OLIVIER
Olivier could only hack it until Monday morning.
Since starting it with Amélie, he’d used most of his markers to change shifts with the guys so he didn’t work nights or midnights.
In order to keep that going, rebuild his markers, he was giving them, taking a week of midnights.
Now, having her completely Friday night, all they’d shared before and after she took him to that red room, Amélie giving that room to him, just them, no one else, he felt her almost constantly digging deeper under his skin.
All day. All night.
Even in his dreams.
And clearly with no willpower and losing the fight to find it, he didn’t stop it.
So that morning after shift, Olly lay naked in his bed, the blinds closed against the Phoenix sun, the curtains drawn, needing sleep.
But needing his Leigh-Leigh and his Mistress more.
So he called her.
“Olly,” she answered. “Is everything all right?”
He gave her what he needed to give her to tell her what he needed to get.
“Mistress.”
There was a hesitation before he knew she got him when she ordered, “Cup your balls, chevalier.”
His cock, already hard, got harder as he moved to do what she said.
“Have you done that?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered.
“Good, Olivier. Now, put the phone on speaker and place it where I can hear you and you can hear me but it won’t be distracting.”
He had her voice coming at him, his cock hard, his hand cupping his balls because she told him to do that, he could balance that phone on his dick and it wouldn’t be distracting.
But he did as told, increasing the volume and pushing the phone into the pillow by his head so it’d stay put.
“Do I have you, mon chou?” she called.
“You got me, Amélie.”
And she did.
Christ, she so did.
“Good, now how much time do we have?”
He closed his eyes, a sweet agony.
Because there it was. Amélie looking out for him in all the ways she could.
She probably thought he had a day job, and that early in the morning, but still not that early, she’d think he had to get ready to get to some office.
He didn’t. But he did have to get good sleep, get up, get fueled, work out, shower, do life shit, like laundry, and get back to the firehouse.
A lot of the guys on midnights slept in the bunkbeds at the house. Since Olly was acting lieutenant on the nightshift, he felt it necessary to stay alert so he didn’t do that.
So they didn’t have a lot of time.
“Not much,” he told her.
“Okay, Olivier,” she said softly. “Let’s begin then. At the same time, slide your middle finger in your mouth and give your balls a squeeze.”
He did what she asked, fighting the urge after he’d given them a squeeze to take his hand from his balls to jack his dick.
“Extract your finger from your mouth, please,” she ordered.
He did. “It’s out, Mistress.”
“Lovely, Olivier,” she purred. “Lift your knees, legs wide, feet in the bed. Tell me when that’s done.”
He did it and grunted, “Done.”
“Excellent, now please grip your cock at the base but don’t stroke.”
“Done,” he said, his voice rougher.
“Are you hard for me?” she asked.
“Very,” he answered.
“Oh, Olivier, how much I wish I could see.” She said it and she meant it, he could hear it and it made him even harder. “Are you prepared for me?”
“Yeah,” he bit out, and he was. He needed to stroke.
“You’re harnessed?”
Shit, he hadn’t thought of that.
“No,” he admitted.
“Mm,” she said before she made a tsking noise and murmured, “There’ll be punishment for that when I have you again.”
Fuck.
Yes.
“Now, let’s focus. Wet your middle finger again, Olivier.”
He did.
She must have known it because, as he was sliding it out of his mouth, she ordered, “Please, seat that finger up your ass and then stroke your cock for me.”
Fuck. He’d never done that to himself.
“Amélie.”
“Do it or your punishment might not end in a reward.”
He wondered what that meant and doubted she could pull it off. Anything she gave him was a reward.
“Fuck,” he muttered it verbally this time.
Then he took his time, reaching between his legs, and he gave himself his finger as he started to jack his dick.
Nice.
“Fuck,” he puffed out.
“Are you as I want you?” she asked something she knew the answer to.
“Yeah, Mistress.”
“Stroke harder, Olivier.”
He did.
“And fuck your ass with your finger.”
“Christ,” he ground out and he did that too.
Brilliant.
A growl surged up his throat.
“To be taking your ass myself, listening to your pleasure right there with you, I want that right now, chevalier,” she whispered.
“Me too, baby,” he grunted, jacking his dick harder as he fucked his own ass.
“When I have you again, after your punishment, I’m going to show you off.”
His fist pumped faster and the noises he was making escaped as they did, and for once, Olly didn’t try to stop them.
Without her there, he wanted her to hear.
