Reaction Time (Part Six)

He pressed her up against the door. She didn't have much time to register surprise or even protest, not that she would. Despite his disapproving show back there, this was where she'd wanted this night to go and she'd rather kiss him back than quibble about how it got there.

He was hard to keep up with, though. His hands seemed to be all over her before she even had a chance to touch him. When she tried to put hers over his shoulders, his seemed to find their way to her neck, cupping her jaw. She tried to move them to his waist and his snaked downward to her hips, lifting her against the door. She finally gave up and let them hang at her sides, letting him do what he wanted. It seemed he wanted her hands now, in his wrists and up against the door as his mouth slanted over hers.

This was nothing like that slow, exploratory kiss on the curb. This was hard, demanding. His lips didn't caress, they crushed. And his tongue didn't gently slide, it plunged. She'd never been kissed like this. Of course, last Thursday, she'd never been kissed like that, so she was beginning to think she'd just plain never been kissed.

He ground his hips against hers, harder and higher, until her feet left the floor. It felt like he'd have her right there. At the moment, she had no problem with it. In fact, if he'd just let her hands loose, they'd be working on his fly. As it was, she was too busy enjoying the sharp, piercing tingles that raced through her as he ground and pressed, faster and harder. As crazy as it seemed, she was damned near ready to come from that alone when he stilled, detaching his lips from hers.

"Tell me why," he panted against her mouth.

She drew a much-needed breath, realizing she hadn't done much breathing in these last moments. She met his eyes as they opened, knowing what he was asking. Why the waiting? Why the games? "I wasn't ready yet," she answered. It was an honest answer, even if it didn't explain everything.

He drew back, letting her feet meet the floor again. But he didn't let go of her hands, he kept them in his, moving backward toward the elevator. "You could have just said so."

She pulled a hand free, pressing the button as she shook her head. "I couldn't."

He tugged the hand still in his as the doors slid open, drawing her inside. "I would have waited... a little," he finished, pulling her to him. He bent to her, mouth sliding from her jaw to her ear.

It felt delicious and tingly and she nearly collapsed against him, but she found the presence of mind to turn away, move to the rows of buttons. "No. you wouldn't," she said firmly, pressing the highest, then letting her finger slide away from it limply as his lips found the nape of her neck. "Not even a little," she breathed as he drew her back against him, hands already undoing her coat. "If you knew I knew, you would have just..." she gasped as his fingers slid through the opening, over those nearly nonexistent panties and between her legs, "done something like that," she finished on a moan as he pressed his fingers against her.

His lips found her ear again. "What's so bad about that?"

She could hardly think of a thing, but forced herself to. "I would have... given in," she whimpered as his fingers pressed harder.

"Yeah." He turned her around, pressing her against the elevator's wall and pulling the coat open more fully. "Still not seeing any problem with that." He gave her a smile, that lopsided smirk that probably made every woman he'd ever given it to promise him her first-born or something. "And I'm still not sure if it should be this or nothing. Maybe I should compare..." His fingers trailed down to the hem of the see-through tank and her stomach clenched.

She gripped his wrist. "Wait."

He made a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl. "I think I've done enough waiting."

"Well, just until..."

He sighed and stepped back. "You know what, Chloe? If you're still not ready, then I don't know what the hell else..."

"I meant until we got upstairs," she said impatiently. "And you know what?" She belted her coat and crossed her arms. "I think you should stop whining about waiting for sex. I know it's novel for you and all, but... Damn it, Ollie. I needed more time. I'm not..." sure if I'm able to have sex without love, sure if I can have sex and not fall in love, able to be what you want, able to make this good for you. "...experienced," she finished, thinking it was as close to the truth as she could get without sounding crazy, without raising the dead. The fact was, she felt strangely guilty in all this. She'd loved Jimmy. She'd married him, hadn't she? Yet she never felt this rush at his nearness, this nervousness about pleasing him. Jimmy had been happy enough if she was in the same room. And now... Well, she was nearly in the same room -- the room he died in. Her head was spinning with guilt and want and she wasn't sure if she should cry, kick him away for daring to want her, or throw herself at him. "I just... I needed more time then," she finally said.

