The soft thud of his shirt hitting the floor was the only sound in the room.
Oliver positioned himself over me again, his movements slow and deliberate. As he lowered himself, the sheer, solid weight of his body pressed me into the mattress, his hard muscles contrasting with the softness of the sheets beneath me. His skin was hot against mine—a searing contact that made my breath catch. He braced his arms on either side of my head, his chest grazing mine with every shallow breath I took.
He tilted his head and captured my lips again, his hand sliding impatiently under the lace of my bra. I gasped as his hot palm finally met my bare skin, his fingers eagerly cupping the weight of my breast.
"Please..." I managed to whisper, my eyes fluttering open to meet his dark, blown out gaze.
He didn't hesitate. With a focused intensity, he guided himself against me and pushed inside, filling me slowly and deeply. The sudden, overwhelming connection made me let out a sharp, broken gasp. "Oh..."
He stayed still for a moment, letting us both adjust to the heat of it. His hands slid down, interlacing his fingers with mine—which had been resting on his shoulders—and pinned them firmly beside my head. "Shhh, breathe, Clara... just relax for me," he murmured, his voice a soothing rasp against my ear.
As I finally began to relax under him, a low, guttural groan ripped from his chest. "There you go... good girl," he whispered, before he started to move with a soft, steady rhythm. The pure, aching beauty of it brought tears to my eyes, a cry escaping me with every thrust.
He paused for a searing second, his breath hot against my neck. Suddenly, he gripped my sides and lifted me, shifting our positions with effortless power.
"On your knees, princess," he rasped, his voice dripping with command.
I obeyed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I arched my back, bracing myself on my forearms. I felt him settle behind me, his hands possessively mapping the curve of my waist and hips. The view of him over my shoulder—dark, hungry, and entirely focused on me—made my legs weak.
He didn't wait. He guided himself back in, and this time, it felt even deeper, more primal. I let out a low, needy moan as he began to move, his hands now gripping my hips to pull me back against every thrust. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against my back, one of his hands sliding around to find the sensitive spot he'd worshipped earlier, while the other slid up to tease my nipple.
"Look at me, Clara," he grunted, and I turned my head just enough to see the raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes. He seemed to be losing his mind over how tight and wet I was around him; I could feel the tension in his every muscle as he struggled to maintain control.
This was it. No more worries, no more hesitation. As we moved together, the rest of the world faded into nothingness. There was only the heat of his skin, the rhythm of our hearts, and the heaven he had promised to show me.
His hand gripped my waist with bruising force as he pounded into me. "You feel so fucking good... I can't..." he moaned, his rhythm becoming faster, more frantic. He was chasing his own release now, driving us both toward the edge.
"Ollie...!" I was completely undone, crying out his name like a prayer. He thrust faster and deeper, and my entire body began to throb with tremors of pure, electric ecstasy.
My hands dug into the bed sheets, squeezing my fingers until my knuckles turned white. "Don't stop... please..." I gasped, my voice raw and broken.
"Clara... baby... I'm close... come with me... now..."
Just as he surged into me one last time, my internal muscles clenched around him in a rhythmic pulse. I felt the world shatter into a thousand points of light.
I collapsed into the mattress, my voice rising in a high, breathless wail as I cried out his name into the quiet room. It was the sound of a total, beautiful surrender.
He froze for a second, his body tensing as he found his own release, panting heavily with his eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, he leaned down and pressed a lingering, playful kiss to my hip, letting out a dark, triumphant chuckle.
"So, princess," he murmured, his voice smug and dripping with satisfaction. "How's heaven? Did I keep my promise?"
I could only laugh into the pillow, still face down and completely spent. My legs were still trembling with the aftershocks of the electricity he'd sent through me, and my skin was slick with sweat—a chaotic mess.
"Let's get you cleaned up. Shower together?" He offered, already moving to help me up. His touch was surprisingly tender as he guided my weak, jelly like legs toward the bathroom.
But then, the distinct sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the silent house.
"Hey, I'm home."