Taming Her Boss Part 9

Lex smirks like the big fat a.s.shole he is, but at least he doesn't argue with this command, echoing his words from that first fateful friday.

"Yes, ma'am."

"My place or yours?" I ask Olivia, trying my best to keep my expression stoic. Each time I slip and let my lips curl up in a feral grin, I find her glaring at me with narrowed eyes. I know she can read in my expression what I won't dare say out loud. Mine. I almost laugh at the thought. If I even dared utter that word aloud, she wouldn't just grab my b.a.l.l.s in a vise grip she'd tear them from my body completely. I find myself fantasizing about that rage. Not, of course, of actually losing a body part I treasure so dearly, but of the wild anger and the violent s.e.x that would soon follow after. I'm willing to let her try for the opposite. Hers. It's what I want, anyway. Today was just the first step, finally giving into that animalistic frenzy for one another, and I must say: Olivia Ashcraft did not disappoint. But I also couldn't resist going for the throat like a Lyndon's born and bred to do. But she held her own and that, that is a f.u.c.king miracle. Now, I'm hoping we can continue this conversation into more dangerous territory. After that confrontation with Lara, I feel more motivated than ever to let go of my responsibilities and let that sense of abandonment and freedom wash over me, let Olivia tell me what to do, where to go, how to feel.

After that ... well. I don't know. I don't know anything except that right now, I want her to be mine. I want to be hers. I'm sure once I get this fetish out in the open, taste what it has to offer, I'll move on. I don't like being threatened and used, but Lara Caliper's offer does make sense in a lot of ways. I highly doubt she'd be capable of giving what Olivia has to offer, but maybe, after I've experienced enough of it, I won't need that anymore? I'm a Lyndon, after all.

"My place or yours?" she repeats, looking askance at me as we leave the financial district behind and head the few miles northwest towards her place on n.o.b Hill. Derisively, this area is sometimes referred to as 'Sn.o.b Hill' which I find amusing. Olivia is many things, but sn.o.b would not nor ever could be a word applied to this woman. Knowing that her townhouse is located there does bring a certain amount of guilt though. If she really does decide to walk away from her job because of me or I fire her again she'll likely be unable to afford it for much longer. Olivia's a genuine sort of person, the type that the world needs more of. She deserves her place on one of San Francisco's original 'Seven Hills'.

But I won't ever admit any of this aloud.

"I mean ... I meant my place, so I could shower and ... " Olivia looks over at me again. When I pause at a red light, I turn and look right back. Her hair is mussy, her braid barely held together, strands of vibrant red pointing this way and that. My favorite part of her appearance though, is the swollen set of her lips, like they're slathered in lipstick. Only they're not and that's so, so, so much better. Bright and vibrant from my kisses, the color is the perfect accent to Olivia's pale skin. "You'd take me to your place?" She immediately retracts her question with a glower. "I'm just curious is all," she corrects, sighing and slumping back against the leather seat.

"You can shower at my place," I suggest, wanting for whatever reason to show her mine. "You can even do it alone if, for whatever bizarre reason, you'd prefer to."

"You sicken me," she says, but I can't stop the smirk from blooming on my lips like a rose.

"I'll even let you wear one of my shirts and walk around with no panties."

"How kind of you," Olivia growls, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as we drive past her place on Jackson Street and continue on towards mine. What kind of strange coincidence is it that we live on the same street? I wonder how she'll take this bit of news. "Where do you live anyway?" She holds up a finger before I can speak. "Wait, wait, let me guess you've got a view of the bay. A nice, roomy, multi-million dollar gem in Sea Cliff perhaps?"

"Presidio Heights, actually," I say with a twisted smile she won't even be able to begin to decipher. I chose a place there for one reason and one reason only: I liked the building. I didn't think about the reputation of the neighborhood which is still quite prestigious by the way but only about the yellow and white brick, the original moldings, the leaded gla.s.s. I paid 1.7 million dollars for the place a squalid sum compared to my father's and grandfather's homes. They actually look down on my choice of residence Presidio Heights is only the third wealthiest neighborhood in San Francisco and only the 461st wealthiest in the United States. I grit my teeth and try not to get frustrated with them. They're not here; Olivia is. I look over at her again, but she isn't looking back at me. Instead, her brows are wrinkled as we pull up in my single allotted parking s.p.a.ce. Ah, the joys of city living.