He stared hard at her. "And now?"

She held his gaze as the doors slid open. She could cry off now, beg for more time and... Well, she'd have all the time in the world then because this just wouldn't happen. She'd put him off and he'd try not to push and, eventually, this would be something they laughed about, that silly affair they almost had before they came to their senses. They might be better off. She could probably live with that.

She just didn't want to. These guilty, conflicted feelings, this fear of what could happen might be there, no matter who she was with. So why not him? Why not this man, who made her feel with two kisses things she'd never felt for any man? She wanted him. She wanted him enough that it outweighed how scary this could be.

The doors nearly slid closed and she placed her hand between them. "I don't need time now," she firmly as they opened.

"Good." He followed her in as she moved backwards through the doors. "Because I'm pretty much not going to give it to you." He gave her that smile again.

She found herself relaxing, even smiling as well as she pressed the button and the Watchtower's doors swung inward. "I seem to remember you bragging about hours."

"That wasn't just bragging." He tugged her through the doors before they closed. She fell against him and he steadied her with a hand... on her breast. She gasped as he stared down, peeling the coat away. His hand moved toward her breast, hovered over it. She closed her eyes, waiting for that first touch and... nothing.

She opened her eyes. "Ollie?"

"Just want to make sure," he said, still hovering. "You don't have a foosball table stashed in here, do you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I don't."

"You sure? Because if this is all a pretense to start an official foosball night, then I'm out."

"Ollie," she tried to push her breast into his hand, but he held her at the waist, "touch me."

"Touch you how? You want me to demonstrate a chokehold and talk you through getting out of it? Let's be clear, now. You don't want to play games or train or eat Mongolian BBQ?"

She laughed. She had to. "No. None of the above."

He met her eyes, smiled that lopsided smile. "I'm stumped. What exactly do you want me to do?"

She rolled her eyes again. "You know what I want you to do."

"Still," he shrugged and traced her collarbones, still avoiding her breast, "might be fun to hear you say it."

"Fine. I want to have... sex with you," she said on a laugh.

"Oh, I think we could go dirtier."

It was a dare and she found herself giggling like a preteen. She wasn't that used to talking dirty, at least not outright. Those times on the phone last week had been a stretch for her. And even they could be construed as innocent... if they were with anyone but Ollie, that is. She sobered up and cleared her throat. It was about time she stepped out of her comfort zone. His hand, moving along the neckline of the lacy tank he'd sent her, was also a good reason. "I want you to... fggghmme." The last bit came out in a rushed mumble.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly, still only tracing the edge of the tank. "I didn't catch that."

She groaned and tore her eyes away from her own cleavage, met his. He was still smiling, but there was something else in his eyes, something compelling and hot and hungry. Her smile dropped. This wasn't so funny anymore. This was inevitable. "F*ck me," she said clearly.

He drew away slightly. "What?" He stepped back, putting his hands up. "What kind of guy do you think I..."

"Ollie!" She pulled at his jacket and he stepped to her with a grin, meeting her lips.

He pulled at her belt, pulling it free this time and letting it fall at their feet. "Say it again," he whispered, dragging his lips to her ear.

Her eyes rolled backward as he bit at her earlobe. "F*ck me," she said, a little shakily.

"One more time..." He pulled at her coat and she let it drop. "I mean, I'm still not sure."

She giggled as he nuzzled her neck. "F*ck me, damn it!" She tore at his jacket, tossed it somewhere behind her.

He chuckled and traced his way to her lips again. "In a minute." He nipped at her lips, then drew back. She tried to pull him in again, but he held her away. "Come on. I've been pretty patient with you, so hold still." He moved backward, then further back, looking her up and down, then up.... then down again.

She knew what he was seeing. Too much makeup, Overly-high heels, bare legs, and a bit of lingerie she was still embarrassed to wear, even more so without a coat. She moved her hands in front of her.

"Nuh-uh." He circled his hand, eyes still running over her. "Turn around."

She let out a nervous burst of laughter. "Ollie, come on. This is..."

"Turn around," he said again, his eyes so serious she found herself doing it.

