should. Because I know it’s not because of him.
Flashes in my brain echo of Sloane’s mouth against mine. His body pressed against me, pinning me to the door.
His hand on my throat and that gentle-yet-firm touch.
My cock throbs in response, and Robbie lets out a grunt.
“Mhmm,” Robbie says. “I owe you an apology.”
I open my eyes, finding his wicked gaze.
“For yesterday," he says, his amber eyes glittering with mischief.
His mouth finds my neck, and he sucks on the skin. Hard.
“Fuck,” I hiss, trying hard to fight the desire thrumming in my body.
“Careful, you’re going to give me a damn hickey,” I say, my voice coming out like some deranged whimper.
Robbie nips at my flesh as his hand on my cock quickens its pace.
His tongue slides up my neck, and my thighs tense. My ass clenches and a sharp sting of pain ricochets through me, reminding just what he’s apologizing for.
My body aches to release this pent-up frustration, and Robbie’s familiar touch, his rough strokes, are too much.
I’m not strong enough to fight this. I close my eyes, grimacing as my balls start to draw tight.
“I can’t show up to work with a fucking hickey, Robbie, Sloane—”
I shake my head, my mind a mess as I try to stave off coming.
I whine. His mouth disappears from my neck, and I breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived when I feel him let go of my cock.
I growl in frustration. The tears start to pool in my eyes as I fight the urge to beg for the release.
To let him put me out of my misery.
“You’re right, Oliver," he says carefully. My cock aches. The need to come is agonizing. I want to come, but not for him.
“It’s late. You should get some rest," he says, leaning in to kiss me. His cold lips meet mine, and I can’t move. It’s slow motion. Like a bullet dancing through the Matrix.
Robbie kisses my lips as I remain still.
“I’m sure you and Daddy Sloane have so much work to do. Preparing for the party and all.”
I look up at him, the truth cold as ice.
“How—”
He smirks. “You know one thing I learned from Sloane, Oliver?”
I can’t speak. I can’t find the words.
“Always be the smartest person in the room," he says, grabbing my throat. His grip turns tight so fast, I can barely blink. A gargled grunt escapes me, and then it happens.
I come. Hard.
Tears spill out of my eyes without warning.
His lips graze mine. “That way you’ll always be one step ahead of everyone else.”
He releases my throat, and I suck in a breath.
“Good job, by the way," he says nonchalantly.
“With what?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“With Sloane," he says with a shrug. “I thought it would take longer, but fuck… you were good," he says with a smirk. “I especially liked the part where you told him it’ll be your little secret.” He grins.
My blood runs cold.
“You saw that?”
Robbie smiles like a proud parent on award day.
“Oh, sweetheart… I saw everything.”
The tears start to fall without warning.
“I’m so proud of you, Oliver," he says, leaning in to kiss my lips. “So fucking proud.”
His hand finds my hair, and he pulls my locks, scrunching his fingers in them, and I turn away from his touch. It feels wrong.
This… all of it feels wrong.
How did I get here?
How did we get here?
“Don’t cry, baby. It’ll all be over soon.” He kisses me chastely. “And when it is, we’ll dry your tears with a crisp Benjamin on a beach in Monaco.” He chuckles.
He slaps my cheek faintly with praise.
“Sweet dreams, baby. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Friday?”
His hand settles on the doorknob.
“Parker’s party. Remember?”
I close my eyes as I nod, remembering our conversation.
“Right. Of course.”
“Good night, Oliver," he says, and then he slips through the door, through the crack into the oncoming night, leaving me broken in more ways than one.