Chapter 4
The tension was palpable as Vlad held the limo door open for us on Friday afternoon. Oliver slid in first, his jaw clenched, while I hesitated for a moment before following. The plush leather seat felt cold beneath me, mirroring the chill that had settled between us since Wednesday evening.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, I found myself recalling the past two days with painful clarity. Oliver, retreating to his office with a hastily made sandwich. Me, seeking solace in a long bath, my appetite dulled by the weight of our unspoken words. Two nights of restless sleep, the bed between us a vast, empty chasm.
I glanced at Oliver; his profile etched against the tinted window. His fingers flew across his laptop keyboard, the rapid-fire clicks a stark counterpoint to the suffocating silence.
Unable to bear it any longer, I reached for my earbuds, fumbling with my phone to queue up a playlist. The familiar opening chords of a classic rock song filled my ears, drowning out the sound of Oliver's typing and my own tumultuous thoughts.
I don't know how long I sat there, eyes closed, head tipped back against the seat. When I finally opened them, I found Oliver's intense gaze fixed on me. The raw emotion in his eyes made my breath catch, and I quickly looked away.
"Ryleigh," he said, his voice so soft I almost missed it over the music.
I pulled out an earbud, eyeing him warily. "What?"
Oliver's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Can we talk?" The gentleness in his tone caught me off guard.
A humorless laugh escaped me. "Now you want to talk? After two days of the silent treatment?" I shook my head, blinking back tears. "I don't even know why we're going to Southampton, Oliver. What do you expect to happen?"
He placed his laptop on the seat and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I expect us to come together," he said, his eyes pleading.
"How?" I challenged, my voice cracking. "You shut down every time I try to discuss what happened."
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, mussing the usually perfect strands. "I know. I just... you challenge me, Ryleigh. It throws me off balance."
"Isn't that a good thing?" I countered, frustration coloring my words. "Or would you rather I just nod and smile like one of your employees?"
He flinched at that. "No, of course not. You're my fiancée, not my employee. Sometimes I forget the line between work and us is... blurred."
I sighed, feeling a glimmer of understanding. "That's exactly the problem, Oliver. We can't pretend work doesn't affect our personal life. We need to find a way to navigate both."
He was quiet for a moment, then he patted the seat next to him. "Come here?" he asked softly.
Hesitantly, I slid across the smooth leather until our thighs touched. Oliver's hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc beneath my eye.
"I'm sorry," Oliver murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "I never meant to shut you out. I was... overwhelmed."
“Just talk to me next time, don’t shut me out. This won’t be the end of our arguments,” I replied, my voice tinged with frustration.
“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever been with,” he confessed softly.
“And when was that?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
“A long time ago. You’re feisty, Ryleigh, it’s part of the reason why I fell in love with you.”
“No, that’s not true. You said it was love at first sight. So, you had no idea I was feisty.”
“Okay, let me correct that, I fell deeper in love with you because of your feistiness. How’s that?”
“More like the truth,” I conceded with a small smile. “I’m going to change.”
“I guess it’s a good idea,” he replied, his eyes lingering on me.
When Vlad arrived to pick us up this morning, we packed a small carry-on in the back of the limo. Inside, we both stowed shorts and polo shirts to change into for the drive to Southampton.
I unzipped the bag, retrieving a sleeveless t-shirt and white shorts. Oliver pulled out shorts and a polo shirt. As I opened my gray sheath dress, I tried not to look at him, but it was impossible.
Not having physical contact with him for two days was agonizing. I yearned for him desperately. He seemed lost in his thoughts as he undressed. When he bent down to remove his black dress socks, I couldn’t resist stroking the hard muscles of his back.
“You’re asking for trouble,” he warned, his voice low and husky.
“No, Trouble is already at the house. Brenda came and got him this morning,” I replied playfully, a smirk playing on my lips.
“You know what I mean,” he said, his gaze intense as it lingered on my pink bra and thong set.
“I’m not sure I do,” I teased, biting my lip.
In an instant, Oliver had me under him. He dipped his head and bit into my beaded nipple through the pink fabric. I gasped as pleasure surged through me, sending shockwaves to my core.
“Still not sure?” he asked with a smirk.
“Nope, not sure.”
He pushed my bra up, releasing my breasts and suckling my nipples. I wound my hands around his head as he pressed his body to mine, grinding his hips against me.
