Chapter Nine
Olivia
I watch Roberto’s face in the dim light. He is breathing just as hard as I am, and I want to touch the hard line of his jaw, the pulse I can see beating in his throat.
He is still holding my hand. His thumb stroking the inside of my wrist.
“Olivia,” he says again, and my name sounds different in his mouth.
I know I should stop this. I know he’s my boss. I know we’re stuck in an elevator in the dark. But I also know that if this car started moving right now and the doors opened, I would be so, so disappointed.
I lean in again. I kiss the corner of his mouth, then along the line of his jaw, feeling the scrape of his stubble against my lips. His breath shudders out, a hot rush against my ear.
His hands go around my waist and down to my ass, lifting me onto his legs. My skirt is bunched around my hips, and the wool of his trousers is rough against the sensitive skin of my thighs.
The fabric of my panties is thin, and I can feel the hard press of him through our clothes. I rock my hips against him, and he groans, a low, rough sound.
“Olivia.” My name is a warning.
I ignore it. I lean back, my hands on his shoulders for balance, and look at him. His eyes are dark, fixed on my face. I reach for the buttons of my shirt, my fingers fumbling with the tiny, mother-of-pearl discs.
His hands cover mine. “Let me.”
His fingers are long and sure, and he makes quick work of the buttons. He pushes the fabric aside, exposing the simple white lace of my bra.
He looks at me for a long moment, then lowers his head and presses a kiss to the swell of my breast above the lace. I shiver, my head falling back.
His hands come up to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hard and aching beneath the lace. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.
He kisses me again, hard and deep, and I return it just as fiercely. My hands are in his hair, holding him to me.
He slides one strap of my bra down my shoulder, then the other. He reaches behind me, and with a practiced flick of his fingers, the clasp releases. He pulls the lace away, and the cool air raises goosebumps on my skin.
His gaze is heated, intense. He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize the lines of my body.
He bends his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, and I cry out, the sensation a sharp, sweet shock. He sucks gently, then not so gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
My hands clutch at his shoulders, my body arching, seeking more. He gives it to me, his hand coming up to roll my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Roberto,” I gasp. “Please.”
He lifts his head, his eyes dark with a need that matches my own. “Please what?”
“Everything,” I say, the word a breathy confession. “I want everything.”
He kisses me again, a rough, desperate kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. His hands are everywhere, skimming my back, my sides, my thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
He’s still mostly dressed, the crisp cotton of his shirt a rough, exciting friction against my nipples. I want it gone. I fumble with the buttons, my fingers clumsy with desire.
He helps me, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside. His chest is broad, inked, and defined, an enticing V narrowing and disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. I trace the path with my fingers, and he shudders.
My hands go to his belt, and I unbuckle it, the metal clinking softly in the quiet car. I move to unzip his trousers, but he stills my hands with his.
"Not yet," he says, breathing unevenly. "It'll be over too fast."
I don't understand until he slides his hand up my thigh, his fingers finding the damp lace of my panties. He traces the line of them, a slow, teasing touch that makes me squirm.
He pushes the fabric aside and slides a finger inside me. I’m so wet he meets no resistance. I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand.
He adds a second finger, stretching me, filling me. He finds a spot inside me that makes my vision white out, a spark of pure pleasure.
“Roberto,” I sob, my head falling back against the wall. “Don’t stop.”
He has no intention of stopping. He moves his thumb to my clit, circling it in a rhythm that’s somehow both gentle and insistent. My body starts to tighten, a coil of tension winding in my belly.
I’m so close so soon. The anticipation and thinking about him non-stop for the past two weeks has wound me up. I’m a rubber band pulled taut, and he’s the hand that’s about to let it go.
I’m writhing on his lap, my hands clutching at his shoulders, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.
His name is a chant on my lips. A prayer. A plea.
He bites my neck, a sharp, possessive sting, and that’s all it takes. The coil snaps. A wave of pleasure crashes over me, so intense it borders on pain. I cry out, my body convulsing around his fingers.
He keeps moving, drawing out my orgasm until I’m a boneless, trembling mess in his arms. I collapse against his chest, my face buried in the crook of his neck. My breath comes in ragged gasps.
He shifts, reaching for the jacket that was folded under me. He lays it out on the floor.
Then, he lifts me easily, settles me onto the wool. He kneels over me, and I look up at him.
He looks powerful. Dangerous. His face is shadowed, his eyes burning.
I can see his cock straining against his zipper. My mouth waters, and I ache to touch him. Have him inside me.
But he doesn't pull it out just yet. He takes each of my hands and presses them flat against the carpet, lowering himself over me. He nudges my knees apart with his own, settling between my thighs.
I arch, my pussy practically begging for him to fill it.
"Are you still with me, Olivia?" he asks, and I can feel the vibration of his words through my whole body.
