It took us the entire day to clear out the west wing. The only breaks were the two meals Oliver insisted on.
I was an ocean of questions in his bedroom. I demanded an explanation for each trophy on his bookshelf and asked where all the photos on his wall had been taken. He was terrible at bragging about himself, mostly shy and mumbling a lot. It was adorable.
The crew was eager to clock out, as Jeff kept texting to remind me until I confirmed it was okay for them to leave. The next day was our last break before the final push. We’d be working through weekends, late nights … it was going to be brutal. But I refused to fail.
“What are you doing?” Oliver’s gaze followed me as I set the book from his childhood bedroom, with its bookmark indicating the last page he read, down on the nightstand in our room, next to a picture of his parents.
“Decorating.”
“What’s the point? We’re going to pack it all up soon, anyway.” He scrunched up his nose, as I fought the urge to kiss it.
“I’m practicing.” I spun away, walking clear across the room.
“Practicing what?”
“Creating a home.” For you.
I didn’t realize he had moved until he was standing behind me, arms wrapping around my middle, chin balanced on top of my head.
“You surprise me at every turn, Petal.” His voice, barely a whisper, struck me in the chest.
“A good surprise?” I was so tired of fighting this thing between us. We were alone in the mansion, alone in our room, and all I wanted was him.
His fingers pushed my ponytail out of the way, lips traveling to the back of my neck, a shiver vibrating through my body.
I attempted to twist with one destination in mind, but he denied me. “Is this okay?” His voice throbbed with the desire licking my veins.
“You’re not kissing me,” I grumbled, spinning to tug his head down to mine.
“Is that what you want?”
I nodded furiously, giving up on his lips and sucking on his collarbone, shifting his T-shirt to lick at those freckles I stared at too often.
“I enjoy making you happy.” His thumbs discovered the space between my shirt and shorts, stroking the exposed skin. “You make me happy.” It sounded for a moment as if that surprised him.
“Tell me what you want.” I reached to release his ponytail, running my fingers through the soft strands.
“I can’t decide.” His teeth grazed against my jaw. Firecrackers exploded in my chest. “Should I taste you again? Or learn how you feel clenched around my dick?”
Fucking anything. “Is all the above on the menu?”
He chuckled as he let me yank his shirt off, the thin fabric almost ripping. The moment he was free, my fingers skimmed along all that smooth skin, unleashing every desire I had lying near him each night. As he kissed me, I felt it again, the press of his cheeks against mine, the lifting of his lips. He only smiled when his lips were touching me, and the realization did something funny to my stomach.
I wanted more of his smiles, more of him. His gruff, impossible vulnerability, the way he made me feel things no one had ever before. We had wasted a lot of time not doing this, and I would not let another moment pass.
My fingers dipped along the edge of his pants before tracing down his erection, my smile hopeless to hide with the groan he made, fingers digging into my hips, sliding up my suspenders.
“As long as you’re on the menu, I’m good.” He snapped the fabric over my nipple, his thumb immediately smoothing the bite. “I need to fuck you in only these.”
“Does that mean you’re going to fuck me?” My voice came out a little breathless as he repeated the move on the other side, making my body sing for him.
“For as long and as hard as you want.”
I released the button on his pants. “We should get started on that.”
I flung off my clothes as quickly as possible, glancing up, expecting to find him naked too. Oliver had removed his shirt and unzipped his pants, but his hands were frozen at the waist as he gnawed on his bottom lip, one palm protectively covering his left thigh, as if he were still deciding whether to push the fabric down.
It hit me that this would be the first time I’d seen him fully nude. He’d never taken off his pants in front of me. He always wore long sweatpants, long pants, never allowing his legs to be exposed, even as the weather grew oppressively warm.
“The scar is still pretty gnarly. I don’t want you to …”
“Come here.” I pressed my lips to his, fingertips tracing every inch of skin available to me, before letting my hands rest against his. “Whatever you are comfortable with.”
He nodded, linking our fingers together to rest at the waist of his pants, both of us pushing down, and then his boxers. I searched his face for any hesitation, any sign he wanted to stop, but his flush of pleasure only grew, his erection popping up to greet me. Pulling him toward me, I licked along those freckles as he relaxed into my body, hips pressing into mine, dick resting against the curve of my stomach, purposefully keeping my hands above his waist.
