Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sloane
I hadn’t expected to feel the things I did in that dressing room.
Yes, I’ve done these things before, and I’ve got damn near twenty years of experience with being a dom, but not once have I ever felt the desire to submit to anyone.
Not like I felt when I was on my knees with Oliver’s beautiful cock down my throat.
The desire was overwhelming. All I could do was grasp for his hand and guide it to my head, hoping he’d understand.
And he did. He gripped me tight without question, and something inside of me clicked into place.
I wasn’t just disciplining my bratty little Rabbit, I was letting him lead me.
Though he still operated within my orders, within my limits I’d set.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I wouldn’t do it again.
That I would let Oliver take control if he wanted to.
I’ve never wanted to switch for anyone. Not even Robert.
That fact is not lost on me, and if anything, it is more than telling.
Oliver is my assistant, and my fascination with him is dangerous.
For so many reasons. Hooking up with my employee without an NDA is damn near foolish, but I trust Oliver.
More than I probably should, given the fact we barely know each other.
But I swear, in some ways I feel like I’ve known him all my life, despite our age difference.
He challenges me in a way no one else ever has.
He makes me feel like I’m young again, like the world is at my feet. Like I can do fucking anything.
But as I look at him in my car, the sun setting beautifully in the distance, I can’t help but think about how I don’t want this day to end.
Every day I spend with Oliver Green, I don’t want to end.
I know some steamy moments, as hot as they may be, don’t equate to a relationship. And though I’ve served plenty of subs, when it comes to relationships, I’ve only had two, and neither were good experiences.
Sleeping with my roommate, Parker, was not one of my better choices in life and it’s a miracle we remained friends after what happened. And Robert? Well, what I had with Robert was also one of my terrible decisions that is now haunting me.
I don’t exactly have the best track record with choosing men when it comes to relationships. That’s why I prefer subs to lovers.
It’s easier. NDAs and contracts, hard and soft limits. Safewords…
Everything is defined and laid out and agreed upon in a way that is almost similar to business itself.
Though my submissives have not always been understanding of my needs, either, as is evidenced by the fact I haven’t had one in over a decade.
I look at Oliver, that nagging voice in my head beckoning me to wonder…
Would Oliver be different?
Something tells me he would. But perhaps it is just my wishful thinking.
After all, it’s been barely three days.
Three days is not enough time to develop something so deep, yet…
What I feel for Oliver is certainly deeper than it should be given the circumstances. But I can’t afford to get distracted, least of all by thoughts of feelings I should not have.
I focus on the drive, the music playing softly as he carefully sets his hand on my thigh, pulling me from my thoughts. I give him a faint smirk, expecting him to say nothing, but when he speaks, my heart skips a beat.
“Thank you," he says carefully.
“You are most welcome," I say, absentmindedly intertwining my fingers with his. I give him a light squeeze and let go. Tension blooms between us and I think he’s going to remain quiet, but he doesn’t.
“Not just for the suit, or the… you know.” He clears his throat. “Arguably the hottest orgasm of my life.”
I let out a dark chuckle. “Careful, Oliver. Compliments like that are dangerous to a man’s ego.”
He doesn’t laugh, and I realize he’s serious. My tone shifts.
“You good?” I ask.
He nods as we come to a stop sign. His hand squeezes my thigh, rising a little higher.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m really good, I just…”
“What is it?”
He’s quiet for a moment, the pause almost as thick as the tension between us.
He clears his throat. “I’m going to say something and I’m nervous about it, so if you don’t want to, just—”
“Spit it out, Oliver.”
His hand rises a little higher on my thigh, his fingers grazing the edge of my cock through my pants and my cock responds to his touch immediately.
“I really, really want to suck you off right now.” He clears his throat again. “I’m sorry, that was super blunt, um—”
I turn the bend, the heaviness of his words between us.
“Why does that make you nervous?” I ask. “Are you afraid I’ll say no?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe—”
“Oliver, I told you I will not stop you. That is what the safeword is for.”
“Yeah, but I mean… is it safe?” he asks, twisting his lips. “You know… like, you won’t crash the car or something?”
It’s the innocence in his voice that does me in. I stop at the red light, turning to look at him as I find his hand and gently grasp it, moving it slowly to my cock which is already semi-hard from the mere suggestion.
“I take it you’ve never done that?”
He shakes his head, the look of pure curiosity in his eyes so vibrant and sweet, it’s damn near endearing.
“No, but… I kind of think I want to. With you. I just don’t want to cause a wreck or something.”
He squeezes my cock, and I let out a breath as the light turns green.
“I assure you, Oliver. I will remain in control. You are safe with me.”
Something passes in his eyes, almost like doubt or hope. I carefully remove my hand from his and adjust the center console, pushing it up. I don’t push him. I just wait. I let him decide what he wants.
And then I feel him move. His hand rises to my trousers, and he deftly works at the buttons. I suck in a breath, his every movement so profoundly intense. I maintain a solid, steady speed limit as he shifts in his seat, and works to find my cock, my heart in my throat.
I’ve done many things in life, but never this, and I can’t lie and say I’m not aroused by the mere thought. It’s strange, feeling excitement like this. Anticipation. Unearthing a new experience for the first time.
But Oliver makes me feel curious, too. Dangerously curious.
The minute I feel his hand around my cock, I groan.
“Shit,” I hiss. He pulls my cock out and my heart beats a little faster, knowing what he is about to do.
It’s an agonizingly long wait, though in reality it is probably mere seconds until he positions himself over my cock and takes me into his mouth.
