Chapter 13
JOHN
Ilike that Olivia was so accommodating.
I like it when she challenges me, and I like it when she respects my schedule and responsibilities, and I like that she has her own priorities that are separate from me.
I really like having her under the same roof. I think we’re nailing this relationship thing. This feels healthy. Balanced. She doesn’t feel like a black hole at all. She is merely a woman I’m attracted to. The only woman I want to fuck, yes, but I think I’ve got it all under control.
This is good.
The door to my home gym is open a crack. I can hear a slow, sexy song playing from the iPhone speakers in there.
Peering through, I see her at the opposite side of the room, in front of the ballet barre and the mirror.
She’s barefoot, wearing a sports bra that plunges, exposing more of her breasts than she should be sharing with the internet, and relaxed-fit gray joggers that sit just below the top curve of her hips.
She’s pulled the bottom hems of her sweats up to just above her knees.
Her hair is up in a loose bun, her exposed waist and abs are toned and breathtaking, her ass is round and perfect, and I think I have literally forgotten how to breathe.
There’s a tripod with a digital point and shoot camera set up, facing her from an angle.
Her eyes are closed as she does some kind of dance.
Not ballet. Languid, swaying, sensual. I quietly push the door open and lean against the doorframe, watching her.
It’s mesmerizing. So sexy. She doesn’t seem to have any idea I’m here witnessing her as she reaches one arm up, one hand crosses her body and then she drags it across her breasts and down one side of her torso.
She can’t possibly be planning to post this on her YouTube channel.
She’d have to record over the audio, but surely she isn’t recording this for the entire world to see.
Olivia kicks one foot high in the air, lands it in a wide-legged stance, and rocks her hips, front and back, side to side, round and round.
She did that to me last night.
A groan escapes my throat. Her eyes fly open. She doesn’t miss a beat, but one corner of her mouth quirks upward. She tilts her chin down, watching me in the reflection of the mirror. She pulls a small remote from a pocket in her joggers, clicks it at the camera—pausing the recording, I would hope.
I step inside the room, quietly shutting the door behind me and locking it. I take a seat on the chair that’s placed against the wall next to the door.
Olivia spins around to face me and lowers herself to the floor into wide-legged splits.
She stretches her arms up, clasping her hands above her head and then out, flattening them against the floor in front of her.
Never taking her eyes off me. The song ends, and another slow, sexy song begins.
She bends her arms and dips her chest down, arching her ass up into the air as she slides onto her knees, and fuck me, she’s slowly crawling toward me on her hands and knees.
She’s the devil.
Having an erection at 10:30 in the morning when there are other people in the house is not optimal.
But I will maintain eye contact with this devious she-demon and suffer through.
She crawls all the way over to me, bites her lower lip as she places her hands on my knees and pushes them apart.
As she sits up between my legs, I curl my index finger under her chin, tip it up to kiss her mouth, but she pushes herself back.
Olivia stands in front of me, and I can see a wet spot on the fabric between her legs.
Jesus.
How wet does she have to be if it’s soaked through that thick cotton?
I would be remiss if I did not find out for myself.
As I reach for her, she swivels her hips, turning away from me, folds forward, and sticks her ass in my face.
This is…not a problem.
I place my hands on those perfect, round ass cheeks.
“No hands,” she says, placing her hands over mine. Tossing mine away and then placing her own on her hips, she snaps her torso up. She sways her hips from side to side, lowers her ass back so it grazes my crotch, and then she pulls away again.
My glasses are fogging up. I remove them, carefully drop them to the floor. I need to remember to order lenses with anti-fog coating because there will be steam rising from my skin most of the time when Olivia is around.
She spins to face me, places her hands on the back of the chair on either side of my neck, dips down with her lips parted, and then pulls her head back when I lean in.
Her hands slide down to my shoulders, down my chest and abs, down the top of my thighs, stroking the hard length in my jeans, just once.
Then she slowly pushes my knees closer together.
Turning away from me again, she straddles my legs and positions herself squarely above my aching lap.
I hold my breath as she thrusts her hips forward and back, because I know what’s coming, and it’s not going to be me.