“I’m okay, let’s just”—his erection pulsed as heat flooded me—“let’s maybe go slow.”
“Slow’s perfect.” I stepped back, my hand gently roving, discovering. Surrounded by a light brushing of black hair, the scar started from the top of his thigh, a divot in the fat, following along past his knee, ending just below.
He sucked in a breath as I traced it, the skin noticeably rougher, but a reminder he was here, whole. My lips pressed together tightly. It was the most beautiful leg I had ever seen, the reminder that he had survived, was here with me now.
His palms wrapped around my biceps, stopping me as I began to kneel down. His mouth was rough against mine, as he removed the flower that was still in my hair, placing it on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed, bringing me to stand between his parted knees, eyes on me like I was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. My skin flushed, my throat was dry, because right back at ya.
Before I could kiss him, he connected us chest to chest, skin to skin, my heartbeat somehow racing in time to match his. The hair on his chest lightly brushed against my nipples.
His hand shook as it smoothed over the skin on my back, goose bumps breaking out as the erection between us became impossible to ignore, my hips shifting.
“We don’t have to,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his sternum.
“I want to … but it’s been a while. I don’t want it to be bad for you.” His voice wavered, fingers digging into my thighs.
My heart gave a flutter. “Outrageous.”
“You’re …”
“A chaotic loudmouth, who annoys the living crap out of you?” I offered, humming as his hand moved to the side of my breast, stroking the skin the way he had stroked other parts of me in what had begun to feel like a fever dream.
“Well, I was going to say smart, gorgeous, and too good for me. But what you said also works.”
I pushed him, not that he moved an inch, laughing with his small grunt of exaggerated discomfort. His fingers wrapped around my palm, bringing it to his lips. Everything in me pulsed to that one spot of skin as his tongue dipped out.
“I have absolutely no idea what you see in me.”
The raw honesty in his voice made me pause. “That you’re incredibly brave, kind, and passably attractive.” I couldn’t show all of my cards; I wasn’t even sure what they were.
“And you don’t even care about the inheritance.”
“I mean, I could renovate so many more homes.”
“You could buy so many more homes.” His thumb moved to the juncture of my thigh, swiping enticingly there. “You might be the first person who’s ever seen me.”
I pressed my mouth to his pulse point, wanting the name of every person who had ever hurt him. “It is shocking to me that your personality didn’t win them over. Banishing someone is so attractive; it’s like playing hard to get.”
“Definitely what I was going for there.” His thick, long fingers slid against my pussy as I moved to straddle him. He traced my lips before delving deeper, immediately using two fingers. I couldn’t hold back my moan as my body rocked, trying to bring him closer. “Petal, you’re soaking.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I held onto his shoulders, digging in.
Any comeback flew out of my mind as he picked up his pace, kissing along my chest, using his body for my pleasure, every touch of his skin igniting me further.
I wasn’t worried about how I looked or which way I moved. There wasn’t a single thought except how to keep chasing this. My palm wrapped around his erection as he slowly slid his fingers out. My protest was lost on my lips as he sucked on the digits, eyes closing in bliss. “Better than I remembered.”
The fire in my veins became liquid, making me melt into him, which only made it easier for him to delve back, three fingers this time, the stretch achingly good, my hips lifting faster and faster. I did my best to keep up my rhythm on his dick.
I shifted, wanting to taste him too, but his hand on my thigh kept me rooted, expression eager. “Let’s not end this before we get going.”
His thumb brushing my clit, my body climbed higher and higher. All I could do was clutch him as I went along for the ride.
“You are soaking my fingers—you’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Petal? I want to feel you come.” There was a desperation in his voice, urging me on, confirming I wasn’t alone in this feeling that was trapped in my chest.
My traitorous body obeyed as his thumb swirled, his opposite hand delving into the fat of my thigh. I bit down on his shoulder as I called out, shaking as I fell over the cliff and he caught me.
“Condom.” I was still coming down from the high, already begging for more, conscious of the dick in my palm, the way he surrounded me. My thighs opened wider to him.
