I nodded, desperate for him not to stop as his thumb increased pressure against my clit, my palm sliding on top of his to show him how I needed it, stoking the horny fire that raged through my veins.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
His fingers slid out of me before I was ready, shoving my suspenders down my shoulders, before taking them, my shorts, and underwear in one swoop, leaving me naked while he stood fully dressed in front of me. His gaze was hungry as it swept over me, and I let him look his fill over every curve and dimple.
But then he got down on his knees, my breath leaving my body as he gave me a rakish glance, a single warning before his tongue swept against me.
I wasn’t cool, calm, collected. No, my knees chose that moment to buckle, as I collapsed into him.
But he rolled with it, taking me with him as he lay on his back on top of a blanket. “Even better,” he growled, pulling my pelvis toward his face. Before I could squeak a protest, his tongue returned, making itself at home in my pussy, my knees on either side of his face as his tongue traced my wetness.
It was too good, he was too good, as he showed me each and every thing he’d dreamed of doing. I pitched forward onto my palms, fingers curled into the edges of the blanket.
The push of his cheeks against every sensitive spot was an additional unexpected thrill, his nose brushing against my clit, because somehow this man was smiling while going down on me.
“I’m going to smother you.” My words didn’t match the way I shifted to get his mouth exactly where I wanted him, craved him, pelvis grinding along his beard.
“Then smother me,” was his response before sucking on my clit, his fingers returning, three this time, curling, encouraging me to ride his face. Every moan and grumble he made against me caused a full body tremble. Stars formed behind my eyes. Everything concentrated on the places where he was touching me, toe-curling pleasure I never wanted to end.
Fire raged inside of me. Wild and alive.
There was no point pretending anymore, at least to myself, that I barely tolerated Oliver. He was burying himself under my skin, the same way his fingers were buried in me, and I couldn’t protest. All I wanted was more. More of his snark, more of that tongue, more of the way he talked to me until I fell asleep. I was a greedy mess.
“Stop holding back,” Oliver grumbled underneath me.
I didn’t want to tip over that dangerous precipice. I needed this moment to never end. The after was unknown, but right here in this bubble we had created, we were infinite.
But nothing, no matter how perfect, can last forever, especially when the person between your thighs is doing everything they can to bring you as much pleasure as possible.
My moan came out as a grunt and I fell to my forearms as my pelvis squirmed against his face, the scratch of his beard only heightening the experience, the world blurring at the edges, heart thumping and throbbing, in my chest, unable to stop myself from the free fall.
He didn’t release me, his mouth licking a softer path now, tongue tracing, teasing me as my body quaked, carrying me through.
Without planning it, my right arm slid until it met his palm, and our fingers intertwined as he stroked me to a second orgasm, intense in a different way. My body could barely hold my weight, not that he seemed to mind, fondling my thighs, running up my ass to touch the skin of my lower back. His hand still clutching mine, squeezing in time with the beat of my heart.
I was lost to the sensation as he shifted me to sprawl on top of him. My face pressed to his neck, my new home, his hands caressing my naked body, as electricity continued to buzz, his pulse my new favorite song.
I tried to shift away—well, ease to the side at least. “I’m a mess,” I protested weakly, the comfort of his embrace not enticing me to leave.
“You don’t see me complaining.” He brushed his thumb down my body; the slight tickle and warmth spread, making me hiccup in pleasure.
His erection pressed against my thigh. Any moment now, when I could move, no longer in some sort of blissed-out coma, I would get my hands on him.
In a minute.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I snuggled in further, lips brushing against the edge of his beard. My thighs were probably covered in beard burn, and I was not so secretly gleeful.
“Do you have something to complain about?” His words came out halted, muffled by my hair. The calming movements of his hands froze. The pulse at his neck beat rapidly, in time with the rain.
“Merely that I’m not sure when I’ll be able to walk again.” The ache between my legs was pleasant, a reminder of where he had been. This had happened. It was real.
He squeezed my ass cheeks. “Yeah?”
“Try not to sound so smug.” He deserved to be—I was a ruined gooey mess of a human all because of him.
