“Probably a week after you told me about your birthday.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you.” He shrugs. “Because it’s not a big deal.”
“Well, then I was going to tell you a week after never. Now who told you?” I crawl on top of him and unbutton his pants.
Tilting his chin down, he watches me with a smirk. “Horny?”
I lick my lips and nod. “A name.”
“Maggie told me a couple weeks ago. She said you’d never tell me.” He unbuttons my shorts and unzips them.
I scoot off the bed and tug his shorts and briefs off then do the same to my shorts and panties.
“Never is a long time, but she might be right.” I slip off my shirt and remove my bra.
He sits up and shrugs off his shirt then glances back at the alarm clock. “You do realize we had sex like twenty-five minutes ago.”
I nod. “I could run and grab a doughnut instead.”
He offers his hand and I take it. Pulling me onto his lap he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth while lining his cock up to my entrance, teasing it back and forth against my clitoris.
I arch my back and he sucks harder on my nipple, grazing his teeth over it as he releases it then does the same to my other breast. I love the feel of his tongue torturing my nipples.
“Make me come … just … like … this.” I close my eyes and let him bring me to a mind-blowing orgasm with just his tongue teasing the tips of my nipples and the warm, moist head of his cock sliding against my clitoris. “Yes … Y-yeesss!” My cry is loud and uninhibited. He starts to slide into me but I scoot off the bed.
“Where are you—”
I hold up a finger and grin then go into the closet. A few seconds later I strut out wearing a black lace bra that does little to hide my nipples and a pair of black high-heel boots that zip up past my knees, and no panties.
“Oh. Sweet. Jesus.” Oliver’s breath is labored as his greedy eyes wash over my body.
I walk over to the dresser, the scene of the accident, and bend over bracing my hands on the edge. “What are you waiting for?” I ask looking back over my shoulder at him.
His emotionless face curls into a smile as his blue eyes find mine. He stands, then grabbing my hips, grazes his hard dick over my entrance. “You’re every guy’s fucking fantasy, you know that, right?” He plunges into me and the few photos of his family along with his watch and some loose change rattle on the dresser. A moan escapes his chest as he stills buried deep inside me.
“I only want to be your fantasy, Oli.”
“Mission accomplished,” he says through gritted teeth then rears back and slams into me again and again, gaining speed and strength with each thrust.
Oliver
It’s brutally painful how much I’ve come to love her in the past few weeks. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her continue to put her things away in the closet and drawers I cleared out for her. She’s back in shorts and a T-shirt, but my eyes still see her in those boots and lace bra. One thing’s for sure … I will never grab my wallet and watch off the dresser again without seeing her bent over grasping the edge asking me what I’m waiting for.
She has no idea how hard it was for me to look at her back today. Those scars represent how much she’s really given herself to me, how much she trusts me. Vivian’s all in, no holds barred, take me as I am, and I’m the luckiest bastard alive. She deserves the same and every time I think the words of truth, my truth, are ready to come out, they don’t. I can’t give them to her. It’s like they’re glued to my soul and it’s only a matter of time before she rips them out of me.
“You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Konrad. Too much sex today?” She grins while breaking down the boxes by the door, which is what I should be doing. Instead, I’m lost in my own world of self-pity.
I hold out my hand and she takes it, once again giving me everything with complete trust. Pulling her between my legs, I rest my cheek on her chest while feathering my fingers over the back of her legs. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I do.” She slides her fingers through my hair.
“Good, because someday you may question my love for you, but don’t.” I look up at her and I see the concern etched in the wrinkles on her forehead.
She moves her hands to my face, resting her palms on my cheeks. “O-kay.”
“No matter what, I’m serious. Promise me you’ll never forget how much I love you and how much I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish and letting you go is too impossible.”
“Oli, you’re scaring me.”
I hug her tight as if I can physically draw her into me so we’re connected in a way that nothing could ever separate us.
“Don’t be scared.”
She leans back and looks at me. “Are you dying?”
I laugh. “We’re all dying, and when you don’t wear underwear you kill me a little faster every day.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious.”
“I am too.” I grin. “But, no, I’m not dying any more than you are.”
She steps back, opening the last box. Pulling out a fleece blanket, she tosses it on the bed next to me, then she pulls out a pillow and hugs it to her chest. Worrying her teeth over her bottom lip she stares at me. “I like to rest my head on a pillow when I sleep.”
Fuck!
I swallow hard and shake my head slowly. “I can’t.”
“It’s not for you, just for me—”
“I can’t.” I try to keep the anger out of my voice.
She steps toward me with the pillow, and I feel the sweat bead on my skin. “Vivian?” I hold up my hand and shake my head faster. She stops. “Remember what I just said to you?”
She nods.
I try to control my breathing and steady my voice. “Good, then you need to get rid of the fucking pillow before I tear it to shreds.”
The woeful frown on her face guts me, but I can’t change what’s happening and I hate myself for it. As much as I want to put on an act and pretend the anxiety inside isn’t eating me alive, I can’t.
A few tears escape her eyes then she turns and puts the pillow back in the box and carries it downstairs. I can’t breathe as sweat drips down my face. I shrug off my clothes and jump into the cold shower. Regret washes over me faster than the water.
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
Chapter Seventeen
For Your Pleasure or Mine?
Oliver
We go to work, eat, sleep, and even make love like it’s the first and the last time. She’s still her playful, funny, and sexy-as-hell self, as if I didn’t nearly have a breakdown in front of her over a damn pillow. I try to smile at the right times and act engaged in our conversations. I’m living with the woman I love more than life itself, yet I’m miserable.
“Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?” Lively eyes gaze up at me as we take the Red Line to work.
Shaking my head, I cup her ass and pull her close to me. “It’s just another day.”
She sucks in her lips biting them together. Then she whispers in my ear, “We’ll see if by the end of the day tomorrow you’re still calling it just another day.”
And … I’m hard. Just great.
“Thanks for the boner. This is my stop.”
She kisses me and grins. “Love you.”
“Mmm, you too.” I turn to get off the subway and she smacks me on the ass. I whip around to see the devilish temptress in her eyes and catch a few snickers and grins from the passengers around her. As soon as I step off and the doors shut, I text her.
Me: Paybacks are a bitch, my love!