Page 27 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
A bedwithout Olive is useless.
Three nights was all it took to turn me into an addict, and now I can’t sleep without the weight of her limbs on me. I want her to press me into the bed with her body.
Without her, I’m unmoored, shifting constantly. Unable to find comfort.
I came here with the hope of freeing myself, only to discover I’m even more lost than before.
“Damn it,” I mutter, throwing my blankets off. Standing from the bed, I pace to the door, wondering if a midnight run on the beach might help me clear my mind. If not, maybe it’ll exhaust me enough to go to sleep.
Problem is, when I step out into the hallway, I find my way blocked.
In the glow of a nightlight plugged into the wall, she stands a foot away, hair tangled over her shoulders, clothes wrinkled, eyes wide at my appearance.
“Olive? What are you doing here?”
For a moment her gaze traces over me, and I realize I’m shirtless for the first night since arriving. When we shared a room, I thought it might make her uncomfortable. But from the way she devours me with her eyes, I’m wishing I’d tried this earlier.
Instead of answering my question, Olive asks her own.
“Do you want your own room?”
“Hell no,” I mutter before thinking it through.
But her wide grin keeps me from regretting my answer.
“Me neither,” she admits.
Then her hand raises, displaying a small item pinched between her fingers.
A condom.
The curve of her brow is a silent question.
“Hell yes,” I growl, grabbing her up with arms around her waist.
We fall onto the bed together, bouncing as our weight hits the springs. Once we settle, her stare connects with mine. We stay still like that, no words exchanged.
I know the sounds she makes when she comes. I’ve felt her inner walls grip my fingers.
But I’ve never kissed Olive Buchanan.
Six years, and I’ve never known how she tastes.
I dip my chin, finding her lips with mine. She doesn’t need coaxing. In fact, I maintain control for a second at most. Then I’m on my back, her hot thighs bracketing my hips, her hands pressing my shoulders into the bed.
Olive dominates me. Her frenzied attack makes me hard.
She came here to fuck me, and I’m ready to get fucked.
Does this encounter mean anything more than two bodies joining together?
Maybe if she didn’t sit up to pull off her top, exposing her bare breasts, I might have asked for a pause so we could talk.
But the time for conversations is done when her softness presses against my chest. This time when our mouths meet, our tongues stroke together. The taste of her is heady, and I suck on her lower lip eagerly.
She smells like sweat and sunscreen. Our bodies writhe until the last scraps of clothes get kicked off.
Every bit of my skin begs to be touched by her, but no area more than the hard length jutting from my hips. I stroke my hand over her ass, finding her core, groaning at the way my fingers slip in her arousal.
