21. Olive #2
"Elena sent me this yesterday." I keep my voice steady, refusing to yell or hurl accusations. "She told me you went back. She said you apologized to Sam and spent an hour playing video games with him."
Victor stares at the glowing screen. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.
"I did." He drops his hands to his sides, the silk tie hanging loose around his neck.
"Why?" I take one small step forward. "You complained about the smell of the hospital on the first day. You ran out of his room looking like you wanted to vomit. What changed?"
Victor closes his eyes. He takes a deep, ragged breath. He drops the arrogant mask, the icy glare, and the untouchable ego. He stands in front of me exposed.
"The hospital triggered a panic attack." Victor opens his eyes, staring at me with complete vulnerability. "When I was five, my little sister got sick. Loren was only three. She spent months in a pediatric oncology ward just like that one."
My heart drops into my stomach.
"She had the exact same clear IV tubes." Victor grips the edge of the dresser next to him, his knuckles turning white.
"The smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol brought it all back.
I walked into Sam's room, and I felt like a helpless five-year-old watching my sister die all over again. I suffocated. I panicked."
Tears well in my eyes, blurring the edges of the room. The puzzle pieces lock together, forming a heartbreaking picture.
"I never got the therapy I needed back then.
" Victor admits the ugliest part of himself out loud.
"I was too young to fully grieve or compartmentalize what happened.
It all just turned into anger and a paralyzing fear of losing people.
I use my temper to keep everyone away. Caring about people ends in a hospital room with a flatlining monitor.
I decided a long time ago to be an asshole because nobody mourns an asshole. But then you showed up."
He looks at me, his blue eyes begging for forgiveness.
"I acted like a dictator in that parking lot." His voice cracks. "I yelled at you. I tried to use an Alpha command on you because I was terrified of losing the only woman who ever made me want to rip my own walls down. I acted like a coward, Olive. I'm so sorry for hurting you."
A hot tear spills over my eyelashes and tracks down my cheek.
He gives me a raw, ego-less apology. He stripped himself down to the studs, handing me his deepest trauma and his greatest shame without asking for anything in return.
"You went back and apologized for your behavior." I wipe the tear away with the back of my hand. "I see the work you put in."
"I owe you." Victor releases his grip on the dresser. "I owe you the best version of myself. Hiding behind my trauma wasn't fair to you, and it wasn't fair to Sam. I sit in therapy twice a week trying to figure out how to be an Alpha worthy of you."
"Victor." My voice catches in my throat.
"You hold all the cards, Olive." He takes a shaky breath. "If you want me to stay in this guest room for the rest of our lives, I will. If you want me to leave the pack so you can be happy with Finn, Malcolm, and Lawrence, I will pack my bags tonight. Your happiness matters more than my pride."
He offers me an exit strategy and to break his own heart just to give me peace.
The last wall of defense around my heart crumbles into dust. I drop my phone.
I cross the remaining distance between us in three fast strides.
I grab the lapels of his suit jacket. I pull him down to my level and crash my mouth against his.
Victor gasps into my mouth. He stays still for one agonizing second, frozen.
His large hands come up and grip my waist with desperate, bruising force.
He kisses me back with an intense hunger.
His tongue pushes past my lips, tasting like chilled juniper and adrenaline.
We French kiss like starving people who just found their first meal.
Our tongues tangle in a frantic, wet dance.
The explosive animosity we built over the last two weeks flips into blinding, consuming lust.
Victor drops his head, a deep, vibrating growl rattling in his chest. His hands slide up my back, gripping the fabric of my oversized hoodie. He pulls me closer, crushing my breasts against his chest. I bite his lower lip, a soft, testing nip that draws a ragged groan from his throat.
He walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress. We fall onto the quilts in a chaotic mess of limbs and expensive suit fabric.
I shove his jacket off his broad shoulders, my hands frantic and shaking.
The need to touch his bare skin overrides every ounce of restraint I possess.
I pop the buttons of his dress shirt, ripping the fabric open to expose his muscular chest. The heat radiating off his skin burns my palms. He shucks the ruined shirt down his arms and throws it across the room.
It lands in a crumpled heap near the dresser.