I turn the car off as Olivia glances over her shoulder to gaze out the back window.

"Lex, uh, our houses are like one and a half miles apart."

"One point six, actually," I say as I open the door and climb out, closing it behind me and waiting for Olivia to grab her purse from the backseat, keys, cell, and wallet included this time I hope. It would appear that she's found the time to replace the batteries in her key fob.

"This is a coincidence?" I raise my eyebrow at her and try not to get too excited when she trips over the curb of the sidewalk.

"You mean like you locking your keys in your own car? You think sometime in the past week and a half, I found the time to purchase a multi-million dollar condo simply because of proximity to your place?"

"Who knows? I've heard of guys purchasing entire companies, just to get access to a girl that works there. The creepiness of your type cannot be underestimated." Olivia turns to look up at the yellow and white beauty I call home. Not that I get to spend much time here. There's a unit below mine, a studio apartment that I rent out for free in exchange for the woman's discreetness and ability to clean the place up without my ever seeing her. Above my portion of the property, there's another unit that's empty. I bought the entire building but haven't bothered to fill that spot. I'd just rather not deal with neighbors. Technically, I live in a condo, but in a sense, this place is all mine.

"I see. And this is something that happened in real life?" Olivia purses her lips and watches as I walk around her and up the steps, keys dangling from my fingers. Fortunately, I had them in my pocket when I ran down to see Olivia. It must be fate. I try not to smirk again.

"In a book, but technically, it could happen." She follows after me, more interested in scoping out my house than in accusing me of stalking. I almost wish I could say I had Olivia picked out in advance, but that's just not true. Our entire meeting was a strange twist of fate, a combination of my bad mood and the hot breath of investors on my neck. I marched in that lunch room to scream, to lay blame, and instead I found something much more interesting.

"Holy c.r.a.p, Lex," she says as soon as I unlock one half of the two leaded gla.s.s doors that make up my front entry. Olivia steps inside, slippers shuffling across the dark wood floors. "This is ... absolutely beautiful." The awe and respect in her voice shift something in my chest, something I have no name for. I close the door behind us and lock it with no intention of being disturbed today.

"Living room and family room are to your right. Dining room and kitchen are straight ahead. I'd be happy to give you the grand tour now or after you shower?"

I wait in the entryway, watching as she takes in every detail, every painting, all the moldings, the fireplace, the windows. I've had women comment on the house before, but not like this. To be honest, most of them are disappointed I don't live in a mansion by the bay. Olivia doesn't care. She sees the architecture and the history of the house, just like I do. My appreciation for her lifts another notch.

I follow behind Olivia in a swerving pathway through my living room and family room and then into the dining room where she pauses, her eyes locked on the kitchen.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n," she says, glancing at me over her shoulder. "I hope you know how to cook." I smile because, of course, I don't. Neither does she, apparently. She told me as much herself during our poker game. Olivia touches her hand to the marble countertop and then jerks it back with a slight cringe. When she spins to face me, her lips are pursed tight and her cheeks have a bit more color than before. "I probably shouldn't touch any eating surfaces, considering where this hand's been." She lifts her fingers up and my brain immediately begins to recall our wild romp in the backseat of her Lexus. Her fingers around my b.a.l.l.s, my shaft, my fingers inside of her. I have to close my eyes when I start thinking about my hips slamming into her round a.s.s, the tight clench of her muscles, the groans that burned from her throat like embers.

I open my eyes to find her staring at me with a wrinkled nose.

