“No one is hanging around, but if they are, they wouldn’t come into my office with the door shut.” Oliver teases my lips with his tongue. “I want you to ride my cock. Right here, right now. I want your pussy to be the one to christen this sofa.” I recall our conversation about him using his creativity to come up with ways to wear out this couch. I’m not disappointed to learn he hasn’t slept with another woman on it.
I touch my fingers to his bottom lip. “This is such a nasty mouth you have.”
He opens and his tongue does the wave. “Nasty and talented.”
“That’s no joke.” The man has skills. Serious. Skills.
His fingers push the crotch of my panties aside so they can dip inside me. “Come on, Max. Wrap this wet pussy around my cock and ride it until we both come.”
I reach for the button of his jeans. “How can I resist when you use those kinds of romantic terms?”
“I know how to be romantic.”
“You know how to be nasty. But it’s okay. You know I like down and dirty.” I asked Oliver to be alpha. And he is. Innately so, which is a huge turn-on. He’s evolving into the role perfectly. But I want romantic too. I wonder if that’s confusing for him. To hear me tell him to choke me but bring me flowers.
Now isn’t the time to discuss it.
Now is the time to christen this sofa.
I pull his dick out of his pants and sink over him until he’s fully inside me. I rise on my knees and plunge down again, rolling my hips forward to take him so deep his tip hits my womb.
His arms are wrapped around my waist. He thrusts upward and uses his hold to pull me down hard on his cock. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes. I love you inside me.”
He releases my waist and moves his hands to my face, forcing me to look at his blue eyes. “I love you, Max.” He stretches upward and kisses my mouth as he continues thrusting into me. “You can’t imagine how much I fucking love you.”
My head spins with the reality of hearing Oliver’s affirmation. Those three words. They are the world to me.
I press my forehead to his. “I love you too. So much I sometimes think my heart might explode.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold tightly as he takes control and thrusts into me over and over until his body jerks, and he spasms inside me.
We both go completely still, but he holds me tightly against him. “This is what I want. You and me.” I feel the rumble of his chest when he chuckles. “With me inside you as often as possible.”
“This is what I want too.”
He pulls back and kisses my forehead. “See, Max? I told you I can be romantic.”
Oliver tells me he loves me while we fuck on his office sofa. Not exactly flowers, pretty lingerie, and making love by candlelight. But he loves me. “Yeah. You’re super romantic.”
“Okay. I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to hear I love you the first time. I got carried away. But I can be romantic. And I will be. You’ll see.”
You can’t imagine how much I fucking love you.
This is what I want. You and me.
“You said the words. That’s all that matters to me.” I got my I love you. Correction: my I fucking love you.
It doesn’t matter if we’re at Lovibond brewery on an office sofa or in bed surrounded by a dozen burning candles. I fall more in love with Oliver every second we’re together. I don’t need all that other stuff.
Just him.
Oliver Thorn
I want my trip with Adelyn to be special. Romantic. I’m shit at planning that kind of stuff so I know exactly who should help me. Savannah’s number one tour guide. “Hey, sis. Can you come down to my office for a minute?”
“Yeah. Everything all right?” There’s concern in Lawry’s voice.
“Fine. I just need a woman’s help planning something for Adelyn.”
“Okay. I have a scheduled conference call with a BCC client in five minutes. I’ll come down after that.”
Adelyn is an event planner. She pays careful attention to all details so I want everything about this weekend to be flawless for her.
I’ve changed my mind about staying at Mom and Dad’s house. Sleeping with Adelyn in the bedroom where I used to jack off into a sock won’t make for an unforgettable weekend. I want to make love to her in the most romantic hotel in Savannah. Wine and dine her in the finest restaurants. Hold hands with her while I show her iconic Savannah.
“Hey, dipshit.” Porter doesn’t knock or ask permission to enter my office. He waltzes in like always.
He sinks into the chair across from me. And puts his motherfucking boats on my desk. Guess I don’t have room to bitch though. I do the same to him and Tap at least once a day. “Frankee says you like the label for the Winter Lager.”
“Yeah, it’s cool. Very hipster.” Fits in with our branding perfectly.
“She did a great job on that design.”
“She initially told me you were the one who rocked it.”
“Not true. It’s all her idea and artwork. All I did was help her fine-tune the text.” Odd she wouldn’t want to take credit.
“I could tell it wasn’t your work. Didn’t have the Porter look about it.” I chuckle. “You do realize she’s better than you, right?”
“I know. She’s good at what she does. A very talented artist.”
“Especially for someone so young.”
“She’s not that young.”
“Twenty-one is pretty fucking young. Don’t you remember the shit we did when we were her age?”
“We were guys in a fraternity. Total dumbasses. She doesn’t act the way we did.”
“That’s good to know. ’Cause if she pulled shit like we did, she wouldn’t work here for very long.” Our asses stayed in some kind of trouble all the time.
“I want to talk about her position at Lovibond.” Frankee was originally brought on to help Porter while we found someone to take the full-time position. She’s been with us most of the summer so I’m sure her ninety days must be coming to an end soon. “I want to keep her. Give her the full-time position.”
I was under the impression Frankee planned on leaving Birmingham at the end of the summer. “What happened to her moving away?”
“Changed her mind.”
“I know Scott’s happy about that.” That man is crazy about his daughter. He’s wrapped around her little finger.
“She wants the full-time position, and she’s proven she can do it. She might not have a lot of experience, but we won’t hire anyone who grew up around this place and understands it like she does.” I can’t disagree with that.
Scott is a loyal employee. Always honest and dependable. Hard-working. I’m sure he raised Frankee to be the same way. “She won’t be working as my assistant every day. Art and marketing and branding are your spe
cialties. You’re in charge of all that so it’s your decision as far as I’m concerned. If you think she does a good job, then keep her.”
“I think she’s perfect for the job so I guess it’s settled. She’s staying.” Porter looks happy. Maybe a little too happy.
“Are you fucking her?”
Porter’s eyes widen. “What?”
He didn’t say no. “You heard me. Are. You. Fucking. Her?”
He takes his feet off my desk and sits upright before leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “I can’t fucking believe you’re asking me that.”
“I’ve asked you twice now, and you’ve not denied it yet.” Avoiding the question. Same as the other times when I asked if he were seeing someone.
He’s been sneaking around with someone for a couple months. Disappearing whole weekends at a time. He’s never admitted to it, and I haven’t been able to figure out why a thirty-year-old man would do that. Until now.
“Damn. You’ve been fucking around with Frankee the whole summer. And I didn’t see it.”
“No, I haven’t.” Porter looks at the door and then back at me. “And you need to shut the fuck up, bro. Anyone walking by your office could hear you. Shit like that gets back to Scott, and he will kill me.”
I don’t believe him. “Then you’d better shut the door because I’m not finished.”
Porter bolts to the door and closes it. No, slams it.
“You want Frankee as your assistant? Fine. Hire her. You want her as your fuck buddy? Fine. Fuck her. But don’t let it become a problem for Lovibond.”
“There is no problem.” That sounds a little more like an admission than denial.
“Good. Because bosses who fuck twenty-one-year-old employees sometimes get themselves into some precarious situations. Especially when the said twenty-one-year-old has a father also employed at the same company. We on the same page?”
“Trust me, Stout. I get it.” I’m not sure he does.
Like most fathers, I’m certain Scott still sees Frankee as his little girl. He may not be happy about her getting fucked by her boss, a man nearly ten years her senior. “Don’t piss Scott off. He’s a good warehouse manager. I’d hate to have to replace him because he goes to jail for killing you.”