I nod, unable to form words.
He lowers his head and kisses me again. This one is different. It's slow and deep, and it’s full of a tenderness that’s more overwhelming than the fire from before.
My skirt is now bunched up around my waist, but I don't care to stop for a second to take it off.
He kisses a path down my body, his lips and tongue tracing the curve of my breasts, the line of my stomach, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of me as if he has all the time in the world. The thought that we could be freed at any second, that someone could see us, only makes it hotter.
He spreads my legs wider, and I feel exposed and vulnerable, and more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.
He looks up at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. His finger brushes me as he slides the soaked panties to the side. He holds my gaze as he lowers his head and presses a kiss to my clit.
I cry out, my hips jerking off the floor.
He smiles against my skin. "Sensitive?"
I can only nod, my hands fisting in the wool of his jacket.
He does it again, a long, slow lick that has me seeing stars. He circles my clit with his tongue, a slow, relentless rhythm that has me climbing again, higher and higher.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that makes my whole body sing. He sucks my clit into his mouth, a gentle pressure that’s just right.
My body tightens again, a second wave of pleasure building, stronger this time. I’m writhing on the floor, my hands clutching at his hair, holding him to me.
“Roberto,” I gasp, the name a broken plea. “I’m going to—”
The words are lost as my orgasm shatters through me. It's a blinding, world-ending rush of sensation. My back arches, my toes curl, and I cry out his name, a raw, ragged sound.
He doesn't stop. He licks and sucks and fucks me with his fingers until I’m a sobbing, trembling wreck, begging him to stop, begging him for more.
Finally, he lifts his head and moves up my body, his face glistening with my arousal. He holds himself above me, opening his mouth and allowing my pussy juices to flow from his mouth into my own. He looks at me, a smug, satisfied smile on his face.
"You're beautiful when you come," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I want to see it again."
He puts two fingers into the fabric of my panties and tears them away, exposing my cunt to him completely.
He doesn't give me a chance to recover. He dips his head again, and this time, he’s relentless.
It’s too much. It's not enough.
I lose all sense of time, all sense of self. There is only the feel of his mouth, the press of his fingers, the wave after wave of pleasure that crashes over me.
Roberto drives me to the edge again and again, pulling back just before I can fall, until I’m a babbling, incoherent mess. I am completely at his mercy.
And I love it.
I am a live wire, a raw nerve, and he is the current that flows through me.
I've never given up control in my life. Even the thought of it made my hands shake, my stomach churn.
But here, in the dark, with Roberto's head between my thighs, I give it up freely.
Willingly.
He's the one in charge, and the feeling is so intoxicating I can't get enough.
I’ve lost track of the orgasms. They blur together into one long, continuous wave of pleasure. One blurs into the other. All I can do is hold on, my body no longer my own.
When he finally lifts his head, I'm a boneless, sobbing mess. I'm shaking, my body slick with sweat, my mind a complete blank.
He crawls up my body, his skin hot against mine, caging me with his arms. He looks down at me, his eyes dark and intense. He’s still fully dressed from the waist down, and the sight of him, so in control while I’m completely undone, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft.
I nod, unable to speak.
He smiles. "Good."
He kisses me, and I can taste myself again on his tongue. It's a dirty, intimate taste, and it makes me moan.
He finally unbuckles his pants and pushes them and his boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock.
His cock springs free, hard and thick and beautiful.
I wrap my hand around him, and he groans, his head dropping to my shoulder. He’s hot and heavy in my hand, the skin soft, the steel beneath it unyielding.
I stroke him, my thumb brushing over the head, spreading the bead of moisture that gathers there.
He’s big. Bigger than I expected.
A thrill of fear and excitement shoots through me.
I've never had someone that big before.
In fact, my experience is pretty limited. I should be afraid.
But he’s going to feel so good inside me.
I can't wait.
He stills my hand, his grip firm. "Not like this," he says.
He shifts, and then he’s over me, his forearms braced on either side of my head. He nudges my legs wider with his knees, settling between my thighs.
I am completely open to him.
My body is humming with anticipation.
He reaches down, his hand wrapping around his cock. He guides himself to my entrance, his cock pressing against me.
He doesn’t move, just holds himself there, a teasing pressure that has me squirming beneath him.
“Roberto,” I say, my voice a ragged plea.
He looks down at me, his eyes dark. "Are you sure?"
I nod. "Yes. Please."
He pushes forward, just a little, a slow, deliberate invasion. He's so big he stretches me, a slight burn that’s quickly replaced by a deep, aching pleasure.
He pushes in deeper, inch by agonizing inch, giving me time to adjust. He’s watching my face, his eyes intense, looking for any sign of discomfort.
There is none.
Only a deep, primal need.
I want all of him.
Finally, he’s buried to the hilt, our bodies flush.