Page 52 of Oliver
I bent to grab it, Zahra’s mouth at my throat, kissing, biting, testing me. And I snapped.
I lifted her off the ground, her thighs locking around me as I shoved the keycard into the slot while her hands worked at the buttons of my shirt with such urgency, one popped off, pinging against the wall.
By the time the door opened and we tumbled in, I was half undressed.
Every touch felt like crossing a line we couldn't uncross. Every gasp sounded like surrender.
This wasn't in the script, but we were too far gone into our roles, too deep into this act that had stopped feeling like acting somewhere between the bus and our door.
A breathless whimper, her body trembling under my hands, and I forgot how to breathe.
“Dammit, Zahra, do you even know what you’re doing to me?”
She exhaled, slow and unsteady, her lashes fluttering. Her lips, already swollen from my kiss, parted like she was about to answer.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her fingers dragged down my stomach and hooked into my waistband, teasing with a barely-there touch—fuck,fuck, fuck. It was deliberate, wild, and it sent my brain into freefall.
I claimed her mouth with a hunger that shook me, backing her toward the bed with purpose. Tomorrow, we could blame the alcohol, the adrenaline, the need to maintain our cover. Tonight, I let something deeper take over—something primal and possessive that had been building since the moment I saw Ryan's eyes on her.
My shirt hit the floor, then Zahra's hands worked my pants down my legs, my meticulous control disintegrating under her palms. Everything I'd pushed down, ignored, kept bottled up inside came flooding out all at once.
She’d turned me from a logic-driven man to a man possessed.
I unzipped her dress, letting it pool at her ankles. The sight of her in black lace—delicate, barely-there, clinging to her curves like a second skin—ignited something feral in me, a hunger so deep it felt like it had been carved into my bones. My breath came in ragged gasps, my vision narrowing to her and only her.
Zahra, real and solid in my arms, her golden skin flushed with desire, her eyes dark and molten as they met mine. She looked at me like I was something worthy, something she wanted, and it released something dormant inside me.
I didn’t think about stopping. I couldn’t. The rational part of my brain—the part that calculated orbital trajectories and contractual clauses—was gone, drowned in a tidal wave of need. I needed her, needed to taste her, to feel her, to claim her in a way that left no room for doubt.
With a growl that tore from my chest, I grabbed her by the hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, and threw her onto the bed. She landed with a gasp, her hair fanning out across the white sheets, her chest heaving as she looked up at me with wide, wanting eyes. The sight of her sprawled out, vulnerableand mine, sent a surge of possessive heat through me, my cock throbbing painfully in my boxers.
I dropped to my knees at the edge of the bed, my hands rough as I yanked her thighs apart, the black lace of her panties already soaked through, and I licked my lips.
“Look at that pretty pussy, so wet just for me.” The scent of her arousal hit me like a drug, musky and sweet, and I groaned, my mouth watering with a thirst I’d never experienced before.
I tore the lace aside, too impatient to remove them properly, and buried my face between her thighs, dragging my tongue up her slit, pulling a long, needy moan from her.
“Fuck, Zahra,” I rasped against her, my voice muffled as I licked another long, slow stripe. She was sweet and tangy, her taste coating my tongue, and I groaned again, driven to the edge of reason.
I hooked her knees over my shoulders, hands stretching to cover her perfect tits as I proceeded to eat her out like it was my first meal in decades, my tongue plunging into her, swirling around her clit, sucking hard until her hips bucked against my face.
Her hands fisted in my hair, pulling hard, her nails digging into my scalp as she moaned my name, the sound raw and desperate.
“Oliver… Oh God… Please…” Her thighs trembled around my head, her body arching with a wide-eyed gasp, and I doubled my efforts, my arms pinning her to the bed as I devoured her.
It was like her cum was the only substance in the world that could quench this uncontrollable thirst, the only thing that could sate the primal need clawing at my insides.
I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking my tongue against it in a relentless rhythm, my fingers plucking at her pebbled nipples.
Her essence coated my chin, my lips, and dripped down my throat. I wanted more—neededmore. More of my name bouncing off the walls of our room in desperate cries, more of her back arching off the bed, her thighs squeezing my head, her fingers clutching my hair like it was her only anchor to this world.
Her orgasm hit like a supernova, her body convulsing as she screamed my name, her thighs clamping around my head, her cum flooding my mouth. I drank her down, licking her through every shudder, every aftershock, until she was whimpering and trembling beneath me.
Then I kissed up her body, salt exploding on my tongue, mixing with the taste of her climax. It drove me wild, feeding my insatiable appetite for her.
I nipped at the smooth skin of her stomach, then drew a perfectly straight line with my tongue from her navel to the hollow of her throat. Each small act of desire was met with soft gasps and whimpers, and I wanted them all for myself.
