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“Oliver,” I sigh, letting his name hang in the air between us.
He makes love to me, taking his time, reading my body. We’ve not come together like this in so long. It’s better than I remembered. It’s startling how real this feels. How profound. Life-altering, even.
“I love you,” he says, blue eyes blazing. “A part of me always has. I want to take care of you. I want to hold you when you’re sad and fuck you when you’re horny. I want to be your biggest cheerleader and your strongest defender.”
A bead of sweat drips from his pecs and slides down the middle of my breasts. He lowers to lick it off me, leaving his lips there and pressing a kiss against my sensitive skin.
He continues silently as he fills me time and time again. His jaw twitches when he gets close, grinding his teeth, like he’s trying to make it last. His movements become jerkier.
But this is the part that undoes him. The slow, the caring.
I lift my hips, urging him forward to meet me. I slide my fingers up and lace them behind his neck, bringing him down until we’re nose to nose.
“Oliver?”
“Hmm?”
“Fill me with your cum.”
Almost instantaneously, he jerks; his cock hitting that perfect place inside me. He holds there while he spasms. His climax lasts forever, the pinch between his eyebrows deepening. He lets out the last of it with an exhalation that’s half grunt, half relief.
His body collapses over mine until we’re just two hearts beating against one another’s.
That was unequivocally the best sex of my life. The heat, the passion…thefeelings. I felt it all.
And I want more.
“I’m staying here and never leaving.” He takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m afraid that when I pull out, I’ll never get this again.”
I close my eyes, tears gathering in the corners. I can feel his desperation, and I hate it. “Oliver look at me.”
He hesitates before retreating just far enough away to look me in the eye. When he does, I don’t think, I react. I lift up, sealing my lips to his in a searching kiss. Exploring. Waiting.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, fluttering, making me thread my fingers through Oliver’s hair.
It’s fucking scary, and I know I should stop.
Nothing good ever comes from relationships like this. Why couldn’t we have just kept the status quo?
It was so much easier than the fear currently clawing at my skin.
28
Leo
My Hall has been quiet. It’s been a week or longer—honestly who knows what time is anymore—since Oliver brought the house down, proving to Eden that she wanted to fuck him as much as he wanted to fuck her. Honestly, I didn’t think the little fuck had it in him.
He’s a quick learner, though. He realized Eden didn’t want the princess-on-a-pedestal relationship, so he took control and now look what’s happened. The entire house is in disarray.
I never thought I’d be intimidated by a guy who sounds like he belongs in an aristocracy. Eden’s avoiding all of us. The Knights haven’t come calling again, and Barclay has been keeping to himself, pensive as fuck.
I’m bored as hell, but I’ve been sticking around, only answering my grandfather with texts.
Fucking Anne-Marie. I have to give her credit, though. She knew exactly what she was doing to score a Jarvis. It’s why women like Eden and her sister won’t go anywhere in this world. They’re more apt to marry for love and then have their families siphon money to them. The entire society will talk about them behind their back when they show up at their parents’ parties with a pity invite.
I should know. My father was that guy. Disgraced in front of everyone but walking around, trying to keep his head high.
Upstairs, I hear movement while I sit at the kitchen island. The attraction I felt toward Eden hasn’t wavered since that first day. Every time Grandfather texts, I respond with the bare minimum, doing everything I can to keep him off her trail. I’m rooting for Eden, and as far as I’m concerned, the Knights can all go suck a huge bag of dicks. Their elitist bullshit has never done anything for me other than make me feel shit and take my father’s life.