Chapter 30 - Olivia #6
“That’s it, there she is.” Nathaniel’s voice is strained like he’s barely holding on.
“Fuck, that’s my girl. My beautiful girl.
” His praise washes over me, and before long, he’s starting to shift his hips more and more.
He pulls out to the tip and pushes back in all the way now, so deeply that I can feel his testicles against my pussy.
We both moan in unison. There are no more words, all there is left to do is to simply feel.
We lose ourselves more and more to the pleasure our bodies are finding together with each gentle roll of his hips. He’s so careful with me, every stroke deliberate, cherishing me through each second that our bodies stay joined.
“Baby, I can’t hold out much longer.” Nathaniel pants. “You’re gripping me so tight… It’s too good.” I feel the moment his cock swells and his thrusts become erratic.
“Yes, please Nate, give it to me.” I’m right there with him, my fingers frantically rubbing quick, tight little circles because I’m so, so close.
His knuckles turn white as he flexes his hand into a fist against the glass, his other hand digging into my hip, fingertips sure to leave their mark.
Bending over me, his mouth meets the crook of my neck. “I love you so fucking much, Olivia.”
The words hit harder than the thrust that follows. No one has ever loved me more than my Nathaniel has, and the force of that realization is what allows the blinding orgasm to rip through me, writhing into the glass as he drives into me over and over.
He can’t manage proper thrusts anymore, but he drags his movements out anyway, like he doesn’t want this to end. I lean against the window patiently, relishing every second of it—being used, being wanted, being his. It all merges into a contented, indistinguishable hum reverberating inside my body.
His pleasure renders him speechless, as his hands grip my breasts and teeth sink into my neck and then, finally, his thick length jerks and pulsing jets of cum fill me as he thrusts forward and then stills.
It is done. Every part of me has been surrendered to him.
And nothing has felt more right than this.
In the aftermath, my legs are shaking, so I don’t resist when Nathaniel gathers me into his arms and carries me straight into the bathroom.
Steam curls around us in the shower as he soaps my skin, his touch gentle but thorough. He kneads away the strain in my muscles, checking in with attentive glances and soft brushes of his thumbs.
Under the rush of water, he takes me again, his hands braced beside my head, coaxing yet another orgasm out of me.
Afterward, he wraps me up in a towel and dries me off carefully. He slips one of his shirts over my head and eases a fresh pair of lace panties up my legs.
“A treat, just for me,” he says with a wink.
Then he lifts me again and carries me to the living room, settling me on the sofa with a light blanket around my shoulders, as if sealing me back into my body.
It’s nearly noon now.
The sun has inched higher, casting warm stripes across the floorboards.
I feel completely blissed out from the sweetness of being touched so thoroughly and cared for so intentionally. I know that there are still difficult but unavoidable conversations to be had between us, but, for the first time, none of it fills me with dread.
Footsteps approach from the hallway. When I look up, Nathaniel steps into the room barefoot, shirtless, wearing only a fresh pair of dark slacks. His hair is still damp, the ends curling slightly at his nape. He looks relaxed in a way he rarely allows himself to be, softer and almost domestic.
A greedy part of me thrills at the fact that I am the only one who gets to see him this way.
From where I sit, I take him in: the warm skin stretched across broad shoulders, the defined lines of his abdomen, the faint flush still marking his throat, and the aristocratic perfection of his face. It’s absurd how deeply he affects me, until now.
I catch myself wondering if this is how it will be for the rest of our lives—if one look at him will always take me apart in small, helpless ways.
The rest of our lives…
His proposal rises to the forefront of my mind. I’ve kept it at arm’s length all this time, never allowing myself to look at it for too long.
But now… I feel myself finally turning toward it. Maybe I’m ready to answer him.
Nathaniel crosses the room with purpose. I expect him to sit beside me, to ease into the conversation we’re about to have. Instead, he steps between my knees, standing close enough that his body radiates heat into the narrow space that separates us.
Confusion flickers through me. I tilt my chin up, searching his face. What I find there is clear: a decision already made.
Before I even piece together what’s happening, Nathaniel lowers himself onto one knee. My breath snags in my throat. My heart slams hard against my ribs, quick and disbelieving. I know. I know exactly what’s coming.
