Chapter 15
“Were you really working this morning?”
“Yes. I had a bunch of things to take care of. Why?”
“Because this meal is unbelievable.”
At five, Oliver had a dress delivered to the penthouse. He corralled me in the bedroom, closing the drapes that looked out on the patio. I knew he had something planned but I played along as my excitement grew. I took my time in the shower and hoped he would join me, but he didn’t. When I came out, he was dressed in a light gray suit, lavender shirt and purple tie. A handkerchief the same color as his tie was neatly folded and sticking out of his pocket.
“Are we going out?”
“Maybe.”
“Tell me where,” I demanded.
Oliver held his hand up. “It’s a surprise. Get dressed,” he ordered.
“What’s going on outside?”
“Nothing you should concern yourself with.”
“I’m beginning to hate surprises.”
“Why?”
“Because you always do them for me, and I don’t do them for you.”
“You can.”
“Not to the extravagance you do.”
Oliver eyed me as I removed my towel and went into the closet naked. I dug through my duffel bag, finding a burgundy bra and thong set. I slipped the body-hugging black dress Oliver got me over my head and adjusted the hem. It was short and accentuated my breasts.
When I came out, Oliver couldn’t take his gaze off me. I saw him in the mirror while I applied a light layer of makeup, finishing with some bubble gum lip gloss. I put my hair in a ponytail and wound it into a loose bun, so it was off my neck.
“How do I look?”
“Good enough to eat.”
“What do you have going on outside?” I asked again.
He gave me a mischievous smile. “Wait and see.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
He rose from the bed and opened the drapes. I could see a table set with a white linen cloth and two place settings. A waiter in a black uniform stood next to a raised bucket holding a bottle of champagne.
“For me?”
“Well for us. I’ll be eating too.”
I went to him claiming his lips in a hard kiss. He licked his after I pulled away. “Mmm, bubble gum.”
Oliver pulled open the slider and led me out. I had neglected to put on shoes
but it didn’t matter. The patio was warm from the summer sun.
After a meal of arugula salad, filet mignon with asparagus and Dutchess potatoes, I was stuffed. Oliver had the meal cooked and catered by the same chef who made us breakfast. I leaned back in my chair as Oliver sipped champagne.
“Full?” he asked.
“Yes. That was so good,” I said, rubbing my tummy.
“Anything for my bride.”
“I could get used to this. You’re spoiling me.”
“Don’t fault me for wanting to make you happy.”
“I’m happy without the spoiling. I have you.”
“For the rest of your life,” he added.
I reached over and stroked his hand. I loved Oliver’s hands. They were perfect, soft and he got his nails manicured once a week. What’s more, I loved when he put them on me.
“I hope so.”
“Do you want dessert?” he asked.
“Dessert too?”
“Do you?”
“No. Not now anyway.”
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Oliver rose and strode to the slider next to the kitchen. I saw him talking to the chef and a couple of minutes later, he came back.
“We can have dessert later. Come, let’s sit on the terrace so they can clean up.”
He poured me and himself another glass of champagne and we headed to the terrace which faced Central Park. I settled into one of the soft beige cushioned chairs and sipped from my glass.
“How do you feel?” Oliver asked.
I grinned. “Still getting used to being engaged.”
“I want you to be aware that there will be reports in the paper.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Reports?”
”I’m an eligible bachelor,” Oliver declared with a hint of pride.
”No, you’re not. You’re now off the market,” I teased.
”Exactly—I was an eligible bachelor and now I’m not. There will be reports about it.”
”You could nip it in the bud and do a PR release so they get the facts straight,” I suggested.
”Smart girl. Why didn’t they utilize your skills better at Blaze?” Oliver mused, impressed.
”I have no idea. You’ll have to ask them that,” I shrugged, a touch of frustration in my voice.
”Fools. Too late, you’re mine now,” Oliver stated possessively, his gaze locking with mine.
”Maybe I should work in the PR department,” I said, considering her options.
”You have time for that. I want you with me,” Oliver insisted, his voice firm.
”Do I get an office or a cubicle?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow.
”Office. I have one being prepared right next to mine,” Oliver revealed, a hint of excitement in his tone.
”The one with the windows that looks out onto the city? I’m not an executive,” I pointed out, a touch of disbelief in my voice.
”You’re an executive’s fiancée,” Oliver countered, a smirk playing on his lips.
”People will talk,” I said.
