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Olivia

M ost of the night, I’m staring at the wall in the dark, desperately trying to flip the switch inside me that makes my thoughts race. My father is at the forefront of most of them. I can’t stop thinking about Midsummer’s. About his erratic behavior- his mood switches.

On, off. On, off.

If only that’s how thoughts really worked. I turn on my side, flipping my pillow so the cool side is pressed to my cheek.

Minutes wander by, and with a sigh, I throw my legs over the bed and stand. It’s quiet outside my room, and I take it as a good sign to go to the kitchen and quietly brew a cup of tea. I sit on the couch and stare at the TV with Chesna on the entertainment center, sleeping soundly.

In the dark, the only light comes from the city lights blazing from the distance. It’s just enough light for me to see the faint shape of the world around me. Of the plants hanging from my bookshelves and the knick-knacks displayed around the room.

The mug of tea is scalding against my palm, and I take slow sips in hopes of the warmth slowly lulling me to sleep. But there’s no such luck.

I’m frustrated. I’m turned on. I haven’t had a release in weeks… and the past few days have only made things worse.

Because I’ve felt him . I’ve felt his hands between my legs, his breath on my neck. Now that I’ve had a glimpse, there’s no way I’ll forget it. I set my mug aside, dragging my fingers through my hair.

It was just his hands, for god’s sake!

The door opens down the hall. Then he’s standing against the wall. Even in the dark, the outline of his silhouette is imposing. His presence is warm and intoxicating and there.

“You’re having trouble sleeping too,” he says, voice gruff from sleep. His words go straight to my chest, tugging at every fraying, jagged piece of me that’s close to falling apart. I’m glad he can’t see the way my hands shake..

“I can’t sleep. I can’t relax. I’m just-“ I stop myself with a sigh.

“You’re just…” he starts. “What?” His voice drops, suddenly flooded with heat. “You know... I heard you last night.”

Everything burns inside me as I realize exactly what he means by last night .

He heard me touch myself. He heard me moan. And writhe. Which means he knows that I didn’t finish- that I couldn’t without the thought of him filling my head.

I’m sure if he could see me, I’d be bright red. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing what he does to me. So I stand, moving to march past him until he throws an arm in my path, halting me. We’re not touching. The hazy line between us is still there, but the distinction doesn't matter.

This close, I can see the dark of Crew’s eyes, the messy strands of his grown-out hair, the lean lines of his body. He places both arms next to my head, flattening me against the wall.

“What if?” I begin quietly, his breath fanning my cheek. “Just once…”

“I said I wouldn’t touch you…” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t watch you. Just once .”

I want him to touch me… but having him watch me touch myself…

Somehow the thought is both erotic and sensual.

“I’ve never…” I swallow when his eyes dip to my mouth.

He leans down, close enough I can feel his breath against my cheek. “You’ve never touched yourself in front of someone before?”

I shake my head, suddenly dumbfounded as he lifts to his full height to look at me again.

His eyes dart to my door. “You trust me?”

I nod without hesitation, without thinking, but I know it’s only because it’s the truth.

I trust him with my life. What’s a little more?

“Show me…” he says, lips skimming my hair. “How you make yourself come.”

He pushes off the wall as I stumble toward my door. He stops at the threshold as my knees hit my bed. I bounce on the mattress. In the lamplight, his eyes follow my movements, and I suddenly flood with confidence.

My movements are slow, sensual as I drag my shorts down over my hips. My panties are next. I gasp with anticipation, the aching between my legs unbearable as I lean across the mattress for my vibrator. Nervousness dances across my skin as I look back, unsure of whether to continue but when I see his erection straining against his pants, I shove the thoughts aside.

I lean back on my elbows as I spread my legs. His eyes darken when he sees my bare pussy. I quiver as I press the switch and the vibrator hums to life. The second I press the silicone head to my clit, my body jumps like a live wire. My back arches as my head hits the bed. I bite down just to contain my gasp as a wave of arousal hits me, swallowing my senses.

“Wider,” he instructs, and my body complies. My legs part as I press the vibrator down harder. The sensation sends another wave of pleasure over my body, and this time, I can’t stop the moan that escapes me, loud and breathy. “That’s it,” he praises, and I arch my back, pressing into my touch.

I can feel an orgasm building in my stomach- all the tension, the aching, coming to a point. But I need more.

“Is this how you touch yourself at night?” he husks as I up the speed. I feel myself inching closer to the edge.

“Please,” I beg, though I don’t know what for.

For him, maybe.

For release. For anything.

“Please what, Princess?” he says, eyes hooded as he watches me. Just the feeling of his eyes makes my blood heat. But just as quickly as it came, I lose it, and I huff as I fall limp against the bed.

I shake my head.. “I-I can’t like this. I need… I need you to touch me.”

“Olivia,” he breathes in warning, and I know it’s because we can’t.

We can’t do this- we shouldn’t. But we’ve already crossed so many lines to get here. Why not this one?

As soon as the thought happens, he steps forward. I look at him through my lashes, watching him wrestle with his self-restraint. But when I see the arousal in his eyes, the battle so clearly warring in him, I feel it again.

Confidence, arousal, desire .

I chase it with the touch of my fingers, gasping when I feel how wet I am.

“Fuck,” he rasps as another moan slips past my lips. I press my clit harder, riding into the touch. “I shouldn’t want this.”

He reaches forward, hand tracing my arm while his other hand finds my nape and fists my hair there, drawing another moan.

“Such a good girl, coming for me," his voice is hot in my ear, and when his lips brush my cheek, my jaw, I feel everything explode.

My body shatters, pleasure spiraling in an intoxicating, dizzying wave. I ride out my high, one of his hands still in my hair, the other tracing my body as I come down. I switch the vibrator off, my breath heavy as it mixes with his. For a few moments, we just watch each other, unmoving, unwilling to break the trance.

We’re close enough that my lips brush his as I form the words, “I want to touch you now.”

I feel his hesitation, but when he doesn’t move away, I slowly lift my hands. Only he catches my wrists gently.

“Olivia…”

The moment lasts for all of a few seconds longer before reality comes crashing down. I draw back, the haze clearing as I reach for my panties and draw them back on without looking at him. Surprisingly, I’m not embarrassed. More flustered than anything else.

“It was one time,” I offer, staring hard at the floor as I bend over to find my shorts. “You’re right.”

“Olivia-“

“Crew,” I laugh tiredly before pulling my shorts on. “I understand. I do. It was one time… and we both need to sleep this off.”

His eyes wander over my face again, and he takes one last look before nodding. “Right.”

“Goodnight.”

He’s gone, and before I can think too long about what happened, I shut my door and flip off the lights before burying myself in bed.