film.”
I let out a breath as I’m about to respond, but I’m too late.
“Just let me take you out for dinner. We can get more in depth, and I’ll give you the rough draft of the script I should be finished revising soon.”
“Jesus, you wrote it, too?” My resolve about not working with him again is crumbling because the words “more in depth” makes me think instantly of sex. Oliver, while older than a lot of the men I like being with, is incredible in bed. He’s attentive and makes sure he hits the spots he knows I like the most. Once, he spent an hour with his face between my thighs, and his fingers in my depths. There was no way to keep track of how much I came that day, because after that, his long, steady, slow strokes drove me to the brink, over and over again. Oliver is the one person who can make me want the slow, tender stuff.
“Cole, I’ll be a gentleman.”
This makes me smile. “When aren’t you a gentleman?”
“Will you have dinner with me?”
Before I can seal myself and become nothing more than an actor playing Collette Shroud, I say, “You can take me out for Thai.”
I wasn’t even fifteen minutes into dinner with Oliver when I surrendered. His honeyed voice and daring intellect charmed me back into his arms, which is what always happens. We will both enjoy the night, but I won’t fool myself into thinking it’s a true reconnection and a new beginning of an actual relationship. Our bodies together will make the night beautiful, but I can’t and won’t get swept away again.
Not with Oliver. Not with anyone.
Now as he presses me down into the rented bed of my hotel suite, I keep my body open, but my heart closely guarded. We’re still fully clothed, even though we’ve been pawing at each other for the past half hour. He has a way of making foreplay last forever.
The light scent of his cologne mixed with the heady pheromones we’re both sending out has me spun. I feel intoxicated, but had nothing to drink but water with dinner. Situations like these are dangerous, and I can’t allow myself to enjoy him too much. He’s temporary.
Oliver is always temporary.
Finally, he slips his hands underneath my ruffle sleeve camisole. He doesn’t go straight for my breasts like a young man would. He never goes straight for anything. Oliver prefers the scenic route.
When my shirt is off, he runs his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, across my belly, then, and only then, does he cup my breasts. Oliver lifts the left cup of my bra, and runs his palm over the mound of flesh. My nipple hardens under his touch, and I arch my back in hopes of gaining more of it. He repeats the action with my right breast, and I tighten my legs around his hips in response. I can feel his hard cock between my legs, and I want it.
I won’t beg though. At least not yet.
Oliver pulls back and flashes that sexy, devilish smile down at me. “Have you missed me like I’ve missed you?”
I don’t want to talk so I lean up and kiss his throat and run my hands up under his T-shirt. When it’s bunched up under his arms, he complies and raises them so I can remove it.
His chest is just as defined as the last time I saw it. It’s as if the past two years haven’t elapsed. He never seems to grow any older.
With one hand in the middle of my chest, he presses me carefully back down. I use my leverage to rub myself on him, then grab Oliver by the neck and bring him down to me. The sparse, soft hairs of his chest tickle my breasts and send chills up and down my flesh.
Oliver thrusts his hips while he sucks on my neck. He knows how much I love it, but he asks anyway. “Want more?”
I’m breathless, and while I don’t want to be needy, and I don’t want to beg, I’m ready to.
He doesn’t give me the chance. His mouth covers mine, and his tongue enters. I suck on it, giving him a preview of what I’ll do if he just takes off his pants.
We kiss until I grow frustrated. I push him away and
I let out a breath as I’m about to respond, but I’m too late.
“Just let me take you out for dinner. We can get more in depth, and I’ll give you the rough draft of the script I should be finished revising soon.”
“Jesus, you wrote it, too?” My resolve about not working with him again is crumbling because the words “more in depth” makes me think instantly of sex. Oliver, while older than a lot of the men I like being with, is incredible in bed. He’s attentive and makes sure he hits the spots he knows I like the most. Once, he spent an hour with his face between my thighs, and his fingers in my depths. There was no way to keep track of how much I came that day, because after that, his long, steady, slow strokes drove me to the brink, over and over again. Oliver is the one person who can make me want the slow, tender stuff.
“Cole, I’ll be a gentleman.”
This makes me smile. “When aren’t you a gentleman?”
“Will you have dinner with me?”
Before I can seal myself and become nothing more than an actor playing Collette Shroud, I say, “You can take me out for Thai.”
I wasn’t even fifteen minutes into dinner with Oliver when I surrendered. His honeyed voice and daring intellect charmed me back into his arms, which is what always happens. We will both enjoy the night, but I won’t fool myself into thinking it’s a true reconnection and a new beginning of an actual relationship. Our bodies together will make the night beautiful, but I can’t and won’t get swept away again.
Not with Oliver. Not with anyone.
Now as he presses me down into the rented bed of my hotel suite, I keep my body open, but my heart closely guarded. We’re still fully clothed, even though we’ve been pawing at each other for the past half hour. He has a way of making foreplay last forever.
The light scent of his cologne mixed with the heady pheromones we’re both sending out has me spun. I feel intoxicated, but had nothing to drink but water with dinner. Situations like these are dangerous, and I can’t allow myself to enjoy him too much. He’s temporary.
Oliver is always temporary.
Finally, he slips his hands underneath my ruffle sleeve camisole. He doesn’t go straight for my breasts like a young man would. He never goes straight for anything. Oliver prefers the scenic route.
When my shirt is off, he runs his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, across my belly, then, and only then, does he cup my breasts. Oliver lifts the left cup of my bra, and runs his palm over the mound of flesh. My nipple hardens under his touch, and I arch my back in hopes of gaining more of it. He repeats the action with my right breast, and I tighten my legs around his hips in response. I can feel his hard cock between my legs, and I want it.
I won’t beg though. At least not yet.
Oliver pulls back and flashes that sexy, devilish smile down at me. “Have you missed me like I’ve missed you?”
I don’t want to talk so I lean up and kiss his throat and run my hands up under his T-shirt. When it’s bunched up under his arms, he complies and raises them so I can remove it.
His chest is just as defined as the last time I saw it. It’s as if the past two years haven’t elapsed. He never seems to grow any older.
With one hand in the middle of my chest, he presses me carefully back down. I use my leverage to rub myself on him, then grab Oliver by the neck and bring him down to me. The sparse, soft hairs of his chest tickle my breasts and send chills up and down my flesh.
Oliver thrusts his hips while he sucks on my neck. He knows how much I love it, but he asks anyway. “Want more?”
I’m breathless, and while I don’t want to be needy, and I don’t want to beg, I’m ready to.
He doesn’t give me the chance. His mouth covers mine, and his tongue enters. I suck on it, giving him a preview of what I’ll do if he just takes off his pants.
We kiss until I grow frustrated. I push him away and
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