“I need you,” I murmured.
“You should’ve thought of that before you said you weren’t sure.”
He backed off me, leaving me exposed and wanting. I looked at him incredulously as he finished removing his socks and unfolded his shirt
"You bastard," I hissed, my body trembling with need. "You can't leave me here like this."
Oliver's eyes gleamed with mischief as he replied, "I think I can." A slight smile played at the corners of his lips.
Frustration and desire battled within me. "Fine," I growled. "I'll do it myself."
With defiant determination, I slipped my hand into my panties, finding my slick nub. As I began to rub myself, Oliver's gaze intensified. His passive expression melted away, replaced by raw desire. His eyes glazed over, and he bit his bottom lip hard enough to leave marks.
"It feels so good," I whispered, my voice husky with arousal. That was all it took to break Oliver's resolve.
In an instant, he was upon me, pulling my hand away. His mouth pressed against my cleft, his tongue working through the thin fabric of my panties. I bucked my hips, a moan escaping me as he stroked my clit with expert precision.
I was already teetering on the edge when he pushed my hand away. Within seconds, I was gripping his hair, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over me. Oliver's tongue continued its relentless assault until I went limp, panting heavily.
As he sat up, I watched through half-lidded eyes as he retrieved his folded jacket from the opposite bench seat. He pulled out a condom from an inner pocket.
"Why do you have condoms?" I asked, curiosity cutting through my post-orgasmic haze.
Oliver's lips curled into a smirk. "Because I planned to seduce you on the way to Long Island."
I raised an eyebrow. "Suppose I said no?"
"Then I would have been a very sad Oliver," he admitted, his voice softening. "I want you, Ryleigh. I've been craving you for the past two days."
A mixture of emotions swirled within me. "Then you shouldn't have been such an ass," I retorted. "Apologizing doesn't make you weak, it makes you human."
"Duly noted," Oliver murmured, his eyes never leaving mine as he shoved down his boxers.
I watched, mesmerized, as he unfurled the latex over his shaft. My belly tightened with anticipation.
"Are you just going to sit there," Oliver challenged, "or should I tear your panties off you again?"
Without hesitation, I complied, pushing my panties off my hips and unclasping my bra. As I dropped them to the floor, Oliver held his arms out invitingly. I crawled onto his lap, positioning him at my entrance.
"Slow, sweetheart," he whispered, his hands gently gripping my hips.
As I sank down on him, I glanced through the back window. We had just pulled onto the Long Island Expressway, traffic inching along. The oblivious faces in the car behind us had no idea of the passionate encounter unfolding mere feet away.
I moved slowly, savoring every inch of him. Soft kisses peppered his scruffy face – he had shaved this morning, but a thin layer of stubble had formed throughout the day, tickling my lips.
"I love you, Mr. Fox," I breathed, sucking gently on his earlobe.
Oliver's response was wordless but profound. He removed his hands from my hips, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me flush against his chest.
We rocked together, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Despite the air conditioning blasting against the July heat outside, a fine mist of sweat coated our skin. I could feel my orgasm building, an irresistible tension coiling deep within me. Desperately seeking release, I ground my clit against Oliver's root.
"Easy," Oliver gasped, his fingers digging into my hips.
I looked down at him, eyes blazing with desire. "Why?" I challenged, my voice husky. "You know you want to come as much as I do."
Oliver's jaw clenched, fighting for control. "I do, but I want this to last."
Glancing out the window at the sea of brake lights, I smirked. "Did you see the traffic? We have plenty of time for more."
That was all the encouragement Oliver needed. With a low growl, he increased his pace, driving into me with renewed vigor. The change in rhythm pushed us both over the edge, and we came simultaneously, our bodies shuddering against each other as waves of pleasure washed over us.
“That was wonderful,” I muttered as Oliver lifted me off him. I watched as he removed the condom, tied it off and wrapped it in a napkin which he deposited in a hidden garbage in the door. I reclined on the bench seat with my legs crossed, placing my head on Oliver’s thigh. He stroked my hair, running his fingers through it.
"Are you getting dressed?" he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.
I stretched languidly, enjoying the cool leather against my bare skin. "Do I have to? Judging from the road signs, we're in for a long ride."
Oliver groaned, his hand moving to cup my breast. "I guess I'll have to occupy my time with something else," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my nipple.