“Take you to the social room,” she shared. “Parade my beast. Bask in their envy that that magnificent body of yours is mine, that brute of a cock is mine, those beautiful balls are mine, that ass is mine.”
God, he wanted that.
How could he want that?
He just did, and him starting to raise his hips, fuck his own fist, his finger up his ass, made that undeniable.
Which meant Olly could no longer deny that he liked that she liked to show him off. He liked she was proud of him. He’d been beginning to understand as he saw that Stellan asshole watching her work him why he’d feel the sneer of conceit spread on his lips, watched the corresponding sneer of pure jealousy spread on that asshole’s mouth, knowing that guy might say he was a Master, but he wanted to be right where Amélie had Olivier, taking anything she wanted to give.
Fuck, Olly even got off on seeing what became only shadows beyond that glass when Amélie was opening his world, arrogant, even smug that she’d chosen him and he was hers as she was his.
Olly loved she’d claimed him and was so deep in that he got off on the fact she wanted to rub the others’ noses in what she gave him.
And what he gave her.
“Amélie,” he bit out.
“Oil you before we go. Prepare you. Bend you over a table, your legs spread, your ass on display. My ass. They can look, they can’t touch.”
“Plug me,” he grunted.
“If you wish, my Olivier,” she sounded pleased, hot and pleased.
“Only yours,” he told her.
“Only mine as I’m only yours, darling.”
“Fuck,” he grunted.
“Bent over a table in social, would you ride the handle of my crop in your ass, performing for me?” she asked, her voice hotter, breathier, the purr hitting extremes so it was almost like he could feel it on his skin.
“Do anything you want, Amélie,” he groaned.
“Then right now, my stallion, offer me your seed.”
He came on demand, driving his finger up his ass and shooting up his stomach and ribs, grunting her name through it.
His orgasm not close to what she could give him, but it far from sucked, he was so deep in it he almost didn’t hear her command of, “Milk yourself dry for your Mistress.”
But he did hear her and did as told, muttering, “You got it.”
“Slide your finger out, Olivier, and stroke your cock gently.”
He did that too.
Like she was attuned to him completely from whatever distance they had, after a while she whispered, “You can stop stroking at your leisure, Olly.”
And that was it. They were out of their scene and back to Olly and Leigh.
“Are you okay, darling?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, Leigh-Leigh.”
“Good.” It was still a whisper but he could hear she was pleased.
“You come, baby?” he asked, wishing he’d heard if she did, though wondering if he would since she looked great coming but she didn’t make a lot of noise.
“Mm, next time.” She was back to purring.
“Right,” he said through a grin. “And when do you want this next time to be?”
“Tomorrow morning, at this time, Olly, if you’re free.”
He would be.
“I’m free,” he confirmed.
“Prepare for me, Olly. Harness and a towel on the bed.”
Fucking hell.
He had a feeling, with a heads-up, she was going to give him even better.
“And, your decision, but if you text me your address, I can have some things delivered that will make times such as these between us much more interesting.”
When he didn’t answer that immediately, she continued, her voice softer, reassuring.
“It will come direct from me, courier delivery. No way to know what’s inside. And I’ll do nothing but use your address for the delivery. Your space is yours and I’ll only occupy it on your invitation, darling.”
Yes, she took care of him.
“Then send what you want to me.”
“It’ll be there this evening.”
The amusement he felt was in his voice when he replied, “Awesome, Leigh.”
“I’ll let you go, but before I do that, I just want you to know that I’m pleased you phoned.”
“You not comin’ means I’m more pleased.”
The amusement was now in her voice, as well as something richer, warmer … happy, when she said, “Good.”
Shit, him, her, the both of them were getting in deep.
He just couldn’t stop it.
And what they had was so good, in a playroom, a booth with a drink or on the phone, Olly was also beginning to wonder why he was allowing it to fuck with his head to even try to stop it.
“Gotta go, sweetheart,” he returned, knowing he should hide the regret in his voice and not stopping that either.
“Okay, Olly. Until tomorrow, mon chou.”
“Yeah, Leigh. Later.”
“Good-bye, darling.”
He hung up, laid in bed on his back with his cum on his stomach, the feel of his finger up his ass, his cock sensitive and still semi-hard, and he waited for it.
The uncertainty.
The shame.
But it didn’t come, mostly because all Olly could do was wonder what she’d send, wanting to hear her come for him too. He’d been up all night, was right then seriously relaxed, so he needed to shut his eyes and sleep.
