Page 66 of When I Was His

I kissed his neck, running my tongue down the thick column of muscle. “Don’t you mean round three?”

“Whatever. Don’t tease.”

I gently sank my teeth into his nipple this time, sawing my teeth over it. Oliver sprang up and was on top of me with his erection trapped in between us.

“You want to play?” he growled.

I leveled my gaze at him. “I want you to fuck me, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh, I definitely will, but you’ll have to wait for it.”

“This place is magnificent,” I said as I gazed out to the ocean view beyond the pool. Oliver had taken his time with me this morning, deliberate in his actions as he made love to me. I was soaked and begging for him to fuck me when he finally did. We made it out to the pool just before noon.

I lounged back on the cushioned lounger, the sun kissing my skin, as I surveyed the sprawling estate around me. Dressed in a silver bikini that left little to the imagination, I felt a surge of confidence wash over me. Oliver, sporting nothing but a pair of sleek black swim trunks, reclined beside me, the epitome of casual elegance.

Despite the opulence surrounding us, I couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity about the rest of Oliver's home. From what little I had seen; it was clear that luxury was the name of the game.

The kitchen alone could rival that of a five-star restaurant, with its gleaming stainless steel appliances, pristine white cabinets, and an island of white granite that practically begged to be danced upon. It seemed Oliver had a penchant for white, evident even in the modern contemporary living room with its panoramic views of the rolling green lawn and ocean beyond.

As I soaked in the sights, Oliver rose from his lounger with easy grace, tossing his sunglasses aside before striding purposefully toward the pool. With a practiced ease, he bounced lightly on the diving board before executing a flawless swan dive, slicing through the water with effortless grace. My eyes followed him as he swam leisurely laps, each stroke a testament to his strength and athleticism.

When he finally emerged from the water, droplets cascading down his sculpted physique, I found myself captivated by the sight. His sandy hair tousled, and his skin glistened in the sunlight, he was a vision of raw masculinity. A primal desire stirred within me, an urge to reach out and pull him close, to taste the salt of his skin and lose myself in the heat of the moment.

"See something you like?" Oliver's playful voice cut through the air.

I shook my head, a smirk playing on my lips. "No."

His brow furrowed in mock offense. "You don’t?"

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "I see something I love. You’re beautiful, Oliver."

"You're the one that's beautiful. Swim with me," he suggested, extending his hand towards me.

"I want to work on my tan," I protested, settling back onto the lounger.

But Oliver had other plans. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I pounded on his back as he strode purposefully towards the edge of the pool.

"NO! Don’t you dare," I warned, my voice tinged with laughter and alarm.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Oliver leaned forward and plunged into the pool, taking me with him. I resurfaced with a sputter, splashing him playfully despite the distance between us.

"I can’t believe you just did that," I exclaimed, a mixture of amusement and indignation in my tone.

"You’re sexy when you’re angry. I should do it more often," Oliver teased.

"Upset me?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. I love the look on your face," he admitted.

"You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry," I warned, though the threat lacked any real conviction.

"I would, because we have makeup sex to look forward to," he countered, his voice husky with desire.

"You don’t need to make me angry to have sex," I murmured, swimming towards him and pressing my body against his, my hand trailing teasingly to his crotch. I leaned in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, my fingers dancing over his growing arousal.

"You're making me hard," Oliver groaned, his desire evident in his voice.

“Get used to it because I plan to do that a lot.”

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