"I can't believe I had s.e.x with you," she groans, and I laugh. The sound seems strange echoing around my kitchen. I'll be the first to admit that it's not something I hear often when I'm here, either alone or with one of those soppy wet kitty cats that I no longer want anything to do with. Olivia has tainted me in that respect. I wonder if all my future relationships will have to go through this same violent struggle?

"Ready for that whiskey double?" I ask, moving over to the gray cabinets on the left side of the room. I search through the gla.s.s bottles, trying to decide what Olivia might like best based on her affinity for sweeter wine. I decide on a bottle of Bushmills twenty-one year old single malt whiskey. It has a smell reminiscent of toffee and dark chocolate and a taste like b.u.t.terscotch and dried fruit. I pull it out and set it on the counter with the gentle clink of gla.s.s.

"Make it a triple," she says as I glance over my shoulder and find her straddling one of the stools at my kitchen island. I can't stop myself from remembering how good it felt when she was straddling me. "That oughta hold me over until I finish showering." Olivia smiles at me, but the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'll have to take your keys away," I tease, wondering how she's going to react to a joke from me. "You might have to spend the night." I grab two gla.s.ses and pour a generous amount of liquid into each.

"If worse comes to worst, I can always walk home," she says as I turn and place her drink on the island countertop, sliding it towards her and taking a sip. The alcohol burns my throat and sits warm and heavy in my stomach. I feel my eyes close in sheer bliss. Scalding s.e.x, a day away from the office, and the warm bite of whiskey. For a moment there, I feel almost ... satisfied. The feeling's not exactly something I'm used to.

After a moment, Olivia clears her throat and I open my eyes to look across the counter, meeting that penetrating stare with one of my own.

"Lex," she begins and I find myself unconsciously running my tongue across my lower lip. Her gaze dips to take in the motion and then snaps back up to my eyes. "I have no idea who told Lara Caliper about the contract. I only told one person about it, and she would guard my secrets to the death." Olivia sucks in a deep breath and braces herself for my fury. I feel it, flaming in my belly, threatening to spill over my lips in words I don't mean, like fire from a dragon's mouth. But then the s.e.x and the whiskey settle in and tamp down on my emotions.

"Who?" I ask, shifting the tumbler around in my fingers and watching the amber liquid slosh against the sides. Whoever it is, I'm going to bury them. Somebody has to pay for revealing my secret. I look and find Olivia with pursed lips, arms crossed over her chest. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s squish against her arm, the soft flesh enticing my c.o.c.k back to firm attention. This is one soldier who's not ready for the war between Olivia and me to be over quite yet.

"Like I'd tell you that. It was a personal confidante that I absolutely refuse to put under your scrutiny."

"That blonde friend of yours," I guess, "the one from accounting." Olivia just laughs at me and shakes her head. Her braid finally gives up the fight and comes undone, leaving wavy strands of crimson trailing down to her shoulders.

"You only wish. It's not somebody you know." She pauses and taps her nails against the counter, cringing again and examining them like she expects to find something dirty embedded there. I can still feel Olivia all over me, the hot wetness spreading down her thighs as we f.u.c.ked, the warmth against my fingers and knuckles. I try not to shiver and pour myself another gla.s.s, pushing the bottle towards Olivia. She takes it and helps herself to another round. "By the way, that blonde's name is Maxi and she's the head of your accounting department." Olivia smiles a shark grin at me and lifts the tumbler for some sort of toast, tossing it back without waiting for me to join her. I watch her pale throat as she swallows, satisfied when I spot the purple and blue marks that remain as proof of my kisses. Hickeys. I smirk.

"I'll be sure to remember that," I say as Olivia coughs and shakes her head, wrinkling her nose and then smiling at her empty gla.s.s. When she sets it down again and looks over at me, her smile turns into a smirk to match my own.

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever it is that's putting that smug smile on your face, try to remember that while you're doing it, there's j.i.z.z in your hair." She slides off the stool triumphantly and looks around. "And the bathroom is where again?"

I reach a hand up to touch the slightly crusted tips of my hair and wrinkle my nose.

"j.i.z.z?" I ask, the word an unfamiliar bit of slang sliding across my tongue.

