Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
OLIVIA
I clutch his wrist, breath breaking in shallow, uneven gasps as his finger curls inside me.
This is embarrassing. He knew I was wet, but now he knows it.
He feels it. Guilt hits me hard and immediately.
But it doesn’t stop the wave of pleasure crashing through me, doesn’t stop my hips from tilting into his touch.
Doesn’t stop the soft, desperate whimper that slips from my lips.
Fuck. I hate that I want this so badly. I hate that a part of me never stopped wanting him.
“Stop,” I whisper, voice wrecked. “I can’t—”
Ethan’s eyes drop, watching the place where his hand disappears beneath the hem of my skirt. When he looks back at me, there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “You can’t, what?” he murmurs.
I grit my teeth. “I, we can’t do this. Not with all these people.
Not here.” What the hell did I say? Just say no, Olivia.
He smirks like he expected that answer, and I want to die.
It’s like he knows exactly where this is going, and I have no clue.
“Okay,” he says, too casual for my liking.
Then he slides his finger off me and laces his hand with mine.
Like it belongs there, and it does. God, I missed this.
“Ethan—”
“Let’s go,” he says, and his voice has that edge, that low, commanding tone that makes my pulse skitter and my thighs clench.
But I don’t move, not an inch. “That’s an order, Liv, get up.
” Ah fuck. Those words make me act just like a soldier responding to a command.
I get up from the booth. I stand on shaky legs, letting him lead me through the bar, past the murmuring crowd, past the Out of Order sign on the restroom door, to a shadowed hallway at the back.
He pushes open a door I recognize, the manager’s office, where we used to sneak in and make out all the time, and steps inside.
Then he turns, holding the door for me. I hesitate, pulse pounding in my throat.
“You can’t be serious.” His eyes darken, and I can see it.
He is serious. “I’m dead serious.” Yeah, I knew it.
I step inside, and the door clicks shut behind me.
He locks it. The silence wraps around us.
Then he takes a step closer. I’m so fucked.
“Take off your panties.” My breath catches, my skin is hot.
I’m sure I’m blushing. My fingers twitch at my sides, but they move.
Before I can second-guess myself, I hook my thumbs under the lace and slide them down, slowly, like I’m putting up a show just for him.
Maybe I am. My heart races as I step out of them.
Ethan bends, picks them up off the floor, and smirks as he tucks them into his pocket like a prize he just won.
Then, he kneels. He fucking kneels in front of me.
His voice is strong, but soft in a way that makes my knees weak.
“Pull your skirt up and open your legs.” My breath hitches.
“Now.” The word drops like a match in gasoline.
I lift my skirt with trembling hands, slowly parting my thighs.
His hands find them instantly, thumbs dragging across my skin as his lips press into the inside of my knee, soft, torturous.
I need his mouth on me, right about now.
He kisses a path upward, the heat of his breath dancing over skin that hasn’t been touched like this in years.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. And then his mouth is on me. Finally.
One long, slow lick. My knees nearly give out. I grip the desk behind me like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. The first touch of his tongue against me sends a jolt through my spine. “Fuck,” I whisper, my voice broken. His eyes flick up. They’re dark, wild, consumed.
“Liv—” he groans against me. “You taste even better than I remember.” And then he devours me.
His tongue moves with a skill that wasn’t there sixteen years ago, but with a memory that drives me crazy.
Every stroke is precise; every flick is devastating.
He licks and sucks like he has something to prove, like he’s angry it’s been this long, like he’s starving for me. And I don’t want him to stop.
He slides one finger inside. I gasp. Then another. The stretch is perfect. They move in sync with his tongue, slow at first, then harder, faster. My head falls back, a choked moan escaping me.
“Ethan—”
“Shh,” he whispers—his free hand presses to my thigh, holding me steady, grounding me as I fall apart. The pleasure builds sharply and fast. My muscles start to tremble. I can feel it coming, tight, impossible, overwhelming. “Please, I’m about to—” I whimper, fingers tangling in his hair.
But just as I’m about to fall, he stops. I cry out, my hips chasing his mouth. I’m desperate. He stands slowly, lips slick, fingers still glistening. His eyes never leave mine. “You’re not going to come, Liv,” he says, voice low, thick with authority. “At least not today.”
My mouth opens. “What the fuck are—” He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“You’ll have to beg for it next time.” My body is shaking, my thighs are slick, my heart is hammering in my chest. And even now, frustrated, denied, strung tight, I want more.
Fuck, I want him. And I don’t know how the hell I’m going to walk back into that bar and pretend I didn’t just almost come on his mouth.
Fuck him.