Stout (Men of Lovibond 2)

“It wasn’t horrible. But some dude grabbing my junk in a crowd wasn’t cool.”

I’m certain the groper did it with the intentions of a laugh since it was very obvious Oliver is straight. I know those people. They aren’t cruel or aggressive but it was in poor taste. And it’s a big deal for Oliver. I see it on his face. He feels violated. “Groping you wasn’t okay. I would feel completely violated if someone did that to me. I’m sorry it happened. I won’t ever ask you to go back.”

“Thanks, Max. Never going back will be all right with me.”

“I know all of it, including Maurice, was a lot to handle. It was completely out of your comfort zone but thank you for not being unkind to him. Or the others.”

Oliver grabs two beers from the decking and swims over to hand one to me. “I can be kind.”

“I’m seeing that.”

He turns and leans against the wall so we’re side by side. I’m like a lure bobbing on the top of the water waiting for him to bite. “You and Lawrence were pleased with the grand opening event?”

“Very.”

“Did Bootylicious enjoy herself?”

Oliver chuckles. “Bootylicious?”

“Tight red dress woman.”

“Oh, yeah. Marlana. She was definitely feeling no pain.”

“I noticed she got you on the dance floor a second time.” I hope I don’t sound like a prying jealous girlfriend. Oliver owes me nothing. If he wanted that woman, he had every right to take her.

“I had no choice. She cornered me.”

“From where I was, it looked like she more than cornered you. She got you out the door.” It felt like he disappeared with her for a while.

“She’s my customer, and she was hammered. I walked her out so I could put her in a car and know she made it home safely.”

“She didn’t put the moves on you?”

“I didn’t say that.” So she did try to get him in bed. I suspected as much from what I saw.

“Did you fuck her?” Now that sounds like a jealous girlfriend.

“No.”

“Must have been hard to pass up an attractive, willing woman like that when she’s throwing herself at you.” Where is this courage coming from?

“Not when a beautiful redhead has been occupying the space in your head for weeks. And all you can think about is her instead.”

Damn.

I’ve thought so often about the way it would feel to be in Oliver’s arms. Have his mouth on mine. Have him inside me. I’ve pictured in my head every possible way for that to happen.

And I’m tired of imagining.

I want the real thing. I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t have him.

I twist to put my beer on the decking, and he mirrors my movement. We move toward one another so slowly the water around us feels motionless.

He stops short of our lips meeting, only a paper-thin wall of air separates them. The strung-out moment before the kiss. His breath teasing my mouth. It’s all a form of foreplay in itself.

He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks hard for a moment before releasing. It’s not done in the gentlest of ways. And it’s sexy as hell. “Mmm . . . I’ve been dying to taste that lip.”

I drag it back and forth over his mouth, teasing him. Tempting him to suck it again. And he does.

My wet hands glide up the brawny ridges of his arms, shoulders, and neck. A satin mountain of muscle beneath my palms.

My fingertips follow the muscles in the back of his neck in an upward direction. He shivers when my nails lightly scrape his scalp and my fingers slide into his hair.

His hands cup my hips and squeeze as they pull me closer. I’m weightless as my knees, shins, and tops of my feet skim the vinyl liner of the pool. Full frontal body contact. Full cock pressed against my stomach. Full-blown desire for this man to take me.

I press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Then another. And another. I open a little at a time until I lure his tongue out to play.

I dig my nails into his scalp when his tongue touches mine. A sigh/moan breaks free of the breath I’m holding. The sound elicits a chain reaction of events: Oliver grabbing the backs of my upper thighs and pulling me against him. My legs wrapping around him. His erection pressing between my legs.

Nothing separating us.

Nothing.

I thrust my hips back and forth so his hard cock rubs my clit.

He breaks our kiss. “Oh fuck that feels so good.”

It feels magnificent. Pleasure without penetration. Without gamble. But also without full satisfaction. It isn’t enough.

“Wanted you since day one, Max. You feel even better than I imagined. So soft.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Thorn. It’s been too long.”

And kiss me he does. Tongues clashing in an erotic dance I’ve never experienced before. Is it him? Is that why I’m so turned on? Or is it because it’s been so long?

I need more. My hands leave his hair and travel over his shoulders. Seeing him shirtless was incredible. Feeling him shirtless and wet, un-fucking-believable.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growls, and somehow I become even more wet. Hot. For him. I want everything Oliver has to give. And judging by his hard cock pushing against me, he wants to give it to me. But he won’t be able to give it here. Oh fuck that feels . . .

“Let’s go to my bedroom.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

We break contact and leave the pool. I’m squeezing the water from my hair when Oliver pushes himself against me from behind. He wraps his towel around both of us. Sort of. It barely reaches around to cover me.

His wet naked front is pressed to my back. His erection poking my ass cheek. I consider giving in and rolling with this scenario. Bending over and letting him fuck me from behind. Right here. Right now. But that will be done and over too soon. I want to perpetuate this. Make it last. Hopefully all night.

His arms wrap around my shoulders holding me, and the towel, in place. His lips skim the side of my neck and linger in the bend where it meets my shoulder. He scrapes the skin with his teeth and then sucks it into his mouth and gently bites.

The very core of my desire blazes as my body anticipates the things Oliver is going to do to me.

And then out of the clear blue the most telling thought in the world occurs to me.

I don’t buy condoms. I buy batteries instead.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Do you have condoms?”

“None on me at the moment. Got a new box at my place though.”

“You’re gonna need to go get them.”

He releases me and bends down to get his clothes. “Don’t. It’s late. Dark. The neighbors aren’t out. Just go in the towel.” I don’t want any delays when he returns.

I go up on my tiptoes to nip hi

s bottom lip. “I’ll be in the bedroom waiting. Don’t be long.”

“Back in a flash, Max.”

I have a few minutes before Oliver returns so I comb my hair and pull it into a bun on top of my head. He has already kissed me but I still brush my teeth and apply a thin layer of lip balm. No one is turned off by fresh breath and soft lips.

I hear the chime of the alarm system when the door opens. He’s back. What should I do with myself?

Strike a sexy pose? No. A pose is just that. A pose. Looks fake.

I go with standing next to the bed holding the top of my towel. Seems natural. Not staged.

Oliver crosses my bedroom and stops in front of me. “Hi.”

He always amuses me saying that as though we’re meeting for the first time. “Hi.”

He holds up the box of condoms. “I have goodies.”

“I see that.”

He tears into the box of condoms and takes out the roll. He tears off several squares and tosses them on my nightstand

“I plan on there being a next time so these other bad boys are staying here.” He opens the top drawer to deposit the box and I cringe.

If he sees my collection of vibrators and bullets, he doesn’t say anything. He’s either blind as a damn bat or thinks it’s in bad taste to bring up the BOBs in my life.

He closes the drawer and that cheeky grin of his spreads. The ungentlemanly one. Yup. He saw everything.

“Umm . . . yeah.” It is what it is. No need to explain.

He untucks his towel and allows it to drop to the floor before reaching for mine, not asking permission. And that’s fine by me.

We’re naked and illuminated only by the soft light of the bedside lamp. The self-conscious part of me wants to reach for the switch while the confident side commands me to keep my twitchy fingers to myself. He likes the visuals. He will be the first man to see the evidence, the crisscrossed lines of Martin’s knife, the leftover scars of . . . No. Stop there, Addie. Perfect or not, he wants to look at your naked body. Give that to him. Give that to yourself.

Oliver presses a kiss below my ear and moves his mouth down the side of my neck. His big hands similarly mimic the downward motion beginning at my ribcage and moving down my sides, my waist, my hips.