Page 55 of The Catalyst

"Tell me you want me," he demands as he releases my mouth. Using his free hand, he teases my pussy with the head of his ungodly cock and I moan with him barely not touching my lips. I bet he can taste my breath from this close.

"I want you so bad. Please."

"Tell me what you want then," he presses, his voice full of need.

"I want you to fuck me. Make it hurt, Oliver."

Then, he slams his cock inside me, even rougher than the first time, and I cry from the pain of being stretched and torn and all the pleasure that comes along with the torment.

"You can call me Ollie," he whispers as I thrust back against him, making sure he's fully inside me. I need every last inch of him.

Ollie? That's what the guys call him. Nigel said he only lets those close to him call him that. He said he once nearly beat a man to death for using that nickname because he didn't give him permission to call him that.

Only those close to him.

He sees me as one of those people. I fucking matter to this psychotic man. This thing I've felt between us isn't one-sided at all. He feels it, too.

"Ollie," I moan. The nickname feels good as it falls from my lips. Perfect, even.

I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull myself up before stealing a kiss. Every touch, every thrust, every second is magnetic. I tangle my fingers in his hair as he picks me up in his arms, still buried balls deep inside me, and slams my back against the wall.

My cunt vibrates as he slams into me again. "Oh my god," I cry as he removes his mouth from mine.

"God-fucking-dammit," he growls as he thrusts harder and faster into me, his fingers digging into my hips to the point I know I'll have very telling bruises in the morning. "Your pussy is heaven, princess."

"Fuuuck." I'm so close. A few more strokes and I'll surely come apart in a way that will be embarrassing in the morning.

Then, the front door opens and a loud gasp escapes me.

Oh, god, no.

With zero time to consider the right thing to do, Ollie grabs the back of my head and presses my face into his chest, like his body has the capability to hide the identity of the woman he is fucking within an inch of her life.

I have no idea who it is, but anyone witnessing this spells trouble.

"Seriously, Ollie! We eat in this kitchen!"

"Couldn't you have taken this to the bathroom?"

Of course, it would be Ronan and Charlie that would walk in on us.

"Get out! I'm fucking busy, dipshits!" Ollie enunciates his point by thrusting into me again and I can't control the volume of the moan I release as a result.

Is he crazy?

If they realize I'm the one who's organs he is rearranging, we'll both be in big trouble.

"At least do it in the damn bathroom, man. My girlfriend doesn't need to see your ass or hers." Then, I listen closely as they leave the room and I relax.

"That was a close one," I whisper to myself.

It was a little too close for comfort, but if I thought that would be enough to kill the mood for Oliver Doyle, I would be underestimating him. He was probably just irritated from the interruption. Fucking psycho.

Ollie slams his cock inside me, rutting into me, matching the pace of my steadily increasing heart rate. He continues even as I dig my nails into his back, skin and blood coming up with it.

"Ollie, oh, fuck," I cry out as he grunts in my ear, the noise vibrating down my spine.

"You're making a fucking mess."

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