Authors: Mallory Hart
“The first night, you brushed against me when you passed to the bathroom. I could’ve tackled you then and dragged you back to my bed. Scratch that. Any time you open up that smart mouth of yours, it makes me want to hear my name rolling off those pretty lips.”
She let out a groan of pleasure as his tongue captured the hot flesh of her breast, teasing it with delicate force.
“Oliver,” she cried, and she heard him suck in a sharp breath. His hand dove beneath the band of her panties, nearly tearing them off her. She screamed in pleasure when his enlarged member found the wetness of her desire.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a near purr and he grinded into her on the cold bathroom counter. He groaned and thrusted, filling her up with a swift movement. His hands grabbed her from behind and hauled her up to his waist, the depth throwing her into ecstasy as her legs wrapped around him. She cried his name as he dove into a rhythm, unrelenting and fast. His rough force sent her desire to new heights. She nearly cracked when she started to roll herself to meet him at each thrust.
Pleasure had never come to her like this. She shut her eyes as the oncoming release came, her muscles tightening around him as he growled against her skin. They exploded together, an inferno of pleasure and building pressure. Stars entered her eyes as they snapped open as he gave one final thrust inside of her right after their climax.
Strength left them. He eased her down onto the floor, and they slumped together with the heaps of towels underneath them. Heavily panting and hot skin pressing against one another, their legs tangled together as she rested her head on his chest.
“Are you still going to call me an amateur after this?” she asked him in a silky voice, mind gathering clarity.
“Truce.” He stuck out his hand to her.
She laughed, bright and sharp, joy bouncing through the room. “Truce, Oliver.”
When she got back to the penthouse, her heart fell once she realized he wasn’t there. Maybe he was shooting something for the magazine. She collapsed on her bed and then forced herself to open her laptop, fingers going wild on the falling caffeine rush in her system.
The red numbers of the alarm clock beside her flashed as her alarm to get ready went off. An hour before every event, but she’d set it two hours today. She wanted to look regal tonight. Her post was planned around mythology, and she hoped to appear as the walking image of a goddess from the city. She had rented a green designer gown worthy of the stars, and she was filled with uncontainable excitement to wear it. She had always dreamed of attending black tie events, and now she was going to be doing just that. The imaging in her mind unfurled as she hopped under the hot shower stream. Sweet pomegranate filled her lungs as she scrubbed her body on every inch.
As she let the water wash the suds down the drain, she stared at Oliver’s products lined up neatly in the shower. He bathed with an exclusive men’s line from Paris. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Of course, he did! Her fingers snapped up one of the bottles, the soap he lavished on himself every day. It smelled of spearmint. Her eyes drifted close as she inhaled the scent.
Making sure to put everything back as it was, she dried off. She craned her head out into the room. He was nowhere to be seen, and it was still over an hour before the event. Her mind weighed the reasons. He must’ve gone early to set up, meaning she had the entire place to herself.
She slipped into the nicest underwear she’d brought, a nude lacy set that was nearly half a size too small after she’d dined on croissants every morning this week. Whatever. She rang out her hair in the towel and tossed it over her shoulder, and looked around the bathroom for her bra. Not able to locate it, she shrugged and got to work on her makeup instead.
As she put the last finishing touches on her eyes, her hands found her phone and turned on a jazzy station. She smiled at her reflection; face polished to perfection with soft touches of pink on the apples of her cheek. The facemask from the goodie bag they’d handed out last night made her face glow; she was definitely going on her blog about this great find. She made a mental note to jot that down in her notebook as she began to toss her hair to the side, singing along to the crooning siren in the song blaring from her phone.
It must’ve been too loud. Her mind must’ve been wrapped up in appreciation at her handiwork with her makeup. She must’ve been too pleased with the shade of red she’d picked out. Her thoughts must’ve been wrapped up in a thousand new ideas for her blog, creating content while she pondered over how to fix her hair for tonight.
She hadn’t heard the click of the bedroom door. She hadn’t heard him stomping through until his voice called out as he swung the door open. She turned her body towards the door in shock.
“Woman, you’d better be done in here. I had to use Taylor’s shower because you were taking so damn long. Did you drown in-” Oliver’s rude question died in the air as he stopped dead in his tracks.
They stood in silence. Her mouth opened wide and stared at the towel around his waist, at his toned abs. Madeline’s guess had been right.
His eyes were ablaze with nothing but hunger for an amateur.
“I’m not dressed,” she managed in a soft voice. Her mind reeled from the shock of even being able to speak. The temperature shot up in the room.
“I can see that.” His reply suggested that he was only concentrating on that fact. The bathroom was warm, too warm even with nearly every inch of her flesh exposed.
“Oliver.” She hadn’t meant for his name to sound needed, wanted, lusted after in her voice. But, it came out like begging. Her body was making its stand. Logical wishes be damned.
“Christ,” he muttered. His eyes were trained squarely on her exposed breasts. Her cheeks burned with heat, but desire coiled hot in her core. Her mouth dried at the flicker in his eyes. The desire. A rush of feminine pride slammed into her. Her fingers feathered out over her collarbone, drawing his attention to the movement.
She wasn’t prepared to stare into his blue eyes. Icy during an average hour, but molten hot that very moment, resting on her and nobody else. Her knees threatened to give out underneath her. She swayed a hair, backing up against the slippery tiles and trying her best to muster a fiery look.
“See something you like, Mr. Professional?” Her breathy tone caused a spark of clarity to cut through his glazed eyes. He smirked and lifted his chin.
“I don’t see you running away,” he pointed out, and she tried to concentrate on the smugness dripping from him and not the water running along the ridges of his abs. His hand flexed on the towel around his waist, hovering above the knot that held the rest of his beautiful body away from her.
