25. Lissa
Lissa
On Thursday evening, I’m sitting with my head against the wall, my legs resting against the base of the sculpture as Oliver slams his body against mine, both of us moaning as we fuck.
It feels as if we’ve been going at it for hours, but neither of us is done. The sessions that were once twenty to thirty minutes are now pushing right up to the hour mark every time.
Oliver’s huge hands clamp against my back as he lifts me off the seat and walks us over to the desk.
He’s only in his shirt today, having lost his tie, jacket, and pants as soon as I walked through his door and locked it behind me. I’m aching to see his muscular chest. I’ve felt the ridges of his abs through the shirt fabric during sex, but he’s yet to take it off.
Carrying me the final few feet, he lowers me down so that my butt comes to rest against the edge of the desk.
Reaching around me, Oliver pulls a long length of satin fabric from the desk and dangles it in front of me. His eyes are sparking with a raw need that sends my pulse skyrocketing.
“You mentioned before you might be interested in letting me tie up just your hands. Do you want to try it?”
I nod before I’ve even processed what he’s said. I want to try everything with him.
He licks a path up my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin, and proceeds to tie my wrists together.
After he ties the knot, he turns me around, pushing me down until I’m bent over the desk. Leaning over me, he secures the fabric against a small hook in the surface of his desk beneath a long handle I had always assumed was a design feature.
It’s the same bronze as all the toys we’ve used, but thicker and sturdier. My hands rest against the edge of the desk as he presses down on my shoulders.
“Spread your legs.”
He doesn’t check on me as often as he used to. We discussed it a couple of days ago, and both agreed he’s gotten very good at reading me. He reiterated the need to use safe words if I’m ever uncomfortable, but I’ve never had to. Somehow, I know I’m safe with him.
I widen my stance, groaning in pleasure as he thrusts his cock back inside me in one hard push.
“Oh, Jesus.”
My head falls forward as he begins to pound his hips into me. I have nothing to hold on to, and I’m finding it hard to balance until my fingers grip the rectangular handle on the desk just above where my wrists are securely tied.
As soon as I do it, I know that’s what he had intended as he growls at the back of his throat, grabs my hips hard enough to bruise, and plows into me without restraint.
It’s the hardest fuck we’ve ever had, and I’m coming apart almost instantly, my mouth open in a silent scream as the pleasure uncoils inside me, endlessly, until I’m crying out with every thrust.
He bends over me, his weight almost impossible to take as his hands find my breasts, squeezing hard as I come, my walls clenching his dick, causing him to come as well. I feel his cock twitching and pulsing as we both struggle to catch our breath.
I’m standing suspended in a cloud of pleasure for the longest time until his hands slide over my wrists and untie me. He pulls me up to standing, and I suck in a breath as his fingers move between my legs, thrusting back inside me as he hums in approval.
“You came so hard,” he says, pushing in deeper until I’m arched back from him, my legs widening, wanting his cock again.
When did I become such a slut for this man?
His eyes meet mine as he lowers his head, biting my lip, sucking on my tongue as he thrusts inside my mouth at the same rhythm as his fingers. I’m hot and sore, but I don’t care.
“How do you feel about dirty talk?” he asks, scissoring his fingers inside me, making my eyes roll back in my head.
“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly. Oliver often talks dirty during sex. He loves talking about what he’s going to do to me in graphic detail. It totally turns me on, even though it embarrasses me.
“I don’t mean telling you what I’m going to do to you,” he says, his thumb rubbing against my clit as I try to keep myself together. It’s too much after the sex and still not enough. “I mean, me saying things that might seem… not nice, if you thought I actually meant them. Which I never would.”
My brow furrows as I pant against him, his other hand supporting my upper back, as he keeps thrusting his fingers inside me. I’m so fucking close…
“L… like what?” I ask.
“I want to fuck you so hard,” he murmurs against my ear. “And fill you up with my cum, until you’re dripping with it, watching it slide out of you as you pleasure yourself on the thickest toy in my collection. Watch you get off on it, like the little slut you are.”
I come again, gripping him tightly as his tongue shoves back in my mouth. He bites at my lips, my tongue, scraping his teeth over me, his fingers merciless as he widens them, twists them, and then pulls them free, shoving them into my mouth.