The minute his soft tongue touches my rigid flesh I grip the steering wheel tighter.
“Fucking hell, Oliver,” I groan as he opens his mouth wider, his tongue rolling up the underside of my length. The sensation is soft, warm. He groans around my cock as he builds his rhythm, taking me inch by agonizing inch.
“Your mouth feels so good on my cock," I say through a heavy breath. I’m half-tempted to shove my cock all the way to the back of his throat, to fuck his mouth with reckless abandon, but I refrain. I don’t want to hurt him, and I told him I would remain in control, and if I am anything, I’m a man of my word.
But the desire is there, the desperation almost a gnawing need.
I drop one hand from the steering wheel and slide my fingers through his hair. I grip the locks, as I cradle the back of his head and gently push him forward, thrusting my cock up into his mouth, and he groans in response.
“You like that?” I ask, my fingers twisting in his hair. His head bobs on my cock and he hums out a sound that sounds like a yes.
I clear my throat. “One tap for yes. Two for no.”
Oliver squeezes my thigh once as he takes more of me into his mouth, and I curse again.
“Good boy,” I breathe, my voice turning darker, the monster inside me rearing his ugly head. I thrust up into his mouth again, going deeper, and he gags momentarily which only makes matters worse.
“Are you okay?” I ask, breathless.
One squeeze on my thigh gives me more relief than it should.
One hand slides into the opening of my briefs and he finds my balls, cupping them in his hand as he continues his motions.
I switch lanes, biting my tongue as I turn to make the exit into his neighborhood and slow my speed.
I suck in a deep breath as his motions get faster.
With each thrust, each movement, I feel myself climbing towards acceleration in more ways than one.
He squeezes my balls as he goes down, hard, until I hit the back of his throat and my orgasm hits me like a head on collision.
“Fuck, Oliver!” I tense, my entire body locking up. I hold his head in place and he doesn’t move, just heavily breathes through his nose, his fingers digging into my thigh and the other hand squeezing my balls like damn morse code.
The euphoria that hits me is unlike anything else I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
And I know it’s not the thrill or the rush. Not entirely.
It’s just… him.
It’s Oliver, and the way he dismantles me when he’s not even trying to do so.
It’s the way he takes what he wants and leaves me reeling in this feeling of submission that is so familiar but so new and enticing.
My hand lets up on his hair, and I hear his evident swallow, which only makes me curse. He slowly pulls off of me, placing one small kiss at the tip of my cock before he lets go of my balls and tucks me away.
When he rights himself in his seat, I can’t help but steal a look at him.
His lips are slightly swollen, his eyes glazed with a familiar look I’ve known many times in my life.
Complete and utter bliss.
He clears his throat, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and then puts his seat belt back on.
“What was that for?” I ask, breathlessly.
“That was for being an asshole," he says with a grin.
“Fucking brat," I say, but my voice is full of happiness and humor.
Oliver sits back in his seat just as we pull up into his parking lot. The sun is almost fully set, lighting the sky up in ochre and orange shades. I can’t help but feel like it’s indicative of the fire I feel right now. This fire Oliver makes me feel. I never want to let go of it.
“Can I walk you to your door?” I ask, my voice smooth. I hear the desperation in it, but for once in my life I don’t feel embarrassed. I feel emboldened.
Oliver looks at me with those big green eyes and cock-swollen lips, like a damn angel.
“Yes, Sir," he says, his voice smooth like hot fudge.
When I get out of the car, he waits for me to open the door.
I smirk. My little Rabbit is a fast learner.
This time when I help him out of the car, he doesn’t stumble.
Of course, I know where all the cameras are, so I know we are in the clear with where I parked, and for the moment, I just stand there, his hand in mine, against the open door.
I don’t think, I just do it. I kiss him.
Oliver doesn’t startle, nor does he act surprised. His hand comes to rest on my neck, and he squeezes my throat gently as he parts his lips and slides his tongue in my mouth. I can taste myself on him, and it’s strangely arousing.
I take his bottom lip between my teeth and bite it gently, and he yelps ever so slightly.
“That’s for being a fucking brat," I say, kissing him softly where I nipped him.
“Thank you,” he says, his hand on my throat sliding around my neck, his fingers gripping the edges of my hair.
“You don’t have to thank me.” I whisper. “I am glad to serve.”
Oliver’s gaze drifts to my eyes, and they look a little glazed. I’m not sure if it’s this day, or the moment, or something so much more. Perhaps all of it.
“Now, let’s get you to bed. I hear you have a very early day tomorrow.”
He nods. “Right.”
I let him go and get his things from the back of the car. I carry the bags as he leads the way to his porch. I glance up at the lantern only momentarily.
Oliver fiddles with his keys, much slower than he should.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
He shakes his head and slides the key in the lock.
“Perfect," he says, but his voice sounds a little despondent.
I worry he’s heading into a drop, and so I don’t think twice about pulling him into my arms and holding him tightly. His arms come up around me and his shoulders relax.
“Good night, Oliver,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss beneath his ear.
When I pull away, he looks at me with misty eyes.
“Good night, Sloane," he says, catching his error. “I mean, Mr. Pierce.”
I give him a soft, reassuring smile.
“Sloane is fine," I say.
He smiles back at me and nods. “Okay, Sloane.”
And with that, I give him my back and head to my car. The entire drive home I can’t stop smiling, and I know it’s certainly got nothing to do with the blowjob I received, or the one I gave.
It has nothing to do with this aching need that feels somehow sated for the first time in years.
“He said my name,” I whisper aloud to the confidential air.
And perhaps that itself is the most dangerous thing of all.