To that end, he swung his carcass out of the bed, went to the bathroom, cleaned off his cum, and climbed back into bed naked, throwing the covers over him.
Nothing, not that barest inkling fucked with his head as he fell right to sleep.
* * *
Olly got the delivery before he went to work.
He opened it like a fucking kid at Christmas and felt his dick jump at what he saw inside.
A small plug, some lube, a remote control, a cock harness with attached ring, and a Bluetooth earpiece to allow him to be hands-free and have her sweet voice right in his ear.
He opened the thick stock, classy-ass, light beige notecard that had an elegant but contemporary embossed AMÉLIE HÉLÈNE STRAND on the flap at the back.
And there it was.
She gave him more.
He had her full name.
Damn, that felt good.
The good he felt knowing her name got better when a chuckle burst from him to see she’d sealed the note with a kiss from lipsticked lips.
Cute.
Leigh-Leigh.
He opened the note and read:
Olivier,
Our time tomorrow, on your knees in bed, Bluetooth in position, towel before you.
Entirely harnessed.
Full, please.
Yours as you are mine,
~Amélie
Shit.
Yeah.
In deep.
Yours as you are mine.
And suddenly, with a feeling he didn’t know if he’d ever felt in his life, he couldn’t wait for the morning.
* * *
Exactly as required, balls and cock harnessed, Bluetooth earpiece at his ear, plug up his ass, on his knees with the towel spread out before him, he made his call the next morning.
“Olly,” she answered.
“Like my presents, baby,” he whispered.
“Then please, my chevalier, turn on your plug then put your hands behind your head. First setting only, please.”
He grabbed the remote, did as told, and she guided him through it. Doing it swiftly because she undoubtedly thought their time was limited.
And he listened to her get hotter and hotter in his ear as she told him shit she wanted to do to him, shit he wanted, and she jacked his ass as what she was giving him made him automatically and desperately fuck the air in his harness that was tightening as his cock swelled inside it almost like she had her fingers wrapped around it.
“My stallion needs a tail,” she whispered when he was holding on by a thread, ready to blow. “Long, so when I have you in his position, your tail seated deep, and I’m pulling your seed from your cock personally, your tail will spread out behind your ass that’s full for me like the beauty all of you is to me.”
Without her command, at her words, his groan came deep and surprised as his body arched way back, shoving the plug deeper, and he shot his load across the towel on the bed.
He was still shooting when he heard the soft noises she made when she came.
At her noises, he kept shooting, jacking the remote to top speed before she told him he could, pumping his cock through the air, grunting through a prolonged orgasm (almost) the likes of what Amélie could give.
Though she was still giving it, she just wasn’t there.
When he was coming down, he shifted the plug to low and whispered, “Sorry, Mistress.”
“Can I take it from that you’d like a new toy?”
A tail up his ass? Fully her pony?
“Amélie.”
He said no more because he didn’t know what to say.
How that was her asking more from him than she already had, he had no idea.
But it was.
And the shit of it was, he’d come the minute she suggested it.
“Many things, Olly,” she started softly, taking him to the place she could sense he needed to be, and he turned the vibrations of the plug completely off, “even with what we have, what we give to each other, can remain a fantasy. You can like it in your mind, as can I, we can use it in times like these, but you can share you don’t want it in reality.”
“Am I at ease?” he asked. She’d called him Olly, but he wanted to be sure.
“Of course,” she answered gently.
Carefully, he dropped to a hip away from the towels, and then to his back, cocking his knees to accommodate the plug still seated inside.
And then he went where he wasn’t sure he should go, over his head once more, not knowing if he should ask this of a Mistress and also not knowing if he should ask it at this juncture with Leigh.
But he asked it.
“You ever have a pony, baby?”
She didn’t reply immediately and he felt his gut get tight.
“Not mine to have,” he stated quickly, his voice as tight as his gut. “Forget I asked that, Leigh.”
“I think we both can agree we’re at a place where this is yours to have, Olly. And no. I’ve never had a pony. Not like what you mean. I’ve often looked at tails to enter that into play but…” She hesitated before she went on, “Oddly, I think you understood even before me why I didn’t buy them.”
“And why’s that, Leigh-Leigh?” he prompted when she didn’t share.
He knew the answer but he needed to hear it.
“When I found him, to earn that honor, he needed to be magnificent.”
His gut relaxed and at the same time warmed.