"Yeah, you know, c.u.m." Olivia pauses, the corner of her lip twitching as she teases me. "s.e.m.e.n. Or as Maxi likes to say: the sperms."

"I know what it means," I growl back at her, enjoying the rush of fire between us again. "I just don't see how it got into my hair. Maybe it's actually your ... " I struggle to come up with the right word as Olivia moves around the end of the island and faces me straight on, her purse still slung over one shoulder.

"Juice?" she supplies which makes me cringe. And smile. After so much time around people who hold their tongue, here's Olivia who refuses to tame hers. I imagine her like a wild horse, only one that I'd do everything in my power not to break. "Lady liquid? Or, as the moms called it after they took over my tenth grade health cla.s.s and embarra.s.sed me in front of the entire high school, v.a.g.i.n.al lubricant. But no, Lex, I'm so very sorry but that up there, it's mostly yours." She watches me as I draw my hand away from my hair and set my gla.s.s down on the counter just as empty as hers is. "Shower?" she asks again and I move forward, intending to show her where the bathroom is. Only we get caught on one another as I pa.s.s by, and she looks up at me with those big green eyes, those long dark lashes. Her lips part, and I prepare for something sweet, something oddly romantic to pa.s.s between them. "Where did you put your used condoms?"

I turn to face her fully, our chests a scant few inches apart, and reach into my pocket, withdrawing the evidence of our encounter. These slacks and this dress shirt are destined for a visit to the dry cleaners. Olivia wrinkles her nose at me as I push my foot against a hidden b.u.t.ton on the toe kick of a cabinet, watching as it slides out to reveal a hidden trash compactor. I toss the condoms inside and push the cabinet back in with a single finger. Olivia raises her brow at me, glancing back up at my face.

"You said maybe next time we could try it without a condom?" I offer, watching her face for any clues on how she feels about my bringing up the subject. Olivia crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a look.

"Lex, you're hot, okay. I'll admit that. Let's be honest here. But I'm also a modern woman, and much as I'd like to indulge our wilder sides, I can't in good conscious go forward with that unless ... " She pauses and blows out a puff of air, the warmth of it brushing against the bare spot of chest below my collar. My shirt is sloppy and the b.u.t.tons all mixed up, the top gaping open to reveal a h.e.l.l of a lot more of myself than I'd normally put on display.

"Unless what?"

Olivia puts her hands over her face.

"I don't know, Lex. I can't ... I don't want to talk about this right now. Just take me to your shower." I raise an eyebrow, but I don't argue against her wording, turning and leading her down the hall. I push open the door to the bathroom and step back.

An awkward moment of silence pa.s.ses between us.

"You said you had a shirt I could borrow?" she asks, glancing at the shelves to her left, covered in perfectly folded, perfectly starched white towels. Not my handiwork, but the woman who lives below Mavis, I believe is her name.

"I do." My mouth twitches, and I can't seem to hold back adding, "provided you wear it without panties."

"Just bring me the d.a.m.n shirt, Lex," Olivia says, stepping into the bathroom and slamming the door in my face.

I do as Olivia asks, still fully intending on keeping good to my promise of following her orders. If I play my cards right, perhaps I can still get what I wanted after all? Olivia didn't want to be treated like a wh.o.r.e, but now that she's already f.u.c.ked me and quite possibly intends to continue f.u.c.king me, why shouldn't she be rewarded for it?

I head into my office and flip open my laptop, typing in my pa.s.sword and sending another contract to the printer. I won't ask her now, but maybe later? After a few more gla.s.ses of whiskey, another dance with the devil, and maybe she'll say yes. I pull my cell out of my pocket my clean pocket I'll have you know and take a look at the messages. A call from both my father and grandfather, some texts from Lara Caliper, a few from Claudia.

