Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Lucian: Hey, thief, is Sarah around your house?
Olivia: I told you to leave her with me.
We could be having a lot of fun—and she wouldn’t be trying to escape.
Lucian: That doesn’t answer my question, is she with you?
Olivia: I wouldn’t know.
I’m not at home.
Lucian: Let me go look for her.
Olivia: That’s a great idea.
Look for your dog, and don’t bother me.
But maybe you should just give her to me.
I can keep an eye on her.
Lucian: Are you aware that your fence is .
. . a bit broken? Is this part of the charm but old as fuck look in your home?
Olivia: What do you mean my fence is broken?
Lucian: Attaching the image of the half-fallen fence right about now .
. .
Olivia: What happened to it?
Was that your dog?
Lucian: So now we’re blaming me for the fence too?
Olivia: Where is Sarah?
Lucian: Just because she’s in your backyard, it doesn’t mean she’s at fault.
Olivia: She broke it, didn’t she?
Lucian: No, she didn’t.
She’s jumped that fence multiple times and has never done any damage.
Olivia: Have you considered hiring a trainer?
Lucian: I have a great coach.
Have you seen the headlines?
I’m the best running back in the league.
Olivia: I’m so not amused by your response.
Lucian: Who hurt you, Olivia?
Olivia: Excuse me?
Lucian: It seems like you have, or should I say: You lack of sense of humor.
I thought it was me, but I’m starting to believe that you have .
. . issues.
Olivia: I don’t have fucking issues.
You’re my current problem, Lucian Crawford.
Lucian: Tell me more, I’m a great listener.
Olivia: What are you talking about?
Lucian: We’re trying to figure out why you’re so unhappy with your life.
Just so you know, my rates are high, but you and I .
. . we can come to an agreement.
:wink: emoji
Olivia: You and I aren’t coming to anything.
Lucian: Oh, but we can.
I can make you come hard and loud if you allow it, and .
. . maybe that’s all you need.
Someone to give you a couple of good orgasms to level up.
Lucian: Think about it.
No stress, no overcomplicating things—just you, me, and a little relief.
I bet you’d sleep like a baby after.
Olivia: Wow. So generous of you.
Truly, a selfless act.
Too bad I’m not interested in being your charity case—or your stress relief.
Lucian: So, you admit it.
You have problems, but you don’t want me to fix them for you.
Olivia: I admitted no such thing.
Lucian: You did. In writing.
I have receipts.
Olivia: You also have a dog who thinks my backyard is her personal vacation home.
Lucian: She has excellent taste.
And so do I.
Olivia: Is this where you start trying to be charming?
Lucian: Oh, sweetheart.
I’ve been charming. You’re just trying really hard not to notice.
Olivia: I would notice if you weren’t failing.
I’m totally unmoved.
Lucian: For now.
Olivia: Forever.
Lucian: Big words for someone who types so fast when I text.
Olivia: I have a strong urge to block you.
Lucian: That would require admitting I’m getting to you.
Can’t have that, huh?
Olivia: Your ego is a beast. I’d rather wrestle a crocodile.
Lucian: I bet I could make you beg.
Olivia: For you to shut up?
Probably.
Lucian: For something else.
Olivia: Your delusions are next-level.
Lucian: You sure?
Olivia: Positive.
Lucian: Then explain why your breathing just changed.
Olivia: My what?
Lucian: You’re flustered.
Even through text, I can feel it.
You’re picturing it, aren’t you?
Olivia: I’m not liking this exchange at all.
Lucian: Nah, you love this.
You love how I get under your skin.
How I make you squirm.
Olivia: You are so .
. .
Lucian: Detailed?
Explicit? Capable?
Olivia: Infuriating.
Lucian: Sure . . . but your fingers haven’t stopped typing.
What’s that about, Doc?
Olivia: You need a hobby.
Lucian: I just found one.
Charming you. And I’m getting really, really good at it.
Olivia: Congratulations.
You win the gold medal for being a pain in my ass.
And what you call *charm* is more like an annoyance.
Lucian: Gold medals are nice, but I’d rather do something else with your ass .
. . your mouth, your cunt.
I’m good at it. Really good.
Olivia: I walked into that one, didn’t I?
Lucian: Oh, sweetheart.
You didn’t just walk—you ran straight into it.
Full speed. No hesitation.
Olivia: You’re disgusting.
Lucian: Not disgusting, dirty.
I can prove it to you.
Tell me when and what you like the most. I’ll deliver.
Olivia: I like when people leave me the fuck alone.
Stop texting me—and fix my fence.
Lucian: Liar, you like me.
Olivia: Seriously, do you ever stop?
Lucian: Not until I get what I want.
Olivia: And what exactly do you want, Lucian?
Lucian: You. Spread out, gasping my name, wrecked and satisfied because I made you feel better than anyone ever has.
Lucian: You there, Liv?
Ready to beg for it?
Olivia: I refuse to dignify that with a response.
(Throws phone against the wall and plans another change of zip code)
Lucian: You don’t need to.
I know exactly what you’re thinking about now.
Olivia: That you’re a menace to society?
Lucian: That you’re wondering if I really could make you come undone.
Wondering if you want my mouth in your cunt or my fingers inside your ass while I’m fucking you with my big cock.
Lucian: Babe, are you there?
Olivia: Don’t call me babe.
Lucian: Why? Because it makes you feel things?
It makes you feel like mine?
Olivia: Because it’s annoying, more so when we don’t know each other at all.
Lucian: You know what else is annoying?
That you’re still pretending my texts aren’t getting to you.
That you’re not soaking wet and ready for me.
Olivia: Oh my God. You’re insufferable.
Lucian: And yet, you haven’t stopped texting me.
Olivia: I have something to tend in the clinic, get lost, Lucian Crawford and .
. . fix my fence.
Lucian: I’ll see you when you’re back home.
If you need my hands or mouth, just text, they’re ready for you.