Page 17 of The Negotiator
“Good. Now let me have mine.”
“W-what do you?—”
Oliver drops to his knees and parts my legs, sliding my dress to my waist until he’s at eye level with my pussy. Only my thong covers me. He doesn’t say anything as he hooks his fingers on the waistband and tugs it down my legs.
Without taking his eyes off me, he brings the thin fabric to his face and inhales deeply. “This is mine now,” he declares and slips it into his pocket.
“Y-you have three of my panties already. What? Are you starting your collection?”
His face splits into a smug grin. “You noticed just now?”
“Oliver, I?—”
I lose my train of thought when he grips my thighs and drags his tongue along my slit before flattening it on my clit. I almost fly out of my seat but grab his head instead.
Oliver drapes my legs over his broad shoulders and leans forward until he’s eating me with everything he’s got. Just when I think nothing can top the way he alternates between licking my pussy and teasing my sensitive nub, he parts my folds with his thumbs and shoves his tongue inside me.
“God, yes. More. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He hums his approval and saws his tongue in and out of me, my hips jerking in response. And when he rubs circles around my clit with his thumb while he fucks me with his tongue, my breaths come in short bursts and I come.
Oliver doesn’t give me another chance to breathe. He lifts me into his arms and deposits me on the table. I lift myself on my elbows to watch what’s going to do next, only to find him dropping his pants to the floor and fisting his rigid cock.
“Oliver, can they hear us below?”
He only smiles. “Yes.”
The next thing I know, he’s pounding me into a screaming, trembling mess. Hard, merciless thrusts that have me gripping the edge of the table, every nerve in my body singing in pleasure.
My thighs continue to shake until Oliver growls and pulls out, spilling his come all over my dress, legs, and stomach. The animalistic gleam in his eyes intensifies, and he leans over to kiss me. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Oliver. You crazy man.”
EPILOGUE
OLIVER
“Okay, so here’s what’s on the menu for Cordelia’s tenth birthday.” Olivia taps her pen on the clipboard, her forehead creased in concentration. “Sausage rolls, loaded potato skins, marshmallows dipped in chocolate, shell-shaped biscuits, pizza sliders, fruit skewers, mac and cheese, birthday cake fudge, and maybe some chicken strips.”
More than a decade of marriage and I still can’t believe this woman is mine. Olivia grew out her hair, and it now reached her waist. I love tunneling my fingers into that soft, curly mane. After giving birth, her hips widened, and Jesus, the way it let me grab them as I rammed into her from behind could make me come in three seconds.
It bothered her how much she changed, and I would always tell her the same thing—she’s fucking beautiful and sexy either way.
She’s been a ball of nervous energy lately because it’s the first time we’re throwing a birthday party for our only child, Cordelia. Olivia picked out her name, which meant ‘daughter of the sea’. And right now, this daughter of the sea is busy braiding shells and whatnot into her grandmother’s hair.
Cordelia looks a lot like her mom, but her eyes are chocolate brown instead of hazel. She also inherited Olivia’s spirit. I’ve been mentally bracing myself to have not one but two alpha females in our household in a few years.
I mean, even at ten, Cordelia takes no shit from anyone, including me and her aunt Sammy.
“I think those are perfect, love. Don’t worry about it. Our guests are mainly kids. They’ll eat raw cookie dough if you serve them.”
“Ugh. I know.” Olivia puts down her pen and massages her temples. I go behind her and dig my fingers into the tense muscles of her shoulders. She moans and leans into me. My cock twitches at the sound, but I don’t tease her like I normally do. She’s stressed enough as it is.
“It’ll be perfect. Just relax. Besides, I bought her a gift she’ll surely love.”
“From Paris?”
“Yes.”