Not at 10:30 in the morning. She puts her hands on her knees, leans forward, and squats.
Bouncing up and down on my lap.
Ohhhh-livia.
Oh. Shit.
This is the best, most evil form of punishment I have ever had the pleasure of enduring.
My hands reach for her waist, squeezing and caressing.
This time she doesn’t reprimand me. She stands, turns to face me, lowers herself onto my lap, and presses my face between her tits…
and I inhale her. I nip at her flesh, and she bears down on me.
I can feel her heart pounding beneath my tongue as I lick her damp, heaving chest. She arches.
Her neck, her back. I pull the straps of her sports bra down her shoulders, reach the tips of my fingers inside the taut fabric, and pull it aside and down until one of her beautiful, pillowy breasts pops out.
One flick of the tip of my tongue against her hard, pink nipple elicits a gasp from the vixen.
Three anxious knocks at the door beside us elicit curse words, and she covers her tits with one arm and her mouth with one hand.
“Miss Montgomery?” Sanjay says from the other side of the door. “John?” He tries to turn the doorknob.
“Go away,” I growl.
“Okay,” he says, “but Iris is here with some dresses and a tailor? For your girlfriend? Iris said she has to leave in forty minutes, tops.”
“Shit,” I say under my breath. I forgot she was coming. If it were just the tailor, I’d send him away, but I’ll never hear the end of it from Iris if I waste her time. “Tell them I’ll be there in ten minutes and Olivia will join them in fifteen. Go away now.”
“Yep!” he says, and I can hear him speed-walk down the hall.
I rest my forehead against Olivia’s sternum, gather up my strength, slide my hands under her ass, and catapult myself up. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her across the room, setting her feet down in front of the ballet barre and the mirrored wall.
When I see her face, I almost laugh, because she looks as frustrated as I feel. She reaches back to grip the barre, frowning at me. Her one breast is still exposed. She’s still breathing heavily. I look down to find her toes curled tightly, feet slightly turned out, her thighs squeezing together.
“Motherfucker…” she whispers.
I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the mirror. She rests her hands lightly on the barre again as she crosses one leg in front of the other.
“Olivia…” I brush aside the wisps of hair that cover her neck and kiss the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
“I enjoyed that advanced form of torture a great deal. I can see that you’re frustrated, so I’m going to make you come.
” I watch her reflection in the mirror as I reach around to massage her breast with one hand and slowly slide my other hand inside her pants. “You have to stay quiet.”
She nods and licks her lips.
“I don’t have an adequate amount of time right now to devote to worshipping your body as it should be worshipped… Fuck…” My fingers dip between her legs, where it is impossibly slick with arousal. “God, you’re so wet…”
My eyes squeeze shut for a second as I allow myself to imagine how incredible it would feel to press my cock inside her. But I can’t.
I open my eyes and stare at her reflection again, watching her head drop back when I flatten my fingers against her clit and rub in circles.
She presses into my hand. “I am willing to give you the condensed version of what I can offer you, because I have a feeling you’ve never experienced the level of pleasure I’m capable of giving you. ”
She exhales a haughty little laugh and then catches her breath, gripping the barre harder when I pinch her nipple and form a V with my fingers, sliding them alongside her clit with just the right amount of pressure.
“You don’t believe me?” I slip two fingers inside her so easily.
She rises up onto the balls of her feet, clenching around my fingers as I pump them up and down.
I slide my fingers out and in. Out and in.
My hand is drenched in warm, silky liquid.
“You don’t think I’m going to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked? ”
I watch as she struggles to find her voice, finally eking out, “We’ll see.”
I finger fuck her vigorously. I don’t stop until she’s been tensing and writhing around, shaking and shimmying for almost a full minute, coming all over my hand before going very still and rigid. Then I focus on her clit again, slow things down, and watch her come back from some far-off place.
She is so fucking beautiful. It’s too much. This is what I’ll see every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life—her eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted, long neck arched, breasts full and heaving. When she says my name, she sounds bewildered and possessive, and I love it.
I keep my hand flat against her skin as I pull it out from her wretchedly soaked panties and sweatpants.