”Who cares? You shouldn’t. They’ll talk even more when you’re Mrs. Oliver Fox,” Oliver reassured me, his gaze unwavering.
”Mrs. Oliver Fox? You mean Mrs. Ryleigh Fox?” I challenged.
He put a hand to his chest. ”Excuse me, how male chauvinist of me,” Oliver chuckled, admitting his oversight.
I snorted. ”Not even engaged for twenty-four hours and already trying to clip my wings,” I joked.
Under the soft glow of the evening sun, amidst the faint scent of fresh paint, Oliver and I stood in the midst of our future office space, the canvas of a new beginning.
”I would never. You will always be your own woman,” Oliver reassured me, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity.
”Can I pick my own office furniture?” I inquired, a spark of excitement in my voice.
”Anything you want. I’m just having the walls painted,” Oliver replied, his gaze fixed on me.
”But I wanted to choose the color,” I pouted, the desire for personalization evident in my tone.
”I think you’ll like it very much,” Oliver said with a confident smile, his hand reaching out to gently caress my cheek.
”How can you be sure?” I questioned.
”Because we’ve been together for three months. I think I know what you like,” Oliver replied, his eyes reflecting the depth of our connection.
As I took another sip of champagne, a thought crossed my mind. ”Oliver, do you have any pictures of Jonah?” I inquired, curiosity lacing my words.
”Jonah? Why?” Oliver”s brow furrowed with confusion, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
”I was just wondering,” I replied casually, attempting to mask my true intentions.
”You looked at my photo albums, didn’t you?” Oliver”s accusation hung in the air, his eyes searching mine for answers.
”Only one. Your parents were very good-looking. You look like your father,” I admitted, a sheepish smile playing on my lips.
”I can’t believe they’ve been gone so long,” Oliver sighed, a hint of sadness coloring his tone.
”Was Jonah always hard to deal with?” I probed gently, my heart aching for his past struggles.
“Why do you care so much about Jonah?” Oliver”s gaze bore into mine, searching for the truth behind my questions.
”Because it pains me that you have no family besides him. Don’t you want a relationship with your brother?” I voiced my concern, hoping to bridge the gap between them.
”I tried. Jonah can’t stay away from illegal activities. I can’t be enveloped in scandal because my brother can’t avoid trouble,” Oliver confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.
”I’m sorry,” I murmured, sympathy coloring my words.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault. Besides, I have family, yours. Your brothers will become mine and your parents will be grandparents to our babies,” Oliver reassured me, his voice filled with conviction.
”I’m glad,” I replied, a warmth spreading through my heart at his words.
”Then we’re on the same page,” Oliver said, a smile gracing his lips as he pulled me into his embrace.
”Yes, we are,” I affirmed, feeling a sense of completeness wash over me.
As the evening unfolded, we found ourselves lost in each other”s company, the late August heat enveloping us as we basked in the promise of our future. Oliver swept me into his arms, our champagne glasses forgotten on the table as we embraced the passion of the moment.
With each tender touch, I felt a surge of love and contentment fill me, knowing that together, we could weather any storm. And as we indulged in seven-layer chocolate cake and an old movie, I couldn”t help but feel giddy with happiness, grateful for the love that bound us together.
As the clock struck 12:45, I stepped into The Iron Horse, my heart racing with anticipation. There, amidst the dimly lit ambiance, I spotted Ty, his presence commanding attention. His hair was shorter now, a change that accentuated his features.
He wore navy-blue cargo shorts paired with a vibrant red t-shirt, a casual yet striking ensemble. With a gentle kiss on my cheek, he greeted me, and I found myself enveloped in his embrace as I returned the gesture, savoring the familiar warmth of his touch.
”I missed you. You look great. I like the dress,” Ty remarked, his eyes tracing the contours of my attire.
I was wearing a short pale yellow sundress with a button front and I decided to wear my engagement ring. I spent the morning calling my family to let them know I had accepted Oliver’s proposal. I didn’t need to call Sadie since she was with Finley. Their relationship seemed to be advancing as fast as mine and Oliver’s had. When we sat down at the table, Ty immediately spied my engagement ring and grabbed my hand.
”You”re engaged?” His voice carried a hint of disbelief, mingled with regret.
”Yesterday,” I confirmed.
”Isn”t it a little early for engagements?” Ty”s inquiry hung in the air, his expression betraying a mix of disappointment and sorrow.