She stared at her coat rack, saw her sensible clothes hanging there, wondered how this night would have gone if she'd stayed in them. Maybe not like this, but she'd be warm, at least. "I'm cold," she found herself whining.

"Shh! I'm trying to figure something out," he said behind her.

She'd asked him to f*ck her three times now, and at his urging. What the hell else could there be to figure out? "Ollie..."

"Damn it, Chloe," he snapped. "This is important. I need to think about this."

She waited, frozen. She'd only been thinking about it from her end, all of her guilt and doubts about whether she could have a meaningless fling. She'd never thought he couldn't. Briefly, she'd thought he didn't want to, that she wasn't enough, but she'd never thought he couldn't. He was the guy that could and did and with as many women as possible. It was what drew her to him--that experience, that hedonism. But that was a shallow way of looking at him, she supposed. He even said it earlier tonight, that he felt like a creep, going after the widow that worked for him. Maybe that was too much to get past for him and now...

"Yep," he said loudly. "Definitely an ass man now."

She turned around. "You sh*t!"

He moved to her, groping said ass. "What? It was important. This ass has changed my entire outlook." He squeezed her harder, pulling her upward and burying his face in her neck.

"I take it you don't like my breasts," she sighed, and as sadly as she possibly could. "I mean, you keep acting like you'll touch them, then..."

"Jeez, nag, nag, nag." He kissed his way down her neck, lifting her higher against him. "Always bossing me around," he said against her breast.

"I do... not," she finished on a weak moan, gripping his arms. She knew he couldn't hold her there indefinitely, but the fact that he could pick her right up... That, combined with the way he was now mouthing her breast through the top made her feel weak and dainty, which didn't seem like a bad thing right now.

She wrapped her legs around him and dug her fingers into his arms as he nipped at her, noting she couldn't do much digging. He was so rock solid everywhere, it made her think she should start living at the gym. Her hips rocked against him involuntarily and his grip faltered, but he didn't drop her. Just stumbled around a bit, panting against her flesh.

"Where?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Anywhere." She closed her eyes and rocked against him. "Everywhere. I don't care."

"Are we talking in rhyme now?" She felt them stop and opened her eyes on his grinning face. "Would you, could you, on your desk?"

"Does anything even rhyme with desk?" she mused absently as he placed her down, running his hands up her thighs.

"I don't know. Now shut up. I'm trying to make sweet love to you."

She giggled as he bent over her. "You're the one that won't shut up."

"Shh!" He placed a finger over her lips. "I'm busy."

She laughed again. She never knew sex could be so damned... funny. She'd certainly never laughed this much about sex. Jimmy would laugh, not because she said something funny, just in general. He'd been like a teenage boy sometimes, saying something racy, then following it with a self-conscious snicker. She'd eventually decided to find it endearing, but it had been kind of a turn-off.

Yet it wasn't now. Here she was, giggling as he nuzzled her neck, yelping as he pulled the tank up to nip the side of her ribs, smiling against his lips as he pulled her up, laughing again as he pulled the top over her head and pulled it back like a slingshot, chuckling against his chest as something clattered on the second level. She breathed in deep, smelled that cologne again and her hips squirmed restlessly. "Definitely still in the mood," she whispered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." It was still there, that guilt, that she could feel these things for someone she wasn't even in a relationship with, but with Jimmy... She pushed it away and did something she'd been thinking of all week. She pulled him down, buried her nose in his neck and took a long whiff. "Mmmmm."

"She sniffs me. She talks to herself. I have no..." She bit down, not hard, but it shut him up. He grunted, pressing her into the desk. "You gotta stop that for a bit."

"And you gotta take off your shirt." She pushed him up. "I'm half-naked."

He leered at her, palming her breast. "It's a good look for you."

She moved her hands to his back and tugged his T-shirt up. "Just... You're too damned tall."

He leaned over. "Or you're too damned short."

She gave him the required glare and pulled it up and over his head. "I like to think of myself as compact."

"I like to think of you in the shower," he said as he shucked it off his arms.

