Page 161 of The Catalyst

“What do you need?” he whispers. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”

We all knew Nigel would hurt me. His words have always been like daggers when he wants them to be.

My heart aches but in the best possible way…for him, for my psychopath, my Oliver.

I pull back far enough to look into his eyes so he can see every inch of my truth. “You. Just you.” Then, I kiss him so, he knows it's okay. The moment his fingers tangle in my hair, it’s like an explosion on my lips and through every vein and artery. My brain fogs, and yet nothing has ever been more clear than this right here.

Me and Oliver.

He pulls me to the couch with him, and I straddle his waist once he’s sitting down. Teeth clanking, our lips fused in a battle we fight together, and his hands wander, pulling me closer.

He pulls back with something between a gasp and a growl on his lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” His mouth descends down my throat, running hungry kisses past my pulse point and over my shoulder.

“Yes, we should.”

There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s not hurting anyone.Even when it could’ve hurt Nigel, we did this because it was something we all knew he deserved.

I need a distraction, but I also just need Oliver.

Dropping my hands to his lap, I work hurriedly on getting his pants undone and open as he growls against my throat.

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” I whimper as he yanks down the front of my shirt to get to my tits, his tongue teasing my nipples like the torture expert he is. “I’ve been going crazy. Ineedyou.”

Just as my fingers reach into his jeans and wrap around his massive cock, he jerks into my hand, cursing like he hasn’t been touched in weeks, which I know isn’t true. His hand is suddenly at my waist, and he pulls at my panties until they tear from my body, ripping them to shreds. I moan like a dying animal who needs to be put out of its misery, and my shirt is the next to go, completely torn down the center of my chest. My tits stay pressed to his face as he sucks one of my peaks into his mouth. His tongue lashes the sensitive skin, sending heat waves through my body with each slap of the barbell in his mouth.

“Ollie!” I cry out from how good it feels. I pump his cock, squeezing it with each twist, as he pushes his pants down to his knees. Without missing a beat, I take his rigid dick inside of me. Instantly, I scream like a banshee from how fucking good it feels to have him back inside me after so long, stretching and breaking every barrier between us.

It’s been a real struggle not to give into temptation. There were weeks when he would walk into a room, and my body craved him. I missed his kisses, the way his hands felt on my body, and his cock so deep inside me that I can’t differentiate between where I end and he begins.

His thick, strong fingers wrap around my throat, and he drags me to him, his face pressed into my own before he lets out the most possessive and demanding of growls. “Mine.” He thrusts hard into me, and I gasp at how good it is, shock waves running through my body from my cunt to the ends of my hair. “Say it,” he orders vehemently.

I moan. “I’m yours, Oliver. I’vealwaysbeen yours.” Oliver and I have a chance to be together–granted, it has its own deadline–but we can discover if something between us would be viable. If these feelings are still here in thirteen years, we can give this a real chance.

Maybe Oliver Doyle is my end of everything.

His mouth crashes against mine, and the war between our tongues is the most delicious thing I’ve felt in forever. He ruts into me like a madman, and I mewl like a cat in heat from the pleasure of it as his mouth leaves mine.

“Oh my god…Yes!” I roll my hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as I beg for more, but then he yanks me back against him. With my throat in one hand and a possessive grip on my ass with the other, he growls the words.

“I’myourGod. Pray to me. Let me fill you with my blessing.”

Holy shit. I think that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. With the religious toxicity I’ve dealt with in my life, nothing could make me crazy with lust like that, like calling him my?—

“You’re my God, Ollie. Please!” I whimper, and he flips us, laying me flat on my back as he slams into me again and again, taking me like I belong solely to him.

* * *

Sex with Oliver Doyleis fucking explosive. That’s the only way to describe it. It’s a bomb detonating in my very soul, leaving a million shattered pieces of my psyche and my body in its wake. It’s everything.

We moved to the bed after the first round of raw fucking then, he screwed my brains out again for added measure. I’m not complaining one bit. It’s so hot that he just grabs me and takes me with no hesitation, and Oliver Doyle fucks like the maniac he is. All clawing, biting, and fucking. He’s not afraid to leave a mark or harm the baby I’m carrying.

With his arm thrown around my shoulder, I snuggle close to him, trying to get my breathing under control from the amount of cardio I got through. I definitely don’t need to go for a run today.

“How did you get here from school?” Oliver asks suddenly.

I lift my head from the canvas of tattoos I’ve been dissecting for an unknown amount of time. He gazes at me with narrowed icy blues, and I smirk. “How did you know where my hotel was or my room number?” I redirect the conversation, but Mr. Grumpy Pants just glares at me for not answering his question in a timely manner.

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