I groan around them, shocked by the sensation of it, but the look in his eye is intoxicating. He looks thrilled, beyond pleased, and I suck on them just to make his gaze more intense.
“Fuck… that’s it,” he whispers, “get them clean for me.”
I lick between them, the sharp tang against my tongue intense as he finally releases me, lowering me down to one of the chairs in front of the desk as I pant, catching my breath, coming down from the high.
He kneels in front of me, licking his lips, his gaze fixed on mine.
Holy shit.
“How do you feel?” he asks, watching me.
“Good,” I slur back, and he smiles that half smirk I’m growing to love as he brushes a hand gently over my thigh.
“Was that too much? I won’t use that type of language again if it makes you uncomfortable.”
I shake my head, my cheeks flaming. “I liked it. I don’t know why. But it was good.”
“There’s nothing wrong with liking that type of thing, especially when it’s just a fantasy. I’d never treat any woman like that in real life. But to pretend can be… enjoyable as long as you know it’s all part of the play.”
“Mm,” is all I can get out, and he chuckles gently, going to the table and getting my clothes.
This is something else he’s started to do recently. He dresses me after, when I’m totally spent. I love watching the concentration on his face as he figures out what goes where and how my skirt zips up.
After he’s got my panties on, he lifts me up to stand, but the blissed-out feeling fades as I hear my phone buzzing in my bag.
Oliver’s brow furrows. “Is that your cell?”
I nod and grab my phone from my bag.
“Hello?” I say, almost dropping it as I try to clear my head.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Davenport?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Emily Cartwright, the Charge Nurse from Jungle Ward. I wanted to ask, have you taken Henry out of his room?”
I go still. “No...”
“Alright.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“That’s the problem, Mrs. Davenport, we’re not sure. His father came for his scheduled visit this afternoon, but we believe he may have taken him out of the hospital, and they haven’t come back.”
My blood is pounding so hard that I can barely hear the next thing she says.
“Oh my God, I’m coming over right now.”
“As you know, Henry is recovering well, but he shouldn’t be outside for long or away from medical professionals at this time.”
“I understand. I’m on my way.”
“Lissa?” I turn to find Oliver standing in the doorway to his office. He looks untouchable, perfect in every way, and my heart breaks at the thought that in another life, this man could have really meant something to me.
“I have to go,” I say, clipped and sharp, so unlike how I usually speak to him. The panic is taking over, and I can’t hide it.
“What is it?” he asks firmly, coming over to me as I grab my things.
“H—Henry’s gone missing. They think his father might have taken him out of the hospital.”
“What? I thought he was in there until Sunday?”
“He is, but James doesn’t always listen to people when they tell him what to do. And now I have to see him when he was already supposed to be done with his visit.”
“What do you mean?”
I look up at him, the words falling from my mouth before I can consider whether it’s wise to tell Oliver so much about my personal life.
“I have a protective order against James. He’s not supposed to come within five hundred feet of me, but he ignores it all the time.
He has access to Henry, but only with my approval.
I didn’t tell him Hen had cancer at first, and now he’s angry because he didn’t know, and he’s told me he’s going to take him away from me, and Henry’s all I have, and?—”
“It’s alright, Lissa,” Oliver says, so calmly that I almost believe him.
“We’re going to go there now, and we’ll deal with this.
He has no rights to Henry until a settlement is reached, and even then, preference often stays with the mother.
You have full custody, I’m assuming?” I nod as he grunts angrily.
“We’re going to head there right now and find Henry. ”
I stare at him, every piece of hard-won independence I have fought for clamoring in my head.
I have to stop relying on other people.
But the truth is a brutal reality. I don’t have authority over James; I never did. He constantly ignores the court's orders, and I’ve never won an argument with him, even when I knew I was in the right.
Yet when I look at Oliver, with his stoic, angry stare, it feels in that moment as if he wants to fight the whole world for me. And he has every intent to win.
“Alright,” I say tentatively. “If you’re sure, but I don’t have a car.”
“We’ll take mine.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to the hospital. The drive over, after the euphoria of our time in his office, is jarring and unpleasant. Neither of us speaks, but Oliver’s movements are tense as if he’s holding himself back from speaking his mind.
As he pulls into a parking spot directly in front of the hospital, I climb out of the car and run toward the door.
