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July 17 - July 18, 2024
“Olivia Anderson is a gorgeous woman inside and out who has been dealt a shit hand. I’m absolutely honored to have her on my arm, to be her man. Anyone tries to get in her fucking way, though, they’re going to get my wrath.”
“I, uh, Andre?” I ignore her. I put my hand out, silently telling her to take it. She looks at it, then at me, then over my shoulder to where I left the reporter, then back at my hand. And then she grabs it.
“Shit,” I whisper, reaching for his car door, but his hand stops mine. The tender spot on my wrist is burning from his touch, and slowly, so slowly, he moves me until my back is to the car and his front is against mine.
He’s always so fucking patient with me, like nothing else in the world matters.
We stare at each other, chests rising and falling quickly, before I break the silence. “That was a really, really good kiss,” I whisper without meaning to. For some stupid reason, when he’s around, the filter between my head and my mouth evaporates. “Olivia,” he says in a growl against my lips, and it’s low and travels straight to my belly, making it warm. It was meant to be a warning, but instead, it’s a turn-on. A dangerous, dangerous turn-on. “Andre.” My own voice is breathy, and his name on my lips has his hand tightening on my waist. “This isn’t that,” he warns, and it sounds like
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I made a mistake when I kissed her. I knew it immediately. I was a fool to think kissing Olivia Anderson once would be enough, would sate me. If Olivia is a spark then I am a forest, and I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop her flame from consuming me now that she’s set fire to my world.
I have lost my goddamn mind. It’s so obvious. It started with interrupting her stupid fucking revenge then agreeing to be her . . . bodyguard slash fake boyfriend. And it peaked when I made the mistake of kissing her. Now, my entire body can only focus on protecting her, on keeping that waver out of her voice, on keeping her safe and happy and . . . mine. No, not mine, I remind myself, because that line of thinking isn’t just stupid—it’s dangerous.
I fuck up again when I keep my eyes on the road but lift her hand, pressing it to my lips. “My place,” I say against her skin. And when her entire body relaxes, when she becomes quiet once more but not in a worrisome way, I should be concerned by how my body also relaxes. But I’m too far gone to.
“A menace,” he whispers, lips brushing mine as his head tips down, and then he’s stepping, moving me until my back is to the wall, until I’m pinned in place with his body, and he’s kissing me.
This isn’t controlled and concise, a specific impact he’s trying to make. This is a man breaking. A man who is giving into something he desperately wants but won’t let himself have.
“I want you to take care of me,” I whine. It’s the most honest thing I’ve said aloud in some time, the most blatant acknowledgment of my own needs. “I’m starting to think all I want to do these days is take care of you, Olivia,” he says, and the way he says it, like it’s a confession pulled from the deepest depths of his soul, shakes me.
That thought alone pulls a moan from my chest. It’s unintentional, fully natural, based on how keyed up I am and my daydream of Andre that has me on the edge already. But it does double duty, it seems, when from the other side of the door in the small room, I hear a groan. A deep, manly, pained groan. “Olivia, come on.” It fuels me.
“Should I circle my clit?” “Olivia.” I smile at the pain and frustration in his voice.
“If I were in there with you, I’d be torturing you for being such a naughty fucking girl and playing with me like this.”
The door jostles from the outside. He snaps, I think, in the only way he’ll let himself. He wants me. That much is clear. But he doesn’t want to want me for whatever reason. Because he’s working for me, or he thinks it’s too close to my breakup, or he’s got some issues of his own he needs to tackle first, I don’t know. But I do know Andre Valenti wants me. And he makes that abundantly clear with his next words.
“Who is it all for, little menace?”
There’s a little menace hiding underneath it all, begging to be let out. Lucky me, I’m the one it seems most comfortable showing itself to. My words seem to egg her on because she moans again before speaking. “Come in and find out.” I groan.
“No, I’m staying here where you’re safe. When you have a clear fucking head, we can talk about this like adults. But for now, you’re going to do what I say.”
