Twenty-Three
Elle
A lot happens in a short amount of time. And most of it is a blur.
Somewhere in between Oliver hurrying me back into the restaurant and then pulling me out the front door, I tell Lucy that I’m going home and I’ll text her in the morning. I distinctly remember the look Liam gave her after I left. I’m pretty sure he slid some money across the table to her.
I’m in a daze on the walk back to Oliver’s apartment. It’s not until we stumble through the door, say hello to Thor, and make our way to his bed that the moment feels real.
Like really real.
Like Elle Thompson, what did you get yourself into real.
After Oliver assures Thor that he’ll take him out in a bit, we find ourselves standing on opposite sides of his dark room, staring at each other like one of us will disappear if we look away.
“Are you sure—”
“Yes,” I reply before he even finishes the question. It’s not lost on me that this is the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. But I don’t want to deal with that fact right now. I want to do something impulsive and emotional and not care about the consequences.
I want Oliver.
I walk backwards until the back of my legs find the bed, and Oliver’s gaze follows my every movement. He takes small steps towards me and towers over me. I look up at him, taking a moment to scan every inch of his face, like I could keep a photo of it in my mind forever.
I reach behind my neck and untie the delicate string that is holding my shirt on my body. I let it drop to the floor next to me. Oliver’s eyes go dark as he inhales sharply.
“My imagination did not do you justice,” he growls, trailing a gentle finger across my collarbone.
“And how much have you imagined me, exactly?” I tease. A gentle moan escapes my lips when his hand cups my breast, his thumb sliding over my hardened nipple.
“I probably shouldn’t answer that,” he murmurs, as his hands continue to search and tease me.
Oliver takes my head in both of his hands, his fingers snaking through my hair, and presses his lips against mine, increasing his firmness with each passing second. He traces my mouth with his tongue and bites my bottom lip. He moves his lips to my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe.
“Every day, since the first time I found you sleeping outside my door. That’s how much,” he whispers, the feel of his breath against my sensitive skin making my stomach tighten.
I sneak my hands under his shirt, sliding them up his chest, and tracing the lines of his stomach.
I gasp a little too loudly when he pulls the shirt over his head, and I would feel embarrassed if this was anyone else.
But I can tell Oliver is just as desperate for this as I am.
I run my hands up his chest and back down along his abs.
“I’ve waited so long to do this,” I say, my voice cracking. I kiss over his heart and run my lips down to his ribs, my fingers gripping the muscles of his stomach, desperate to get my hands on every inch of him.
Oliver threads his arms around me, picking me up and laying me down on the bed.
He crawls over me, bracing himself on his forearms above me.
I reach down for the buckle on his jeans, but in an instant he is gone, standing beside the bed.
He takes my foot in his hand, placing a gentle kiss to my ankle before he pulls at the hem of my jeans.
A grunt escapes him when he realizes what a task that is.
“I knew these things were painted on,” he groans.
I giggle, any lingering nerves fading away with the sight of a smile on Oliver’s face.
He eventually pulls the jeans off, and my underwear after them, leaving me exposed in front of him. He doesn’t return to the bed right away, taking a moment to look at me. He unbuckles his pants with one hand and when they drop to the floor, I swallow hard, my hips swaying with anticipation.
Woah.
“You know you just said that out loud, right?” he chuckles. I put my hands in front of my face, hiding from him, small giggles escaping me. Oliver leans over me and takes one of my hands, kisses my palm, and guides me to his shaft.
“This is what you do to me,” he says, his body twitching as I tighten my grip on him. I run my hand up and down his length and lick my lips. I bring my mouth close to the head, and I just barely have my lips on it when he wraps his arms around me and moves me up towards the top of the bed.
“If you do that, we won’t be here for long.
And I want to take my time,” he says, kissing the area below my belly button.
A small whine escapes me as he kisses my hip bones, up my stomach and between my breasts, his hands exploring every inch of my body.
I arch into him when he takes my breast into his mouth, feeling his bare chest against mine, and wanting us to be closer.
He swirls his tongue around my nipple and I moan.
When I grab him and pull him to my mouth, I can feel the smile on his lips.
He circles his fingers around my nipple and I moan into his mouth, my hips rising, searching for him.
His hands grip my shoulders as if I’m grounding him in this moment.
I run my fingers through his hair and throw my arms around him, pressing every bit of skin I can against him, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
It feels like we stay that way for hours—kissing, biting, teasing.
Oliver takes his time on each part of me—my neck, my breasts, my lips, and around again.
All the while his hands roam across my body, his rough palms squeezing my softest parts, his fingers entwining with mine over my head.
It’s months of anticipation, of waiting, of wondering, all coming together.
It’s everything we’ve been afraid to say—every touch a secret we’ve been too nervous to share, every kiss a feeling we couldn’t place.