“I’d like to give you a tail, Olly. Only if you think you’d like it.”
“You give me what you want, baby.”
“Do you think you’ll like it?” she asked, and fuck him, he could hear uncertainty from his Amélie.
It was cute.
It was looking out for him.
Even when she had it all together, when it came to him, it was still so fucking her.
“I think you can make me like almost anything.”
The uncertainty was still there when she murmured, “That wasn’t a wholehearted affirmative.”
“Leigh, you want to give the honor of tailing me, no doubt you’ll make it rock my world. So I love it that you’d discuss this with me instead of springing it on me but you take care of me, if you’re right there or you’re over a phone. I trust you, sweetheart. So give that to me and doing it, let me give you something.”
She sounded surprised, and unnerved, when she returned, “You give me something, many somethings, many somethings that mean the world to me, and you do it constantly, Olly.”
“You get me,” he said low and firm.
“Ol—”
Okay. Maybe she didn’t.
“You know you give me more, Amélie. You know I’m only me with you.”
Fuck, was he giving her all this?
Fuck.
He was.
And he kept doing it.
“Only time, even with the others before you, I was able to just be me.”
“I’m … I honestly don’t know what to say, mon amour. With this, it’s me who’s honored.”
“Good, ’cause it’s an honor.” That was again low and firm. “One you earned and I’m glad you did.”
She made a noise he’d never heard, like a feminine growl he felt in his balls, and when she spoke, he felt it somewhere else completely.
“I’m finding this immensely frustrating because I’d very much like to kiss you right now, darling.”
He started chuckling, doing it to fight the sensation that seemed to be wrapping his chest, and through it said, “Good, ’cause I’d like that, too, very much.”
There was a smile as well as a sweet hotness to her purr of, “Hmm.”
He stopped chuckling and was grinning at the ceiling when she went on, no smile, her tone still sweet but serious.
“We’ll enjoy ourselves together next week, Olly. But while we’ll play at my ranch, I’d also like to ask you to think about us taking the time to have … a chat.”
Oh, they needed to have a chat.
The thing was, Olly didn’t know if he was looking forward to it or dreading it.
But he needed to give it to her. He needed for both of them to get out where they were so they could figure out where they were going.
And he needed that so he could sort it in his head and be sure to protect her in their future.
He didn’t know if they had one. He knew that he didn’t want this to end. Just thinking of it sent a stabbing pain in his side like someone sunk a blade in his ribs.
He also knew it’d be hard work, undoubtedly painful work, and perhaps too much to ask from both of them to get there because, when she found out who he was, what he did, there were ways he wouldn’t fit in her world outside the club that she would feel.
Though, he figured he’d feel them more.
It was going to be Olly who’d need to make all the compromises, compromises that to a man like him would be sacrifices.
So they needed to go over that and make that decision.
But before that, before they went there, he needed to weigh what she gave him along with all the other. Not the orgasms but her cute and her sweet and her taking care of a friend or worried about another sub or asking him how much time he had so she could take care of him without making life difficult for him. And he had to weigh that against what their future could be and how he knew down to his bones he didn’t fit in hers at the same time he wasn’t sure how she’d fit in his.
Not Mistress Amélie and Olivier. That worked fucking great. He felt it. He knew it. She took him there and he was settling into it. And touching that kind of freedom, learning to let that go in his mind, finally, after having it fuck with his head for so long he barely remembered a time it wasn’t doing that, he’d owe her huge.
No, it was everything else.
So during this chat, it might mean the end. And he fucking hated that.
But if that’s what it led to, he needed to give that to Amélie because she was digging under his skin and doing it deep.
However, he had a feeling he was already under hers.
She was right, they needed more time together before their chat so they could come to terms with what that chat would bring.
Because it also might not mean the end. Olly just needed to lay it out for her so she’d know who he was and where he stood and they could both have the information they needed to find their way in whatever the future was going to bring.
“Yeah, we’ll have a chat,” he agreed, unable to keep the unease out of his voice. “Definitely.”
“I must let you go, darling,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” he lied.
He could talk for an hour, two, four, and he was feeling that lie. Feeling that she didn’t know what he did, how he was at the Honey under scholarship or that he’d come to that club green.
She didn’t even know his last name.
And in feeling all that, Olly was finding it was time to share all of it too.
Fuck.
“Would you like more tomorrow morning?” she asked.
That was it. That was his focus.
He had her.
For now.
