He felt it and pulled out again, flipping her again to her back, giving her most of his weight, one arm around her waist, driving her down, one hand curled around the back of her neck, holding her steady for his pummeling.
His eyes locked to hers, dark as night.
“Eyes are sweet. Mouth is sweet. Pussy so fucking sweet. Tastes sweet,” he rammed in and the bed shook, “feels fuckin’ sweet.”
“Olivier.”
“You’re takin’ all of me.”
“Olivier.”
“Mark you deep, Leigh. Gonna mark you deep.”
“Olly,” she gasped, her head driving back into the satin. Scraping her nails deep up his spine, she felt him arch into her at the pain, his grunt tear through her as she came. Her world exploding so forcefully, fear she’d never felt coursed through her veins and she grasped on to the only thing that could keep her safe.
Lifting her head and shoving it in Olivier’s neck, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, held tight and whimpered into his ear as it ravaged her.
“That’s it, Leigh, hold on, baby,” he grunted, still taking her hard.
“Give it all to me, Olly,” she gasped. “Now, darling.”
“You got it, Leigh,” he grunted again then groaned, driving her into the bed as he shoved the top of his head into it, his hand at her neck sliding up into her hair to hold her face in his neck. He pounded into her, shuddering as she felt his release.
They came down, both trembling, and she felt his hand relax at her head but hold her there as he turned his and nibbled her neck.
She sighed, melting beneath him.
He moved his lips to her ear.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“You took me—”
“I’m fine, darling.”
He lifted his head and looked down at her, remorse heavy in his features.
“Normally, I start gentle. My size, I got to. But you took all of me, Leigh-Leigh, fast and hard, baby.”
“I wanted all of you, Olly.” She slid a hand down, around, and up to stroke his jaw. “I knew what I was doing.” She gave him a grin that was weak because she didn’t have the strength to give more. “With the pussy wrap the other night, slamming me to the floor to eat me, you made it pretty clear what happens when I push you too far.”
“The pussy wrap,” he muttered, lips quirking, relief sifting through his features before the amusement set in, eyes to her mouth.
She cupped his jaw and his gaze came to hers.
“Kiss me, Olly.”
She was surprised and moved when the dark need filled his face, shrouding them in that warm shadow, before he slanted his head and took her mouth.
They kissed, deep and wet and hungry, like they both just hadn’t come magnificently.
It was the best kiss of her life, lying under, holding close, and connected intimately with a man whose last name she didn’t know.
He nipped her lip before he ended the kiss, lifting his head, but not very far.
“Blind down, you do that to keep us in or keep him out?”
The answer meant a lot to him, she could see.
But the way he phrased it was interesting.
Not keep them out, but keep him out.
Stellan.
“Actually, until he approached me tonight, I hadn’t thought of him.” She lifted her head and touched the tip of her nose to his. “And after he left my booth tonight, I didn’t think of him.” She dropped her head back down and managed to give him a bigger grin. “Though, now that you mention it, two birds…” She trailed off and watched, heard and felt his soft chuckle.
Yes, he was terrifying because she was beginning to understand that, in having him, really having him, she wouldn’t be gaining something.
He’d be her everything.
“You go with your flow, Mistress,” he said playfully but his eyes were serious when he finished, “But pleased as fuck what we had tonight was just for you and me.”
She knew that. That was why she gave it to him.
But she loved it that he could express it.
She lifted up again but this time to take his mouth.
She didn’t need to take it. He gave it to her.
When she ended it, he went back to nuzzling her neck, up to her ear where he noted, “My dick buried inside you, you called me baby.”
She allowed her hands to drift over his back, belatedly seeing their beauty (well, mostly his beauty, as she could barely be seen), connected and framed in red in the mirror in the ceiling, unsure how to reply.
“Felt you come hard for me, Leigh-Leigh, buried deep, so any time you use the word baby on me, could be pissed as shit at you, on another continent, and just hear you giving it over the phone, I’ll feel it in my dick.”
She shouldn’t give more. She knew she shouldn’t. It said too much too soon.
She gave it anyway, like she, Mistress Amélie, had absolutely no control.
“I’ve never called anyone ‘baby’ in my life.”
She felt him still completely over her, all around her, before he slid his lips again down to her neck, where he muttered, “So totally gonna feel that in my dick.”
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
“After you … after our break…” she began and he lifted up to look down at her. “I’d like to see you Tuesday.”
His head tilted to the side. “Got something on Monday night?”
“No.”
“You’re dissin’ our reunion for football,” he guessed inaccurately, and teasingly.