”We”ve been together for three months,” I explained, the weight of our whirlwind romance evident in my tone.
In Ty”s eyes, I detected a longing, a desire unspoken yet palpable, and I knew that beneath his facade of familiarity lay a heart yearning for something more.
”Does he know how lucky he is?” Ty”s words echoed with a sincerity that touched my soul.
”I think he does,” I replied.
”I wish it was me,” Ty confessed.
”Ty, you know we could never be,” I stated softly, the truth hanging heavy between us.
”Why, because we”ve known each other forever?” Ty”s question lingered in the air, a poignant reminder of the intricacies of our shared history.
I reached out to clasp his hand. “Yes. I’m sorry if that hurts you.”
”I guess I can understand,” he conceded, his tone laced with a hint of resignation.
”Haven’t you been dating?” My question hung in the air, laden with curiosity.
”I have no time for dating. I’ve been busy, and your father’s case is taking most of my free time,” he explained, a sense of weariness creeping into his voice.
”You”ve been working on it for weeks,” I observed, my brows furrowing with concern.
I was afraid of what he might unearth. I wanted my father’s murder to be solved, but Ty had no idea he was dredging up long buried emotions in me. I wanted to tell him to stop.
”I have a few clues. If you remember anything, now would be the time to tell me,” he said.
”What do you have?” I asked.
Before he could respond, we were interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, her presence a temporary reprieve from the weighty conversation. If Ty wanted to delve into the murky waters of my father”s murder, I knew I”d need something stronger than a glass of water. With a decisive nod, I ordered a martini with extra olives, while Ty opted for soda.
”Are you okay?” Ty”s concern was palpable, his eyes searching mine for reassurance.
I just need something to take the edge off if you want to discuss this,” I confessed, a sense of vulnerability seeping into my words.
”We don’t have to,” Ty offered, his voice gentle.
”I know you want to, so just tell me,” I urged, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at me.
”Years ago, we couldn’t get a good enough picture even with the digital equipment. Things have improved, and we’re working on enhancing the pictures,” Ty explained.
”So why do you need me to identify the person?” I questioned, a flicker of doubt clouding my thoughts.
”Because we need corroboration,” Ty clarified, his gaze unwavering.
”Ty, I don’t know. This is crazy,” I admitted, uncertainty coloring my words.
As the waitress brought our drinks, I wasted no time in downing half my martini in two swift gulps, the liquid burning a trail down my throat as I sought solace in its numbing embrace.
”We’re so close. Would you consider the hypnotist?” Ty”s question hung in the air, a subtle yet persistent reminder of the lengths we were willing to go to seek justice.
”I don’t know. I’m not going to remember,” I protested weakly, the thought of unlocking buried memories sending a shiver down my spine.
”You don’t know or you’re not going to remember? Which is it?” Ty pressed, his tone edged with determination.
”Maybe I don’t want to remember. Why do you always bring this up when we have lunch together?” I countered, frustration seeping into my words.
”Because I never see you unless it’s for lunch,” Ty confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.
”Can we just eat lunch and talk about it after we’re finished?” I pleaded, a sense of exhaustion washing over me.
”We don’t have to talk about it at all. I made my request, and you can think about it,” Ty relented, his gaze softening.
As we lapsed into a companionable silence, I signaled for another martini, the clinking of glasses punctuating the moments between bites of food. Ty respected my request for respite from the weight of the past, and we filled the void with mundane chatter, discussing the small details of our lives. I shared with him my decision to quit my job and start anew at Fox Asset Corporation.
”Are you sure you want to work with your husband?” Ty”s question cut through the air, his tone laced with skepticism.
”He’s not my husband yet,” I reminded him, a hint of defiance in my voice.
”Boyfriend, fiancé, same thing. Eventually, he’ll be your husband,” Ty said.
”I couldn’t stay at Blaze. All I did was run errands and get coffee,” I explained, a trace of frustration tainting my words.
”What a waste of your degree,” Ty remarked, sympathy coloring his tone.
”Exactly,” I agreed, the weight of unfulfilled potential weighing heavy on my shoulders.
”Ready to go?” Ty”s voice broke through the tension, a welcome distraction from the weighty conversation.
”Yeah,” I replied, grateful for the change in subject.