“Don’t you dare move.”
I ignored him, sitting up slightly as he reached into his nightstand table, pulling a condom off the strip, watching as he checked the expiration date.
“Ambrose, uh, went shopping,” he confessed, a blush highlighting the curves of his cheek, and I did my best to not swoon.
“Remind me to thank him.”
As if my heart wasn’t full enough, he sat up, kissing me, softly, sweetly, with an aching tenderness that promised, I’m in this.
I didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.
I tore the condom open, unrolling it onto him slowly, taking my pleasure in the throb of his dick, his length, the slight curve, how thick and long he was. Appreciating the first time I got to see all of him in a million ways. My thighs quivered at his size.
“What do you want? What will make it good for you?” I asked, because it was beyond perfect for me already, and I was desperate for it to be even better for him. I wanted him to remember me, remember this moment, this heartbeat.
He wouldn’t let me rush, lips brushing my cheek, voice soft in my ear. “It’s always perfect with you.”
“Liar.”
“Do you consistently have to be so disagreeable?”
His laugh, his kiss to my neck, the flutter of my heart. I could hide nothing about the way he was making me feel. “I am a gem. Sunshine may actually come out of my ass.”
“It is a good ass.” He palmed it for extra emphasis, bringing our bodies closer together again.
But I refused to be distracted by gorgeous eyes and the way his forearms flexed under my fingertips. “Tell me.”
“I’m hoping I last more than five seconds.” His head ducked, trying to get to my cleavage, but I stayed seated in his lap.
“Oliver.”
“Come on, Petal, want to go for a ride?”
I snorted, but lifted as his hands grabbed my hips, sinking slowly onto him, unable to get very far, because all of this man was huge. Three fingers had not been enough to prepare me. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes darkened.
“You’re too big.”
The way his eyes lit up was predictable, but the gentle way his palms slid down my sides did something soothing to my insides, ribbons twirling in my stomach, reaching up to wrap around my heart. “You can take it.” His voice was pure sex.
Every shift of my hips brought me further and further down. His thumb brushed my clit as he murmured in my ear how well I was doing, how soft I felt, how perfect it was.
“You sure you don’t want to banish me?”
“Trust me, it’s the last thing on my mind.”
With a final swirl of my hips, my ass seated against his thighs, and we both exhaled. My body was full of him, his scent, his cock, his eyes promising we were falling into place.
He leaned forward, burying his head in my neck. “Don’t move.”
My insides clamped at his movement. He was delicious, and my body was ready for the full experience. “You okay?”
“Don’t. Move.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
And I didn’t. Didn’t lick him, bite him, like I wanted to. Didn’t rub my fingers against his silky beard or kiss him. It was impossible to ignore the way I ached, my pussy begging me to shift, wanting the friction his body promised.
“Should I talk about something else? I mean, something that doesn’t include how soft and wet I am.” Okay, I was a little mean.
He grunted.
“They finished painting the ceiling in the ballroom. They’re handling the library next.” Of course the first thing that had popped into my mind that didn’t involve sex was work.
“All you like me for are my books.” His lips brushed against my pulse point, causing it to jump.
“Are books a euphemism for something else?”
“Yeah … books.” His breathing was slowing down, less of a sprint and more of a marathon now.
“You are so unpleasant.” My body clenched and we both moaned. Part of me was desperate to begin moving; another part, entirely content touching him, being with him.
“Are there naked people on my ceilings?”
“Yes, having fun. Something completely foreign to you.”
“Guess you’ll have to teach me all about that.”
“Kinda busy right now.” It was getting harder and harder, pun intended, to stay still.
“Yeah.” His palms slid underneath my breasts, cupping them, making me wonder if he could feel my heart racing.
My brain was mush. Anything I would say would be too vulnerable, too open, too much. If I gave him all of me, what would I have when I inevitably left?
He moved, leaning his back against his headboard, trapping my eyes to his. “Petal?”
I was soft in my acknowledgment, my heart doing something funny in my chest.
“I’m glad you came here.”
“Me too.” And I meant it more than I could ever explain.
“Can I fuck you now?”
