Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pope
Later that night
Icouldn’t stop thinking about her, about what I wanted with Olive, how she made me feel alive.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my hands braced on the granite counter, the air around me filled with fog from my recent shower. I should’ve done a cold one, tamed some of this damn arousal that ate at me. I looked down, the white towel wrapped loosely around my waist, my erection tenting the fucking material.
The truth was, I’d had a hard-on ever since that first date with Olive. And I swore the monster between my legs hadn’t gone down since. It was like he was demanding I do something about it, and jerking off was only making things worse. Yet I still did it, still stroked my dick until I came, thought of Olive and all the fucking things I wanted to do to her. And even after I was spent, my balls drained, my dick was still rock-hard.
I knew nothing would sate me until I actually had her, until I knew without a doubt she was mine. Because her being constantly on my mind, knowing she was the one for me, that no one else would ever compare to her, had me so obsessed, so addicted to her that I knew I would never be able to be happy until she was mine irrevocably.
I closed my eyes and thought about what I’d done to her earlier that day in my office.
“Christ.” I lifted my hand and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. I might have showered, but I swore I could still smell her on my fingers. My cock jerked at the memory.
I finished up in the bathroom and turned off the light, now wearing a pair of boxer briefs and heading toward my bed. I was exhausted mentally and physically from the week I’d had, but also from trying to fight, trying to control how I felt for Olive.
I pulled the comforter back on my bed and slipped in, lying on my back as I stared at the ceiling. My apartment was fifteen floors up, and despite being so elevated, I could still see the city lights reflecting across my walls.
I should have just tried to go to sleep, not reach under the covers and grip my dick. Shit, the bastard was like a rod in my palm.
I gave the length a squeeze, my other hand gripping the sheets, my hold tightening with each passing second as my arousal rose to an uncomfortable level.
I started moving my palm up and down, feeling the pre-cum on the slit and picturing Olive in my mind as I jerked off. I thought about all the things I wanted to do to her.
She was mine. I knew that without a doubt. I couldn’t give her up, not with how she made me feel, not when I’d become completely obsessed with her.
I really started jerking myself off then, bringing my hand up and down my shaft, going faster, adding a little more pressure. I thought about what we’d done in my office, how she’d climaxed for me, because of me. She’d been so fucking beautiful when she let go, when she finally let her pleasure explode. And all I’d been able to do was stand there, my eyes wide, my mouth slightly open as I had my hand between her thighs.
I flung the blanket off me with my free hand and continued to pump my palm up and down my cock. I grunted, my abdomen clenching painfully as my pleasure peaked inside me and I finally gave in. I tipped my head back, my throat arching as I groaned and thought of Olive.
I pictured her in my bed, spread out before me, my face between her thighs as I got lost in her pussy, my lips on her, my tongue inside of her. I wanted to suffocate from the smell and taste. I wanted to completely memorize everything that was her. And as my orgasm was created in me, as my cum came out of my cock in hard, white jets and landed on my stomach, I knew one thing for certain where she was concerned.
She was mine.
I would have her.
And God help me... I fucking loved her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Olive
Ishut down the computer and stood, walking over to the small closet that was nearly hidden in the wall. I pulled out my jacket and slipped it on before grabbing my purse and putting the strap over my shoulder.
It was a miracle I was leaving at a normal time and actually excited like a teenager going on her first date with the idea I’d get to see Pope. He said he’d make me dinner, that he wanted me at his house, to see his things, to be around him.
And I was hoping tonight was the night.