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Olivia
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I awake disgruntled, knowing I slept through Rourke’s alarm and him leaving. Even though I flinch when I see the alarm was set for five in the morning. He said last night now that he didn’t have to worry about avoiding his mom he was going to leave it until the last minute, maybe even have breakfast together. Wishful thinking is what it sounds like, though. At least I’m up at only a few minutes after eight, a little closer to normal.
The kitchen is almost done; it looks better than I thought it would. Now there is a real island of one slab of black and white granite, with the stove built into the middle on the kitchen side. It’s an enormous restaurant-quality stove with six burners and a griddle down the middle. The cabinets are a deep creamy white, not stark which would have made it unappealing, with glass in the doors. Right now two men are finishing up the trim woodwork along the baseboards and below the cabinet.
After a few minutes of chatting with Cheryl, I go into the kitchen to scramble some eggs and make more coffee for the both of us. I finish eating, then bring in her third cup for the day. As I tell her I’m cutting her off, we’re both surprised by the sight of Rourke on television.
Oh no, there was an overdose of a teenage girl who ended up dying in his South Austin hotel. They talk about the history of the hotel then start talking about Rourke as the owner of the hotel. I blink fast when they flash footage from what appears to be last night. Jenny Masters, hottest actress of the moment, has her hand on Rourke’s arm, then moves close to him. Their body language reads clearly: they have fucked before, and her move is an invitation. I blink back tears until I see him dismiss her, not politely, before leaving her standing there. The footage goes back to the exterior of the hotel.
With a sigh of relief I sink into a leather chair. Cheryl huffs. “You didn’t really think Rourke was going to take her up on her offer? I told you, dear, he’s a one-woman man even if he weren’t enraptured with you.”
I blush. “You never know with some men. I’m glad I saw it actually happen though. So tell me, what would you like to do today?”
***
Olivia
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Over the next few days I grow concerned about Rourke. I’m starting to get really worried over how hard he’s working and how little sleep he’s getting. There are nights he comes home almost drunk from the lack of sleep. I’m terrified at the idea of him driving home at night and finally understand why he stays here instead of taking the winding roads of 360. Three days in a row his alarm goes off at five; on the fourth day I’m awake with the alarm and Rourke is dead to the world. No, fuck this.
I grab his phone and look for the name he’d given me as his right-hand at work, Doreen. Creeping out of our room, I hit send. She answers as cranky as I would be at five in the morning if I didn’t have to be awake. “Hi, this is Olivia Casey. I’m kind of seeing Rourke, I don’t know if he mentioned me or not. Anyway, he’s dead tired, this whole up at five in the morning out until midnight needs to stop. What does he have this morning? Will the world stop turning if he can’t get at least two more hours of sleep?”
The woman laughs. “He has mentioned you, and you’re exactly as he mentioned. Hold on, give me a minute, let me pull up his schedule. The first thing for the day is a two-hour event. He’s not scheduled to speak, so I can send his apologies on it without ruffling too many feathers. After that is an hour-long event, where he’s only there because he sponsored it. While he is expected to speak, he only ever does for about two minutes, referring back to the people he sponsors, so I’m going to cancel it too. After that, though, he is needed until at least seven.”
“I’m grateful for the hours this morning. I’ll take what I can get.”
“You’re right, but you know he’s going to be just short of enraged by what you are doing?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot. I’m hoping by the time he gets home tonight and feels rested and ready to make me pay for it, he’ll have come to understand I only did it because I care about him.”
“Good luck to you, my dear. I’ll go through his schedule with him to see if there are some things he thinks he can bow out of.”
I sigh. “You’ll give it a day or two though, right? So it doesn’t seem like we’re ganging up on him?”
She chuckles. “I’m grateful he found you. You might turn him into a real boy yet. I know him well enough to give it a hot minute.”
“Thanks.” I end the call and turn to find Cheryl watching me. “I regret nothing. He’s exhausted.”
She smiles. “I didn’t say anything. You know what you’re doing. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who gets to fire you.”