She swallowed as he caught her glancing to the movement. The wicked promise that flickered on his face nearly caused her to lose herself. She wasn’t going to pounce on him. Or that’s what she kept telling her burning limbs. Her skin longed to feel the brush of his heated flesh.
How would it feel to crush that irritating smirk against her lips?
“Natalie,” his rumbling voice tugged her out of her trance. Her eyes widened. He’d never used her name before. Her heart thumped loud against her chest. How could he not hear it? She sucked in a sharp breath as she met his gaze. All desire. All for her.
Her body was hot – hotter than it’d ever been. In front of him, she was vulnerable. Raw, brazen, all of the things he touted to hate.
But, her reaction to him saying her name. He licked his lips and said it again. “Natalie.”
Arousal ran through her veins, throbbing painfully in the space between her thighs. She was crumbling, and he wasn’t even touching her.
He took a step toward her. The towel slipped lower around his waist. She bit her lip and glanced to the revealed expanse of flesh. A droplet of water rolled down his lower stomach to disappear into the fibers of the towel. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat as her eyes grazed over the bulge visible through the white fabric.
There was no point in saving face. Not with him saying her name as his own personal prayer. He walked closer to her now. She trembled against the tile. Heat coursed through every nerve ending; she closed her eyes.
She felt him, hovering just before her. His towel was so close that it could brush up against her pelvis if he leaned forward another inch. And then she felt it drop to the ground next to her feet.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered in a deep voice as he leaned forward to find her ear. She nearly jumped as his hot breath hit her ear.
With reluctant obedience, her eyelids fluttered open, and she found his eyes. Piercing and aimed straight at her.
“We’re going to have to revise the treaty,” she said with a weak punch of humor. His wicked mouth spewed something affirmative before crushing against her.
Molten lava surged through her veins. She gasped as he pressed against her, his erect member brushing against the thin fabric of her panties. He pounced for advantage in her reaction and slipped his tongue into her mouth with a carnivorous growl. She moaned against his lips, searing hot against her, and rolled her pelvis into his.
He let out a low howl beneath his breath at the contact, ripping his head back to grunt in pleasure. His head snapped back to focus his laser vision on her, chest rising and falling with muscles rippling beneath his smooth skin.
“Woman, I intend to do every single thing I’ve wanted to do to your body until you scream my name loud enough for them to hear at the party,” he said in a husky whisper. “And we’re skipping the damn party.”
“Fine by me,” she muttered as his hands flew to dance up her sides. A low moan escaped her at the touch of his fingertips against her. “You’ve thought about this?”
“If you tell me that you haven’t then you’re lying to me again,” he mumbled lowly, kissing her neck with a smile on his lips. She writhed beneath him. He leaned against her, pinning her against the tiles. She cried out, arching her back, as his hardness pressed against her panties. His fingers slid down, and he smirked against her neck.
“Wet already,” he said with a dark laugh. “You can’t lie to me now.”
She bucked her hips into him, earning a hiss of pleasure. “Wasn’t going to.”
“Good,” he growled and captured her lips again. His hands gripped her head with delicious force, her hair tangling in his fingers as he pushed her against his kiss. Her tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and he groaned as she sucked it with soft pressure. “Was it fun torturing me this whole week?” His hoarse question rose into the air as he moved his kisses down her neck.
“Torturing you?” she asked, mind hazy as his tongue licked above the lace detail of her bra.
“Those shorts,” he said, tongue dipping to tease the edge of her nipple. She gasped in pleasure as he smirked against her skin. “That top. Knowing that you sleep just a few feet away from me.”
Her eyebrows lifted and then shot downward, eyes snapping shut in pleasure, as his fingers dove to grab her breast, caressing them both with a firm force, thumbs feathering over her nipples to harden them to nubs.
“The first night, you brushed against me when you passed to the bathroom. I could’ve tackled you then and dragged you back to my bed. Scratch that. Any time you open up that smart mouth of yours, it makes me want to hear my name rolling off those pretty lips.”
She let out a groan of pleasure as his tongue captured the hot flesh of her breast, teasing it with delicate force.
“Oliver,” she cried, and she heard him suck in a sharp breath. His hand dove beneath the band of her panties, nearly tearing them off her. She screamed in pleasure when his enlarged member found the wetness of her desire.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a near purr and he grinded into her on the cold bathroom counter. He groaned and thrusted, filling her up with a swift movement. His hands grabbed her from behind and hauled her up to his waist, the depth throwing her into ecstasy as her legs wrapped around him. She cried his name as he dove into a rhythm, unrelenting and fast. His rough force sent her desire to new heights. She nearly cracked when she started to roll herself to meet him at each thrust.
Pleasure had never come to her like this. She shut her eyes as the oncoming release came, her muscles tightening around him as he growled against her skin. They exploded together, an inferno of pleasure and building pressure. Stars entered her eyes as they snapped open as he gave one final thrust inside of her right after their climax.
Strength left them. He eased her down onto the floor, and they slumped together with the heaps of towels underneath them. Heavily panting and hot skin pressing against one another, their legs tangled together as she rested her head on his chest.
“Are you still going to call me an amateur after this?” she asked him in a silky voice, mind gathering clarity.
“Truce.” He stuck out his hand to her.
She laughed, bright and sharp, joy bouncing through the room. “Truce, Oliver.”
Chapter 4
A week later, Natalie was bent over the same table she always sat at inside the local coffee shop. She sighed as her eyes blurred, exhaustion hitting her fully even in the sunny daylight. Her hands gripped an ink pen tightly as a throbbing headache warned of its oncoming arrival.