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"Jesus Christ, Ryleigh, you're like a spring trigger," he groaned, his grip tightening on my hips.
"You feel so good," I moaned, my voice breathy and full of need.
Oliver's pace quickened, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one sending sparks of pleasure through my body. I could feel the tension building again, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I came undone once more.
Oliver flexed his hips and curled his fingers around my flesh, pumping inside me in a methodical rhythm. As he moved, I could feel my orgasm rising and then he stopped, causing me to mewl in protest. Oliver pulled out of me, climbed on the bed and leaned his back against the padded headboard. His cock was inviting and glistening with my juices.
“I want you in my arms.”
“I was so close,” I whispered.
“And you shall be again. You should’ve eaten because you’re going to need your strength tonight.”
I bit my lip. “I wasn’t hungry. I was nervous.”
He gestured for me to come to him, and I crawled along the bed, standing on the unsteady mattress so I could sink down on his erection. He groaned as I enveloped him and settled in his lap. Oliver slid the pads of his fingers along my spine, caressing the skin as we rocked.
He pressed his lips to my ear. “I love you, Ryleigh. You’re my one and only, my true love.”
I sighed. “Sometimes you sound like a teenager.”
“You make me feel that way.”
Oliver reached between us to rub my swollen nub, he applied just the right amount of pressure, and I broke apart, leaning back against his raised legs. And still, he kept rocking. After five nights of no sex, I expected him to explode quickly but that wasn’t the case. His staying power was incredible.
We made love several times that night until I was sore and begging him to leave me alone. He gave in and curled his body around mine. We faded off to sleep just before 2:30 a.m. with Oliver wishing me a happy birthday.
“Ryleigh, baby, you need to get up or we’re going to miss our flight,” Oliver said, his voice pulling me from the edges of sleep.
“Go away. I’m exhausted and it’s my birthday. What time is it?” I mumbled into my pillow, not ready to face the day.
“6 a.m.,” he replied, his tone firm but gentle.
I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow. “Are you out of your mind? We went to bed four hours ago.”
“You can sleep on the plane,” he suggested, trying to coax me out of bed.
“That’s only two and a half hours. I need like eight hours or more,” I protested, feeling the weight of my exhaustion.
“Up. You only need to get dressed. You’re already packed,” he reminded me, his persistence unwavering.
“I can’t just get dressed. I’m a sticky mess from you,” I complained, turning over to face him.
Oliver smirked. “From me? You had a hand in our lovemaking if I remember correctly. I made the early part of your birthday memorable.”
“Shut up. Can’t we fly out later?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.
“No. Now get up, especially if you want to shower. I’ll get it started for you,” he said, heading into the bathroom. I heard the water start running, a gentle invitation to wake up.
I dragged myself from bed, my body protesting every movement, and walked naked into the bathroom. Oliver was shaving, his face focused on the mirror. I groaned again.
“What’s your problem?” he asked, glancing at me.
“Why are you shaving? I like the scruff,” I said, pouting slightly.
“I won’t shave this week and you can have all the scruff you want,” he promised with a wink.
“I hope so,” I muttered, stepping into the shower. The hot spray hit me, waking me up a bit more.