After settling the bill, Ty guided me out of the restaurant, as the effects of the three martinis I had consumed began to take hold. Without his support, I knew I would”ve stumbled on the uneven pavement, my steps unsteady with each passing moment. His arms encircled my waist, holding me closer than I felt comfortable, yet I welcomed the stability his touch provided.
”Thank you,” I murmured, the gratitude evident in my voice.
”You drank too much,” Ty observed, concern etched into his features.
”I think so,” I admitted, the alcohol-induced haze clouding my thoughts.
”Do you need me to escort you home?” Ty offered.
”No. I’ll be fine,” I assured him, summoning what remained of my resolve.
”Are you sure?” Ty pressed, his gaze searching mine.
”Yes. Vlad will take me,” I replied, gesturing towards the sleek black sedan parked nearby.
Ty raised an eyebrow. ”Your driver?”
”And bodyguard. Oliver worries,” I said.
Ty chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. ”I’m a fucking police officer.”
”I know, but still,” I countered, unwilling to risk my safety despite Ty”s profession.
Vlad extended his arm towardsme, and I pressed a kiss to Ty’s cheek before allowing him to lead me towards the waiting car.
”Talk to you soon,” Ty called out as Vlad helped me into the sedan, his voice carrying a note of warmth.
I settled into the plush seat, the exhaustion of our lunch settling over me like a heavy blanket. As the car glided through the streets, I succumbed to the pull of sleep, my eyelids growing heavy with each passing moment. And when we arrived at Oliver’s building, I stirred from my slumber to find him lifting me gently from the car.
”I can walk,” I protested weakly, the remnants of alcohol still clouding my senses.
”You had too much to drink,” Oliver chided softly.
I put my head against his chest while he carried me into the elevator.
“Should I undress you and put you to bed?” Oliver said as we entered his apartment.
“No. Put me down.”
“Take off your heels before you fall down.”
He steadied me as he put me on the marble floor, holding my shoulders while I removed my heels. The air in the apartment was cooler than the restaurant and I started to wake up.
“Why did you drink so much? You had three martinis.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who told you that? Vlad?”
Oliver clenched his jaw. “His job is to keep an eye on you.”
I sighed. “Ty asked me something that upset me.”
“What?” he asked.
”Ty found video, and the digital department is working on making the photo clearer. He wants me to see a hypnotist,” I informed Oliver, the weight of the conversation settling heavily between us.
”So, he thinks you’ll be able to identify the murderer from a memory that’s years old?” Oliver”s concern mirrored my own doubts.
”Yes. He wants to solve the case,” I confirmed, a note of uncertainty tainting my words.
”Does anyone else in the family know Ty is working on it?” Oliver inquired, his brow furrowing with worry.
I shook my head. ”No. I don’t want to upset my mother. She was a mess after my father died. I didn’t speak after it happened, and I took a year off from school because of it. You know this,” I explained, a pang of guilt gnawing at me.
”I understand he wants to solve the case, but I don’t like him upsetting you,” Oliver admitted, his protective instincts kicking in.
”Ty means well. He loved my father. When we were kids, we all used to play ball in the backyard. My father was always the pitcher. Ty took it hard when he was killed,” I reminisced, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
”I don’t want you seeing a hypnotist,” Oliver declared, his tone firm.
”I don’t want to see one either,” I agreed, relieved to find common ground.
”It’s your choice,” Oliver said.
”I don’t feel so good,” I admitted, a wave of dizziness washing over me.
As I started to sway, Oliver swiftly swept me up in his arms, carrying me to the bedroom with ease.
”Do you have to throw up?” Oliver”s concern was palpable, his voice gentle.
”No, just a little dizzy,” I assured him, grateful for his steady presence.
He settled me on the bed, his hands deftly assisting me as I shed my dress and bra, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. Nestling under the covers, I succumbed to the warmth of sleep, the comfort of Oliver”s presence lulling me into a peaceful slumber within moments of my head hitting the pillow.
My mind is a whirlwind of panic, every nerve screaming in terror. Daddy’s voice echoed in my head, urging me to hide, but I couldn’t move. I”m frozen in place as I watched the figure approach, the sound of gunshots ringing in my ears as my father stepped out of our SUV. His silhouette crumpled to the ground, a grotesque dance of violence unfolding before my eyes. ”Daddy!” I screamed, but he didn’t answer, and the world narrowed to the sight of his lifeless form.
The acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air, suffocating me like a vise. With trembling hands, I clawed at the car seat strap, finally wrenching it open. Desperation fueled my actions as I stumbled out of the car, my gaze fixed on my father”s prone figure. Blood stains his chest, a stark contrast against the fabric of his shirt. ”Daddy!” I cry out again, my voice breaking with raw anguish as I scrambled towards him.
His hazel eyes, once warm with love, now stare blankly into the void, and my heart shattered at the emptiness within them. Tears blurred my vision as I reached out to shake him, to wake him from this nightmare. But there’s no response, no comforting embrace to chase away the terror.
I screamed, a primal sound of agony tearing through the silence, reverberating off the walls of my shattered reality. My body trembled with each gut-wrenching wail, my mind consumed by a maelstrom of grief and disbelief. I kneel beside him, my fingers stained with his blood, and I don’t know what to do. All I can do is scream, to release the torrent of anguish that threatens to consume me whole.
”Ryleigh!”
I blinked back the remnants of my nightmare to find Oliver sitting beside me, his expression etched with concern. This was the first time I’d experienced such vivid dreams with him by my side.
”Oh God, I’m sorry,” I stammered, my voice thick with residual fear.
”It’s not your fault. Damn Ty. He shouldn’t have upset you,” Oliver reassured me, his frustration evident.
”I’m stressed. Lots of changes. New job, quitting my old one, and our engagement. It was bound to happen sooner or later,” I rationalized, attempting to downplay the impact of my turmoil.
His brow furrowed. ”You were screaming so loud it sounded like you were right next to me. I was in my office,” Oliver recounted, a trace of worry lingering in his voice.
I bit my lip, my doubts resurfacing. ”You sure you want to marry me?”
”I don’t care about the nightmares. I care about you. Maybe you should see a doctor,” Oliver suggested gently, his concern unwavering.
”A shrink? I saw one when I was a child. It wasn’t a pleasant experience,” I admitted, memories of past traumas flashing through my mind.
”You’re not a frightened child anymore. You’re an adult. Maybe it would help you get over these things,” Oliver reasoned, his voice soothing.
”Would you hold me?” I requested, needing his embrace.
”Of course,” Oliver replied, slipping under the sheet and pulling me close. His warmth enveloped me, a comforting presence amidst the turmoil of my thoughts.
”Better?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing circles on my back.
”Much. I hate this. I want to stop,” I confessed.
”That’s why I suggested you talk to a therapist,” Oliver reminded me, his tone gentle yet firm.
”I’ll think about it. I might have a few more,” I conceded, my reluctance still palpable.
”I hope not. That one was so bad I thought you were being killed,” Oliver confessed, his admission sending a shiver down my spine.
”Don’t say that,” I whispered, the memory of my nightmare still haunting me.
He tightened his hold on me. ”Shit. I’m an ass. I’m sorry,” Oliver apologized, his remorse genuine.
I changed the subject, eager to shift away from the darkness that lingered in the air. ”I told my family about going to your house next weekend.”
”Do they want to come?” Oliver inquired, a hint of excitement coloring his tone.
”Yes. My mother is excited. She and Anders usually rent a house in Southampton but not this year. They went to Rhode Island instead,” I explained, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
”They don’t have to rent anymore. They’re welcome to use my house anytime they like,” Oliver offered generously.
”You’re spoiling all of us,” I teased, grateful for his generosity.
”It sits vacant most of the time except for the cleaning people. Someone might as well enjoy it,” Oliver reasoned.
”Do you have homes anywhere else?” I asked.
“No. New York is my home, and that’s where my residences are. We can buy something elsewhere if you like,” Oliver replied, his tone thoughtful.
“I was thinking somewhere warmer so we can visit in the winter,” I suggested, my mind already drifting to sunnier climes.
“Like where?” Oliver’s curiosity piqued, his gaze meeting mine.
“Orlando. I like Disneyworld,” I confessed, a hint of excitement coloring my voice.
“You want me to walk around a theme park?” Oliver chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“It would be fun. Maybe Vlad would crack a smile,” I teased, imagining our stoic bodyguard amidst the whimsical charm of the park.
“There would be more than Vlad with us. It’s a big park,” Oliver pointed out, a note of practicality in his voice.
“Have you ever been there?” I asked, eager to learn more about his past.
“Many years ago. Jonah disappeared, and we spent two hours looking for him. My mother was livid when she found him enjoying an ice cream sundae without a care in the world,” Oliver recounted, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
“How old was he then?” I inquired, intrigued by the glimpse into Oliver”s family dynamics.
