Olive hadn’t known the meaning of the word decadence until that moment. Or at the very least, she’d always associated it with chocolate. There was nothing more decadent on the planet than having Rory’s weight pressing her down into the soft mattress, though. His skin was hot and fragrant with his distinct male scent, cut with the sharpness of liquor and fruit, probably because he’d been handling both at the bar. She could feel every shift of muscle in his abdomen, chest, thighs. Needing more—more—Olive slid her thighs wider and hooked her knees around Rory’s legs, conforming the arches of her feet to his calf muscles.
While she was busy reveling in the various textures of Rory, his breath was turning more and more shallow in her neck, his hips beginning to grind down, pushing the hard length of his arousal into her pelvis. His mouth opened beneath her ear, pressing seeking kisses to the ultra-sensitive spot. “You’re so sexy,” he whispered, laving her with his tongue. “So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Can’t believe I’m with you like this.”
She dragged her palms down the ridges of his back, straight into the loose waistband of his jeans, past the barrier of his boxer briefs. When her hands elevated and slid over the smooth curves of his ass, the decadence reached an even higher peak, because Rory made it obvious he liked her hands there. Liked having her hands anywhere. “I want you inside me,” she murmured, letting her nails score his buttocks lightly, then with more insistence as he panted. “Rory, please.” Olive lifted her hips and tugged his lower body closer at the same time. “I can feel how bad you need me.”
A vibration ran the length of him. “S’never going to go away,” he half-slurred in her ear, before dragging his mouth down her neck, over her cleavage, where he licked a nipple into his mouth, his hips punching against her on the first suck. “Be sure, Olive. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she moaned as he switched breasts. “I want you. Now.”
Rory surged over her, stopping to kiss her mouth hard, before reaching for his bedside table. He took a foil packet out of the drawer and ripped it open with his teeth, his hand vanishing between them to cover his erection. Olive’s relentless curiosity made her anxious to watch the process, but there would be ample time for that later. Watching the pucker of Rory’s forehead and the sweat beading on his upper lip was far more enjoyable. He was suffering. Going through hell in his hunger to be inside her body—how amazing was that? It was even more amazing that she could end that pain, simply by giving her own body what it cried out for. Contact. Rory. Relief. Intimacy with this man.
He didn’t push inside her right away. No, he dropped his forehead to Olive’s and rolled it side to side, eyes closed, as if in denial. She was prepared to beg again, to fight against whatever obstacles he’d inflated between them in his mind. In the end, there was no need, though. Rory fastened his mouth to hers and trailed a hand down her stomach, taking hold of his thick sex, rubbing the big head through her wealth of moisture.
“Give me the words, sunbeam,” he said, his eyes arrested on her face. “Ask for what you want by name.”
She shuddered as his flesh glided over her clit, circling it. “You, I want you.”
“What do you want from me?” He pushed the tip of his erection inside of Olive, his jaw losing power as he groaned. “What do you want from this cock?”
God above, was she supposed to love it so much when he said that word? Olive licked her parched lips and arched her back, showing him her breasts and watching his eyes glaze. “I want to…” She reached for the basest truth she could find. “I want to watch you enjoy me. Enjoy…fucking m-me. I want you to give yourself an orgasm with my body.”
Rory made a hoarse sound and tucked another inch inside of her. Another. Olive’s knees shot up automatically as discomfort threatened, but Rory’s kiss blurred everything. Everything. All she could feel and think about was the slow, wet mating of their tongues, the savoring scrapes of sound in his throat as the kiss turned deeper, deep enough that she grew dizzy, giddiness tickling her ribs…and her thighs dropped open once more.
“You left out the part about you coming again, baby,” Rory murmured in between mind-numbing kisses. “We fuck, you come. It’s a given, you understand?”
Feeling hypnotized by a pair of intense, green eyes, she nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m going deeper now,” he groaned, rocking his hips forward and letting loose a string of curses over her head. “Olive. Olive. You’re too tight. You’re so tight.”