"Just us. The entire house is just for us." His voice was a husky, promise filled whisper in the dark, and then his lips were on mine, hungry and impatient.
"Mmm..." I kissed him back softly, letting him feel that I was right there with him.
"You're so impatient, you know that?" I broke the kiss for a second, our breathing heavy in the silence.
He rested his forehead against mine, his lips still just a breath away. His voice was a low, raspy growl, thick with want. "Impatient? Gorgeous, I've been wanting to do this since I first laid eyes on you."
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue finally sweeping into my mouth.
"You have no idea how long I've waited."
"Oh, really?" I teased, breathless. "And yet… you let me be the one to ask you out first?"
He groaned against my mouth, a sound of pure, frustrated longing. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing mine with every word.
"Because I was a coward. I was so sure you'd say no. Jake's gorgeous little sister? The girl every guy at school dreamed about? I thought I didn't stand a chance."
He kissed the corner of my mouth, his gaze lingering on my eyes.
"I'm so glad I was wrong."
"Hmm, so that's why you were acting all cool and mysterious. Guess I should thank my bold little self for making you finally admit it."
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. He nipped gently at my bottom lip—a playful punishment.
"You have no idea what you do to me. I had to play it cool. It was the only way I could function when you were around."
His hands slid from the wall down my arms, his fingers lacing with mine as he pinned them against the door beside my head.
"But you're right. You were bold. And now..." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You're going to get the reward for it."
"Can't wait..." I gasped.
A low, guttural growl escaped his throat at my breathless words. It was the only permission he needed.
He lifted me effortlessly, one arm hooking under my thighs as he pressed my back firmly against the door. His lips crashed down on mine again, silencing any other sound I might make.
"You won't have to," he murmured against my mouth.
He was already walking, carrying me deeper into the dark house as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Hah…" I panted softly, catching my breath.
He didn't stop. His stride was long and purposeful as he navigated the familiar layout of his house in the dark. My soft panting by his ear seemed to spur him on. His grip on my thighs tightened as he took the stairs two at a time, the only sounds being his heavy footsteps and our mingled breathing.
"Almost there...," he grunted, the words a low vibration against my neck.
He laid me on his bed gently.
"Oliver…"
I whispered his name, my voice small and breathy. The mattress sank under our combined weight. His body followed me down, hovering over me, his hands braced on either side of my head.
In the darkness of the room, he couldn't see me clearly, but he felt the heat radiating from my skin. Hearing me whisper his name like that—so soft and vulnerable—seemed to make something primal clench deep inside him.
He lowered his head, his lips finding the pulse point on my throat.
"'m right here, gorgeous," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick and rough with need. "Not going anywhere."
He kissed a slow, wet trail from my throat up my jawline, his breath hot against my skin. His thumbs gently stroked my cheeks as he continued his exploration, mapping the curves of my face with his lips in the dark.
"I've dreamed about this... about having you in my bed."
His voice was a raw, honest whisper, all his earlier smooth confidence stripped away by pure, undiluted want.
"I can't believe you're really here."
I smiled at him, looking up. "Shhhh..."
He paused, his lips hovering just above mine. A soft, low chuckle escaped him, the sound more a vibration I felt than heard.
"What's the matter? Am I talking too much?"
He kissed me then, a slow, gentle press of lips that was more reassuring than demanding.
"Okay. No more talking."
He kept his promise. His mouth met mine again, and this time, there were no more words.
The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue sweeping past my lips to tangle with my own in a ravenous dance. His body pressed down, letting me feel the full, hard length of him against my stomach.
His hands left the mattress. One tangled in my hair to angle my head, the other sliding down my body, over my hip, to the hem of my blouse. His fingers found the edge, hooking underneath the fabric.
He broke the kiss for only a second, his breath hot and ragged against my lips.
"Is this okay?"
Without waiting for a verbal answer, his eyes searching mine in the dark, he took my silence as consent. In one smooth motion, he pulled the blouse off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness.
The cool air of the bedroom hit my exposed skin, making my nipples harden instantly. His gaze dropped, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in from the window.
A low, appreciative groan rumbled in his chest. "Fuck... you're even more perfect than I imagined."
I grinned teasingly. "Now… let me see yours."
A low, throaty chuckle rumbled in his chest. He pushed himself up slightly, resting on his elbows to give me room. His eyes were gleaming in the dark, full of heat and amusement.
"Oh, you want to see?" He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. "You want to undress me, gorgeous?"
He lifted his arms, an open invitation. "Be my guest. It's all yours."
I pulled his black leather jacket and white t shirt over his head, revealing his torso. I reached down, teasingly tugging at the waistband of his pants, my eyes daring him.
A sharp, shaky breath escaped him as my fingers brushed against the heated skin of his stomach. His abs clenched reflexively under my touch. When I tugged at his waistband, a low groan was torn from his throat.
He dropped his forehead to mine, his eyes screwed shut for a second.
"Fuck, Clara..." His voice was a raw, strained whisper. "You're going to be the death of me. Don't tease. Just take them off."
His hands found my hips, his grip tight and possessive as he arched his hips up, pushing himself against my hand.
"Please."
My fingers fumbled for a moment with the button of his jeans, the small action feeling incredibly intimate in the charged silence. I slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room.
Oliver sucked in a sharp breath.
With his hips still arched toward me, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pulled, dragging the rough denim down over his narrow hips and powerful thighs. He helped, kicking them off the rest of the way until they joined my blouse somewhere on the floor.
He was left in nothing but a pair of dark boxer briefs. Even in the dim light, there was no hiding the impressive, strained bulge pressing against the fabric.
He looked down at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression raw and needy.
"Better?" he asked, his voice thick.
"Not yet. I said I wanted to see everything," I grinned mischievously.
He groaned—a low, frustrated sound that was half pleasure, half agony. He looked down at my teasing grin, then back at the straining fabric of his boxers.
A dark, possessive look crossed his face.
"You're playing a dangerous game, gorgeous."
He reached down, his hand closing over mine where it rested on his hip.
"You want to see everything? Fine. But you're the one who has to take them off. I want to feel your hands on me."
"Say please first," I smirked, hooking my fingers in the waistband just a little.
His jaw clenched. A low, feral growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, frustrated need.
He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a bruising, hungry kiss. His free hand tangled in my hair, holding me still.
"Please," he bit my bottom lip—hard enough to make me gasp.
"Now."
He whispered the word against my mouth like a command.
"Take them off. Please."
I pulled back just enough to look at him, a playful smirk on my lips. "Oh, demanding, aren't you? Maybe you need a little reminder of who's really in charge here."
He groaned, the sound a ragged mix of frustration and pure want. He let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against mine. His breathing was harsh in the silence of the room.
"You're killing me, Clara. You know that, right?"
He lifted his head, his eyes burning into mine.
"Okay. You're in charge. I'm all yours. Just tell me what to do. Whatever you want... just please."
I smiled slowly, finally satisfied. "That's better."
I trailed my finger along the waistband, not pulling—just letting it snap lightly against his skin. "Maybe I'll take these off… maybe I won't."
Ollie's breath stuttered. His hands gripped the sheets beside my hips, his knuckles white.
"Clara… please."
His voice was a strained, desperate rasp, his control hanging by a thread. He let out a shaky breath, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Don't do this to me..."
He pushed himself up, shifting his weight until he was kneeling
between my legs, his hands framing my face.
"Okay? You win. You're in charge." His gaze was wild, pleading. "Just tell me what you want from me. I'll do anything. Just please... touch me."
I grinned and gently lowered the waistband, finally wrapping my hand around him.
"Fuck. You're even more perfect than I imagined, too."