“Lissa.” I turn to find Oliver standing beside the driver’s side door. “I see them, they’re across the street in the park.”
Spinning around, I crane my neck, standing on tiptoe, but I’m shorter than Oliver, and all I can see are trees. I can just make out the top of a man’s back, as if he’s pushing a child on the swings. Before I can think through it, I’m running into the road.
“Lissa!”
I am narrowly missed by an ambulance that’s pulling into the hospital and have to jump out of the way of another car as I sprint across the road, oblivious of anything but getting to my son.
Oliver catches up with me, grabbing my arm and slowing me.
“Be calm,” he says with such authority I feel it in my bones. “Yelling at him won’t help matters, and it’ll scare Henry.”
Alarm bells continue to go off in my head as I stare at him.
“I know you’re scared; you’re angry. But I have dealt with a lot of these cases before. Men like James will use your emotions against you. He’ll weaponize them. You must be calm.”
I know he’s right. It would be just like James to let me fly off the handle at him, only to use it in court later.
Taking a long, deep breath, I make a conscious effort to relax, and I’m infuriated that the pleased little smile on Oliver’s face makes me proud that I was able to do as instructed.
Turning, I head toward the entrance of the park, the monotonous squeak of the swing the only sound as I come up behind them.
“James,” I say coldly. Henry twists around at the sound of my voice, his face breaking into a bright smile. James glances back, as if he’s been waiting for me.
“Before you lose your shit, it’s not far, and the poor little guy needed some fresh air.”
Not according to the doctors, you piece of shit.
“He needs to go back inside,” I say, my voice small and quiet over the sound of the swing.
“He’s fine where he is,” James mutters, sounding bored.
“Mr. Davenport.” James flinches at Oliver’s voice, turning, his eyes widening as Oliver takes an ominous step forward. “You had no right to remove your son from the hospital wing without his mother’s express permission.” Oliver’s voice is like a whip. “She has full custody. You do not.”
He’s right, but I hate to have this discussion in front of Henry. I always avoid these conversations when he’s around. The swinging slows, and when Henry turns to me, he looks pale, and my stomach turns over at the thought that this might have set him back.
He still needs lots of rest and recovery before the chemotherapy begins.
“Would you take him to the see-saw, please?” I say, turning to Oliver. I look up at him imploringly, and in an instant, his stance softens, and he nods, walking up to James, who sidesteps him with a smirk.
All the confidence James lacked in their first encounter seems to have returned. He’s back to being the smug, arrogant man I know too well.
“Hi, Oliver,” Henry says brightly, and some of the bravado drops from James’s face. Oliver helps my son gently down from the swing, walking slowly over to the see-saw, and James turns to me, his jaw set.
“Why does Henry know your boss?”
“Why did you take him out of the hospital?” I ask, inhaling sharply as James advances on me. Oliver is watching from a distance, his fists clenched at his sides.
James comes to stand opposite me; his handsome face twisted into a sneer of triumph.
“Not a good feeling, is it? Finding out your son has disappeared. Now you know how it felt to find out he was battling cancer when you didn’t have the decency to tell me.
I wanted to give you a taste of what it’s going to be like, Lissa.
I’ve hired lawyers. You’ll be served, I’ll win custody after this shit you pulled, and you’ll never see Henry again. ”
He laughs, the sound a rattling, unpleasant noise that echoes around the park.
How did I ever love this man?
“Henry deserves to be with his father, not his unhinged whore of a mother who can’t even look after herself, let alone a child.
” He looks me over, the same derision in his eyes I’ve come to expect.
“You’re a train wreck, Lissa, and once everyone knows it, I’ll have my son, and in a few years, he won’t even remember your name. ”
He walks past me, the smell of his cologne making me want to throw up as I stand there frozen, wondering if he can really take my son away from me forever.
I watch until he’s out of sight, my heart hammering, and walk over to Oliver and Henry.
I touch Oliver’s arm without thinking, but he doesn’t flinch, looking back at me sorrowfully and then at James’s retreating back.
“Are you alright?” he asks me, and my chest aches at the concern in his eyes.
I wish you could truly care for us and protect us. I’m tired of doing it all alone. But I need to distance myself, or I won’t be able to carry on without you.
I nod, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Hen? We need to get you back inside, sweetie.”