“Please take me,” she groans huskily as she shifts her hands to play with her own breasts, teasing and pulling at her hard nipples. “Please. Please, please, Davis.”
“Tell me what you want,” I instruct.
Her eyes shut tightly as she throws her head back, still moving on me. “I want you inside of me. I want your cock in me.”
She may as well be reading my mind. “How much?”
“More than anything,” Olivia insists breathlessly. “More than anything.”
“So you’ll take anything? Anything I give you?”
“Yes!”
“And what if it’s my cock in your ass. You’ll take that?” I ask, going for broke and laying it all out on the table. My breath hitches as I wait for her response.
Olivia slows her motions gradually. Her eyes open and she blinks a few times as she settles her gaze back on mine. Eventually, she stops moving and removes her hands from her breasts so that she can place them on my shoulders. “You want to…” She trails off without saying the rest of it, and I wonder if its because she doesn’t want to.
“Only if you want that,” I emphasize, breaking character entirely. “We obviously don’t have to.”
“I’ve never done it,” she clarifies, canting her head the slightest bit as if to assess my reaction to her inexperience. “Have you?”
“A couple of times, and both times with the same woman. I’m not an expert by any means.”
“But you can teach me.” Olivia reaches down and takes my hand. She brings it up to her lips and layers two soft kisses against my fingertips. “You can show me how it’s done?”
“I can,” I admit, unable to process why I suddenly feel like I’m ten feet tall. “I can take care of you.”
She seals it with a kiss on my lips, a wordless gift of trust that I wonder if I deserve. I don’t question it too much though. I meant what I said: that I would take care of her. Nothing could stop me from upholding that promise. Minutes later, we’re in the bedroom with Olivia centered on the king-size bed on her hands and knees. Naked, she’s in the process of putting a pillow under her chest, per my recommendation, to ease her arms.
For my part, I’m standing at the end of the bed and rubbing lube onto my length, still reminding myself that this is real. She’s real. I’m real. And I’m the luckiest son of a bitch that the world has ever known.
My attention shifts to her velvety skin and the curve of her ass—an ass that I frankly haven’t worshipped enough this summer. But like my virginity, it’s better late than never. My gaze lowers to that forbidden entrance, to the small pink aperture that she has given me permission to touch. To pleasure.
She peers back over her shoulder, her expression devious and smug. So damn smug. She knows my eyes can’t drift from her gorgeous little rosebud for more than a few seconds without being drawn back. She gives her ass a wiggle, teasing me. Asking me.
Without a word, I climb onto the bed behind her and run my hand over her adoringly, wondering how anyone’s skin could possibly be so smooth. “Can I touch it?” I inquire lowly.
“I told you I wanted you to teach me,” she reminds me. “So teach me, Ridgeway.”
So damn mouthy.
The pad of my thumb fits nicely over her back entrance, covering it fully as I apply slight pressure. Enough to tease her and let her know that this will only grow more intense. With measured strokes, I begin to stimulate her there, easing her into it. She receives me perfectly, flinching only once at first contact. She quickly embraces it, however, and groans softly as I continue to work her carefully.
When she begins to sway backwards, coaxing me to insert more than just the tip of my thumb, I realize that this is going to go much quicker than I anticipated. Olivia is wanton, and when she gets like this, she gets her way. I remove my thumb and begin to kiss a line down her spine, moving quickly so that she doesn’t have time to miss the feeling of my touch. When my mouth reaches the dimples on her back, I carefully separate her cheeks with my hands. There, I lower my attentions.
“Davis, are you going to—”
I do before she can even finish the question. I run my tongue over her puckered spot, lapping at the tight skin. The extended moan she releases tells me she loves that.
“You like it when I lick your ass, Olivia.” It’s not a question—and she knows it. She answers by wiggling backwards, asking for more of my tongue.
Another lap.
“Needy little slut,” I grit out, well aware that the breaths I release as I speak are probably sending her into stimulation overload. “You have no qualms showing this asshole off.”
“None,” she confirms with a husky sigh.
“Because you know how perfect it is.”
I freeze when I realize that I’ve done it again. I’ve replaced my usual harsh and humiliating words with something sweet. And yes, the direct object of the sentence is indeed her asshole, but it doesn’t matter. My adoration lingers between us, crackling in the energy that always seems to arise when we’re playing like this.
Bent over in front of me, Olivia is still. She glances back, her expression curious. Her green eyes look me over, almost as if she wants to make sure that I’m the same man that she’s been hooking up with all summer. “Tell me more.” Her request comes out soft, almost reticent, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to ask me to be sweet to her.
“I think it’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen,” I continue softly, testing the waters as I shove my hesitation to the side. No plans, no machinations; this feels right. “I feel like I should be gentle with it.” When I finish speaking, I glance up and see that her mien is soft and appreciative. This is what she wants; this is who she wants. The real Davis. Not some cheap version of a playboy that I’ve been trying to emulate.
“Gentle, hard—I don’t care. I trust you,” Olivia contends. Her answer is perfect. She trusts me. Even without the reassurance of her words, I would be able to see it in her expression, in the resolute look of certainty that she offers.
Heart pounding, I resume my careful preparation. I did mean what I said: I feel like I should be gentle with her. Eight years ago, I gave myself to her and she wasn’t careful. If I screw this up, she’s going to remember it. I know it.
So I take my time, working my lubed fingertips through her tight ring of muscle and gradually stretching her. I take cues from her moans and the shudders that she releases when I stroke a spot that feels right to her. This goes on for minutes, and all the while I use my other hand to carefully strum her clit. The piercing feels taboo and forbidden, but it’s a subtle reminder that Olivia’s boundaries and limits are higher than most. We can do this; she can take this. Her body grows content and pliant in my arms, and eventually I notch the tip of my cock at her entrance.
“Ready?” I ask her.
Olivia has her cheek pressed against the pillow and her hands are tucked between her breasts and the bedspread. She pulls her lower lip back with her teeth. She looks magnificent, I decide, when she’s laid bare. I think we both do. No airs and no impressions; this is right.