And he’d take all she could dish out while he did and give her all he could in return.
“Yeah, gorgeous.”
“Okay, Olly, but only tomorrow. No more after. Not anything, sweetheart. I want you prepared for when I have you next.”
Yeah, he’d take all she could dish out while he had her.
“Fabulous,” he muttered, both not looking forward to that at the same time knowing the payoff would be huge, leaving his cock be so she could take care of it when she had it again.
There was a smile in her voice when she said, “Tomorrow, my Olly.”
“Tomorrow, Leigh-Leigh.”
My Olly.
Fuck.
Yes. Goddamned yes.
He was under her skin.
And in thinking that, he remembered something Jenna had told him, giving the knowledge to him not hiding that she wanted to get what she was explaining from him.
This being that a good sub subbed. Gave up everything, gave over everything, trusted implicitly. And when they got what they got in return for that, they shared in every way they could that they liked what they were getting, how good it felt, but most, how much it meant. And doing all that, he or she controlled their Dom, owned their Dom, for that Dom would live to push those boundaries so they could give their sub everything.
Olly had a feeling he was there with Amélie.
And he liked knowing he was there, a lot, maybe too much.
He just needed to get the shit sorted in his head if that was actually too much.
Or if it wasn’t.
If too much wasn’t too much.
If instead it was everything he needed to be free.
Of a lot of things.
AMÉLIE
Thursday morning, at precisely the time Olly had been calling so she could play with him over the phone, Amélie paced the hotel room, her phone in her hand.
She had to catch a taxi in one hour to go to a business meeting. She’d decided, if Olly was unavailable, it was the perfect time to get these nuisance meetings out of the way.
Definitely a much better time than having to leave town when Olly wasn’t unavailable due to work commitments, instead she was, meaning more times of separation.
That wouldn’t do.
She was ignoring what that said about how deep she was with Olly and instead obsessing about calling Olly.
He’d phoned her once just to talk.
The other times he’d phoned and made it clear he wished to play.
He’d also sounded strange when she said she wanted them to have a chat at her ranch. It was a strange she didn’t like. It seemed wary, hesitant, and Olly was neither of those, not while he was communicating.
That could mean anything.
But Amélie’s overactive mind was centering on only the possible meanings that were dire.
They’d had their last phone date yesterday morning. It had been fulfilling for them both. She’d then ordered him to prepare for their reunion by abstaining.
She was not expecting him to call.
That didn’t mean she didn’t want him to call.
However, the minutes were ticking by, she’d soon have to leave, and she wanted to talk to him. Hear his voice. It had been twenty-four hours (and fourteen minutes).
That was fourteen minutes too long (it was actually about twenty-three hours and fourteen minutes too long but she wasn’t admitting that).
“Blast,” she whispered, stopping her pacing and dropping her head to look at her phone.
She touched the screen, found his listing in her contacts and felt an instant, irrationally intense desire to have a picture of him in the little circle by his name.
“Now I’m acting like a besotted teenager,” she muttered to herself.
This did not make her stop her finger from touching the button to make the call.
She put the phone to her ear, listened to it ring, and again began pacing.
She halted abruptly when Olly’s voice came through, sounding deeper and husky, oddly like he’d still been asleep when he should be up by then, preparing for his day.
And her belly clenched when he answered with, “My Mistress feels like bein’ sweet.”
She stood staring unseeing at the shiny toes of her nude Louboutin pumps, completely at a loss of what to say.
He thought she’d phoned to play.
He wanted her to be phoning to play.
Did that mean he didn’t want her phoning just to connect, not through play?
“Leigh?” he called, sounding more alert, more himself.
Her head snapped up. “Olly … um, Olivier, yes…”
She wasn’t prepared to offer him what he clearly wanted.
It was highly likely she could be in the mood for Olly at a moment’s notice.
But there was something dragging at that mood as worries assailed her that he didn’t want to hear from her unless she intended to, as he put it, “jack his shit.”
When he’d phoned just to talk, he was worried about how she’d been when discussing her parents.
Perhaps, as it could for any human being with a modicum of sensitivity (and Olly had more than a modicum), this worry overrode his boundaries. But just for that.
Only for that.
“Leigh-Leigh,” he said softly. “You okay?”
“I … uh … I…”
God, she was stammering.
Spit something out, Leigh! her mind shouted.
“If you … if you’re in the mood—” she began.