“I make no promises.” His palm smoothed along my spine, and I let out a sigh, fingers delving under the sleeve of his T-shirt, craving to touch more of him.
“Such an ass.”
He squeezed again. “I like your ass.”
I like all of you. The words bubbled in my chest, wanting to erupt, but I held them back. Hookup—this was a hookup. I refused to read more into this than what it was. I refused to see something that was not there again. I refused to overinterpret, believe there were feelings. I had learned my lesson painfully. The only one I could blame if my heart got broken this time was myself.
I slid my palm further up his bicep to trace the freckles I knew lay on his shoulder, while I shifted to straddle him, pulling on the buckle of his pants. Oliver’s palm immediately lay on top of mine, halting me from going any further. “I didn’t come here for that. You don’t have to.”
“I didn’t plan to ride your face today, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I want to, trust me. It’s just …” His eyes were pleading with me to understand something.
“Was it, uh, okay for you?” I asked, and bit my lip, hard.
I tried to shift away, but his arms wrapped around my back, holding me to him as he sat both of us up, so I remained straddling his waist. I was reminded I was the only one naked, my arms crossing to hide my breasts at least, which mostly shoved them together.
“Hey.” His fingers tilted my chin up, waiting until I met his gaze. “Better than I imagined, better than anything I could have fantasized. Now I’ll just dream about the next time we can do that again. You’re amazing, you know that?”
He was laying it on thick. My skin flushed, betraying me, making me wish I had some clothes on. “I’m not—”
“Amazing. Spectacular.” His lips pressed to my forehead.
“You already said amazing.” I slid my fingers underneath the back of his T-shirt, feeling better touching his skin. Casual anything was not something I was used to, but what else could this be? We were destined for different things, different futures.
With another kiss, he pulled his shirt off. “Lift your arms.”
In a moment I was wearing his shirt while he was topless now. Broad chest, a fine shimmering of hair. He was my favorite thing to look at in the entire estate, especially those freckles across his shoulders.
“Sick of my breasts already?” I hadn’t been lucky enough for the rain to have let up during our time-out from reality. Now that we had finished, surely, he would want me to leave.
“Never.” He lay down, making sure I came along for the ride. “Thought you might be more comfortable this way.” And incredibly sweet, because he was right, it felt a bit fairer, that I wasn’t the only one lying here in her naked truth. He needed to stop it before I fell even further in like. “This is what I want more than anything right now.”
Oliver’s hand reached down to the part of my thigh his shirt didn’t cover, drawing unknown symbols. “You would have liked me before. I was, uh, more in shape.” Oliver’s legs shifted under mine.
“I like you now.”
Somehow, this was the most romantic moment of my life. Me, laid out on top of him on the ground of this stable, the rain still pouring down around us. My cheek cushioned against his chest, better than any pillow.
“Do you ever think about the house you would build for yourself?” He cleared his throat. “If that was a thing, you, uh, wanted.” He curled a piece of hair around my ear.
I took full advantage of this opportunity to touch him with free rein since we weren’t going anywhere. He didn’t seem to mind the callouses on my palms as I slid against the hair on his chest. There’s a simple joy in touching another person and knowing they gain pleasure from it. I wanted to store it in my cells. Remember this moment forever.
“I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about it.” It seemed safer that way. I spent my days dreaming about other people’s homes, the memories other people would make. One day, maybe, I’d have a home of my own, but until then it was cruel to think about what I didn’t have.
“Let’s pretend you did. Not that you ever plan anything, obviously.” That earned him a pinch. “I definitely do not find your lists randomly taped around the house.”
“They help guide everyone on their projects.”
“I know, Petal. It’s nice seeing your handwriting, you, everywhere I look. I don’t think anyone else could have turned this into such coordinated chaos. We’re all very lucky you came into our lives.”
“Oh.” My breath let out in a rush, a flush worming its way down my body, as I scratched his beard.
He lifted his knee, slightly knocking it into mine. “Tell me. Tell me all of it.”
Well, maybe I had thought about it a bit. “Definitely not a new build.” My childhood had made me run the opposite way from modern construction. I was a purist. “I prefer to feel like the house has been there for years, decades, even centuries.”