I decide none of that matters today. I'll deal with them all tomorrow. Today, I seal the deal with Olivia. My mouth twists into another feral grin as I toss my phone on my nightstand and disappear into one of the room's three closets. There's an entire rack dedicated to white b.u.t.ton-downs, another rack dedicated to black suit jackets, and over ten drawers filled with ties in all the colors of the rainbow. My upbringing consisted of learning how to be scathingly polite, to talk to others without offending them outright but also to let them know who was in charge. One of the ways we accomplished this was by dressing professionally, in white shirts and dark suits cla.s.sic, understated, neutral. It's an effective technique, to always look perfect, to always look the same, to present an immovable front to the world.

But it gets stifling.

I found a way to show my personality while still maintaining the sleek dark look that's expected of a member of the Lyndon family. I open a drawer, staring down at the neatly laid rows of silk, cashmere, wool. This entire drawer is full of ties in red and crimson, a bright splash of ardor laden delight. I curl a silk strand around my fingers and slide it from its place before grabbing a freshly pressed shirt.

"Olivia?" I ask, tapping my knuckles against the bathroom door. Steam drifts under the door, teasing my loafers with a white mist. She must have the shower on hot, hot, hot. I feel my body tighten, my c.o.c.k stiffen in response to thoughts of her naked and covered in soap. It takes every ounce of resolve I have to keep from opening the door and taking Olivia against the white tiled walls of my shower. I already let myself slip in the parking garage. I'm the one that started all this by offering up the contract, confronting Olivia, chasing after her. I have to go through with my plan.

A moment later, the door opens and she appears in front of me stark f.u.c.king naked.

"Shirt?" she inquires, reaching out a hand and wiggling her fingers at me. Her gaze flickers down to the round bulge in my slacks before she swallows hard and flares her nostrils. "What? It's not like you didn't get a view of this already," she mumbles, reaching past me and s.n.a.t.c.hing the fabric from my fingers. I let it go, watching as her eyes find the tie and her brow crinkles. "Uh, thanks. I see as promised that there are no underwear involved here."

"You really want to wear a pair of my briefs?" I ask, letting my eyes trace the perfect smoothness of her skin. Her body is just right that perfect mix between curvy and fit a slight layer of woman overlaid on top of the gentle curvature of muscles. There's a line down her belly, straight to her navel, a little valley I'd like to trace with my tongue.

I close my eyes against the sight.

"Now that you put it like that ... don't you have any boxers?" she asks, scooting back behind the door and closing it so only her face is exposed. I open my eyes and focus on hers, pulse thrumming with desire.

"A few," I say, praying that she'll invite me in. She doesn't.

"Good. Bring me a pair, please. There's no way I'm putting my panties back on." Olivia closes the door again, leaving me with another throbbing erection and no outlet for it. I clench my teeth and turn away, once again doing as she asks, once again pausing to rap my knuckles against the wood.

"Come in!" Olivia shouts, her voice echoing in the enclosed s.p.a.ce. I put my fingers tentatively against the k.n.o.b and turn it, letting myself in. The frosted gla.s.s doors separate me from Olivia, but the curved shadow of her body is present, tantalizingly close yet so far away. "Just leave it with the rest of the stuff," she says through a mouthful of water. I set the folded square of boxers down on top of the white shirt and take a step back, watching Olivia's shadow move behind the gla.s.s. After a few moments, she opens the door and glares at me, water running down her chin and dripping from the strands of her red hair. "What?" There's no indication from her that she's embarra.s.sed by her body, by the round curves of her hips or her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. But she's not blatant about it either, doing nothing in particular to try and turn me on.

That makes this so much harder. Her indifference is turning me on. That lack of obsessive self-awareness or the need to please. I squeeze my fingers into tight fists and try to force myself into leaving the room.

"Do you want to get in and have s.e.x with me?" Olivia says with a sigh. Her words are abrupt enough that I don't respond right away, trying to convince my brain that my ears just heard what I thought they heard. Olivia leans back and pushes the door open all the way. I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. "Please don't talk. If you do, you might p.i.s.s me off and make sure this never happens again." Olivia takes a deep breath and touches her fingers to her forehead before looking up at me with a lopsided half-smile. "Look, Lex, I don't even really know what's going on here, but I figure since we already did it once "

"You had two o.r.g.a.s.ms. I would consider that twice." I smile back at Olivia as she narrows her eyes at me and clenches her teeth.