Rolling my eyes, I go back into the bedroom to find Rourke still dead to the world. After changing the alarm to give Rourke two more hours of sleep, I climb back into bed and cuddle against him, hoping it won’t be the last time.
This time when the alarm goes off Rourke gets to it first. I feel his body freeze. My name comes out of him eerily calm: “Olivia, why is the alarm set for seven o’clock?”
“Because I called Doreen and had her cancel your first two appearances so you could get more sleep.”
He sits up, moving away with me. “You did what?” The words are ice, he’s daring me to repeat it.
“Rourke, you were so tired last night you were slurring your words. You cannot keep running on four or five hours a night. I’m well aware there is a Special Forces trick where you can, but it’s been almost twenty years and you cannot. You need sleep like any regular human being.”
“You do not decide what I do or don’t need. You overstepped, too damn far.” His back is to me as he puts his robe on. Then he’s gone, closing the door with a firm click.
Damn it. I close my eyes, wondering just how much I fucked up. I’m stunned I managed to fall asleep when I wake up an hour later on my own. Shit, shit, shit. I almost run out of the room, even though I know he’s gone.
Cheryl shakes her head. “He was not happy. He refused to say anything to me about it. Although, you will never believe this, the breakfast he was supposed to go to, almost every single attendee got food poisoning. Several events have been cancelled for the day because of it. You saved him from food poisoning maybe he’ll forgive you for it.”
I’m not holding out any hope of quick forgiveness even if I had saved Rourke from a bullet. I shiver as I remember the ice in his voice when he told me I overstepped. The day drags by. I’m not really expecting it, but it does hurt when by three there is still no call from Rourke. He’s called me every day, usually around noon, just to say hi and check on me. When the call doesn’t come I wilt a little.
A little after seven o’clock, after Cheryl and I have finished dinner, there’s a knock at the door. I check the door to see a tall, blond man. “My name is Kenny, Mr. Vega sent me to pick up Ms. Casey.”
I open the door. “Pick me up and take me where?”
The guy shrugs. “He said you’ll find out when you get there.”
Damn it. With Rourke there’s no way of knowing. Tomorrow is my day off, but the idea of leaving Cheryl alone sends my eyes to her with concern. She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Running back into the bedroom I wasn’t sure I would get to share with Rourke after today, I change into a black maxi dress that just might not embarrass me or Rourke. Sliding my feet into flats, I grab my purse and cell phone. The guy is waiting by a black Range Rover, with the passenger door open for me. Once I’m inside he closes the door, then walks around the front. He gives me a small smile when he gets in. When he starts the car a flood of opera rushes out of the speakers, and he fumbles to turn it down. “Sorry. I listen when I’m stressed. Rourke was insistent I get you to come with me without me upsetting you or touching you.”
Tension eases in me. Okay, so if he didn’t want me upset then this might not be so bad. I don’t bother asking again, as I’m pretty sure I know where we are going when we turn toward 360, which is also known as Capital of Texas. Pretty much every major road in Austin has two names, like Highway One is Mopac after the railway line that runs along beside it being the Missouri Pacific rail line. The road we are on now is Ben White Boulevard and Highway 71. It’s a thing everyone bitches about when they first move here. Since I’ve lived here my whole life, I just shrug.
Then we turn up toward the hills onto a road I’ve never been on before, and I relax. It’s really dark, with only the dim glow of light from houses off the road besides the headlights. Okay, now I’m really glad Rourke doesn’t drive all the way home during festival season. There is no warning before a large two-story house done in an Italian Tuscan style is in front of us. It’s a mellow mustard yellow, complete with a huge rustic wooden door. The guy has gotten out and opened my door while I’m still staring dazed at the gorgeous house. I slide out of the car.
He hands me something. “Here’s the key. He’ll be here soon.”