She chuckled and sat up. "Shut up for minute?" She slid her hands up his stomach. "Please?" He opened his mouth, but closed it again as she circled his nipples. She traced his muscles, slid along each rib as he drew in a ragged breath. He had scars, they were white and faded against his tanned skin, but there. One looked jagged and she wondered how badly it must have hurt. She leaned forward, ready to press her lips to it...

He gripped her wrists, moved back a bit. "Minute's up."

It seemed unfair, considering she'd spent days absorbing everything she could about sex for him. "I want to..."

He pushed her backward. "You can touch me all you want... later. Now I need to see to you."

She tried to sit up. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm ready. I got about a month of ready stored up and I'm not about to blow it in my pants."

Her eyes widened as he lowered his face to her stomach. "A month?" She'd thought maybe since that night with the scotch and the compound bow, but... "A month?"

"A month," he said, sliding a finger along the elastic of her panties. "Four weeks or thirty days, if you will." He dipped his head down as he pulled at them, nipping her pelvic bone, making her squirm. "Hmmm. Good spot." He nibbled at it as she lifted her hips restlessly, slid the panties down her legs. "I mean, I'd noticed you. I'm a guy. But it wasn't until you were oh, so tenderly tending my wounds, shoving my head down, leaving my eyes with nowhere to go but down your shirt, practically sitting in my lap..." He chuckled and pulled them past her shoes, then stopped, fingers sliding over one ankle. "Any chance of leaving these on?"

"They're killing me," she said absently, still surprised at a month. "All that time? I didn't know..."

"Of course you didn't." Her shoes clattered to the floor as he pressed her legs open. "Had to get you all liquored up before you even had a clue." He pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee.

Her eyes rolled back as his lips moved upwards, as he pressed her legs wider. She gasped as he kissed his way up the inside of her thigh, sitting up, fully realizing she was naked and he was about to... "Ollie..."

"I'm getting there. Hold on."

"No. It's okay. I don't want that."

He lifted his head. "You're kidding, right?"

"It's just not something I like. I mean, Jimmy tried it once, but it felt... embarrassing and I couldn't... I mean, not that I ever did, which is fine because, when you love someone, it doesn't have to be..."

"You're babbling, so I'll just stop you now." He swirled his fingers in tiny circles on her stomach. "Trust me. I'm gonna give you a real good time. Isn't that what you want?" His fingers swirled downwards and her eyes nearly fluttered shut. He made it sound awfully tempting.

"Okay," she said, swallowing hard. "Just not tonight. Let's stick to the..."

He shook his head and pulled her to the edge of the desk. "Nope."

"I just think we should wait before..."

"Did you ever think that you've done enough waiting, Chloe?"

"Well, I'm just saying... uhhh..." She lost all speech, even thought as he lowered his head and bit lightly on the inside of her thigh.

He stared up at her from between her thighs. "Give me two minutes, then tell me you don't like it. Deal?" He didn't wait for her answer, not that she was coherent enough to give one. She couldn't figure out if she was more embarrassed or turned on. By the time he lowered his mouth to her, she wasn't much of anything. Just a shuddering mess.

His lips fluttered against her and her hips bucked up with absolutely no permission. She lifted her head, having some vague notion of apologizing, but he just placed his hands on either hip, holding her to the desk as he worked at her. His tongue made tiny strokes up and down which made her skin run hot and cold and her limbs restless. His hands dug into her hips as they seemed to be showing signs of smacking into his face again.

Her arms misplaced her blotter, then her mail sorter, trying to find purchase on the desk before she finally just gripped the sides and held on for dear life as sparks raced through her body as his tongue circled and darted and... stopped.

"Yeah. You hate that."

She opened her eyes and looked down her body just in time to see him wipe his mouth with a little smirk.

"Guess I should stop now?"

She wanted to say yes just to wipe that smirk off his face, but she was too damned desperate to chase those sparks. She just opened her thighs wider and laid back, closing her eyes.

"Take that as a no," he breathed hotly against her flesh before his lips touched her. They didn't flutter, they surrounded and sucked and she lost control of her hands again. They ran down her own body until they reached his head. She dug in and he moaned against her, forcing an answering cry from her open mouth at the vibration.

