Page 91 of The Time It Takes
Mine.
“I don’t think I’ve ever not been yours,” he’d said.
I slide my hands down his stomach until they’re wrapped around his hardness. He shudders, letting his head fall back. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan as I run careful fingers up and down the length of him. I begin to jerk him at a pace that I know will drive him mad. I watch his breathing get heavier as I place teasing kisses on his back.
He turns around, making me lose contact. Before I can protest, he pushes me up against the wall of the shower and kisses me savagely. All my worries about him having second thoughts vanish.
His hands are everywhere as if trying to make up for years of not touching me and it lights me on fire. Our tongues push frantically against each other like we can’t get enough. I will always need more of him. Nothing can ever be too much with Oliver.
He breaks the kiss and I want to protest that too, but his tongue slides down my body, his kisses made up of a thousand bolts of lightning. The steam builds around us and my lungs fight against the heavy air.
He quickly drops to his knees and lifts my leg over his shoulder. One hand finds his free shoulder and the other grips his hair like a rein. He nibbles at my inner thigh, teasing me. I arch into his mouth, wanting more. When I look down, those green eyes are piercing through me with a playful gleam.
I dig my nails into his shoulder. “If you don’t keep going, I think I might die,” I groan as I roll my hips toward him.
I can feel his breath on my skin as he chuckles. “You never answered my question,” he murmurs against my thigh before biting it softly. I whimper at the anticipation of where I need his mouth.
I try to scowl down at him, but everything feels too good to commit to it fully. I arch into him again. He may be the one on his knees, but somehow, I’m still the one begging. He obliges me by running his tongue over my slit and dipping it inside me. He pulls away again and when I cry out in frustration he laughs again.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks and before I can answer, his mouth is on me again, licking and sucking. My grip tightens in his hair as I grind my hips against his face.
Hereallydoesn’t want me to get the answer wrong.
“Oh, God! Don’t stop.”
He pushes a finger into me as he sucks my clit harder and just when I’m about to come undone—as if he can sense it—he pulls his mouth away. His finger continues to thrust into me as he stares up at me expectedly.
“I’m yours,” I bite out, frustrated with his method.
His mouth hovers over me, his lips caressing my clit as he speaks. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Oliver,” I say louder. When I arch into him, his mouth has the same idea, and they meet in the middle. His tongue attacks me. When his moan vibrates against me, pure ecstasy rushes through me. He doesn’t stop until I start to sag into him. He lifts me and holds me against the wall. I reach for him, practically clawing at his skin.
His head dips down and he takes my nipple into my his mouth as he wraps my legs around him, lifting me off the floor. I moan when I feel the tip of his cock enter me. The need for him is starting to scare me. He can’t get close enough. I’d crawl into his ribcage if I could. His gaze lingers on the bruises on my chest before he lifts his eyes to meet mine.
I have never felt so exposed in front of someone. The way he looks at me always makes me feel like he can see everything. There’s nothing I can hide from him. He’d claw through every part of my soul until he found me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and his lips are on mine again.
He starts to push into me more but stops with a groan. His forehead falls against mine. “Condom,” he rushes out.
Shit. I swallow and shake my head. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to lose this moment, but we need to be responsible too. “I’m on the pill,” I blurt.
His head rears back to take in my face. “Are you sure?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my cheek so tenderly that I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.
I nod. “Yes, I need you inside of me.” I rock my hips absently and we both moan. “Do the pull-out technique or something.”
His chest vibrates with laughter, and I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What?” I ask sharply and then laugh with him.
He shakes his head and smiles at me, bringing it to my lips. “I feel like I’m in high school again,” he says.
My giggle is cut off with a kiss.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“With everything,” I say without hesitation.
He takes that as his cue because, with that, he slams home. We both moan at the feeling of having no barrier between us.
