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As my heart settled down a bit, I got enough energy to roll over so that I could fully hold him in my mouth. Suddenly, I felt Ben grab my hips and move my leg so that I was straddling his face once again. He pulled me hungrily towards his face, holding me firmly by my buttcheeks. I pulled my head away from what I was doing in a gasp as he entered me once again with his wet, warm, and very agile tongue, devouring me with a hunger I had never felt before. I looked back at him, only able to see his eyes closed, moving deftly between my butt cheeks. God, what a sight.
But no, it was his turn. I pulled away, as much as I wanted to stay, and turned to face him, my wetness glistening on his mouth and chin. He wiped his face, and I bent to kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. I straddled him again, this time my wetness touching his. We both quietly moaned, knowing, wanting, what was to come.
I gently kissed him, my tongue gently teasing him. Gently pressing deeper into him, before showing him my hunger and deep desire. He responded with the same pressure, his low baritone growling and sending me off the charts.
I notched my entrance over him and, during a deep kiss, lowered myself onto him. His fullness was still surprising. Still delicious. I moved my hips slowly, and rhythmically.
"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, Olivia." Ben was losing it and I loved to see it. So I did. I moved over that man and rode him at every angle with such a feverishness I could hardly believe it myself. He would want to grab my breasts in his mouth, but it seemed it was too much for him as he closed his eyes and leaned back.
"Olivia, I'm coming," he warned. I moved faster, with more urgency, until his body contracted and he cried out. I devoured his sounds with my mouth as I felt his body shiver and slowly relax. We were both breathing hard. Both damp with sweat. It was glorious. I lay my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.
We basked in the silent moments, allowing our breathing and heart rates to return to normal.
“I hope you know how grateful I am,” he said. He began to stroke my hair. I just hummed my acceptance of his gratitude because I was full of gratitude for him too.
And how I wished that we could have stayed like that forever. I wished we were given more time to be separate from the real world where everything was just chaos and uncertainty. I wished that I didn’t have to hide how hard I wasfallingfor this man, and how I would do anything to keep him with me until the end of time. I wished that life was that simple. I wasn’t a reporter working for him. He wasn’t the president of a network that was being publicly challenged. I wished that I would just be Olivia and he would just be Ben.
But those kinds of things only happened in fictional stories, and our lives revolved around the truth as news people. So, when Ben’s phone rang, and it showed that Johnson DuPont was calling him, I knew we were about to be given just that: the truth.
Ben
My face immediately dropped when I saw my father’s name on my phone. He never called me once in my life, not even when I was in college or somewhere far away. He always made sure that it stayed that way. So, when it happened during the time the company was swimming in multiple crises, I knew it was something no good.
Olivia sat up, worried. She didn’t seem to have any words to say and just waited for me to answer the call. I could tell within her hazel eyes, however, that she had my back, no matter what was waiting for me on the other side of the line.
The phone continued to ring, and I took a deep breath before finally swiping to accept.
“Dad?” I asked, not really sure what to do in this circumstance since I had never been in it before.
“Well, I come bearing some good news.” My father’s voice was slightly reduced in quality over the phone, but it was still very formidable.
He established himself to be such an immovable force that I still struggled speaking to him without feeling any form of uneasiness, even if he was my father.
“Your little politician friend has agreed to your silly interview with the condition thatyouwould be the one to do it,” he declared, and I had to stop my jaw from dropping.
We sent a number of requests to Jebediah Olson’s team throughout the week, but we were met with radio silence. We even posted on all of OVT’s social media platforms and clarified that our report was indeed factual in order to somewhat force Olson to make a counter-statement or any kind of response. We got nothing but ignored messages, and we were about to up the ante, but now this? I was flabbergasted.
“Really?” I questioned, still astounded that Olson agreed. A creeping feeling traveled through my body, however, upon realizing that I was going to be the one to conduct the interview where OVT’s life was hanging on the line. I was used to pressure, but this one was wholly different. People’s lives and careers were going to be riding on me, and while I vowed to do my best with this, it was still unnerving.
“Then we have to go and prepare as soon as possible,” I said, already formulating several questions in my head. I noticed Olivia was still in confusion.
“Olson accepted the invite,”I whispered to her, and she immediately covered her mouth in astonishment.
“You know, for a man your age, son, you still behave a lot like a child,” my father suddenly said, stopping me in my tracks. “You didn’t even wonder why Olson allowed himself to fall into his own trap out of the blue,” he went on to say, but hung up afterwards.
I looked at my phone, perplexed. I was about to call my father back, but before I could, I received a message from him. Opening it immediately, I felt all of my life fall away from my face. Olivia, disheartened by my expression, took a peek of my father’s message as well, eliciting a loud gasp once she did.
[Dad 10:43 PM]
Our little politician friend knows something that we didn’t. Well, that’s not entirely true. You and Olivia knew.
That was what my father’s message said, and below it was a slightly blurry picture of Olivia and myself walking into her apartment. It was somewhat low in quality, but clear as day that it was indeed the two of us in the photo–holding hands.
I sat down on Olivia’s bed as I felt my face go pale and heat up at the same time. I felt nothing and everything at the same time. It was torture, and I couldn’t muster up the energy to shake myself out of it. Until eventually, I started to feel this… insurmountable rage. This person was going to attack my personal life so that he could get out of his controversy scot-free once more. I began fuming, and my fists curled up into a ball.
“That mother—”
Before I could shout anything into the universe. Before I could let my emotions out without regard for anyone who could hear it, I heard Olivia’s voice.