Victor sits up just enough to grab the hem of my hoodie. He pulls the thick cotton over my head, tossing it onto the floor. He yanks my leggings down my hips, taking my underwear with them in one smooth, rushed motion. He tosses the garments aside, his icy blue eyes raking over my bare skin.
We strip each other bare in seconds, desperate to get rid of the barriers between us. He kicks his suit pants and boxer briefs off, leaving them in a pile near his boots.
I lie naked on his bed, my chest heaving with ragged breaths.
Victor kneels between my spread thighs. The base of his thick cock looks engorged.
The thick knot stretches the skin tight, swelling in response to my sweet scent before he even touches me.
He looks beautiful, as if he’s carved out of marble.
"You look breathtaking." Victor keeps his eyes locked onto mine, his voice a low, gruff rasp that vibrates in the quiet room. "I want to taste every inch of you."
"Show me." I reach for his hips, pulling him closer.
He leans down. He settles his face right between my thighs. He presses his mouth against my soaking wet pussy.
A ragged gasp tears from my throat. My hands fly up and twist into the thick gray quilts.
He traces the sensitive folds with his tongue.
He drinks my slick, swallowing my taste with greedy, starving groans.
His large hands wrap around my thighs, holding me open and exposed to his mouth.
He swirls his tongue over my swollen clit.
The wet heat sends a jolt of lightning down my spine.
I arch off the mattress, my hands gripping the pillows behind my head.
Victor hums against my dripping center. He kneads my inner thighs with his calloused hands, keeping me pinned to the bed while his mouth consumes me.
Every stroke of his tongue communicates worship.
He proves his devotion through touch, erasing all the cruel words we ever traded.
The cold, arrogant center forward vanishes, replaced by an Alpha obsessed with bringing his mate pleasure.
He sucks the sensitive nub between his lips, pulling a loud, shameless moan from my chest. I thrash on the mattress.
My fingers find his blond hair, gripping the thick strands to hold him against me.
He eats me out with a relentless, starving focus.
The rough stubble on his jaw scratches against my inner thighs, grounding me in the intense sensation.
His hands move up my body. He cups my bare breasts, rolling my tight nipples between his thumbs while his mouth continues to attack my center. The overload of sensations makes my vision blur.
"Victor, please." I pant, my hips bucking up against his face.
He ignores my plea for mercy. He licks a broad, wet path from my opening to my clit, pressing flat and hard against the swollen peak. My vision spots with white stars. The pleasure builds with a chaotic, unyielding intensity.
He pulls his mouth away for a fraction of a second. His lips shine with my wetness. He replaces his mouth with his fingers. He slides two thick digits straight into my slick, tight pussy.
I arch my spine, chasing the deep friction.
He pumps his fingers deep inside me, setting a ruthless, driving pace.
His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing the sensitive spot in a tight, endless circle.
The dual sensation pushes my senses into overdrive.
He curls his fingers upward, hitting a spot deep inside my pussy that sends a violent shockwave through my entire body.
"Fuck, Victor!" I scream his name, my nails digging into the sheets.
He strokes faster. The pressure inside my core turns into a tight, aching coil. It feels different this time. A massive wave of tension gathers low in my stomach. A strange, immense pressure builds. I feel like a stretched rubber band about to snap in half. Confusion and panic mix with the lust.
"Wait, something feels wrong." I shake my head, trying to squirm away from his hand. "I need to stop."
"Nothing is wrong, sweetheart." He coaches me, his voice a dark murmur against my skin. He keeps his fingers buried deep inside me, rubbing that intense spot without mercy. "You feel perfect. Let it go, Olive. Give it all to me."
He hits that spot inside me one more time with precision.
The climax crashes through my body with a force I never felt before.
White-hot pleasure explodes behind my eyelids.
The immense pressure releases all at once.
Hot wetness gushes from my center, soaking his fingers and the gray quilts beneath me.
I squirt for the very first time in my life.
I ride the intense, rolling waves of the orgasm, my thighs trembling as I pant for air.
The sheer volume of wetness shocks my hazy brain.
Victor looks down at the wet mess on the sheets. His icy blue eyes turn dark with total obsession and pride. He lifts his fingers and licks my slick off his skin, a wicked smirk touching his lips.