Page 27

After a few minutes, she wets her lips and mimics my posture. “Normally, I’d be inclined to agree. But where’s all the photos we took together, Alex?”

I go to answer but stop myself.

Because we have none.

“You talk a big game,” she says. “But that’s all it’s ever been.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to take pictures,” I defend, forgetting about my food.

“You never acted like you wanted to.”

I drop my fork onto the plate. “There was a lot of things I wanted to do, Olive. Make no goddamn mistake about that. Sometimes, we don’t always get what we want. We don’t always get the people we want. That’s life.”

She stares at me. “Life sucks.”

Pressing my lips together, I lean back in my spot and stare at my food. “Yeah, it does.”

She scrapes her fork along the top of her waffles.

I break the silence with a question I almost don’t want an answer to. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be real with me.”

Her eyes peek through the tops of her lashes.

When she doesn’t say anything, I take the opportunity to rip the band-aid off. “Has anything happened between you and Hoffman?”

What she can’t see as she gapes at me is my foot bouncing under the table. It’s always done that when I’m nervous. My agent told me I needed to get a handle on it when I do press because the media picks up on that sort of shit.

“Do you really want the truth?” she asks, stilling my limb. My shoe is cemented to the ground as we have a stare-off. Because I know the answer before she can confirm it. “We slept together. Once.”

I close my eyes, feeling the red-hot anger build from the very core of me. It spreads, burning my skin and boiling my blood.

“But you don’t have any right to be mad at me, Alex,” she points out, sensing my internal affliction. “We’re not together. According to you, we never were. I slept with him because I was mad at you. And because he was there and willing.”

Maybe it’s fucked up, but I feel better hearing that. Because if she’s that mad at me, it means she cares. “I’m not mad,” I finally tell her.

She snorts in disbelief.

“I’m not,” I growl, defensively. “But if Bodhi Fucking Hoffman was in front of me, I’d probably kick him in the nuts right now.”

Olive rolls her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Because you’re mine, is the retort I have to swallow before it slips out.

“What exactly is it that you want, Alex?”

That’s a long list that neither of us has the time for. “What do I want? For starters, I want you naked and writhing with a vibrator against your pussy until you come.”

Her hand stills as her eyes peak up at me through the tops of her lashes. “That’s very specific.”

“It’s the truth. Want me to go on?”

I notice the subtle bob of her throat as she swallows.

“Do you want me to give you every detail of how I’m going to get you back to campus, strip you out of those clothes, and bend you over the bed? Because I can. It’s the scenario I’ve thought about while touching my cock most nights.”

I don’t miss the sharp exhale escape her lips. “You should get the check then,” she whispers.

My dick instantly hardens, but I tell it to chill out. At least for now. “You should eat first. We can burn calories later.”

“Promises, promises, O’Conner.”

My mouth quirks up to the side. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

*

The ninety-square-foot dorm room doesn’t offer me a lot of space, but I make the most of it the second I lock the door behind us.

“Take your shirt off,” I tell her, closing the distance between us. Her cheeks redden as she draws her bottom lip into her mouth. “And tell me where your vibrator is.”

She stands taller, letting the tips of our shoes brush. “What makes you think I still have it?”

I grin, moving a strand of hair behind her ear and letting my thumb linger on her lobe. “We both know you still have it. How many times have you used it on yourself, hmm?”

Her eyes flash because she knows I know.

That she’s a liar.

That she’s used it.

That she thought about me .

“Take your shirt off, Olive,” I purr. “Now.”

Her painted pink lips rub together as her fingers lower to the hem of her shirt. “You could do it for me, you know.”

“I could,” I agree. “But I like to watch.”

She lifts her shirt over her head, revealing a bra that barely contains her breasts. It’s a great fucking sight.

“How long are you planning to watch before participating in the fun, O’Conner?” she asks in a sultry voice, dropping her shirt onto the floor beside us.

My eyes lower to her chest, my lips curling up as the pad of my thumb runs over her nipple. It reacts, pebbling almost instantly. “There she is,” I praise, cupping her breast. “Always so responsive.”

Olive puts her hand on mine, making me knead the soft flesh until my cock hardens. She steps into me, rolling her hips forward with a knowing smirk on her face. “Seems like I’m not the only one.”

Chuckling, I dip my head to close the space between us. Before my lips graze her, they skirt around them and hover over her ear. “Tell me where the vibrator is.”

I hear her swallow. She wants to be a brat right now, defiant. But it’s all in vain. I wait.

Ten seconds.

Fifteen.

Before twenty rolls by, she lets out a shaky breath. “Nightstand.”

Humming, I bend down and open the drawer to see my gift resting there. Out of its box. And next to it?

“Jackpot.” Lifting the lube out, I toss it onto the bed. “I don’t plan on needing that, but you never know.”

Without hesitating, I flick my fingers over the hooks of her bra and let it fall onto the ground with her shirt. As soon as her boobs are exposed to the air, they pebble with goosebumps.

