Page 26 of Your Second Chance
The pause that followed was electric, the room thick with tension.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly, his control slipping.
No.
“Yes.”
I didn’t stop, didn’t falter, but every nerve in my body burned with anticipation as I waited for him to move closer, to take over. I didn’t care about anything else—not the consequences, not the reality—just the aching need consuming me.
“Nova,” he murmured, his voice thick and gruff as he shifted, climbing onto the bed beside me.
The room seemed impossibly smaller, the air charged with something I couldn’t name, but craved desperately. He was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. From here, I could see the hard, throbbing length of his cock, straining against the fabric.
His hand skimmed up my thigh, dragging fire across my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath as his touch climbed higher, until his fingers finally reached me. He pressed—slow at first—before slipping inside, curling in a way that made me gasp, my hips bucking into his touch. With his other hand, he braced against the bed, muscles taut, jaw strained as if he were holding himself back.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice raw, his gaze burning into mine.
“This is for pleasure,” I murmured.
Ollie brushed his thumb over my clit.
“Look at me, love,” he demanded, his tone a mix of command and something softer—something almost pleading.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head.
I couldn’t look at him. Looking at him would make this real. It would mean I wasn’t in some fever dream, letting a man—essentially a stranger—take me apart in his bed, with his parents a stone’s throw away. I couldn’t face that.
“Tell me this is... a need,” I demanded, my voice tight. “It means nothing but...”
But release. But relief. But a way to ease the ache and forget everything else for a little while.
I had to know he was on the same page. There couldn’t be feelings involved. This had to be physical. Simply physical.
“Whatever you need, love. Anything.”
Agh. That wasn’t a clear answer, and for a moment, I hesitated.
Then he did this thing—god,that thing—where he pushed his fingers deeper inside me, curling them perfectly, hitting a spot that sent white-hot pleasure rocketing through my body.
I gasped, my head falling back against the pillow as my body arched into his touch.
“Take me,” I gasped.
His fingers moved faster, relentless and precise, pulling sounds from me I didn’t even recognize.
He shifted, spreading my legs apart with his large hands.
Before I could register the movement, his mouth descended, hot and demanding, and everything felt wildly out-of-body.
I’d been eaten out before, but this—this—was something else entirely. His tongue moved like he’d been designed for this, built for women,built for me.
“Fuck, Ollie,” I gasped, clawing at the sheets as his mouth worked me with devastating skill.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but feel.
It was too much. The pressure, the pleasure, the overwhelming intensity.
My body screamed it wasn’t enough, and I pushed my hips toward him, desperate for more, for him to take me right to the edge and shove me over.