But he stills.
He studies me for a beat, a ripple of doubt passing through his expression, and murmurs, almost to himself, “No. Not like this.”
And then he sinks even lower.
Nathaniel settles on both knees before me. His palms come to rest lightly on my thighs, an offering of himself.
Shock runs through me in a sharp, electric line.
But beneath it, a deeper current unfurls—warm, steady, spreading through my chest and stomach until I feel split open by it.
Because seeing him like this—Nathaniel Caldwell, all polish and control, lowered before me with nothing held back—does something devastating to me.
“Nate?” My voice scrapes out. “What’s going on?”
“I wasn’t supposed to do this now.” His tone is low, edged with something like wonder.
“I’ve been trying to plan this for days.
I wanted to give you a moment that was worthy of you.
” He huffs softly, almost amused at himself.
“I’ve been all over the city this past week.
Gardens. Rooftops. Private halls. I kept trying to create the perfect scene. ”
I can only stare, floored by the image of him spending his time and energy, going from venue to venue, all for the purpose of pleasing me. Had there ever been a person who would go to such lengths just to make me happy, and would there ever be another?
“But the truth is…” His gaze drops, then lifts again with naked honesty.
“I was trying to overwrite the first time I asked you.” His mouth curves, almost bashful.
“I didn’t have a plan then. Or a ring. I blurted it out because I was so in love with you, I could barely stand it.
” His eyes warm. “I just wanted you. Desperately. And I didn’t know how to hide it. ”
A soft laugh escapes him. “Naturally, you didn’t say yes. But you didn’t say no, either. And since then, not a single day has passed when I haven’t thought about asking again.”
He looks up at me fully. “And then it dawned on me…nothing out there could ever hold a candle to this.” He lifts my hands and threads his fingers through mine. “Being here with you feels truer than anything I could have staged.”
A lump rises in my throat. I remember that first proposal—how stunned I was, how badly timed it felt.
But now, hearing what it meant to him, how long he’s carried that moment with him…
something inside me twists and blooms at the same time.
He has been waiting. Hoping. Holding the question like a promise he never stopped believing in.
“Because when I’m like this, Olivia—on both knees in front of you—I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than what I am.” His voice thickens, the confession unguarded. “A man who is deeply and hopelessly in love with you. And everything I have, everything I am, is yours.”
It lands with the weight of something lived, not rehearsed. It hits me squarely, forcing my breathing into a tremble.
“From the first moment I saw you,” he continues, “I felt a pull. I didn’t know your name.
I didn’t know anything about you.” His mouth curves gently.
“But I felt it anyway. A tug in my chest strong enough to make me stop. And I stayed.” His voice softens at the memory.
“Every time I saw you again, I stayed longer. Until I had no choice but to meet you. And when I did…you were even more extraordinary than I could have ever imagined.” His eyes trace my face.
“You opened the door just an inch—and I was gone.”
Emotion surges through me so quickly it’s dizzying. I’ve known the broad strokes of this story—how long he’d wanted me, how carefully he orchestrated our path—but hearing it with him on both knees before me is floors me.
“I’ve spent every day since learning who I am in your orbit,” he says.
“And the truth is simple. I am at my best when I’m yours.
” He lifts my hands and presses a slow kiss to each knuckle.
“And I can be good for you, Olivia. I can lift you. Support you. Clear every path so you don’t have to carry anything alone.
” A breath. “You deserve someone who chooses you first. Someone who builds his world around the privilege of standing beside you.” His gaze finds mine. “I want that honor. I am that man.”
My heart clenches, hard enough to hurt. His sincerity, his vulnerability, the depth of his devotion—it overwhelms me, but in the best possible way. It feels like standing in front of something immense and true.
Nathaniel releases one of my hands only long enough to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a small velvet box that is heavy with meaning. My breath stutters. The sight of it sends a jolt through me. Disbelief, longing, joy—all tangled into one trembling surge.
“Olivia Marie Bennett, loving you and being loved by you has been the most profound experience of my life,” he says, opening the box. Inside rests a brilliant emerald-cut ruby, flanked by diamonds, set in rich gold. A ring that feels bold and romantic and unmistakably chosen for me.