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Maybe what I need is a weekend alone, I thought. Just as I plotted where I wanted to head out for the weekend, my door was yanked open, and in came my heart’s worst enemy.
Fuck. I didn’t want her to see me like this. What the fuck was she doing here anyway?
“What do you want?” Why hadn’t she said anything? What was she doing just staring at me like I was a monster?
“Greyson… you’re not using… I mean, why?” She was stuttering, trying to get out the questions in the middle of her shock.
I felt so bad for her that I wanted to give her a big hug, but fuck, I knew I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.
“It is what it is. Want some?” Like I would give her any. Besides, she was Miss Goody Two Shoes. She wasn’t damaged like me.
“No! I don’t want any of it. In fact, I’m going—”
Oh, hell to the fuck no. I knew what she was getting at. “Don’t you fucking dare touch it—unless, of course, you have other forms of entertainment? If not, leave me be.”
She gasped, staring at me wide-eyed. “Entertainment?”
God, she was so beautiful it hurt. Why couldn’t I find anything I hated about her face or body?
“Dance. Strip. Fuck me. Get my drift?” I wasn’t really planning on getting her riled up; I merely wanted to see how long she’d last. I didn’t want her here, and yet I couldn’t get enough of staring at her.
To this day, I was held mesmerized and captivated by her.
She looked at the scattered powder on the table then at me, biting her lip as if she was deep in thought.
All the while, I watched her think. Even in my high state, my pain was amplified. My need for her quadrupled. One would think I would be numb from it all, but no… everything had been magnified, making me all the more vulnerable to her. All I had was my smart mouth and my resistance to protect me. Could I really go through being in the same room with her without reaching out, begging for her to think again; that maybe she could find it in her heart to love me back?
“If I do as you ask, will you stop using that?” She nodded towards the table.
She really was considering it? My, she was changing fast. The old Olivia wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at that request. She would have sent me straight to Hell.
My throat bobbed. “Yes,” I rasped out, excited and petrified beyond comprehension. I knew this wouldn’t end well, but the thought of having her again surged something powerful in me. My cock was the first to surrender.
“I don’t…dance.”
I quirked my brow, not buying her bullshit. “I’ve seen you dance plenty of times.”
She bit into her lip before releasing it again. I watched as the blood surged into its wake, giving her a kissable, cherry lip.
“Not like this—like a stripper.”
“I wasn’t asking for one. Just give me what you got, I’ll settle for that. The floor is all yours, baby.” I needed a drink, something cold to cool down my body.
She heaved out a sigh before gently pulling down the zipper on the top of her matching sweat suit. Inside she wore a satin, cream bra, which she left on. She then slowly pulled her pants down, showing me her matching cream underwear. Once she was out of her clothing, she looked over to me skeptically, as if waiting for me to give her directions.
“If you don’t want to do this… it’s fine by me. I don’t want to force you into anything.” It was the last thing I needed, her feeling like I was using her. I wanted this to be a mutual understanding between the two of us, nothing less.
She strolled towards me, eyes sharp, as she looked down on me with her bra and panties on.
“Don’t get me wrong, Iwantto do this, but I don’t want all this bullshit. If you want to fuck, let’s get it over with.”
Now it was my turn to become intimidated.
Olivia had never been the aggressive one. It had always been me taking the initiative. I found it a turn on and a little frightening at the same time. “Come get what you came in here for then.” I lifted my hips, offering myself to her.
Her delicate fingers unfastened my pants. She pulled them down all the way to my knees along with my black boxer briefs. I think my mouth might’ve been hanging open because I was seriously having a hard time breathing. Her innocent way of trying to be sexy and her plain determination was an intoxicating combination.
When she saw how hard I was for her, she kept quiet. The only thing that was telling me that she was nervous was her lip biting. Other than that, she was calm, as if she had done this before. I knew I was the only one, though, and even if we weren’t on the greatest of terms, I prided myself on that simple fact.
