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He sits back, opens his phone and speaks out loud as he types. “Elodie…Lafayette… Oh.”
Olivier texts me at two in the morning to come to the service entrance. I tell Matthew I’m going to the bathroom and walk to the back to let Olivier in. He’s frozen and shivering and pushes me straight into the wall with his arms around me.
I hug him tight to my chest, rubbing his back and trying to push some of my body heat into him. This would work better naked. All the survival shows emphasize this fact.
Irrationally, I wonder how long I can leave Matthew on his own, and I decide getting Olivier warm is more important than how long the new guy thinks I spend on the toilet. “Come here.” I pull Olivier into the Staff Only bathroom and tell him to get shirtless while I do the same.
Once we’re bare-chested, I grab him again and press my skin into his, as much of it as possible. I also kiss him, deeply, and with no small amount of frustration for making me worry and possibly giving himself hypothermia.
His skin heats quickly, and as it does, my feelings for him—all the anxiety and the desire I can’t seem to keep in check—come pounding to the forefront. I need him. My cock, already hardening, needs him.
“You scared me,” I whisper against his cheek.
“Sorry.”
“Want you,” I say before covering his mouth with mine again.
His grasping fingers digging into my sides tell me I can take whatever I’d like.
Spinning us until his back is against the wall, I kiss my way down his neck and shove my hands down the back of his joggers. He groans, and I fill his mouth with my tongue to shut him up. “Shh.”
He nods and kisses me back with more urgency. “Need you,” he whispers.
He’s got me. “Turn around,” I tell him.
Maybe Matthew can get his permanent gig after all. I don’t want to do anything else in the foreseeable future but fuck Olivier Arnaud. It’s the only thing I get any joy from whatsoever.
I shove down his pants, and while I’d rather do this face to face, I don’t want him to have to take off his shoes.
Using only our spit and precum for lube, I do the best I can, but ultimately, I’m too fucking impatient to be inside him, and he’s whimpering and rubbing his ass on my cock like a needy slut.
I shove inside, fighting my way through his tight channel until I’m buried deep. The lack of lubrication makes for short, rough, high-friction strokes, and I can’t lie—it feels fucking phenomenal to me.
I can’t say for sure whether he likes it or not. He’s got his teeth wrapped around his bicep to muffle his grunts, his face red and his eyes squeezed shut. I can safely say, however, he’s all warmed up now.
My orgasm comes fast, slamming into me like a baseball bat to the spine, and I latch onto his neck to keep quiet as my cock throbs inside him and cum gushes, slickening and elongating my strokes.
He shudders and reaches down to jerk himself, but I feel bad for coming after only a few thrusts. In a heartbeat, I’m on my knees, turning him by the hips and sucking his cock to the back of my throat.
His hips move mindlessly, fucking into me while I try to keep him from pushing too far. I lick him, sucking aggressively, until he grabs me by the hair and exhales harshly as he spills on my tongue. His cum is thick and hot, his ocean-water taste an aphrodisiac of the highest order.
I suck at him to drink my fill, but there’s not enough, and maybe there never will be.
“You taste so fucking good,” I say, running kisses up his softening length while he tolerates it with soft whimpers and hisses. He worries my hair with trembling fingertips until finally I bury my nose in his groin and take a deep, deep breath. “Love you,” I whisper.
“Love you,” is his soft reply.
Pulling up his pants, I rise to stand before him. He looks into my eyes, and I see something broken there, but also adoration and awe. “You okay?”
“Better now,” he says, voice low. “Definitely warmer.”
I cup his cheeks and kiss him intimately. He sighs, melting in my hands, against my tongue. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I really was just walking.”
“For four hours?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.
