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He hugged me tightly, planting a kiss on my cheek. Benny and I had known each other since elementary school, when he moved to Hudson Brook in fifth grade. We’d been friends ever since, and I considered him one of my best friends.
Clinging to his sweaty shirt, I hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort in his embrace. When I let go, I turned as Brenda tapped me on the shoulder, holding out her phone. I frowned as I took it from her hand and put it to my ear.
“Yes?” I answered, curious about the unexpected call.
“Come downstairs,” Oliver growled, his voice low and commanding.
“Downstairs where?” I questioned, puzzled by his request.
“Below the VIP deck is a hidden door near the stairs. Let Trevor escort you,” he instructed firmly.
“What’s your problem?” I couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at his tone.
“Humor me, Ryleigh,” Oliver insisted, his voice stern.
Reluctantly, I handed the phone back to Brenda and glanced at Trevor, who nodded in confirmation. It seemed Oliver had given him advance notice of his request. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of my friends, I told them I had to check with club security. If I said I needed the bathroom, Lisa and Diane might want to join me.
Trevor led me down the stairs, and I felt the curious gazes of several people as I descended. The panel under the stairs popped open, and I was pulled into a darkened room before the door shut behind me. In the dim light, I could make out Oliver’s silhouette and catch the familiar scent of his cologne. He wrapped his arms around me, latching onto my neck and leaving a trail of kisses.
“Oliver, what are you doing here?” I whispered, feeling a mix of surprise and desire.
“I’m going crazy thinking about you,” he confessed, his breath hot against my skin.
“Are you sure it wasn’t because another man had his hands on me?” I teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.
“Who touched you?” Oliver’s voice was suddenly tense, and I realized he was serious.
“Benny hugged me, and you called a few seconds later. There’s nothing between us.” I reassured him, feeling a pang of guilt for unintentionally causing him distress.
“I know that. I’m not jealous,” Oliver admitted. “But I spent the last two hours with my dick as hard as steel. I need you.”
“I’m a mess. I need a shower,” I protested weakly, feeling torn between desire and practicality.
“I don’t care. I want you,” Oliver insisted, his voice husky with desire.
He moved, slowly pressing me against the wall.
“What is this place?” I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity as Oliver's hands roamed over my body.
“It’s my personal office. No one except Jordan comes in here,” he explained, his tone possessive.
I felt sweaty and disheveled from dancing, and I tried to push his hands away as he lifted my dress and slid his hands between my thighs. Despite my protests, I could feel the dampness of my panties, a clear indication of my arousal.
“Stop fighting me, Ryleigh,” Oliver commanded, his voice firm but tinged with desire.
“I’m disgusting,” I protested weakly, feeling self-conscious about my sweaty state.
“I don’t care. You’re sexy to me no matter what,” he reassured me, his hands now roughly cupping my breasts.
With his touch igniting a fire within me, I yielded to him, allowing him to pull my dress up over my hips. Our lips met in a fervent kiss, and I ran my fingers through his hair as he explored me with his fingers, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. When his thumb found my clit, I couldn't contain the pleasure, whimpering into his mouth as I climaxed.
So responsive tonight,” Oliver murmured.
“It’s been two days,” I confessed, feeling a flush of embarrassment at my lack of control.
“You want me as badly as I want you. I want to hear you scream the next time I make you come,” he whispered, his breath feathering against my ear.
“But people will hear,” I protested, suddenly conscious of our surroundings.