Her thighs began to shake and she was afraid she'd vibrate right off the desk, but he held her steady as his tongue stroked and circled and circled and circled... She felt strangely fearful, like her entire body was shrinking into the places he touched. The feeling grew as he sucked, then sucked harder, like he was taking everything and she might cease to exist in a minute.

Her head thrashed from side to side as she gripped the sides of the desk again, tried to hold on to her body. She squeezed her eyes shut hard, felt moisture seep from them as she heard a deep, throaty moan. She vaguely realized it was her and that she was still here, bucking and shuddering underneath him as her body seemed to expand now, as if it was too big for the room, as if her limbs might shoot through the windows and she'd fall and crush this building flat. Her body arched up off the desk and toward the ceiling, as if it could really happen. But it didn't. She dropped back down to the desk with a ragged whimper, her eyes still moist. Too moist.

She felt his hands, gentling on her hips as his tongue slowed and his breath curled over her. "I think she likes it."

She opened her mouth, wishing something snarky would come out, but the only thing that came forth was a choked sob.

"Chloe?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why was she crying? Why the hell was she crying?

Ollie seemed to want to know the same thing. She felt him pull her upwards. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head against his chest. She wasn't sure. Maybe it's the intensity of it. She'd heard people say orgasms were harder when you weren't giving them to yourself. But why would she cry just because it felt so good? She'd had no other assisted orgasms to go by, not even with... She suddenly knew why she was crying. And she really wished she could stop. "Nothing. I'm fine," she said as if willing it to be so.

"So post-orgasmic sobbing is normal for you?" He moved away, took her chin and tilted it upwards. "Chloe, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "It's stupid."

"Hey, come on." She opened her eyes on his. "Tell me," he said softly.

"I just feel so... terrible."

His eyes widened. "Well... that's not what a guy likes to hear."

"No. I mean, not because it was bad because I never... never..." She broke off and scooted away on the desk, wiping at her face. "Never mind."

"You never... came before?"

"What?" She turned to him. "Of course I have," she sniffed. "Just never for... him."

Ollie sighed and pulled her in again. "Chloe..."

"I tried," she mumbled against his chest. "Every time, I tried and I never could. And he loved me."

"I know he did."

"So why couldn't I just do it for him? I was a bad..."

"Stop it." He pulled back, cupped her face. "You weren't a bad anything. Jimmy was a great guy. I liked him a hell of a lot myself. But sometimes it's just not... there."

"Well, it should have been. We were married. Now I just came for you," she said accusingly.

He chuckled and stepped away. "Sorry about that, I guess. Listen, maybe you aren't ready for this."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not saying to stop." She sat up. "You don't get it. My... everything clenches when you walk in the room. Every time I talk to you, I think about you naked."

He stilled in the middle of bending to his shirt. "Okay. Trying to stop here."

She stood, moved toward him, feeling naked, which was no surprise, as she was, and embarrassingly wet between her thighs. But she pressed on. "I've been doing things I never did for him. Kegels and researching every damned thing about sex because I'm so afraid I won't make this good for you."

He straightened. "Jesus, Chloe..."

"I feel wretched, like I should have felt this way for him and I didn't. I mean, I loved him, so why didn't I want him?"

"why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to know. I want you. Maybe this isn't love, but I want you enough to get past it."

He was silent for a moment, then bent and scooped up his shirt. "You're not ready."

"Why? Because I'm doing more than giggling over this? This was never going to be easy for me, no matter who I was with. It doesn't mean I don't want to get past it."

"Maybe therapy might be a healthier way."

"Right," she scoffed. "With our lifestyle, airing your innermost secrets to a stranger isn't really an option. And I don't want to date and hope some random will understand all the things you already do." She took his shirt from his hands and tossed it away. "I want to get past it with you."

He sighed, staring past her at his shirt. "So I'm your sex therapist now?"

She smiled. "Well... Who better?"

His eyes slid to her and stayed a while. "What makes me so qualified?"

She shrugged. "You make me laugh."

"So it's not my sex appeal?"