“Leigh, talk to me,” he ordered. Now fully alert, his voice had taken a tone she’d never heard from him. Demanding. Authoritative. Inflexible. “Is everything okay?”
Entirely contradictory to her sexual nature, she felt a pleasant shiver skid over her skin at his tone.
Entirely consistent with the female she was, the man in her life exhibiting a fierce protectiveness at the hint something might be amiss with her, she felt that shiver gather, giving her a warm, sweet feeling in her throat.
Like she’d just swallowed a healthy dose of fine whisky.
“I’m out of town,” Amélie blurted.
“Fuck,” he bit out then spoke again swiftly, concern coating every word, “What is it, sweetheart? Something happen to a friend? Someone in your family?”
She closed her eyes.
There was her sweet beast.
She took in a deep breath, feeling the release of the tension that was beginning to make her feel sick to her stomach.
God, she should have been far more sensitive when Mirabelle was going through this as her relationship bloomed with Trey.
The breath she took was a breath she needed to take but she knew she took too long to take it when Olly demanded, “Leigh, baby, tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“I just wanted to let you know I was out of town. For business. There’s nothing wrong. I was just calling to, well … let you know,” she finished insipidly.
She closed her eyes tight.
His words sounded in her head.
Leigh, talk to me.
She shook her head sharply.
What is it, sweetheart? Something happen to a friend? Someone in your family?
Damn.
Everything from him meant everything.
Was she falling in love with a man whose last name she didn’t even know?
That staggering thought barely came before she realized he hadn’t said anything.
It was her turn to call his name.
“Olly?”
“Here, Leigh-Leigh,” he said quietly.
“I just…” Speak, Leigh! “I’m in San Francisco. There were some meetings I was putting off. I thought with you tied up with work, now would be a good time to see to that. I’ll be back for our date at the club on Monday.”
“When’d you leave?” he asked.
“Yesterday afternoon,” she answered.
“Was this sudden?”
She shook her head even if he couldn’t see her. “I decided to go on Monday and started making the plans then.”
“And you couldn’t tell me when we talked on Monday?”
Her eyes slid out the windows, where she had a lovely view the Golden Gate Bridge, doing this while she reminded him, “We were doing other things when we spoke Monday.”
“And then we got done doin’ other things and we were just talkin’,” he returned.
“Well, yes,” she confirmed, confused because he sounded like he was becoming irate.
Irate was not a good thing with Olly.
“And now you’re out of town,” he remarked flatly.
“And another yes,” she stated cautiously.
There was a long pause before he started, “Babe, you know—”
But he cut himself off and said no more.
“I know what?” she prompted.
“Right, not really my business but we went there last time we were together, as in there, me inside you, ungloved, so it also is. You got another man in your life?”
She felt the strange sensation, like her heart actually slid up into her throat, and again, with a question like that from Olly, she didn’t know whether to be delighted or offended.
“Of course not.”
“Okay, then—”
But this time, Amélie decided to be offended so she cut him off.
“And just to say, Olly, it actually is your business as we are lovers.”
She could swear he sounded like he was choking back laughter when he replied, “Yeah, think I know that, gorgeous.”
Amélie found nothing funny.
“Is there another woman in your life?” she snapped, fear gripping her belly yet again, but she hung on to the anger to hold the strength of that fear—strength she knew would be paralyzing if she gave into it—at bay.
“Not sure we totally understood each other, or at least not sure you totally understood me, babe,” he began, no longer sounding amused at all, “when we had our little chat after the pussy wrap.”
She understood what he was saying.
And again she felt the release in her midsection but this time she actually bent slightly with it, it was so extreme.
Olly apparently felt no release.
“I’m fuckin’ you, you’re fuckin’ me, that’s exclusive,” he declared.
“I definitely agree, Olly,” she said, now speaking soothingly because he was again sounding irate.
“Fuck, we should talk about this when we’re together,” he muttered.
“I agree to that too,” Amélie replied. “Though we’re talking about it now and for a variety of reasons it’s important to know we’re both on the same page with that.”
“We’re both on the same page with that,” he declared immediately, but he wasn’t quite done. “And I’ll just say, what we got, where I’m at, Leigh, is that, you take off on a plane, or you go to your ranch, I wanna know. You don’t gotta report in, tell me your every move, share what kind of soup you’re buyin’ at the grocery store, but you’re outta town…” He paused then stated, “Anything can happen and I wouldn’t know until I walked into the club and that’s only if someone else knows and shares it with me. If I know where you are and I don’t hear from you…”
He let that hang and she moved on her Louboutins to the window in order to lean her shoulder against it, the stunning view lost on her, his words all that were in her head.