“What?” she asks. “You want to play this game? We’re playing it my way. One finger in your cunt, Olivia.” “What?” Her voice is breathy and confused and turned on. “Do as I fucking say, menace.”
“What do you feel?” I want that to be my hand. “Fuck, I’m soaking. It’s tight, Andre. It’s . . .” Another moan, and I picture her sliding the finger out, it glistening in the low lighting of my room, then pushing it back in. “It’s been a while.” My cock throbs. “It’s mine now, Olivia.” I don’t know where it comes from. I shouldn’t think like that, possessive, controlling. I can’t think like that. But I do all the same. And when she replies, “God, I’m yours, Andre. Tell me what to do,” I know I’m really fucked.
“Two fingers inside, fuck yourself and rub your clit with the heel of your palm.” A moan and then god-fucking-dammit. If I hold my breath and listen, I hear it. The wet of her fucking her cunt. Of her riding her fingers. For me. Because I told her to. “Fuck, Olivia. I can hear how wet you are. Roll your nipples, baby, and keep riding those fingers for me.” “Yes. God. I’m close.” Her voice is almost confused. “How am I close?” “Because I’m in control. Imagine how close you’d be if it were my fingers? My cock stretching you.”
“I want your cock, Andre. Please, god, come in here.” “Not this time.” It’s a dangerous thing to say, even at the moment, because Olivia misses nothing. But I don’t know if I can deny there will be a next time. “This time, you’re going to ride your fingers in my bed and come saying my name.” Another frantic moan and I dig the hole deeper. “When you’re done, Olivia, I’m going in the shower, and I’m going to jack myself off thinking of fucking you. I’m going to come thinking about filling your tight cunt.” She mewls at my words, panting. “Do you like that, Olivia? The idea of me claiming you
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“Are you still there?” Her voice is nervous now, like she can’t believe she did that, that we did that. My cock throbs as I readjust it in my jeans. “Yeah, menace. I’m here.” Silence once more, then I hear her soft voice. “Thank you for that,” she whispers.
Temptress, I want to say. You’re a damn temptress. But her face tells a different story. She’s telling the truth. She won’t sleep well knowing I’m sleeping on the couch because she’s in my bed. I hate that face. I think I would give up everything so she never makes it again. I sigh.
She lets out a little OOF! of surprise before she settles, her back melting into my bare chest in just a moment. A few minutes pass, her breathing evening out. She’s not asleep, but she’s close when I whisper into her hair: “You’re a menace, you know that?” She lets out a tired laugh. “But am I your menace? Because I think I want to be your menace, Andre,” she whispers. The words coat me like a balm, smoothing out the rough edges of the world, and though I don’t respond—I can’t really—her words run through my mind, driving through my dreams, a sentence said in the honesty of near sleep.
as I turn, Olivia is shuffling out, hair a mess and my shirt grazing her upper thighs. Jesus. A fucking dream. I am so fucked.
she only goes to this coffee shop to get a drink in fall, the only time she can trust them to make a good one. She looks from it to me and back, then to the paper-wrapped straw in my hand. She unwraps it, slides it in, and takes a sip. Pure bliss takes over her face. I want to give her that bliss in a very non-coffee-related way.
“Okay.” “Okay?” I ask, shocked. “Well, yeah. I’m not going to force myself on a man who doesn’t want me.” “I didn’t say—” She cuts me off by standing and turning her back to me before looking over her shoulder. “All good, Andre. I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” She lifts her hands to fix her hair, piling it on top of her head before wrapping a hair tie around it expertly. But I don’t take note of that technique. I’m lost on the way my shirt rides up with the movement, revealing the bottom half of her ass in a thong. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I block every text and call that jackass makes because I want Olivia for myself. And somehow, along the way, I’ve taken it as my job to protect her sanity and mental health and her goddamn peace. And every single day, I’ve realized more and more I’m not working for this goddamn promotion anymore. I’m working to clear her from this mess because as soon as I do, she’s mine.