"Oh, stop it. You know you're sex on a stick. But... I haven't much to laugh about lately." She ran a hand up his arm. "And yet I laugh with you, even though everything sucks right now and we could all be dead or under an alien dictatorship in a year." Her hand slid to his chest. "These last crazy weeks, I've smiled and I want to do more of that. I think I need to. I need to feel... alive again." Her hand made its way down to his belly button, circled it before sliding up and down the tiny line of hair that disappeared into his jeans. "Could you do that for me?"

He hissed in a breath. "That's a... hell of a way to ask."

She ran her finger back and forth along his waistband. "You want me to stop, then ask again?"

"No," he grunted. "I think most deals should be made naked with a hand practically on my junk. It probably saves time negotiating."

That was a thought. She took her hand away. "Actually, negotiating's probably not a bad..."

Without warning, he grabbed her up against him and met her lips, walking her backward toward the couch. He tossed her down. She hardly had a chance to land before he was on her.

"Wait."

"No. Sorry. Ask again later." He dug a hand into her hair and pulled her head back, mouthing along her neck.

It felt so nice, she almost forgot to argue. "But we need to figure out what we're doing."

He lifted his head. "If you don't know that by now..."

"I know that. I mean we need to figure..."

"I'm not in a figuring mood right now," he said, spreading her legs, sliding his hands up the insides.

"Well, could you at least take off your pants?"

He stilled. "That I can do."

The minute his hands left her, she wanted them back, but she sat up, decided to use what time she had to hammer out a few details. "Okay. So we're not dating."

"Yeah. Okay." He knelt up, working on his jeans. "Of all the nights to wear a button fly..."

"Ollie?"

He glanced up. "What?"

"Are you listening? I said we're not dating, so no more gifts. I don't need any of that."

"Well, it's not like I don't have the money to buy an occasional..."

"You don't need to impress me or get me things. That's boyfriend territory and... I haven't had a lot of luck in that territory, so why don't we just not? No flowers, no coffee, no naughty underwear and..."

"Okay." He stood, working at the last two buttons. "I'm going to draw a line and it's at naughty underwear."

She rolled her eyes. "I can buy my own lingerie."

"On what I pay you?" He snorted as he stood.

"I negotiated my salary," she said with a pout. "I thought it was a fair..." She trailed off as he got that last button. "You're not wearing underwear."

"You have a point. You should stop, too. Then I won't feel the need to buy you any." He grinned and slid his jeans down, then stopped. "F*cking shoes." He sat on the couch. "Why don't you help me out here? I stripped you."

She giggled and moved to the floor, trying to sort out his mess. "I wasn't wearing as much."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I love you for that."

She froze in the middle of pulling at his shoelace. "Let's not use that word too much."

"Chloe, I was just..."

"I know, but we need to be careful here." She pulled off his shoes and socks. "Listen, I'm not as experienced in this... area and I don't want to get things confused. We need to draw some lines and..."

"Nitpick on what words I use?"

She pulled his shoes off and moved on to his jeans, sliding them down his legs. "It might seem like nitpicking, but it's more of a... uh..." Words left her as she realized he was naked... and hard.

"A... Uh... What?"

"Shh!" She wanted to take him in. He looked like something off the cover of a trashy romance novel, except more naked. She madly wondered what Ollie would look like, shirtless in a tartan on a windswept moor with Fabio hair. Then she wondered why she was wasting time thinking of that when he was completely naked and spread out before her. She'd just never had a guy like him. Forget his billions. He could be an underwear model, pouting morosely in Calvin Klein jockey shorts. She just didn't know what to do with all this.

She supposed she could start by touching him. She ran her hands up his thighs, feeling the slight tickle of hair until it disappeared, close to his hips. She stared at his... c*ck. It was a strange word, a dirty word and she reveled in it. She wanted to touch it, so she did. She ran her finger up it as he hissed, gripping the couch cushions and closing his eyes. She wanted to taste it...

She felt that strange, unwelcome guilt again, that she hadn't felt so compelled before, not even with the man she married. But this was this and that was that. She'd loved Jimmy. She just hadn't wanted him. They were two different things. And that was all there was to it.

She leaned forward and found herself stopped by a hand pressing against her shoulder.