"Since we already did it twice, I figure we might as well take advantage of the situation." She pauses and glances at the pile of clothes resting on the edge of the sink. "And do you have anymore ties? I'd like to ... try something if you don't mind."

I smirk at her.

"If it involves s.e.x with you, I absolutely don't."

I spin away and leave the bathroom, fingers rising up to start unb.u.t.toning my shirt. I leave it abandoned on the floor of my closet along with my shoes and socks, scooping up a handful of ties and taking them back to the bathroom, letting the bright red colors flutter to the white tile floor beneath my feet. A few stragglers dangle from my fingers as Olivia beckons me closer and takes two away from me, looking at the expensive silk with a slight grimace.

"You sure you want to get these wet?" she asks me as I reach down and start unb.u.t.toning my slacks.

"I can afford more," I tell her honestly as she raises her brows at me and shrugs, pointing her finger at her purse. I get the idea: condoms. I grab a handful.

"Lofty ideals, Lex," she says, stepping back as I drop my slacks to the floor and slide down my briefs. Olivia's eyes widen at the sight of my naked body, fully erect and on full display. I take the moment to ogle her right back, sliding my eyes up and down her smooth body, taking in the pert perfection of her pink nipples, the triangle of red hair between her legs.

Olivia clears her throat and lifts up the two ties.

"Come here."

I growl low in my throat, but I obey, stepping into the shower, letting our bodies get close enough that when Olivia takes a deep breath, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brush against my belly.

"Turn around," she commands me, voice rough with desire. It's nice to know that this attraction is a two-way street. I smirk at Olivia and do as I'm told, letting a ripple of anger and frustration slide across my skin. My initial instinct is to rebel, to fight back, to slam her into the gla.s.s and f.u.c.k her until she comes. Only I don't. I let that sense of freedom wash over me, trying to forget about my attempts to wrangle Olivia into a contract, even about trying to please her. That's not my concern right now. If I let her do as she wants with me, she'll please herself.

"A blindfold? Interesting choice."

"Not if you think about it logically," she tells me, tying the tie across my eyes with rough fingers. "Your eyes are always full of unsaid a.s.shole-isms and just when I think I'm starting to be able to tolerate you, you open your mouth."

The second tie slides across my jaw and slips between my lips.

"This is for me, Lex, not for you," she tells me, but I don't care. My hands tremble and my heart races. Control. I'm certainly not in control anymore and although a few silk ties might not seem like much, I've never allowed a woman to blind or gag me in the bedroom. I wait with my shoulders tense and my c.o.c.k rigid and painful. A moment later, Olivia reaches around me and steals the pile of condoms from my hand. She doesn't shake or quiver or whisper things in my ear that she thinks I want to hear.

"Now turn around."

I obey, spinning in a circle and pausing when Olivia's hands find my chest, tracing across my muscles with her fingertips. She traces my pecs first and then my belly. Each time her fingers make contact with a new part of my body, my muscles tighten painfully, antic.i.p.ating her next move, trying to fight against the strong, scalding sensation of her touch. When she finds my c.o.c.k, I go rigid, a gasp tangling up with the wet silk tie between my lips.

Olivia works me up, sliding her hand along my bare skin, bringing another growl to my throat. I'd do anything right now to rip these blindfolds off, find her face, taste her lips. But I can't. Not this time. I force my thoughts to go blank, letting my mind absorb each pleasurable brush of her skin against mine.

A warm mouth touches my jaw, the gesture intentional but light, sliding down my face to find my throat. Olivia's body leans into mine, b.r.e.a.s.t.s smashing against my midsection, the fingers of one hand trailing down my arm, the other stroking my c.o.c.k.