Olly wanted to know where she was. He wanted to know this because he wanted to know wherever she was she was safe.
Outside her father, she’d never had that. Not with a single man in her life.
She felt that warm whisky sensation in her throat again.
“I should have told you I had plans to leave town,” she admitted softly.
“Yeah, you shoulda told me,” he affirmed, his words still slightly curt but she could hear he was letting it go.
A good thing, with Olly’s temper.
“That won’t actually be happening again once I’m back, not for some time,” she informed him, and she hoped she spoke true. Her business, as it was—which was mostly her attending meetings that bored her out of her skull because she wasn’t needed in any form except to nod her yes or shake her no—was beginning to feel like it was wearing on her very soul.
“Right,” he grunted.
Amélie didn’t know whether to smile, burst into tears, or collapse in a bundle of nerves.
So perhaps it was best to let him go so she could turn her mind to other things that might, for brief moments, not be obsessing on all things Olly.
“I have a meeting soon and you’ll be needing to get on with what you’re doing as well,” she noted.
“Yeah,” he said like he wasn’t too enthusiastic about what he was going to be getting on doing, which again made her wish she knew what he did for a living.
She didn’t ask. Her call had been embarrassing, encouraging, heartwarming, promising, and nerve-wracking, a mixture that was more than a little disconcerting.
In the time they had before they met at her ranch, they needed to enjoy themselves and keep it light.
This was not light.
“So I should let you go,” she continued.
Olly didn’t allow her to let him go.
“You called just to talk, didn’t you, gorgeous?”
“Well … yes,” she admitted warily.
“You want me, Leigh-Leigh, you call me. You wanna talk. Something’s up. You wanna play. Don’t hesitate, okay?”
She drew in another big breath, accepting that gift and trying not to allow herself to admit how precious it seemed, but she let it go a lot quicker than the other to reply, “Okay, Olly.”
“When’s your meeting?” he asked.
She looked at the thin, gold diamond watch on her wrist before answering, “Three-quarters of an hour I have to catch a taxi.”
There was more amusement in his voice when he said, “That’s not actually soon, sweetheart.”
She smiled but replied, “You have pressing things as well, I’m sure.”
“You called to talk, that went south, now I got a little time, not a lot, but I’ll give it to you.”
Yes.
Her sweet beast.
“That’s very kind, darling, but—”
He interrupted her to ask, “You do vanilla?”
The interruption and abrupt change of subject took her off guard.
“I’m sorry?”
“Vanilla, Leigh. You ever fuck vanilla?”
“Well … I…” she started hesitantly, but didn’t finish.
“Baby, been through this,” he said gently. “Not gonna hunt down all your past boyfriends and erase them from the earth so I can fool myself into thinkin’ I’m the only one.”
That caused another smile.
“Then, yes, Olly. I do vanilla.”
“You like it?”
“If done well, anything is enjoyable,” she told him before asking her own question. “Are you saying that you’d like us to have that?”
“Just gettin’ to know you, gorgeous.”
That kept the smile on her face but he wasn’t finished.
“And just you and me for our weekend, I’ll say now, we’re not doin’ our other thing, want that option available to me if it’s something you get off on.”
She wanted that option too.
She’d had him between her legs in a variety of ways. With this he’d demonstrated beautifully that he had a variety of talents and he was very gifted in using them.
So yes, Amélie wanted that too.
She wanted it very badly.
“That option’s available, Olly.”
“Good,” he murmured.
“So, I take it you also like it,” she stated unnecessarily as he’d shared he wanted that option so that meant he did.
She heard the tease in his voice when he replied, “Done well, anything’s enjoyable.”
“Absolutely,” she returned, hearing the humor she felt injected her tone.
“Not enough on its own,” he said quietly.
“No,” she agreed, feeling their connection snap taut even with the distance. Who he was. What he liked. Who she was. What she liked. How that worked so magnificently for them.
As did other things.
More and more of them.
She felt all that draw them closer, even with their distance.
And she liked it.
“Had women in my life and they never…” He stopped speaking but quickly started again. “I never shared.”
Oh, her Olly.
But she understood.
She’d had the same.
“It’s not easy to do that.”
He didn’t reply quickly to that and the silence stretched so long she almost called his name.
But eventually he filled it.