"Not tonight," Oliver said hoarsely. "Chloe." He said her name again as he sat up, pulling her with him. "Chloe." He groaned it as he laid her down, sliding his body over hers, opening her legs with a nudge of his knee. "Chloe..."

"No one knows," she breathed out while she still had the presence of mind to do so.

"I'll never tell," he said, staring down at her as he settled himself between her legs. He smiled and she waited for him to say something hilarious, something to make her smile, but his smile dropped and his eyes closed as he pulled back. "F*ck! It's in my jeans."

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Condom," he gritted out. "In my jeans."

She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering how she could have forgotten it. "I'm an idiot," she muttered, groping to her side.

"No. I should know better." He grabbed his jeans out of her hands, fumbling for the wallet.

She watched him pull three out, rip one open, and toss the rest. "You always have those on you?"

"You just never..." He shook his head. "No. But I had them on me tonight."

She leaned up on her elbows. "And you still invited the guys?"

"I was hopeful," he smoothed it over his length, "but never sure with you."

She leaned back, lifted her hips. "Are you sure now?"

"If I was a betting man," he began, but didn't finish. "How long?" he asked instead.

She knew what he was asking. "More than a year."

"You mean, you never... after the wedding..."

"He was injured and then he was gone and..."

"And Davis?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You think Davis and I..."

"Not really. But I guess I know for sure now." He was at her entrance now. "Too mad I thought about it?"

"I guess I have no right to be," she said shakily. "I mean... I thought about it. Not enough to do it, but... He wanted me," she tried to explain. "I don't think you get how it feels. Being wanted when you think you're not... wantable."

"That's not a word," he said tightly. "But I find you very... wantable." He pushed just a little inward and dropped his head to her chest. "Want you so much... Jesus, Chloe... Tell me you're ready."

She couldn't say for sure. She knew she wanted this whether she was or not. "Ollie, just do it."

He lifted his head, met her eyes, all questions as he pressed forward, as if looking for some kind of final refusal. She didn't want to give it, not even by a blink, so she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt him sliding into her.

"You okay?"

She gave a jerky nod, keeping her eyes shut, trying to keep from grimacing. She didn't want him to think he was hurting her, even if he sort of was. She'd never felt this full and she suspected he wasn't even in all the way. She took several deep breaths, then opened her eyes. "That all you got?" she said with more bravado than she felt.

It worked. He smiled, even if it seemed slightly pained. "We're not even gonna come close to all I got in one night."

"Then I guess we're gonna... oh." He'd made one final push and she did grimace, just a little. "You're in."

"I'm in. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm not going to start crying again," she said witheringly.

"I mean for me to move. You're pretty... tight," he finished, his voice hoarse, the hands propping him up a little shaky.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"A great thing if I'm not hurting you."

"It's not bad. It'll get better, right?"

"If I have any say in it," he said roughly, just rocking into her, not pulling out, just moving with her in a very slight back-and-forth as the couch creaked under them. "How's that?"

She wasn't sure. She felt a bit too full, still, but there was something under it. A slight tingling on her clit, sort of indirectly rubbed with every rock inward. "That's nice."

He laughed hoarsely. "I can do better than nice." He pulled out just a little and she reached to him, wanting him back, but he was back, inside again, then gone... She moaned softly and he pushed in again.

She knew the logistics of sex, the in, out, repeat of it all. But she'd never felt it in such minute detail. She felt the hair of his arms, propped on either side of her, as they tickled her sides. She heard the squeaky groans of the couch below then, in time with his breath, hissing through clenched teeth. She felt his pelvis against hers on every inward push, sort of a sweaty slide. She felt him dragging against her walls on every pull, then scraping up them with every push. It felt rough at first, then it seemed to ease as the tingling in her limbs increased. She felt antsy, restless, began squirming underneath him, until she planted her feet and pushed back.

She'd done this before, she knew how to speed things up. She just wasn't sure if she wanted things faster, not when it was starting to feel so good. Whether she wanted to drag this out or not, instinct took over and she couldn't stop pushing against him, couldn't stop rising up to meet him, and, soon enough, she couldn't stop breathy moans from leaving her half-parted lips.

"F*ck! I'm gonna come." He stopped, collapsing on her chest.

