“Have you had a man since me?” he whispered.
And when I shook my head no, a devilish chuckle fell from his lips.
The two of us collapsed to the bed, and he rolled against me. His hands pressed beside my face as I turned my head off to the side, crossing my legs like I knew he enjoyed. He growled as my pussy grew tighter. I whimpered as he slid against every part of my walls at once. The room spun, tilted, grew dimmer as my vision tunneled. I needed to cum. I needed to cum on his cock. I needed him to let me fall over the edge before my body exploded and spontaneously combusted.
“Cum for me, Olive. Do it. Now.”
My mouth opened to say his name, but nothing came out. My throat choked on the pleasure that rushed through my body, silencing me in my tracks. He fell to my back, coating me in his sweat as his cock throbbed against my walls. He bit into my shoulder, the way he always had before, and my eyes fluttered closed. I managed to whimper. I managed to give him a choked moan. My pussy jumped and my body pulled taut while his cock pumped me full of his mark.
“Olive. Oh, Olive,” he grunted.
My nickname on his lips was music to my ears.
The two of us lay there, his body cloaking mine, as I gasped for air. He rolled off to the side and pulled me with him, just like he had all those years ago. I took comfort in the routine, in the fact that no part of his carnal animal had changed. I curled up against him, my body in a shivering frenzy as he kissed the nape of my neck and lapped at the bite mark he left behind on my shoulder.
“Holy hell, I missed that,” I whispered.
I felt him nuzzle against the crook of my neck. “I haven’t had a woman since you, either.”
I furrowed my brow at his words. “What?”
“I haven’t had anyone since you, Olive.”
I slowly turned around in his arms. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Why not?”
“Because I agree with you.”
“What?” I asked.
He smoothed my curly hair from my forehead. “I’ve missed this a little too much, as well.”
I gazed into his eyes, watching as so many things rushed behind them. Memories. Relief. Happiness. A bit of guilt. I reached up and cupped his cheek, watching as his eyes were pulled back from the recesses of his mind. Then, his lips curled downward and set themselves into stone.
“I can’t stay,” he said.
“I know you can’t,” I said.
“I have a very early morning conference call with Paris. Six a.m. to their three in the afternoon.”
“It’s fine. I get it. I didn’t expect you to stay.”
“You didn’t?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t.”
I saw something move behind his eyes, but he blinked it away before I could decipher it.
“I can’t wait to see you in your costume, Olive.”
Then, without another word, he got up from my bed, got dressed, and left.
8
Brett
“Thank you very much for taking my phone call. If all of this seems fine with you, I’ll have my assistant book me a trip out for next month,” I said.
“We are looking forward to the opportunities you bring to Paris. When we heard rumors of your expansion, we were hoping you’d turn an eye toward us.”
“After the help you afforded me when I was first beginning? You were first on my mind,” I said, grinning.
“Well, we look forward to your arrival. Email me the dates you will be here, and I’ll pull properties for you to take a look at should you choose to set up your headquarters in our great city.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
“Au revoir, Mr. Greyson.”
“Au revoir, Mr. Martin.”
I closed the video conference and let my head fall back. Two hours and not a damn bit of sleep to precede it. Olivia’s smell stuck with me all fucking night. I couldn’t sleep without wishing she had been there. I felt guilty washing her scent from my body. She’d cum like a dream for me last night. Begged in all the ways I remembered in the recesses of my mind. I hadn’t had a woman since her. After having a taste of perfection as a young boy, there was no need for me to mess with it. But tasting that same perfection as a man, as a billionaire, as an intelligent being…
It was almost too much to handle.
The phone on my desk rang, and I made my way for it. I had to focus on the rest of my workday. I had a conference call with London I still had to schedule. If I had it my way, I’d set my headquarters in Paris. I’d bind myself with the country of France in order to repay them for the support they showed me when I was building my own business. Phillipe Martin was a man I’d met when I was still a boy, a connection my father had made overseas during his stint in international law. I’d garnered a professional friendship with the man, and when I fell short of the investment needed to build my original headquarters in Seattle, he’d stepped up and filled the gap with money from his own pockets.