“I was twelve,” Oliver calculated, his brow furrowing in concentration, “so he was about nine.”
“He was a troublemaker from the beginning, wasn’t he?” I mused, the pieces of Oliver”s past coming together in my mind.
“He was a handful. My father kept him in control,” Oliver admitted.
“But he went off the rails when he died?” I ventured, sensing the weight of Oliver”s unspoken words.
“Yes. He was into some pretty bad shit. I caught him with drugs. He stole a car and got arrested a few months after my parents died. By the time he was eighteen, I washed my hands of him. I couldn’t stop my life to try to get him to straighten out,” Oliver said, shaking his head.
“That must have been hard,” I sympathized.
“I tried to be supportive over the years. I’ve given him money and used my pull to get him out of trouble. I can’t do it anymore,” Oliver admitted, a sense of resignation creeping into his voice.
“I’m sorry. I wish things were different for you,” I murmured, my heart aching for the burdens he carried.
“They are different now that I found you. My life was empty until I found you. You make me whole,” Oliver confessed, his gaze tender as he met my eyes.
“I think your life was pretty busy with your business,” I countered, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“But I had no personal relationships,” Oliver admitted, his vulnerability shining through.
“Why? I saw plenty of pictures of you with women,” I pointed out, curiosity getting the better of me.
“They were, are, acquaintances. They merely escorted me to events,” Oliver explained, a hint of weariness in his voice.
“That reminds me, why haven’t we attended any events?” I questioned, the thought occurring to me for the first time.
“We will. I prefer to keep you to myself for the time being. There will be plenty of publicity surrounding our engagement,” Oliver reassured me, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.
“Should I be worried?” I asked.
“Not at all. Vlad will be with you, and now that you’re working for Fox, you’ll have security during the day,” Oliver assured me.
I yawned, exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket. “I don’t want it to be disruptive.”
“It won’t. You won’t get disrupted by Vlad, do you?” Oliver teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Not really, though he is pretty intimidating,” I admitted, recalling Vlad”s imposing presence.
“Vlad intimidates you?” Oliver”s surprise was evident, his eyebrows arching in disbelief.
“Not me. I have a feeling he’s a big pussy cat,” I confessed, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.
“I assure you, he’s not. You haven’t seen him in action,” Oliver insisted.
“I hope never to,” I replied with a shudder, the image of Vlad”s formidable demeanor sending a chill down my spine.
“Me either,” Oliver agreed with a chuckle, pulling me closer into his embrace as we settled in for the night.
Oliver moved his hand to my breast, kneading it while he bent down to kiss my neck. I could feel him starting to grow in his sweatpants. I turned so I was facing him, and he pushed me to my back, sliding under the sheet so I couldn’t see him.
“Where are you going?”
“You’ll see.”
He tugged at my panties. I wasn’t fast enough lifting my hips and they ended up in shreds. Oliver didn’t waste any time, stroking his tongue over my clit. I whimpered as he brought me to a fast orgasm. In no time, he was crawling up my body, pressing his hips to mine as he latched his mouth onto my nipple.
“You’re aggressive tonight,” I panted.
“I know what I want,” he growled.
I shifted my hips. “Fuck me, Oliver. I want you inside me.”
“Now who’s being aggressive?”
I tugged his pants and he slid them down with me until his dick was free. Our lovemaking was fast and hard. He pounded me, grinding his base against my already sensitive bundle of nerves. I exploded around him, flexing and squeezing his cock until he filled me with his semen.
After, we lay in each other’s arms, breathing heavily and I pressed my face against his strong chest, inhaling his masculine scent. Oliver smelled clean, like soap and his citrusy cologne. I kissed his pec, flicking my tongue over his nipple making him hiss.
“You want more? You know I can go again,” Oliver murmured, his voice laced with a hint of desire as he trailed a finger along my skin.
“I do, but I’m a little hungry,” I said, my stomach rumbling faintly.
“What would you like?” Oliver inquired, his tone indulgent.
“Cake,” I declared, a sudden craving for something sweet overtaking me.
“Excuse me?” Oliver chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Cake. I’m in the mood for sweets,” I reiterated, undeterred by his skepticism.
“For dinner?” Oliver raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Does it matter what I eat for dinner?” I countered.
“I guess not. Except I don’t think I have cake,” Oliver admitted, his tone tinged with regret.