The moment was interrupted by the shrill ring of Oliver's cell phone. I sat up, watching with amusement as he fished it out of his jacket pocket and answered, all while completely naked. Despite being engrossed in the call, his eyes never left my body, roaming over me with unconcealed appreciation.
When he finished, he tossed the phone aside and pulled me against him. "What was that all about?" I asked, curious.
"Henri had a few questions," Oliver explained, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. "He's my eyes and ears this weekend."
A small frown creased my brow. "Does that mean he might call you with a problem?"
Oliver shook his head. "Possibly, but I asked him this morning not to unless it was urgent."
"You should promote him to my position," I suggested. "He knows more than I do."
A wry smile played on Oliver's lips. "You think I haven't asked? He likes where he is."
"And where would I work?" I asked, suddenly feeling a twinge of insecurity.
Oliver's arms tightened around me. "Right where you are," he said firmly. "We're expanding enough to share positions. You seem to thrive in taking care of my buildings when I'm not available. You're a fast learner and you impress me."
His words washed over me, soothing my doubts and igniting a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with our recent activities. As we settled back into a comfortable silence, the limo inching its way through traffic, I found myself looking forward to what the weekend – and our future – might hold.
“I’d like to go to the beach,” I said as I descended the stairs in a daring purple bikini. The top barely covered me, and the thong bottoms left nothing to the imagination. Oliver glanced up, his expression hardening.
“You're not wearing that,” he declared, his voice firm.
I rolled my eyes. “What’s wrong with it?”
“For one, I can see your ass,” he retorted, eyebrows raised.
“So? Big deal.”
“You wouldn’t have a problem if I wore something that showed off my ass?”
“Not at all. Your ass is sexy,” I shot back with a smirk.
He frowned. “No.”
“Our beach is private.”
“Not private enough that people on the next beach over can’t see you,” he argued, frustration creeping into his tone.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Why? Because I don’t want anyone to see what’s mine?” His voice was low, possessive.
“Possessive asshole,” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to,” I quipped.
I pushed open the slider and stepped onto the patio, the bright sunlight hitting my skin. Brenda and Raquel were lounging on the chairs, dressed in matching tan khakis and blue tank tops. They stood as I approached.
“I’d like to go to the beach,” I repeated, my voice determined.
Oliver ducked his head out the door. “You’re not going like that,” he reiterated.
I glanced at my agents, who kept their expressions neutral. I stepped back inside, pushing Oliver out of the way and slamming the slider shut behind me.
“Stop trying to control me,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
“It’s not control,” he insisted, his grip tightening on my arm as he led me to the bathroom down the hall. He closed the door behind us, pointing to the full-length mirror.
“Turn around,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I did and looked back at my ass. The thong provided no cover, and you could see both cheeks of my posterior.
“I have a hot ass,” I joked.
Oliver frowned. “And that’s exactly what I don’t want displayed. Somewhere around here are Trevor and Vlad. Do you want to give them an eyeful?”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t thought of that, and my face began to grow red with embarrassment.
He crossed his arms. “I can see from your reaction that you agree with me.”
“I’ll change,” I said softly.
I yanked open the door and ran upstairs. Oliver followed me so he could get into his black swim trunks. I selected a white bikini that covered my ass and had bigger cups for my breasts.
“Better?” I asked, stepping out of the closet in a new bikini that covered a bit more.
Oliver's eyes roved over me. “Not really,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“What do you mean? It covers everything,” I protested, spinning around to show off the modest cut.
“I like it better when you’re naked,” he admitted, his eyes darkening with desire.
“You had me naked the whole ride down,” I reminded him, a playful glint in my eye.
“Can I have you naked tonight?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
“We’ll see,” I teased, stepping closer and tracing a finger down his chest. “But first, I’d like to go on the beach before the sun goes down.”
Oliver nodded, grabbing my hand and leading me to our own private spot on the sand. We spent the afternoon on the beach, staying until past five. My skin was turning a golden brown, matching Oliver’s.
As he reclined on his lounger, I traced the ridges of his abs with my fingers, sliding through the slick suntan oil. He caught my hand and kissed my palm, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Would you like to get some dinner?” Oliver asked, his voice soft and inviting.
“Yes, I’m hungry. What do we have?” I asked, settling back against my chair.