“Who wants a new build? Amateurs.”
I giggled. “Have powerful feelings about architecture, do you?”
“Keep telling me what you need … in a home. Does it have a library?” His lips brushed against my forehead, nuzzling me.
“Of course. Built-ins galore. An unnecessary, obnoxious amount of built-ins.”
“Of course. Where else are you going to put all your books?” So smug. “What else?” His fingers pressed into my hips.
“A gallery wall of family photos.” He was getting all my secrets from me.
“Why?”
“I have a few snapshots and an album at Dad’s, but nothing permanent. Nothing that screams ‘This is my life.’” I swallowed thickly, the memory of my favorite picture damaged beyond repair too fresh.
“I like that.”
“A home theater or a fancy TV, at least.”
“Goes without saying—how else are you going to watch all your movies?”
I smiled, picturing it while pulling his arm tighter against my body. “A massive bed, with heaps of pillows and blankets.”
“And where would this perfect house be? In the city, close to the Bib?”
When I pictured my forever place, it involved a lot of land, far away from everything else. A workshop where I could mess around with furniture or draw up ideas of my own. A place with infinite possibilities, somewhere I could always come back to and feel at home the moment I walked through the doors.
When I was little and Dad was working somewhere else on-site, I’d spend my day making my own houses with whatever was lying around. Small pieces of wood, bits of paint, plaster. Built my own little folk who lived there, their own lives. My very own imaginary worlds. I told everyone Dad made fairy-tale palaces filled with magic because I believed it myself for a long time. An embarrassingly long time.
I opened my mouth to explain all of that. Oliver played with the ends of my hair, waiting patiently to hear what I had to say. But I couldn’t. His questions reminded me why this would never work. I couldn’t set myself up for heartbreak when I left. Not again.
“How come I’m the one doing all the talking?” I nipped at the skin underneath my cheek before smoothing it with a kiss.
He gave a low chuckle. “Because it’s a day that ends in ‘y.’”
“Well, I guess intermission is over now.”
“No,” he almost yelled, arms tightening around me. “No, I’ll talk.” I could almost hear the wheels of his brain working. “Fine. I told you how I can’t cook?”
“Yeah. You might have mentioned you struggled with certain things.” I found it cute how bad he was at some stuff despite how hard he tried. Made me want to wrap him up in a hug. I was invested now. It was only a matter of time until we discovered something he was good at.
“When I was first rehabbing, they wanted me to keep the weight off my leg, and I figured I could learn from some YouTube videos. How hard can it be to boil water or make scrambled eggs?” His body heat seeped into mine.
“You’re going to tell me how hard, aren’t you?”
“Whose story is this?”
I pressed my lips together, eager for more of this, more of him, my heart pounding in an entirely different way now.
“I might have also had a bit of confidence. My sisters and I would sneak out of our rooms in the middle of the night and I … wait, I think I want to tell you another story now.”
Oh, we were getting to the good stuff. “Nope, no backsies.”
“What if I go down on you again?”
Tempting. “Stop stalling.”
“Fine. I made us some excellent bowls of cereal.”
I waited a moment for him to continue, and when he didn’t, I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “You thought you were a chef because you could pour a mean bowl of cereal? Did you do something wild with the milk?” Rue had guaranteed job security.
“We ate them dry.”
“You live life on the edge.”
He laughed with me, my favorite sound. “I learned that cereal was what I should stick to. I can try my best to hold to a recipe, follow it exactly, but somehow it always comes out wrong. It gets burned, tastes funny. I tend to create small fires.”
“Fires!”
“Did you notice we don’t have a microwave? I’d been through five before they insisted I stop buying new ones.”
I was a giggling mess. I could picture it, him incredibly stubborn, swearing the next meal would be the one he’d get right. How the estate was still standing was truly a wonder. “Keep going.”
“My sisters would rope me into their plays.”
Now I was a goner. He was nice to his sisters. My heart would never survive. Sibling relationships fascinated me. Someone always there to play with, to share secrets.
