CHAPTER 7 #4
Oliver throws his head back, gasping for air as I roll my hips upward, rubbing myself against him. Even through the layers of our clothes, I can feel how incredibly hard he is.
We are both panting, grinding against each other as our mouths clash together again and again.
“Ollie,” I groan, tearing my mouth away to press kisses down his throat. “Fuck, I need more.”
The second the words leave my mouth, Oliver tenses.
His entire body goes rigid in my lap.
I stop immediately, my hands freezing on his hips.
Mierda… he’s probably nervous because he thinks the shadows can see us.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against his. “The windows are tinted black, and we’re pinned between two concrete walls. No one can see us.”
Oliver shakes his head, still unsure.
Ahh…
I’m an idiot…
The audio bug.
Even if those pendejos can’t see us, they can hear us, and who knows how Rafael will react to this audio.
I lean in close, pressing my lips directly against his ear so no one but him can hear.
“I’m sorry I jumped you. I haven’t been with anyone for over a month, so I’m too horny to think straight.” I chuckle, hoping it would lighten the mood and ease him up. “The list is already in your back pocket, so you can just—”
Oliver’s hands suddenly fist in the collar of my shirt, and he smashes his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.
“Touch me, anyway you want,” Oliver begs, breaking the kiss just enough to speak against my lips.
I blink, stunned. I pull back an inch, raising my eyebrows, and tap a finger against the dashboard, reminding him that the mic is actively recording.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
Oliver’s eyes are hooded with lust. He grabs my hand and drags it down, pressing it hard against his hard cock.
“I don’t care, Damián. I want your hands on me.”
I grip his hips, pushing him backward just enough to give myself an inch of space. I reach down, ripping my zipper open, and free my aching cock between us.
Oliver looks down, his breath hitching in his throat. His lips part, his eyes wide and completely blown away by the sight of me.
It is the most absurd, ridiculous thing, but seeing him look at me like that makes me feel like he’s never seen anyone like me. And it makes me feel happy and so damn hot.
Oliver’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.
I grab the back of his neck, pulling him down, and lick those exact same lips, swallowing his moan as my hand drops to his jeans.
I undo his button, drag his zipper down, and slip my hand into his boxers to free him.
Oliver shudders, arching his spine as I curl my fingers around his length and take it out.
Once both are outside, I shift my grip, wrapping my hand around both of our cocks at the same time.
The first stroke, skin sliding against slick skin, is earth-shattering. Oliver cries into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, pumping my hand up and down our joined lengths, trapping us in a relentless friction.
I feel like I am going insane with how incredibly mind-blowing this feels.
It has to be the abstinence.
It has to be the fact that I haven’t touched anyone in over a month, because I have never, in my entire life, felt anything this intense.
Every muscle in my body is pulled tight, my brain completely short-circuiting as Oliver moans and thrusts in my lap.
“Dami,” he gasps, his fingernails digging into my shoulders. “I can’t… I’m going to—”
“Let go, nene,” I growl against his mouth. “Cum for me.”
Oliver shatters.
He cries out, his hips jerking wildly against my hand as his climax rips through him, spilling across my knuckles.
I keep pumping my hand, kissing him desperately as I chase my own release, but my grip is slipping. Suddenly, Oliver’s hand covers mine, moving my fingers away and taking me fully into his own hand.
He squeezes softly.
“Harder, nene. Squeeze harder.”
He does, and it makes my vision go completely white.
“Ollie—” I choke out, my head falling back against the headrest.
He leans down, devouring my mouth, swallowing my groans as his hand works me perfectly. So perfect, it takes me less than thirty seconds to finish.
I hit the edge, my back pressing hard against the leather seat as I moan and come harder than I ever have in my life.
Oliver slumps against my chest, burying his face in my neck as he pants for air.
…Usually, this is the moment when I pull away.
The moment when I clean up, zip my pants, and emotionally check out.
But this time I don’t move.
Instead, I wrap both of my arms tightly around Oliver’s waist, pulling his body against mine. I turn my head, burying my face in his hair, and I kiss his neck, his cheek, and his temple.
I keep pressing soft kisses all over his face while we ride out the high, holding him as tightly as I possibly can until our heartbeats finally slow down.
Then Oliver rests his head on my chest and lets out a giggle.
A sound that, who the hell knows why, but it feels way better than the orgasm I just had.
‘I wasn’t talking about him…’
Maldición.
Finni was right… I am absolutely, completely screwed.