Page 78 of Dirty Player

“Get over it, turd!” I shouted back before nodding at Oliver. “I’m okay. But you didn’t have to go caveman on him.”

He showed no sign of remorse. “I might have been more forceful than necessary, but you wanted him to leave you alone.” His brow furrowed. “Didn’t you?”

“I did. I just wasn’t expecting you to talk about your dick on the phone to my ex, I guess.”

I laughed then, softly, shaking off what had happened. Melissa would think it was hilarious. Maybe Oliver had a point: Patrick hadn’t been listening to me, and the very fact that he seemed confused I’d actually moved my stuff out showed how delusional he was—that maybe he thought I was considering crawling back to him and taking his scraps.

“I have to finish unpacking.”

Oliver checked his watch at his wrist. “How about we all go out for dinner first and take a break. You’ve been working all day, right?”

I had. I had been up at six in the morning when he left for early practice. I’d spent hours down at Stamped, making jewelry before the movers had arrived.

Putting my hands to his shoulders, I leaned up as far as I could and kissed his muscled throat. “Dinner would be good.”

***

My orgasm was quickly barreling down on me. I was on my hands and knees. My arms shook and my thighs trembled as fire and impending release spread throughout my body.

“Oliver.” I panted his name through parched lips. He drove into me hard, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of me that made me quake for him. “Please.”

“Get there,” he growled. He was on his knees behind me, one hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to him as he continued powering into me, his other hand down by mine.

I dropped my head, unable to hold myself up, and reached my hand to cover his. My fingers dug into the back of his hand as my body lit with fire.

Needless to say, we were breaking in my bed, and it wasn’t just great sex. It was fantastic.

“Come,” he commanded. He lost his quick rhythm and just before everything inside me began to tighten in culmination, he pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and slid right back inside. “Fuck it. I want to see you.”

My limbs wrapped around his body. My knees lifted high next to him, my heels digging into his lower back.

My hands dug into his shoulders.

“Coming,” I panted, feeling it overtake me. It was powerful and long as the shocks rolled through my body and I clung to him, tightening every limb until I pulled him down, chest to chest, his lips inches above mine.

“Beautiful.” He leaned down, claiming my mouth with his own. As I rode wave after wave of my orgasm, his movement jilted.

I heard something in the distance—like lightning hitting the Earth—right as he bellowed out my name, seating himself deep inside me, so deep it almost hurt, but damn it was good.

That crack I heard shook the floor beneath us and we fell to the floor.

“Ah!” I squealed and held on to him tighter.

“Holy fuck,” he panted as his weight collapsed on top of me, jarring me and stealing my breath.

“What the hell?”

He lifted his head, his lips pulled back in amusement. “I think we broke your bed.”

“Or we had an earthquake,” I said, barely able to contain my giggle.

His eyes lit with fake fury. “Trust me. As hard as I just fucked you, we broke the bed.”

“So sure of yourself.”

“The bed is crooked.” Oliver smiled, a beautiful mouth with shiny white teeth surrounded by full lips that had tasted every inch of my body.

I looked to my left, still clinging to him, and saw that he was right. One side of the bed was much higher than the other, and we were still lying at an angle.

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