Page 63 of When I Was His

“Oh fuck,” he growled.

“I want you inside.”

“Then stop what you’re doing before you make me come.”

I leaned forward, placing my hands on Oliver’s shoulders. My long mahogany hair brushed his face as I moved back and forth. With each stroke, cock tip hit my clit in just the right way. I wanted to come, and I was reaching the point of no return.

“Stop, Ryleigh,” Oliver panted.

I didn’t, and he moaned, placing his hands on my thighs. He murmured for me to stop again, but I ignored him. I sped up my hips, and he dug his nails into my skin as I started to come. I didn’t stop moving, wanting him to climax. A few seconds later, jets of cum spurted up his stomach and chest as he grunted. I continued to move until we both finished, and then I folded my body onto his. Oliver held me tightly with his arms around my back.

“I thought you wanted me to make love to you,” he whispered.

“You’ve been giving me pleasure for weeks and ask nothing in return. I wanted to give you this.”

“We made a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

His cum was sticky and warm against my belly and chest, but I didn’t care. It was part of Oliver, and I loved him. He held me for a few minutes, planting kisses on my cheek.

“We should shower.”

“I agree.”

He let me go, and I rose off him. The scent of sex was thick in the air as I moved from the bed. Oliver followed, taking my hand to lead me into the bathroom. He flicked the light on, and I squinted. The room was huge and white. The shower stall was the size of a small bedroom with two large white tiled benches and three shower heads.

He reached into the glass enclosure to turn on all three shower heads, and when he turned back, I got a good look at his body. His dick was still semi-erect, glistening in the bright lights with my juices. He had come a lot, and our bodies were coated.

“We never discussed birth control,” he said quietly.

I searched his face for traces of anger, but there were none.

“I take birth control, and you know we’ve both been tested.”

“I just wanted to be sure.”

"I wouldn't trap you with a baby," I blurted out, the words tinged with a hint of desperation.

"That was the furthest from my mind. I want children," Oliver responded, his tone soft but resolute.

My heart skipped a beat. "That's not the point. The point is that we barely know each other."

"Don't you want children?" he pressed, his gaze searching mine.

I wondered if I answered differently if it would be a game changer in our relationship.

"Yes, but not this soon. I'm only twenty-two," I confessed, the weight of our conversation settling heavily between us.

“Our children would be beautiful. The water is warm; let’s shower.”

He held the thick glass door open for me, and I stepped into the stall. Oliver lovingly washed me with his hands and vanilla-scented body wash. I let him because I wanted him to touch me. He paid particularly close attention to my breasts, taking each of my nipples in his mouth to suck.

I, in turn, washed him while he watched as my fingers stroked over his body. We spent over twenty minutes in the shower, and by the time he wrapped me in a thick white terry towel, I was ready for sex. I reached for him, stroking his shaft, which was thick with arousal from our shower. Even at thirty-six, he had a low refractory rate, and he got hard quickly.

Oliver pulled the towel from my body and turned me to face the large white granite vanity.

“Spread your legs,” he growled.

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