"That's okay," she panted. It really was. She was okay with this being where it stopped. As far as sex went, this was already the best ever, even if she didn't come. She'd never come through penetration anyway, not even with one of the rarely used toys Lois insisted on giving her most holidays with a leer.

"Not before you," he said into her neck, then pulled himself up, sat back on his heels, pulled her with him, parting her legs wider as he slid further in, even deeper than before. Her legs hung on either side of his lap, one off the couch. It should feel silly, but it didn't. It felt intense. She could see him, eyes hard with concentration as they slid up and down her torso. She could feel his hands digging into either hip, holding her on him as he knelt up, controlling every thrust, moving her on him. It was good he was. She didn't seem to have any leverage in this position. All she could do was grab the arm of the couch above her with both hands as he moved in her, pushed into her, just a little harder now...

"Ollie..." It came out like a whine, which annoyed her because she didn't like whining without knowing what she was whining about. Was it because she had no freedom to move without pitching herself off the couch? Was it because the squeaking of the couch was at fever pitch now and she was afraid it would collapse under them? It could have been either of these things, but it was really that she was so close now and, despite her willingness to cut this short before, she was almost trembling with fear that he'd stop before...

"It's okay," he gasped, answering what she was too incomprehensible to ask. "Almost there. Come on."

"I'm trying," she growled, doing her best to push against him.

"Stop trying. Feel this." He rose up, pushing into her, hitting something inside her that made her head hit the couch and the rest of her bow upwards as he kept thrusting.

She whimpered as a sort of clenching sweetness spread inside her, radiated through her, made her feel like her body was shattering to boneless bits as she fell to the couch. She vaguely worried she was falling off it when she felt him grip her, fall over her, giving two more nearly sloppy thrusts before collapsing on her with a muffled grunt.

She gasped into his ear as his breath hit her neck in wet, warm pants. They stayed like that for a while, his body flattened on hers as his c*ck softened inside her. She felt strangely comfortable, even as he crushed her under him and wondered if they could just go to sleep right now.

Of course, Oliver had to break the silence.

"Well, holy sh*t." He lifted his head.

"Uh-huh." She didn't yet have the strength for real words.

"You're good, you know."

"You sound surprised," she said, though there wasn't much heat behind it. She was still damned tired.

He leaned into her, nuzzling her neck. "All that one man and it's been a while stuff had me thinking I was going to have a rough time getting you off."

"Well, I thought so, too," she confessed drowsily. She hummed contentedly as he started nibbling at her shoulder.

"We should pull the couch bed out. Gotta be better than this."

"That would mean moving," she sighed. "So no."

He groaned and bit her between her neck and shoulder. Not hard, but enough that she felt an answering tug between her legs even as he slid out of her. "So all that stuff about not telling anyone... Does that include Bart?"

"Yes."

"Even if he waxes poetic about your boobs right in front of me?"

"Even then," she said on a yawn, closing her eyes.

"You know, he was doing that tonight."

She opened one eye. "How much more do you think he'd do if he knew you saw my poetic boobs?"

"You have a point," he said against one said boob. "As long as he doesn't talk about that ass." He reached under her, gripped her.

She opened her other eye. "Aren't we going to sleep?"

He reached to the side, came up with the other two condoms still hanging onto the empty wrapper. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm not getting much sleep tonight."

"Smart girl like you," he began, bending to her again, "knew you'd figure it out."

"Not that smart." A smart girl would kick him out, knowing that Victor was coming tomorrow. A smart girl would know she'd have to have her wits about her if she was going to pack up thousands of dollars worth of hardware before the appraiser came. A smart girl would at least pull out the couch so she could have sweaty sex with some modicum of comfort. But, with a man licking his way down her stomach, she found it hard to be a smart girl. Hard to even want to be.

Luckily for her, Victor was a smart guy and didn't show up till noon, an hour after she'd pulled her "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" act on a sleepy, grumpy Oliver.

But that was later. For now, she had all the time in the world.

THE END

There will be a sequel, of course. But that's a ways off.

Thank you so much for bearing with me through my first Chlollie story.

PART FIVE

CHAPTER LIST