Chapter Nineteen #2
I search his face as I reach down to pull his sweater off him.
His chest heaves as he lets me pull it up and over his head, slow and careful to mind his glasses.
And then it’s the warm skin of his chest against mine, and my fingers tracing the freckles on his shoulders, the light dusting of hair across his pecs, my body filled with awe and wonder at how human and beautiful he is underneath it all.
I press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. When he moans, the sound goes straight to that ache between my thighs.
He turns us and lays me down on the floor gently, until my back is flush with the rug.
With my knees bent, he holds them open with both hands and kneels between them.
I drink in the sight of his toned torso, the curves of his strong shoulders, everything down to the bulge straining against his jeans.
I can feel the heat radiating off my own skin as he stares down at me.
The look that passes between us says what we’re both thinking—that whatever happens next changes things.
He runs his hands down my legs, stopping just short of my hips, and asks, “May I?”
Hearing that need in his voice silences the last alarm bells in my head—the ones warning me that if we get too involved with each other, things could get messy. What does it matter, really? It’s just him and me here, the only two people in the world.
“Yes,” I whisper, and then he peels my leggings off.
My heart is pounding in my chest, in my ears, between my legs, too, as Oliver runs a finger along the top of the black thong that matches my bra.
Goose bumps erupt all over as I take a shuddering breath.
I’m nervous, yes, but also dizzy with want, especially as I watch him lick his lips and run a hand over me, the only thing separating our skin the flimsy material of my underwear.
He leans back on his heels, pulls his glasses off, and sets them on the desk.
Then he practically rips the underwear from my body as he lowers himself back down between my legs, this time all the way to his stomach.
He kicks the desk chair out of his way and settles in so that he’s perched on one elbow, face just over the rise of my hips so he can watch me.
He does just that when he slips a finger inside me. My eyes close and I gasp, reaching for something, anything, my hands landing on my own exposed chest. With light, teasing strokes, he explores me. My back bows and my body jerks with each pass of his finger.
Then there are two fingers, and is that another hand? There must be, because I can feel him inside of me while he somehow traces circles with perfect rhythm. He’s working me in tandem but separate, those gorgeous hands of his capable of more than just creating music at a piano. Just like I thought.
An oh my god escapes my lips without me even thinking about it.
“Is that right?” I hear him ask in a throaty voice. “Look at me.”
My eyes fly open as the pleasure starts to really build. The way he’s looking at me, those eyes all hooded and dark, threatens to sweep me under right then and there. I’m panting as he bites his lip, shifting enough that he can plant a kiss at the crease of my thigh.
“Oliver…” His name is little more than a whimper. His response is a groan as his tongue replaces one of his hands. My back bows and my eyes close.
“Keep watching, Celia,” he says between incessant, intense swipes of his tongue while one hand continues to work me from the inside.
I shake my head as pleasure surges through me. I can feel myself reaching the boiling point. I can barely handle it this way, with my eyes shut tight, my hips pinned into place by one of his hands, while his mouth and fingers work to unravel me completely.
“On your elbows,” he commands.
This time, I listen. I pull myself up just enough to lock eyes with him, and oh fuck, he’s right. This is so much more, to see him between my legs, and before I realize what’s happening, the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life overtakes me in a series of waves so powerful I collapse onto my back.
He keeps going until he’s wrung every last pulse and twitch out of me.
I stare at the ceiling with an empty brain. My body is all I am—a body made of sensations and little residual aftershocks of pleasure that race along my skin. I couldn’t form a sentence if I tried.
Oliver stretches out beside me and folds me into his arms. I throw a bare leg over his hip and press a kiss to his chest. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against his jeans and my body reacts of its own accord, straining to rub against it, to show him how good it feels between us.
“Celia,” he whispers. “Wait, please.”
I pause and pull back just enough to look at him with furrowed brows. “Let me. It’s your turn.”
“If you touch me right now, I’ll…” He takes a shuddering breath and runs his hand down my mostly bare back. “Tonight is just about you.”
I search his face for any signs that something is wrong, but I just see him, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and eyes still clouded with need. I cup his jaw and kiss him. I can taste myself on his lips.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because I want to—”
“I’m sure,” he says. “Let me savor you.”
Well, if that wasn’t the exact right thing to say. My blood heats again and I swear he can tell, because he kisses me so intensely that my head spins. By the time his hand snakes down my body, the pressure between my thighs is already building again.
He shows me what those hands can do again. Two more times, actually.
FROM: Chris Ross
TO: Celia García , Oliver Barlowe
DATE: Wednesday, September 23 at 4:52 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Lineage theme
holy shit. I love it.
c
FROM: Rebecca Eagan
TO: Celia García , Oliver Barlowe
DATE: Wednesday, September 23 at 7:14 PM
SUBJECT: FW: Lineage theme
Hey! Chris forwarded me the theme you guys sent him. I can’t stop listening to it!!!! It’s incredible!!!!! Damian is freaking out, he’s sent me three emails about the show’s intro with ideas already.
AMAZING WORK! I knew you two had it in you. Keep it up!
Rebecca