Page 50 of When He Was Mine

“The music is so loud, and this room is almost soundproof,” he reassured me, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.

I hadn’t realized it before, but the music was barely audible in our secluded spot. Lost in the moment, I hadn’t paid attention to anything but Oliver and the pleasure he was giving me.

With newfound confidence, I reached down and undid his belt, opening his zipper and stroking his cock.

“How long have you been like this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my desire for him overwhelming any sense of inhibition.

“Two hours. You should’ve let me make love to you before your friends arrived,” Oliver confessed, his voice filled with longing.

“We would’ve had two minutes,” I countered, a hint of regret in my tone.

“It would have been enough to take the edge off until we got home tonight,” he reasoned, his desire evident in his words.

“Oliver, you don’t make love quickly. It’s not in your DNA,” I pointed out, smiling at his eagerness.

“I was so turned on by you. This little sexy dress clinging to every beautiful curve on your body,” he admitted, his voice husky with desire.

I felt a rush of warmth at his words, grateful for the way he saw me. Despite the constraints of time and circumstance, the intensity of our connection remained unwavering, and I knew that our passion would only grow stronger as the night progressed.

I stroked him more vigorously as he latched onto my ear and took the diamond stud I had on my lobe into his mouth as he sucked. He moaned against me, making me even hotter. The orgasm I experienced a few minutes ago did nothing to calm me. My nipples strained against the cloth of my dress in hard peaks.

“Slow down or I’ll come,” he growled.

“That’s the point,” I muttered.

“I want to come inside you. I’ve been thinking about your hot little pussy all night. It’s the only way.”

“Unless I make you come with my mouth,” I whispered.

Oliver groaned. “Another time.”

He pushed my hand away, reaching into his pocket to retrieve something. I heard a tear of paper.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A condom. There’s no proper place to clean up here.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a private bathroom in here.”

I helped him peel his underwear down and the latex made a noise as he rolled it on. He pulled my dress over my head and expertly reached back to unclasp my damp bra before he knelt to remove my panties. I slid out of my shoes so he could take them off.

“Put the shoes back on,” he requested.

“Why am I naked and you’re still dressed?”

“Do you want to argue, or do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.

“I want to feel your skin against mine.”

He backed away as I slipped on my four-inch heels. I saw him move in front of me and heard the whisper of his sweater coming off and the jingle of change as his jeans came down. Oliver reached for my hand, placing it against his bare chest.

“Happy?”

“Very,” I said, stroking his muscles. “I love feeling you like this.”

He lifted me in his arms, pressing me against the smooth wall and cupping my ass with his hands. I felt his cock pressed at my entrance and he let me down slowly. I hooked my ankles around his waist and wrapped my arms around his neck as I engulfed him.

“You feel so fucking good,” I moaned.

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