“Kissing you might be my downfall, Olivia, but I’m going to be doing it anyway. If I’m going to hell, might as well taste heaven along the way.”
tipping my head until I’m forced to look at him. “Perfect,
He slowly mimics fucking me, his thumb pressing in barely, then off, then repeating as I squirm. “Use your big-girl words, little menace. Tell me what you want from me.”
“Use your manners, Olivia.” “Please,” I moan, my hips moving infinitesimally. The hand holding my panties pushes firmly. “Stay. Do not move while I play.” While he plays. While. He. Plays.
“Such a needy fucking girl,”
You’re all for me. Aren’t you, little menace?” His warm voice rolls through me, my pussy clenching as I tiptoe closer to the edge but not dropping off. When a sharp crack hits my inner thigh, his free hand slapping me there, my eyes open, meeting his. I pulse with my need for release. “Tell me you’re mine, Olivia. Tell me I rule your body, rule this cunt.” That’s what it takes.
I shatter for him, as I come apart, falling into a million little pieces, some I don’t think I’ll ever get back.
“That’s it, baby, ride my fingers like a good girl.”
he slides in a third finger. The stretch. The fullness. The way his eyes droop just a bit and his mouth opens as he watches me take his fingers. It builds. Fuck, it builds. “That’s it. There you go,”
“Look at this, Olivia. Right fucking now. Watch me fuck you.”
I watch his face, his firm jaw, the way his head is tipped to stare at where we’re joined, his hair falling over his forehead, and goddamn. “That’s it, Liv, fall. Fuck. Fall for me.” “I can’t. I want—” I try to tell him I want to watch.
“For the love of fuck, Olivia, make yourself come for me.” I have no choice. None at all. First, I slide my hand down, my pointer and middle fingers splitting so I can feel his cock sliding there as it enters me, and I groan at the feel, at his thickness, his throbbing. Then I slide back up and rub my clit, hard.
He moves down the bed, crawling, then uses a finger to run through my wet, swollen pussy, groaning as he does. “Jesus fuck, just look at this. You’re full of me, aren’t you?” He’s not really talking to me, mostly to himself like he’s proud of his handiwork, and as his finger circles my swollen clit, my entire body reacts, flinching before melting, the ball of tension building in my belly again almost instantly. “Shit,” I whisper under my breath. “One more, Olivia.” One more? How? “Andre, I can’t—” “You can,” he insists, and he sounds so fucking sure of himself. A finger slides into me, and I
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he’s staring at my pussy, his eyes intense and burning. “God, just look at that. Look at you, wet as hell and dripping with my cum.”
“Do you want to get married, or did you evade it once and saw the light or something?” I smile because I’ve thought of this before, if a wedding and marriage are ruined for me. “I do. I like the idea of it, of being tied to someone, of there being something holding us together beyond feelings and admiration and a common friend group. I like the . . . certainty of it. The surety.”
“I want that too, you know. The surety. If I’m tying you to me, I want to know if I fuck it up, I’ve got time to fix it before you pack your things and start searching how to cut my brake lines.” I roll my eyes and slap his chest, but he grabs my wrist, pressing a kiss to my pulse point.
he grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “But in all seriousness, I’m telling you now. A year, two, three down the road, if I manage to convince you to be mine for that long, I want my ring on your finger. A big fucking thing so no man can miss it from a mile away.” “Manage to convince me, huh?” He just smiles, and it’s boyish and light. The smile I only ever see when we’re alone, making it my favorite ever.
In my head, you’re it for me, Liv. But I know you’re a good year behind me. We’ve got time.” His thumb brushes my cheek like he’s committing it to memory, too. “So a wedding. A big one?” I take a moment to catch my breath before answering, before I shake my head. “No. Last time . . . God, it was the worst. So much planning, and I do that shit for a living. Too many people. If I ever . . . If I ever try it again, I want it small. Friends and family and no one else,” I say with a smile. “Small is good.” His smile reflects my own.
“Alright. Small wedding it is.” It’s like there’s no doubt in his mind that in one, two, three years down the road, we’ll be doing that: having a small wedding with just friends and family.
“On your knees in front of me, little menace,”
“You look so pretty like this,” I murmur. “Take my cock out.”