Even though there are lights along the outside of the house, I’m grateful the guy waits until I have the door open before he leaves. Once I’m inside, my jaw drops. This place is beautiful, it really is, in the rural Italian design with stone walls and dark thick wooden beams across the ceiling. The chandelier is bright, made with wrought iron but not overwhelming. I walk through the house slowly: there is a large formal living room, a formal dining room, a library, an office, a less formal living room on one side of a huge dream kitchen in browns, oranges, and yellows, then an area to eat in the kitchen. French doors lead out to an enormous backyard with a huge pool, hot tub, and green grass with roses growing up the side of the wrought-iron fence. The view off the side of the hill is a picture postcard of the 360 bridge.
From far away I hear a door close, and I run back inside. I meet Rourke in the kitchen. His face gives nothing away. “I’m sorry, I overstepped,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, just bends down and tosses me over his shoulder, slapping my ass hard, as he makes his way to the curving wooden stairs. Oh god, please don’t let him drop me. I’m trying to ignore the way my body responded to the slap to my ass when he does it again, sending vibrations from my core out to the rest of my body. I bite back my moan.
The world flips when I’m tossed on a thick, fluffy bed, not very gently. He shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair. “Damn it, I’m pissed at you.”
He’s pacing the room. I nod. Anything to ease his anger. I pull off my dress. He stops, shaking his head. “I checked with Doreen. If she had said you were needed, I wouldn’t have said a word. I would have gone back into the room and woken you up. Please, know I didn’t do it lightly. I knew you’d be angry, I deserve your anger, but I did it because I care and was concerned about you and no other reason.”
I’d worn my lone sexy set of panties and bra in a sheer black. Even as he bites his lip, he shakes his head. “Using your body to get you out of trouble isn’t going to work.”
“You could spank me again...show me what happens when I’m bad.” I pull down the panties to my knees, then roll onto my back, sliding them off and offering him my ass.
“That wouldn’t be a punishment, you little brat. I know you liked it when I slapped your ass.” My eyes go wide as I turn over. “Why do you think I did it twice? The first time was just to get you to stop moving around. I felt your response and smelled your pussy gush from it. The second time confirmed it when you rubbed yourself against me like a cat in heat.” I blush, embarrassed, ashamed, worried he’ll think I’m a freak. His hand goes into my hair. “Don’t look like that, if you liked it then there’s nothing wrong with it. If you want a spanking, sweetheart, I’ll give you one. Even though your punishment isn’t supposed to be something you want, and I don’t like the idea of spanking you while I’m angry.”
“So there goes my offer of you fucking me rough and angry, because I like that too.” I sit back on my knees as I consider the problem. “Same with me giving a blow job anytime you want, as often as you want.”
Rourke starts laughing, and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. When he looks down at me, a smile on his beautiful face, he sighs. “Never do it again.”
I bite my lip. “Never do it again or never try and take care of you again? I can’t promise you that.”
His hand tightens in my hair then yanks back my head. Oh god, I’m a freak because I feel my breasts swell and nipples tighten in response. I pant his name. He shakes his head. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. Right now I need to fuck you too badly. If you want rough, then I can deliver the way I’m feeling right now.”
Oh god, he sucks on my nipple hard, then bites down with a painful precision, causing me to yelp as I moan for more. I’d been shocked how much I liked him biting my nipples before, only I gave up caring about why I liked it, I just fucking did. A few times, Rourke has gotten rough and I’ve welcomed it; yet the next hour goes far beyond rough, it’s a savage mating and it causes a hot, slick river of need to pour from me. Thick fingers fuck into me without trying to bring me pleasure, yet they do. Then when I’m gasping, begging for more, he sets my world spinning when those thick fingers push into my tight ass. Since the first night he’s fucked my ass with one finger only, and I’ve welcomed it every time. Now, though, two fingers feels much thicker, and they are rough where he has never been before.
Pain and pleasure are mingling so tightly I can’t tell which is winning when the smack to one cheek shocks me into stillness for a second. Then there is another smack to the other cheek while his fingers fuck my ass without pause. I’m still cresting on the wave of pain from the first smack when another finds the same hot, swollen flesh, and I hiss in pain even as I moan for more. I get it: another smack to my other cheek, again, then again. I’m so close to my climax, I need it bad. I’m desperately trying reach my clit when a hand goes around my wrist, stopping me.