“Please.” My arms wrapped around his shoulders, using him for leverage, as he maintained his favorite position, thumb swirling my clit, gripping my thigh, fingertips almost hard enough to bruise me.
And I wanted him to. I wanted to remember him there in the morning when I woke up. Remember this feeling, crawling up my back, my stomach, down to my toes.
His face pressed to my neck, beard brushing against my skin, collarbones, my chest as he sucked on my nipples. The beard burn felt good, igniting me further. “Fuck, don’t stop,” I begged as he used his teeth.
There was nothing else beyond this room, this bed, us. Bodies moving together, sweat dripping, moans that grew louder by the moment as we started the same climb.
“Did you know that first day?” The baritone of his voice caused me to clench around his dick, his eyes dilated to a delicious black. Wicked man. “Did you know it would be this good?”
It was working too. Troubled, I was troubled.
“Maybe for me it was the moment you started obsessing over wallpaper, or—” He grunted. “Window sconces.”
“And you think I’m the talkative one?” Sex had never been like this for me, conversation and laughter, and this endlessness.
“You love it.”
“Yeah?”
“Your cunt gives my dick a death grip every time I take a breath. I’m never getting it back, am I?”
No. “Do you want it back?” I panted, my forehead pressed to his, our sweat mingling. I had no idea anymore where I ended and he began.
“Keep it. My dick’s yours now.”
My body shook, fingernails dragging down his back, lips searching for his, as I let go, knees pressed to the mattress as I rode him, sobbing through my climax. I needed to bring every part of him closer, make him my new home.
We bounced for a moment as he laid me flat on the mattress, shifting me on his dick even further, somehow going deeper. He chuckled darkly against my lips as he raised my leg. His movements lost their concentration, everything he was holding back. The press of his teeth to my shoulder, the rough grab of his fingers, reaching his own peak, my name on his lips, somehow tripping me into another orgasm.
I was spent, ruined.
I wasn’t the only one. He was halfway on top of me, halfway on my side, fingertips tracing my skin. I wanted to do the same, but I was too blissed out to do more than close my eyes and appreciate it.
The feeling in my chest wasn’t new, not since I had entered this house, but it had been building, overwhelming me, distracting me for too long. I liked him. Liked him as more than a friend despite my best intentions. I enjoyed the sex even more because I liked him, because it was him.
“You’re staying?”
At his question, I wrapped my arms around him, desperate to erase every hurt he’d ever had. Every fear that he’d be alone, that he wasn’t enough.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I kissed each freckle.
“Need anything?”
“You.” I wasn’t this person, this soft relationship person. But I couldn’t lie either.
“Let me get rid of this condom. Then you can have anything you want—all of me.”
I knew he meant more sex, some cuddling and sleep, but my stomach was on a carnival ride.
The wall around my heart had been obliterated, and there was now an Oliver-shaped hole in it. Something casual wasn’t in my vocabulary. My feelings were everything but.
As he left the bathroom, I faced the right way on the bed, but he beat me to it. He lifted my body as if I weighed nothing, cradling me to his chest as he pulled back the covers for us to get under.
“Oh, wait.”
I bit my lip as he reached into his wardrobe, still naked, allowing me an opportunity to admire his round bubble butt.
“I ordered these. It took a bit. They’re supposed to be the best.” He held up his prize.
Pillows. The man had bought pillows.
Big, fluffy, firm, fuck-me pillows.
“Does this mean you don’t want me to sleep on you?” The words tumbled out, before I did something dumb like ask if this meant something.
“You better,” he growled, pretending to yank them away from me.
I was satisfied, but the moment he pulled out pillow protectors and pillowcases, I was hungry to go again.
“And you mentioned a weighted blanket?” He was too concentrated on his task to see me panting.
How was he single? “You can lie on top of me; it gives me the same serotonin fix.”
“I’m going to crush you.”
“Please do.”
He finished placing the pillows on the bed, then slipped under the covers with me. Before I could fully fluff my new pillow, he tugged me into his body, our curves pressed together.
I needed to take a shower, get rid of the sweat and everything that had dried on my skin. But I was tucked into my favorite nook, Oliver’s fingers sliding into my hair at the back of my neck. And I wondered, not for the first time, if this was what home felt like.