“What exactly could you use lube for if you’re planning on not needing it?” she questions, unphased by the way I’m eye-fucking her tits.

“Turn around and find out,” I muse.

Her eyes narrow. “If you want this ass, you’re going to have to work for it. I’m not that easy.”

My fingers flick and pinch her nipples until an uneven sound escapes her lips. “Trust me. I know that. But I love a challenge. Now turn around.”

Interest flickers across her eyes, but she doesn’t move fast enough. So, I turn her around, bend her over the side of the bed, grab the vibrator, and put it between her thighs.

“Hold this against your pussy, and don’t stop until I tell you,” I direct, turning it on.

She gasps when it starts, and the sounds she makes as it works her clit has my cock becoming so painful that I need to undo the button of my jeans and tug the zipper down.

“Good girl,” I praise, peppering kisses down her shoulder. I push between her shoulder blades to press her chest and face into the mattress, muffling some of the sounds she makes as the wand works its magic.

Reaching around her, I tug down her leggings until they’re around her ankles and kneel down to carefully take them off each foot. Then she’s completely bare to me—mine for the taking.

And damn do I want to take.

And take.

And take.

But I’m a giver first.

Raking my hands up the backs of her thighs, they rest on her ass and squeeze. She sucks in a breath when I brush my nose against her supple skin before biting down on her fleshy cheek.

“Alex,” she moans when I get closer to where she’s wet for me. I can smell it—her need. Her desperation.

So, I won’t make her wait.

My mouth covers her, working her with my tongue and fingers. Her legs start shaking, and I know the wand is doing its job and then some when her garbled noises join the incoherent talk.

I don’t slow down or show any mercy.

I fuck her with my mouth with a purpose, and when she says, “It’s too much,” I know I’m only moments away from her breaking apart.

And the second I feel her spasming around my tongue, I don’t hesitate to stand, shed my pants and the briefs underneath, and put my cock where my tongue was only moments before.

“God, I can still feel you coming,” I groan as her pussy grips me. I thrust forward and pull out, teasing her with the tip. Then I lean over her, position one of her knees on the edge of the bed, and plow forward until she screams my name into the mattress.

“You better keep that vibrator on your pussy,” I tell her, driving into her until the sound of her arousal and our slapping hips tightens my balls. “If I see you move that away, I’m going to start again. Do you understand me?”

She makes another incoherent sound.

“Do you understand me, Olive?” I repeat.

“Y-Yes,” she finally answers.

I pause only to move her other leg on the bed so she’s ass up in the air. The deeper angle makes me cuss under my breath. “Jesus. It feels like you’re sucking me in. Your pussy is fucking made for me. Do you know that?”

When she doesn’t make a noise, I reach forward and twist her hair around my fist to lift her head up. “I didn’t hear you. Is your pussy made for me?”

“Oh God,” she whispers.

“Not your God, baby girl.”

But my pride sure as hell accepts the title.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” I goad.

Silence.

I stop fucking her but grind my hips into her until I bottom out. “You can pretend like this pussy isn’t mine, but we both know it is. It’s made for me. It always has been. I don’t think I need you to confirm it, because I can feel it.”

In a shaky voice, she says, “Alex.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

She starts pulsing around me, tightening, clenching and vice gripping my cock until I can’t hold back.

“Holy shit,” I groan. “I need you to come. I need to feel you drown my cock. I need to feel what I do to you. Do it, Olive. Come for me.”

Her back arches, giving me a deeper angle than I’ve ever felt before. The wand falls from her hands as she orgasms, her body shaking and giving me all the satisfaction I need.

And only when her body starts to settle do I pump into her one more time before pulling out and emptying myself onto her ass.

“One day,” I tell her, dragging some of the cum between her ass cheeks and to the puckered hole, “you’re going to feel this inside of you.”

I let my finger graze her before sliding in only a fraction.

Olive breathes deeply for a minute as I withdraw my finger, grab her shirt from the floor, and use it to wipe her up.

When she turns to me, I can see something in her eyes. Not guilt, but…something.

“Olive?” I ask.

She looks at the clothes scattered on the floor.

“You should go,” she murmurs.

Regret.

“Olive, come on—”

“No,” she cuts me off. “No. You should go. We shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to get my hopes up that someday will exist. It would hurt too much to be disappointed again.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Grabbing my clothes, I grip them tight in my hands. “I won’t hurt you again.”

“I don’t want you to promise me something you may not be able to keep.”

I swallow.

“I don’t regret this,” I tell her.

I wait for her to say it back.

When I think she won’t, she looks at me through those thick lashes and whispers, “I don’t either.”

But I don’t know if she’s lying or not.

Our silence is broken by the contractor calling me who’s working on the roof across town. Internally, I curse him out for the bad timing. “If I didn’t need to take this, we’d talk about whatever is going on in that stubborn head of yours. Because I’m not going to give this up. Not again.”