Page 181 of The Catalyst

I crawl up the bed and kiss him passionately before straddling his shoulders.

“Should I just hover or…” I trail off for him to fill in the blanks, but he just glares at me as if I offended the very essence of who he is.

“If I tell you to sit on my face, you don’t hover or put ten percent of your body weight into it. You…” He grabs my hips and positions me over his head. “...sit thefuckdown.”

“But what if I crush you or you can’t breathe?” I gasp. It must be clear that I’ve never done this before, but he’s not aggrieved. Instead, he seems amused.

“Then, I’ll die a happy man.” He lifts his head and takes a long lick of my slit, and I cry out at how good his tongue feels. “Grab the headboard and sit down,” he demands before smacking my ass.

“Are you afraid I’m going to fall?” I joke as I grab the headboard, and he grips tight onto my hips, pulling me down to his face.

“You need handlebars for this ride, crazy girl.” Then, he pulls me straight down onto his mouth, and I drop my weight, just like he asked. His tongue presses inside me as he nudges my clit with the tip of his nose, and I cry out from the shock of pleasure to my system.

I scream from how good he feels as his finger that was inside me a few minutes ago presses into my backdoor. My mind fogs as I grind down against his mouth, gasping for air from the sheer torture of his oral skills. It’s been long enough that I forgot how incredible he is with his tongue and how he uses it for evil. I guess what they say is true. Sex is way better with an older man.

Reaching behind me, I struggle to hold onto the headboard as I grab his thick cock and stroke him to the beat of his tongue ravishing me.

He growls against my core, and my nails dig into the wood of the headboard as my walls tense around his tongue.

“Fuuuuck! I’m so close.”

He thrusts against my hand as he pulses against my grip, and I know he’s riding that edge as much as I am.

Then, I yell so loud I won’t be surprised if the cops are called. If I die right now, I’ll be a happy woman, too. And, like that, I fall over the edge to the sensation of his orgasm squirting against my spine.

Pulling out his tongue, Oliver drinks up the mess he made between my thighs as I struggle to move to my knees, my legs shaking as he works. He even gives my clit a teasing flick that has me shuddering, my body pleading for more of that.

However, I don’t expect him to lay me on my stomach and lick my back clean of his come, but the entire time, I’m in heaven.

It’s hot as fuck that Oliver has no aversion to tasting his own come. In fact, he seems to like it, which just makes me want him even more.

“Keep that up, and you won’t be leaving this bed for days,” I taunt playfully.

My Ollie chuckles against the swell of my ass before pressing a soft kiss to the cheek. “Don’t worry, crazy girl. I’m going to fuck you so good when I get back.”

“Killing people really gets you that hard, huh?” It’s meant as a tease, but his response lacks all the friskiness I expected.

“You have no fucking idea.”

A small gasp leaves my lips as he bites my ass. “You’re such a fucking psycho.”

“No, baby. You’re the onefuckinga psycho.”

Oliver climbs out of bed, and I turn over, pulling the sheet around my body, watching as he pulls on his clothes, piece by piece. It’s so sad to see his gorgeous tattoos covered up. That art should always be on display. Don’t even get me started on his ass or his strong shoulders. This man really needs to just stay naked.

“Don’t be too long,” I say as he walks over to me, a smile across his lips. He bends down to me, pushing his hands into the mattress on either side of me, and he presses a deep kiss to my lips, one so passionate my toes curl from the warmth spreading down my body.

He slowly pulls out of the kiss before an uncomfortable look flashes across his features. “Mind if I talk to our…” he trails off, unable to bring himself to say the word.

Our baby. He wants to talk to our baby.

“Go ahead,” I say, and he pushes the sheet off of me before sinking down to my lower abdomen. He places a soft kiss on the flesh protecting our baby before a rumbling growl leaves his chest.

“Behave.”

That is all he says, and I can’t help laughing as he stands to his feet. He can be so many things at once. On one hand, he’s intense and chaotic. On the other hand, he’s sweet, goofy, and insanely romantic. Oliver Doyle is the best of both worlds and all the extremes that come with it.

However, that is one command I am positive no child of ours would ever listen to.

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