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I didn't want a baby right out of high school, or a marriage to a man I didn't love. I knew statistics well enough to know that if we'd gotten together, if we'd gotten pregnant, our marriage wouldn't last. Just like my sister's hadn't. She'd wasted almost a decade of her life with a man she didn't really even know. She'd given up her dream of becoming a doctor in favor of a high school love that went nowhere.
I loved my niece more than anything in the world. She was a light of joy in my life. But, I didn't want that to be me. I'd never wanted to give up my dreams or lose my sense of self and purpose to a man I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
Now though, I was older and, more importantly, on the pill. Mistakes in love, now that I was older and wiser, wouldn't ruin my whole life. They were merely a setback. An emotional kick in the gut. One I could recover and move on from in short order – not like having a child with a man I'd come to despise.
Oliver stared down at me, his eyes sliding up and down my body, an expression of absolute hunger and desire on his face as he squeezed and kneaded my tits.
“You've seen mine,” I teased. “Now show me yours.”
I reached for his buckle, but he grabbed my hands and stopped me. I stared up at him, hurt and confused. Did he not want this too? Did he not want to sleep with me after all? Was he afraid of me hurting him all over again? I didn't know why he'd stopped me when every nerve ending in my body was crying out for him.
Hell, I didn't blame him if he was having second thoughts about being with me. After all, I didn’t think either of us were looking for a relationship.
The rejection still stung though.
He held onto my hands for a long time, looking deeply into my eyes, as if he were trying to decide what the next move would be. In my head, I begged for him to take off his pants, to fuck me. To make me – to make both of us – feel good. But, that was purely selfish on my part. If he wanted to step back and not take it to that level, I had to respect that. I didn't necessarily like it, but I would respect it.
Oliver still held my hands and he pressed them over my head, pinning them down on the couch as he lay down flat on top of me. His tongue darted into my mouth, stealing my breath away. I gasped as he kissed me harder and with more fire and passion than I'd ever expected from him.
I writhed against him, begging with my body for him to fuck me. To fill me up. He held my hands up above my head and pressed himself into me. I so badly wanted to strip him down, to rip his clothes off and fuck him like I'd wanted to do all those years ago.
“Please—” I muttered against his lips. “Please, Oliver. Please.”
He stared into my eyes and the look almost scared me. Almost. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes serious as he stared back at me. At first, I thought the look was cold. Detached. But then, I started to see it differently and realized that what I was really seeing in his eyes was fear. Fear of what, though?
“I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship, Madison,” he said.
“Good. Me neither.” I arched my back upward, rubbing my crotch against his. “I just want something good after all the hell I've been through. I need to feel alive, Oliver.”
“Me too,” he whispered.
His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, and I was afraid I hadn't heard him right. What sort of hell had he been through? What was he running from? Hiding from?
I didn't get a chance to ask, though, because he took my nipple between his lips and sucked, gently. My body spasmed and I groaned, the sensation traveling through my entire body, shooting straig
ht down to my groin. I felt myself growing wetter, my pussy begging to be filled with something long, thick and hard – the very thing that hovered mere inches from my opening.
No, not just anything – but him. I needed him inside of me. I needed to know what his cock felt like since I'd gone away to college always wondering, never knowing what he felt like. It was one of the many regrets I'd carried with me all these years. A regret I was seriously hoping I'd be able to unburden myself of.
Oliver let go of my hands, and right away, I reached for his belt. I fumbled, breathing hard as I struggled to remove it. Oliver's steady hands helped guide the way and, when it was off, we both tossed it aside. Together, we unzipped his pants, and I finally slipped my hand down into them and took hold of the big, hard prize I'd wanted for so damn long.
My eyes grew wide as I held him in my hand. He was a big man, all around. I shouldn't have been surprised by what he had hidden in his pants. It was thick and long, and already seeping with pre-cum.
I knew it would feel glorious inside of me, filling me up and stretching me open. My heart stuttered in my chest as an electric surge of anticipation coursed through my body.
I stroked his cock, and Oliver tossed his head back, his eyes closed and jaw clenched. He muttered something under his breath as he stripped his pants down all the way, exposing himself for me to see as well as feel.
“God, you're so sexy,” I said without even realizing I'd spoken.
His six-pack glistened with sweat and, when he lifted his shirt off and over his head and tossed it to the side, I was treated to the sight of his toned chest. It was all hard angles and planes and was covered in tattoos, which surprised me. They were all dark in color, intricately designed, and all seemed to carry some hidden meaning. My eyes specifically fell on one – half a heart. I looked at it, wondering if the other half was missing, its edges ridged and broken. The symbolism seemed clear to me, but I wondered who he'd had in mind when he'd had it branded onto his flesh.
Oliver looked down at me as if waiting for me to ask about it, his body tensed up and his eyes already glazed over as he prepared himself.
None of my business, I told myself. I reached lower, grasping his cock in my hands again, tightening my grip around that thick shaft and stroked him. Nothing else mattered at that moment. It was just him and me. No one else. No exes. No arsonists. No one would stand in the way of either of us getting what we wanted now.
I pushed upward, rubbing myself against him, my body inviting him to plunge that deliciously thick cock inside of me, but he stopped me. He looked down at me in a way no man had ever looked at me before. His eyes glowed with desire, but his face was etched with admiration as he drank me in. The way Oliver looked at me made me feel like an exquisite work of art. Like the most beautiful woman in the world. That only served to get me hotter and wetter. I wanted him. Needed him.
“You're so beautiful,” he said. “I just want to stare at you for a while.”