"You're going to feel me, Lex, but you're not going to know what I'm doing or why. It doesn't matter. If you're an alpha male then I'm an alpha female, and you've asked me to show you exactly what that means. I'm not doing this for money and I definitely don't give a s.h.i.t about you, Lex. I'm using you right now, do you understand that?"

My heart slams into my rib cage, and my jaw clenches tight.

"You're nothing but a big fat c.o.c.k to me. I don't even like you. h.e.l.l, I don't even know what the f.u.c.k I'm doing at your house, much less in your shower with you. Naked and h.o.r.n.y and missing my vibrator." I breathe deep, listening to her words slide through my skull with a sharp bite that p.r.i.c.ks my arousal and takes it a step further. I lift my hands up to touch her waist, but she slaps them away. "Stand still. Don't even move. If you do, I'll pack up my stuff and walk away right now and we can forget this ever happened. I wouldn't mind, but I feel like you'd suffer, wouldn't you, Lex?"

I don't make a sound, not even a growl in response, struggling to keep my hands to myself as Olivia shifts around in front of me, drawing her fingers back, leaving me standing there quivering with desire. When she next touches me, a warm wetness slides against the tip of my c.o.c.k, teasing, tasting me with her lips. Olivia Ashcraft is giving me a f.u.c.king b.l.o.w. .j.o.b. I smirk, feeling the tug of the silk tie against the corners of my mouth. Hopefully with that in there, she'll have a more difficult time reading my facial expression.

Her teeth graze my shaft, light enough that I know they're there, hard enough that I'm almost afraid. If I p.i.s.sed Olivia off, I don't think she'd hesitate to bite me where it really hurts. Strangely enough, the thought excites me. I stay stone still, letting a groan crash against the warm, wet lump of my gag. It bothers me that I can't see her red hair, stuck against the sides of her face, can't watch as her rosebud lips part and accept my c.o.c.k into her hot mouth. My stomach muscles clench, fighting against the desire to wrap my fingers in her hair, thrust my hips into her face. This little rose has thorns, and I have to be careful or I won't just get p.r.i.c.ked, I will bleed.

I let my head fall back, scalding water spraying my chest, sliding down my body in burning rivulets that don't even come close to comparing with the heat in Olivia's mouth. She keeps her hands to herself, and I have to wonder if any of that splashing I hear is her touching herself. I pray that it is.

My muscles start to come undone one by one, relaxing, allowing my body to droop, letting my back touch the tiled wall of the shower until I'm propped up with nothing but Olivia's touch to keep me standing upright. She takes her time, sliding her mouth up and down the length of my c.o.c.k, pulling away and letting the spray of the shower tease me for a moment as she catches her breath. Olivia doesn't bob her head with frantic energy, like some sort of demented bunny rabbit, coquettishly batting her eyelashes while I hold her head in place with tight fingers. Instead she wraps the fingers of one hand tight around the base of my shaft, her grip steady and confident, and slides her lips down to meet her fist. It feels like she's deep throating me, taking every inch of my d.i.c.k into her throat.

Another groan escapes my mouth, languishing against my gag as I dig my fingers into the wall behind me, fingernails sc.r.a.ping along the tile as an o.r.g.a.s.m comes up on me hard and fast.

And then the sensation stops and the pressure inside of me comes to a screeching halt. The droplets of water from the shower feel painful as they splatter against my aching c.o.c.k. I come this close to tearing the gag from my mouth and screaming at Olivia, asking her what the h.e.l.l she thinks she's doing.

"Let's go," she says, taking my hand and pulling me forward. Since I can't see, I have no choice but to trust her. It's a weird sensation, letting her guide me blind and mute through my own house, our wet footsteps slapping against the hardwood floors as she tries to figure out where it is exactly she's planning on taking me. "If I can just find the bedroom," she murmurs, but she doesn't free me, doesn't ask, and eventually, I feel the soft press of my mattress against my legs. "Lay down," Olivia tells me, and I hate that I can't see her face as I put my hands out and slide onto the bed, wondering what she thinks of the coved ceilings in here, the furniture I selected to match the period of the house.