“Steaks are marinating in the refrigerator,” he said with a wink.
“What else do you have hiding in there?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a secret,” he replied, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.
Oliver rose from the chair and extended his hand to help me up. Brenda, Raquel, and Vlad followed us up the sand towards the green lawn. Trevor was patrolling around the house, keeping a watchful eye.
“I think they can leave us,” I whispered to Oliver as we reached the patio.
“I want at least one floating around. I’m going to grill on the patio after we shower.”
“Fine.”
Oliver turned to the three agents following us. “Take a break,” he instructed. Trevor stayed behind, the lone sentinel, while the others relaxed. They would resume patrolling the area as we slept. Oliver's home was a fortress, equipped with cameras and alarms, ensuring we’d be alerted to any approach. The inside alarm added an extra layer of security. Here, I felt utterly safe.
We showered separately, knowing that together, dinner would be long forgotten. I emerged from the master bath, my skin still damp, as Oliver stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He moved with a casual grace, his hair tousled and wet.
“That stuff stinks,” Oliver remarked, wrinkling his nose as he pulled a pair of gray shorts from his suitcase.
I glanced up from painting my toenails with blush pink polish. “It’s just nail polish,” I said, blowing gently on my toes to help them dry.
He slipped on the shorts without underwear, leaving them undone just enough to reveal the root of his penis. My belly clenched, and I couldn't tear my eyes away as he hunted for a shirt. He caught my gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and husky.
“Maybe,” I replied, my cheeks flushing.
“Ryleigh, pay attention to what you’re doing,” he said.
“Then zip up your shorts. I love that part of you.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “And which part are you referring to? My belly?”
I dropped the brush back into the bottle of polish. “You know what part.”
“My cock? And you call me a sex maniac.”
“No, not your cock. How you look now.”
Oliver glanced down at his trimmed pubic hair. “This turns you on?”
“That and the base of your cock. It’s sexy.”
He shook his head and pulled up his zipper before he slipped on the white t-shirt with the Fox Asset Corporation logo at the left breast. I went back to finishing my nails, blowing on them so they would dry.
“What should we have with the steaks?” I asked.
He swiped his hair with his hand. “Check the refrigerator. I’m sure there’s plenty to choose from.”
“What did you do, Oliver Fox?”
His expression was too innocent as he answered. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Uh, huh, sure you don’t.”
I finished drying my toenails, slipped on a pair of flip flops, and stood up, feeling the coolness of the tiles under my feet. Downstairs in the kitchen, I opened the oversized refrigerator, revealing an array of colorful salads in clear containers. I chose the red potato salad, spinach tortellini, and a Greek tossed salad with feta cheese.
Oliver stepped out onto the patio to fire up the grill. The juxtaposition of his immense wealth and his self-sufficiency always struck me as intriguing. He could have easily kept his staff on for the weekend, but he preferred to do things himself.
While he tended to two large porterhouse steaks, I brought out plates, silverware, salads, glasses, and a bottle of red wine.
“Would you like a glass now?” I called out to him.
“Yes, please,” he replied, not looking up from the grill.
I poured a glass for him, taking a sip as I crossed the patio to hand it to him. The steaks smelled divine, and I wondered what marinade he had used. I took another sip before passing him the glass.
“Don’t you have your own?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I like drinking from yours. Do you have a problem with it?” I teased, my lips curling into a smile.
“No, I don’t,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
The flames on the grill flared suddenly, and Oliver stepped back, expertly moving the steaks to avoid the blaze.
“Those smell fantastic. What’s the marinade?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“It’s a secret. Even I don’t know the ingredients,” he said with a grin.
“Whatever it is, it’s making my mouth water,” I confessed.
He leaned in, giving me a wine-laced kiss. “You make my mouth water,” he murmured against my lips.
I rolled my eyes, giggling as I went to sit at the table. We had a leisurely dinner, savoring every bite. The steaks were cooked to perfection, tender and flavorful. After we cleaned up, Oliver led me upstairs to the terrace just outside our bedroom. The night was beautiful, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves.
I climbed onto his lap, resting my head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “I couldn’t have asked for a better time,” I whispered, feeling utterly content.
“Me neither,” he replied softly, kissing the top of my head. We sat there in comfortable silence, the stars twinkling above us, the perfect end to a perfect day.