But now that we’re here, everything is understood.
Finally, Oliver’s hand slides down my side and over my hips, his movements full of purpose this time.
I widen my legs for him and he curses when he feels the wetness between my thighs.
Without missing a beat, he kisses me hard, his tongue licking the inside of my mouth while he presses a finger inside of me.
I grip his shoulders, feeling a high that I have never experienced.
I’ve been touched before, but it’s never felt like this.
His thumb finds my clit, and he starts with slow circles, testing my reaction.
He takes his fingers out of me and massages my clit with two fingers, increasing in pace.
I can feel the heat building in my face and pressure between my legs.
I know Oliver is waiting for something, but it doesn’t come, and a brief moment of worry passes through my mind, afraid that I’ve disappointed him.
I feel the same pressure I remember from other times men have used their hands on me. The pressure to perform.
“Don’t disappear on me,” Oliver says in a low voice. I open my eyes when I feel him brushing strands of hair out of my face. “Stay here.”
He gently traces his fingers around my opening, his eyes never straying from mine. I take a deep breath and tell myself to relax, try to forget about what I’m supposed to look like or sound like in this moment, and just be. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Oliver commands when they start to flutter closed. “Tell me what feels good.” He gently pushes a finger into me, curling it inside me.
“Well, that doesn’t suck,” I say, breathy.
Oliver chuckles. He removes his hand and puts his thumb in his mouth, before putting his hand back, pushing two fingers inside me and rubbing my clit again. As he moves his hand, I feel a warmness in my belly, the instinct to move with him. He puts his arm down on my hips, keeping me in place.
“That—” I say, my voice shaking. “That feels good.”
Oliver keeps his movements steady, watching my reaction. My urge to put on a show comes naturally, and I can’t shake the feeling like he somehow knows it. He would call me out on it. I relax against the bed and his hand slows.
I take a deep breath and sit up, pushing myself back towards the headboard. I open my legs as I rest my head against his pillows, his scent enveloping me.
Without either of us saying a word, Oliver reaches into his nightstand and slides a condom on.
He kneels on the bed above me, a few stray hairs falling in front of his face.
I reach up and push them back with my fingers, and Oliver hums as he presses his cheek into my palm.
He hovers for a moment just above me, his arms on either side of my head, our breaths ragged.
His eyes never moving from mine, he reaches a hand down and guides himself into me.
There’s pressure, and then a sense of completeness. I gasp as I feel him fill me completely, in a way that I didn’t know was possible. I squeeze his shoulders and he catches my open mouth in a kiss. I press my forehead against his while we both catch our breaths, and then he starts to move.
It seems like everything before this moment was a fog. Like what have we been doing since we met, if not this? Being connected to Oliver in every way possible feels right, and I want to be as close to him as possible, in every way I physically can.
His hands play with my breasts as he moves his hips, and he leans forward so that more of him rubs against my clit.
The moan that I let out at that sensation is nothing short of animalistic, but never has anything felt as good, as incredible, as this.
He takes my leg in one hand and bends it towards me, opening me further, his thrusts becoming deeper and more delicious.
I feel a tingle in my toes as he moves faster, a clenching feeling spreading through my belly. Oliver crushes his mouth against mine, tangles his hands in my hair, and my senses are in overdrive.
Feeling Oliver inside me makes me tighten more, as if doing so could make us any closer. I grab Oliver’s ass with one hand and scratch down his back with the other. Oliver curses. A lot.
“Fuck, Elle,” he groans, his head next to mine. He bites my neck right beneath my ear and I grip his shoulder harder, in disbelief that this kind of pleasure exists, and rage that I’ve never felt it before. I’m torn between craving the release and never wanting this to end.
“The times I’ve pictured this moment,” he whispers in my ear. He licks the spot where he just bit. “Never thought it would be like this.”
That makes two of us.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, gripping the muscles of Oliver’s shoulders like they’re the only thing tying me to life.
Oliver buries his face in my neck, and I open my mouth in a soundless cry, completely lost to the pleasure in the center of my body.
My legs squeeze around his hips and my nails dig into his skin, his neck, his hair.
I feel his warmth fill me, and the sensation pushes me over the edge.
Every part of my body tenses, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
I barely hear the words of encouragement he whispers in my ear, my senses reduced down to a single point.
He kisses me hard, then tenderly, until there’s nothing left of me but a quivering mess beneath him.
I feel an emptiness when he slides out of me.
He disappears for a moment, but I’m so blissed out I barely notice.
When he returns, he wraps his arms around me and pulls us together, my bare chest against his, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
I don’t know how long he kisses me for, but I know I want it to be forever.
When he finally lays back, I rest my cheek on his chest, and we breathe together, and it feels like the air is a little bit easier to take in than before.