“No, sweetheart, this is a punishment. You’ll come when I let you.”
“Please, please, I need your cock. Please fuck me.” I’m almost incoherent in my need. Then I’m shocked when it all stops. I lay stunned, then I hear it: a bottle of lubricant, what I needed every time I used my vibrator. My eyes find Rourke by the bed lubing his cock. I know what it means and my pussy aches in mourning.
“On your hands and knees.” His order is given without a hint of softness.
I move quickly, tense with fear yet anticipation. Rourke is on the bed moving behind me. Two fingers push into my ass again. They fuck into me roughly. I’m moaning, pressing back into them. After a few minutes they are gone, spreading me wide open for his thick, long, hard cock. The whole time I’m telling myself to relax, but I can’t and I pay for it. I’m biting back the yell of pain as only the head of his cock presses into me.
“You can do it, sweetheart. Your body was made for me, every inch of you.” Slowly, so slowly, only the first few inches of him fuck me again and again until I’m not fighting him and begin pushing back to take more of him inside me. He gives me more, only a few inches more as I sigh at the new pleasure mingling with pain. Still slowly, almost too slowly, he fucks me with the new few inches until I’m gasping now, begging for more. I can take more, I want more. Rourke thrusts deeper, pushing out all the air from my body, and when he pulls out I follow, moving back against him. He doesn’t go far before thrusting harder, deeper, until all of him is inside me. We’re both panting, fighting for air at the sensation.
Hot, hard, so hot, he’s so large, the immense feel of him is overwhelming yet so damn good it is the kind of perfect I’ve never even thought possible. Then he moves, strong, powerful thrusts, his hands at my hips holding me in place. Oh god, so fucking good, more, harder, please. He answers my pleas, deeper, harder, with every thrust he’s pulling me apart then every stroke putting me back together.
I’m fighting to stay up; it should have warned me, but I’m unaware of it until my climax slams into me in a brutal body slam, as if I hit a brick wall going a hundred miles an hour. My arms give out, my whole body is shaking with bone-jarring force but Rourke hasn’t come. He’s drawing my climax out too much—no, I can’t—he’s pulling me apart at the seams, then he comes with a shout of my name seconds before the hot wet heat of him inside me sends me into the dark.
I wake a long time later wrapped in Rourke’s arms, my head on his chest. His hand is running through my hair. “Thank you,” he whispers against my temple.
“For what?”
“For calling Doreen and cancelling my two events and letting me sleep. For caring.”
“You’re welcome. I kind of have a vested interest in keeping you in top condition. It was a little selfish of me.”
“Always with the last word?”
“Always. As much as I liked you fucking my ass, my pussy is feeling left out. Come here,” I whisper against his mouth.
***
Rourke
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I watch Olivia sigh deeply in her sleep as her arms tighten around me when I try to pull away. Distance, I need distance, a minute to get my shit back together. My mind is in turmoil, my emotions thrashing around as if caught in a storm. I want more from her, everything, only it’s wrong, so fucking wrong when I can’t, refuse to give it back to her. It would make me such an asshole, and it isn’t fair to her except I’m long past the point of fair when it comes to Olivia.
She’s taken over my every waking moment. When she’s not with me she’s all I can think about, all I really care about. The need to hold her, touch her grows with every hour, minute. She’s too far away. My only peace is when she’s in my arms, when I’m inside her, when she’s whispering my name, her hands on my body, her lips against mine. Fuck. This all feels like it’s unraveling from my control. I have no control where Olivia is concerned. She tames me, she soothes me.
Damn it. I give up trying to get away. Olivia settles her head on my chest; my name is a sigh on her lips. It goes right to the thrashing within me, calming me. I don’t want to leave her, and it won’t matter anyway. Whatever has happened, it’s far too late to stop it now.