“They gave me the roles they refused to play. And with only three of us, I had to be multiple characters, which involved a lot of wigs.”
I let out a snort. “I hope there’s photographic evidence.”
“It has been burned.”
“I demand to hear more about these wigs.”
“What if I promise to give you something you want more?” Oliver’s voice was low, palm cupping my cheek. Everything out of his mouth sounded sexual.
“What could I possibly want more?”
“Smallville.”
“A show you’ve actually seen?” I was impressed.
“Yes, but that was my fandom.”
Another piece of the Oliver puzzle fell into place. But each little nugget made me ache to know more. Which was dangerous because I had to slow down whatever was happening here (and also hunt his fanfic down immediately).
Nothing had changed between us other than the two orgasms. Two amazing, back-bowing, knee-crumbling orgasms.
I was in so much trouble.
“I’m still not telling you my pen name.”
There were a few tricks up my sleeve to get him to change his mind. I nuzzled my nose against his throat.
“I’m sorry.” We both jumped as Bl8z3’s voice filled the stables. I had forgotten for a moment it was wired even in here. “But Jeff is searching for you, Ms. Price. It seems urgent.”
“Crap. Crap.” There it was, reality setting in. Because this bubble wasn’t real, and here I was on the floor, having hooked up with the grandson of the man who had hired me. It was all anyone would talk about if it ever got out, not my work at the estate. I would be boiled down to an accessory. Oliver Killington, pictured, and his plus one. “I’m coming. Don’t tell him where I am. I’m on my way.”
“Of course, Ms. Price.” Bl8z3’s voice was soft, as if it was reluctant to have broken this up. “Take your time and be careful. It’s still raining out there. Should I send someone with an umbrella for you?”
“Unnecessary.” The last thing I needed was anyone discovering us, wondering what we’d been doing this whole time.
Oliver helped me up from the pile we had become, patiently removing his T-shirt so I could put my own clothes on quickly, soaked from the rain and wrinkled from the haphazard way they had been thrown on the ground.
He clipped my suspenders on, handing me my hair tie, which had somehow made it around his wrist. His thumbs wiped away at what I could only imagine was dirt on my face. His face was an unreadable mask, eyes searching mine for something, maybe the same thing I sought from his. But I had nothing to offer in this moment except a to-do list and a flood of reminders of how close I was to losing everything.
“We got caught out in the rain—nothing to worry about. If they say anything to you, send them my way.”
“That’ll help. You pummeling everyone who mentions it won’t be suspicious at all.” Heritage home restoration was a small community. When Dan rejected me, everybody had known what he had said and the circumstances, and made their own assumptions. This would be devastatingly worse.
“Who cares what they think?” He pulled my hair into a messy bun, the same way I wore it at the end of a long day. His fingers drifted down the back of my neck, massaging.
But I couldn’t relax into it, not this time. “My professional reputation cares what they think.”
“Petal …”
I shook my head and sent my wet hair flying. My life had been filled with too many fantasies, dreams of what other people’s lives were like, what my life could be like. It was time to live in reality. “Don’t worry—I know what this is.” I stepped away, shivering in my wet clothing. This was as good as it was going to get.
“This again.” The annoyance in his voice made my head snap up.
“Yes, this again.” Clearly, he had no desire to talk about it, which was fine with me.
“Should I be insulted that my tongue is not enough to make you want to stalk me?”
I narrowed my eyes as my body begged for a repeat. “It’s not a bad tongue.”
He clutched at his chest. “Oomph. What happened to not being able to walk?”
“You didn’t ask about your fingers.”
His eyebrows drove into his hairline. “Oh, these fingers?” He wiggled his digits at me, causing my insides to clench.
“So humble.”
“Maybe I just like the pretty flush on your cheeks?”
The gray of his eyes drew me in, bottomless pools of emotion, while his messy beard was evidence of what an effective seat he was. He cupped my face, and for a single breath I let him pull me into his depths as if this was a normal thing we did. No consequences, nothing to worry about, a moment filled with possibility.
But everything that happened between us was of consequence. We lived together, worked together. I had been burned too many times by leading with my heart. I wouldn’t give him the power to wreck me.