“Guys you had, was it the same?”
She wondered if the delay was jealousy, even after saying he wouldn’t hunt them down and erase them from the earth, the alpha that was him not wanting to get too deeply into this subject.
But the alpha-sub that was him, not quite one with his nature, would find a reciprocating struggle reassuring.
“Yes, Olly,” she told him the truth.
“You, my Leigh-Leigh, not able to be all you are,” he said, not like it was a surprise, or a playful tease, but like he felt exactly how distressing those situations could be.
And he’d just told her he did.
“I’ll just go on record, darling, officially, to state what you must know already. That even though you struggle, I’m glad you’re strong enough to win that struggle. It’s quite…” she searched madly for the right word that didn’t say too much but also didn’t say too little, “soothing not to have that in between.”
“Well, gorgeous, glad you went on record officially with that, though I won’t because I think you already know I agree.”
That was a partial playful tease.
What he said next wasn’t.
It was quiet but firm.
“But yeah, I totally get you.”
“I know you do,” she replied softly, then she finally allowed herself to ask something she’d been curious about for a good long while. “How long have you been in our world, Olly?”
“How about we get into that at your ranch, baby,” he replied, and before concerns he was prevaricating could rise, he continued, “Face-to-face, no one around, just you and me and we can get into the deep stuff.”
That was much better than talking about it over the phone when they were miles away from each other and only had a limited time to talk. Or in the club, even in a private playroom.
So she agreed, “That’s a plan.”
“Good,” he murmured and then carried on, “Though, gonna wanna know how you got your place as the Queen of the Bee’s Honey. Not that I don’t know exactly how you earned it, just that, sub talk, you’re not the leather-catsuit-wearing, whip-wielding, kiss-my-boots Mistress who uses bodies as footstools while she reads a book and still, all the dudes are gagging for it and most of the women too.”
“Would you like me to use you as a footstool, Olly?” she asked in a tease, for she knew the answer.
“Fuck no,” he replied, giving her the answer she knew and sounding like he was smiling. But there was a solidity to that statement took that option off their play table.
Not that it actually was ever on it.
He was right; she was not that type of Mistress.
“How about we get into that over beer and French 75s at the club?” she suggested.
“You’re on.”
She would look forward to that.
Then again, she looked forward to everything that involved Olly.
“Okay, Leigh-Leigh,” he said quietly, causing more warmth to heat her throat because he sounded very much like he didn’t want to say his next. “Now I actually do gotta go.”
“All right, sweetheart.”
“But just to repeat, glad you called and glad I know you’re fuckin’ states away, if after the fact, but you’ll be back with me on Monday.”
She was yet again smiling when she replied ridiculously, “I’m glad you’re glad.”
“Cute,” he muttered.
She felt that in her clit.
“Gonna hear from you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Probably not, darling. I’m trying to pack a good deal in so it’ll be done.”
And when she did, she would no longer have to have her mind numbed by her unwanted activities. She wouldn’t even have to think of them.
At least for a while.
“That’s cool. So I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yes, Olly. See you Monday.”
“You call, you want to, babe.”
“I will. And same with you.”
“Workin’ this weekend, all weekend, Leigh. So, just so you know, you don’t hear from me, that’s why.”
He didn’t want her worried she wasn’t on his mind.
Olly.
So very sweet.
“Okay, then Monday, Olly.”
“Monday, baby. Lookin’ forward to it.”
“Yes, me too.”
“Right, Leigh. Later, sweetheart.”
“’Bye, darling.”
She rung off swiftly so she wouldn’t be tempted to wait and listen to him disconnect.
God.
Absolutely a besotted teenager.
Amélie remained standing at the window, running down their conversation, and she couldn’t stop herself from staring unseeing at the bay, her lips curved up and doing that deeply.
Okay, so she was acting like a besotted teenager.
But really, except for a little hesitancy, she could find nothing that would give her any reason not to glory in being just that for a change.
Hopeful without the fear.
And just happy in the moment, what she had, what they had.
Rolling with it.
Getting everything she could out of it at the same time giving and doing the latter even more, if she could manage it.
What was the harm in that?
Nothing.
Not a thing.
So Amélie was besotted with a beautiful, sweet man called Olly whose last name she didn’t know and this thought didn’t make her smile fade. No fear clutched her belly. Not that single nerve end frazzled.
Because she actually was a thirty-three-year-old woman who was besotted.
And for the first time in her life, she was perfectly fine with that.