Page 69 of A Chance for Us
Honestly, I have no idea how I feel. I’m conflicted because I shouldn’t feel anything. I should be nursing a broken heart, not dreaming of Oliver’s touch and mouth and what promises to be a very nice dick.
So, yeah, I don’t know what this means because it’s all crazy.
“Why don’t you tell me.” His voice is low and husky.
“I can’t.”
“Maybe you just need incentive.” He moves lower, pushing my legs apart. “You talk and I’ll lick. If you stop . . . well, I might stop as well.”
“Oliver,” I say, needing him so much. “Please.”
“Please what, sweetheart?”
I turn my head to meet his gaze. “I need you.”
“And I need to do this, so I suggest you start telling me how you feel.”
I groan because this is not going to go my way. I mean, it is a little, but . . . I can’t think and talk while he does . . . oh, God.
Oliver’s hot tongue slides against my clit, and I grip the sheets.
“I want to taste you, Maren. I want to make you come on my tongue, so give us what we both want,” he commands.
“I like you. I like how you make me feel,” I say quickly while I have some of my wits.
He rewards me again with his mouth. Oliver moves back and forth over the bundle of nerves, sending heat all through my veins.
“You’re selfless.”
“Selfless?” he asks and then flicks me again. “I am clearly getting so much more than I bargained for.”
“We both are,” I say before a long moan falls from my lips. God, he’s good at this.
As he licks, sucks, flicks, I keep talking. “You make me feel alive. You give me hope that there is more to love than I thought there was. I want you so much, and I don’t know what to do,” I admit, no longer sure if I’m speaking aloud. My orgasm is building so fast the words are a tumble of incoherence in my brain. “God, Oliver, what is happening? Why do I want you like this? Why do I need you?”
He doesn’t stop, and each second that passes, I’m driven closer to the edge.
“I want you so much. I want this to keep going, and I want you . . . all of you.”
My back lifts off the bed as it becomes too much. My orgasm rockets through me, causing me to call out his name and forcing him to hold my legs down so he doesn’t have to stop.
After what feels like an eternity, the pulsing slows and he crawls up my body, turning my face to his. He reaches over, grabs a condom, and slides it on before returning to me. With his arms braced on either side of my head, his cock pushes toward my entrance. “This is going to complicate things.”
I smile a little. “I think we’ve blurred all the lines already.”
“I think so too.” He pushes into me and freezes. “But this one . . .”
“This one—” I gasp, holding on to him.
“This one I’m going to erase.”
For the next hour, we obliterate every line ever drawn, and I don’t even care.
* * *
“That was . . .” Oliver says, staring up at the ceiling.
“Yeah.”
