Page 42 of Six
He grabs the long handle, and bending his knees slightly, he swings the hammer’s head in the air until it hits the surface hard. The loud noise of metal going through drywall makes me smile. It’s a damn familiar sound.
A sledgehammer to a wall, while very impressive to watch, is utterly unnecessary for wall surfaces. It can easily do damage to plumbing and electrical lines. But this partition wall has none of that, and a big-ass tool hitting a hard panel is almost therapeutic in a way—without all the useless talking about your feelings. And a damn good workout.
Ollie keeps going at it, nonstop. A pile of debris forms at his feet pretty quickly, but he doesn’t stop. His swings turn almost savage, pieces of wall are flying around him. He’s reached the wooden framing inside and yanks the hammer out of it by placing his foot on the wall and pulling. Then he moves a little and goes at it again. Like he’s not only hitting a wall, but venting all his fury on it. And there’s a lot of it.
I can see how he needs it, to let the dark feelings out. Keeping them inside only makes them fester and grow. I know that well.
I put down my tools and silently watch him, waiting for him to stop. And when it happens, droplets of sweat are rolling down his face and neck. He’s panting. The hammer slips from his hand and lands on the concrete floor with a clang. He yanks off the gloves and then the flannel shirt and tank top, as if the fabric’s keeping him from breathing. His damp, bare chest is heaving, gaze on the four large holes in the still-standing wall.
When he turns his eyes on me, they are so full of fire I feel my skin burning, just before he swears and closes the distance between us. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding my hip with his hand and moves his lips toward mine.
But I jerk back. Old habits die hard.
“The no kissing rule is revived?” He begins stroking his dick against my very hard one, not the least bit discouraged by my rejection.
“I…” I start, but he cuts me off.
“It’s okay, we can practice another time. Even though you don’t need the practice,” he moans.
“Yeah?” My lust-filled brain is becoming foggy.
“You sound like you’ve never kissed before.” He snorts. And he must read something on my face, because the leg wrapped around my hip stiffens and his hips halt their humping movement.
“Was I your first kiss?”Do I detect pleasure in his voice at the prospect?
But no, he wasn’t my first kiss. “I haven’t done it in a long time.”
“Why?”
“Too intimate. I fuck. That’s it. The less touching, the better.” The guys I pay are just a warm hole I can get pleasure from.
The hand on my hip squeezes before reluctantly dropping away. He’s about to slide his arm from around me when I grab his ass and plaster him to me.
I can see the question in his light-green, surprised eyes before he expresses it in words “Why me?”
Because you’re fucking mine.I want to say it, but the wariness on his face stops me.
“It was an exchange, if I remember correctly.”
He smirks. “Well, I prepared lunch…don’t I deserve something?”
I feel a genuine smile tilting my lips, showing my teeth. He stares at it in awe. He looks breathless while looking at me, and not because of the physical exercise.
“Where did all the air go?” he mumbles.
Unable to resist anymore, I mold his ass into my hands and crush my mouth to his. And it’s just like the first time it happened. His tongue spears inside, twisting against mine. His taste is my new addiction, the way he wants me, his desire for me. He doesn’t hide it, quite the opposite when feverishly humping my cock.
He bites my lower lip, not letting go and sinking his teeth in just like he did in the parking lot. It fucking stings, and I want to fuck him right here against the damn wall.
His hands are both on my back now, sliding under my t-shirt, soothingly brushing along my scars, and I don’t feel the need to remove them. I’m too taken by his lips devouring mine. I grip his jaw and pull his mouth open before deepening the kiss.
He breaks it off. “Fuck me.” There’s pleading in his moan, and desperation mixed with determination in his eyes. I can’t fucking resist that. We kiss again, and while one of Ollie’s hands slides down to open his jeans, the other trails up toward my neck. I grab it before it touches my head and flip him, face to the wall.
“Don’t move,” I growl. He kicks his boots aside so that I can pull his pants all the way off. His boxers as well.
“Don’t like to see these on you,” I snarl, throwing the offending garment on the pile of debris. He replies with a haughty sniff, but places his hands firmly in front of him and bends forward, so that his cheek is touching the wall.
Fuuuck! The sight of his round, firm ass is glorious. I give a plump cheek a nice hard spank. The jiggling motion and redness marking his skin brings a sense of satisfaction, like I’m claiming it as mine. The cry that leaves his mouth is so damn dirty. It makes me crazy horny.