“But you can get some. I have faith in you,” I teased, a playful smile gracing my lips.
“How do you know?” Oliver asked.
“One phone call and my favorite chocolate layer cake will be up here in fifteen minutes. Am I wrong?” I challenged, confidence oozing from every word.
“You aren’t. I think I’m spoiling you too much.”
“Why marry you if I can’t take advantage of your influence?” I asked, a playful twinkle in my eyes.
“I’m not sure I should be flattered by that,” Oliver teased, though his eyes sparkled with affection.
“That’s besides the fact that I’m head over heels in love with you,” I said, my heart swelling with warmth.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Oliver replied.
“So can I have cake?” I pressed, eager to indulge in my craving.
Oliver grinned at me, reaching over my head to grab his cell from the nightstand. He kept me in his arms while he made his call, his touch sending shivers down my spine as I dozed against his chest.
“Your cake will be here in twenty minutes. Would you like to shower?” Oliver suggested, his voice warm against my ear.
“We probably should. I’m sticky,” I admitted, feeling a flush creep into my cheeks.
“You should be used to it by now.”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to shower,” I retorted.
Oliver released me from his embrace, and I slipped out of bed to take a quick shower. He joined me as I washed my hair, his presence comforting me amidst the steam and warmth of the bathroom. We shared a few stolen kisses, but we both knew that if he stayed any longer, we wouldn’t be eating anytime soon.
”Oh God, this is the best,” I exclaimed, savoring each decadent bite of cake as if it were a delicacy.
”It is good, but we should eat something more substantial for dinner,” Oliver suggested.
”This is substantial. It has some of the food groups mixed in,” I protested, gesturing with my fork towards the cake.
”No protein though,” Oliver pointed out, his brow furrowing slightly.
”Eggs are protein,” I countered, taking another forkful of cake.
Oliver leaned forward, swiping a bit of chocolate frosting from my lips and sucking it off his fingers, his gaze smoldering.
”Don’t do that,” I chided, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks.
”Why? Am I turning you on?” Oliver teased.
”You know you are,” I admitted, unable to suppress a small smile.
”Are you naked under that robe?” Oliver”s voice was low, a hint of desire creeping into his tone.
”You saw me put it on in the bedroom,” I replied, my pulse quickening at the suggestive undertone of his words.
”Perfect,” Oliver murmured, his eyes darkening with desire.
He rose from the table and headed to the refrigerator, retrieving bread, cold cuts, and mustard.
”Perfect what?” I demanded.
”Just perfect. Less for me to take off you,” Oliver replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on me suggestively.
”Who says we’re having sex again?” I joked.
”Don’t challenge me. You know I love challenges,” Oliver retorted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
I chuckled softly as I took another forkful of cake, savoring the rich flavors before deciding I had indulged enough. Setting the fork down, I carefully placed the remainder of the cake back in the box, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. I rose to put the box in the refrigerator.
”Can you get me a bottle of water?” Oliver requested.
”Sure. Sparkling or spring?” I asked.
”Spring is fine,” he replied.
I returned to the table with his water after I washed my fork, taking a seat next to Oliver.
”Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich?”
I shook my head. ”No. I think I ate too much cake,” I confessed, as I settled back into my seat, content in the warmth of Oliver”s presence.
He ran his hand over my arm causing goosebumps to pepper my skin. “I wanted to indulge you.”
“Is this how it’s going to be? You’ll indulge me?”
He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “I’ll do whatever I need to so you’re happy.”
“I am happy. Sometimes I need to pinch myself.”
Oliver reached over and gently pinched me which made me giggle.
“I’m real. I promise.”
He took the hand with my engagement ring and sucked on my index finger. My nipples beaded as his tongue stroked over the pad and I pulled back as my belly clenched.
“Don’t,” I said softly.
“Why not?”
I met his gaze and licked my lips, tasting remnants of sugar from the cake.
“Because I want you and I’m sore.”
He flicked his tongue out of his mouth. “I can do other things besides be inside you.”
“I know you can. You have a very talented tongue.”
“Thank you. I aim to please. What would you like to do the rest of the night?”
“Snuggle in bed with you. I like doing the simple things.”
“So do I if you haven’t noticed.”
“I have.”
Oliver got up to take his plate to the sink and we retired to the bedroom, snuggling in bed while we spent the rest of the night in bed watching reruns of shows from the eighties.