“I’ll amend,” she said, again fucking grinning. “After our break, I’d like to see you Monday.”
He dipped close, lips to her lips. “Right then, Amélie. I’ll be here Monday.”
She saw his eyes were smiling.
He liked that.
He liked what she gave him.
He liked what they had.
He liked her.
And she liked him.
Fates, keep me safe, she whispered in her mind as she slid out her tongue and touched his lower lip.
Olivier sucked it into his mouth.
She let him kiss her and she kissed him back.
And Amélie could only hope the fates listened.
twelve
Lipsticked Lips
OLIVIER
Olivier could only hack it until Monday morning.
Since starting it with Amélie, he’d used most of his markers to change shifts with the guys so he didn’t work nights or midnights.
In order to keep that going, rebuild his markers, he was giving them, taking a week of midnights.
Now, having her completely Friday night, all they’d shared before and after she took him to that red room, Amélie giving that room to him, just them, no one else, he felt her almost constantly digging deeper under his skin.
All day. All night.
Even in his dreams.
And clearly with no willpower and losing the fight to find it, he didn’t stop it.
So that morning after shift, Olly lay naked in his bed, the blinds closed against the Phoenix sun, the curtains drawn, needing sleep.
But needing his Leigh-Leigh and his Mistress more.
So he called her.
“Olly,” she answered. “Is everything all right?”
He gave her what he needed to give her to tell her what he needed to get.
“Mistress.”
There was a hesitation before he knew she got him when she ordered, “Cup your balls, chevalier.”
His cock, already hard, got harder as he moved to do what she said.
“Have you done that?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered.
“Good, Olivier. Now, put the phone on speaker and place it where I can hear you and you can hear me but it won’t be distracting.”
He had her voice coming at him, his cock hard, his hand cupping his balls because she told him to do that, he could balance
that phone on his dick and it wouldn’t be distracting.
But he did as told, increasing the volume and pushing the phone into the pillow by his head so it’d stay put.
“Do I have you, mon chou?” she called.
“You got me, Amélie.”
And she did.
Christ, she so did.
“Good, now how much time do we have?”
He closed his eyes, a sweet agony.
Because there it was. Amélie looking out for him in all the ways she could.
She probably thought he had a day job, and that early in the morning, but still not that early, she’d think he had to get ready to get to some office.
He didn’t. But he did have to get good sleep, get up, get fueled, work out, shower, do life shit, like laundry, and get back to the firehouse.
A lot of the guys on midnights slept in the bunkbeds at the house. Since Olly was acting lieutenant on the nightshift, he felt it necessary to stay alert so he didn’t do that.
So they didn’t have a lot of time.
“Not much,” he told her.
“Okay, Olivier,” she said softly. “Let’s begin then. At the same time, slide your middle finger in your mouth and give your balls a squeeze.”
He did what she asked, fighting the urge after he’d given them a squeeze to take his hand from his balls to jack his dick.
“Extract your finger from your mouth, please,” she ordered.
He did. “It’s out, Mistress.”
“Lovely, Olivier,” she purred. “Lift your knees, legs wide, feet in the bed. Tell me when that’s done.”
He did it and grunted, “Done.”
“Excellent, now please grip your cock at the base but don’t stroke.”
“Done,” he said, his voice rougher.
“Are you hard for me?” she asked.
“Very,” he answered.
“Oh, Olivier, how much I wish I could see.” She said it and she meant it, he could hear it and it made him even harder. “Are you prepared for me?”
“Yeah,” he bit out, and he was. He needed to stroke.
“You’re harnessed?”
Shit, he hadn’t thought of that.
“No,” he admitted.
“Mm,” she said before she made a tsking noise and murmured, “There’ll be punishment for that when I have you again.”
Fuck.
Yes.
“Now, let’s focus. Wet your middle finger again, Olivier.”
He did.
She must have known it because, as he was sliding it out of his mouth, she ordered, “Please, seat that finger up your ass and then stroke your cock for me.”
Fuck. He’d never done that to himself.
“Amélie.”
“Do it or your punishment might not end in a reward.”
He wondered what that meant and doubted she could pull it off. Anything she gave him was a reward.
“Fuck,” he muttered it verbally this time.
Then he took his time, reaching between his legs, and he gave himself his finger as he started to jack his dick.
Nice.
“Fuck,” he puffed out.
“Are you as I want you?” she asked something she knew the answer to.
“Yeah, Mistress.”
“Stroke harder, Olivier.”
He did.
“And fuck your ass with your finger.”
“Christ,” he ground out and he did that too.
Brilliant.
A growl surged up his throat.
“To be taking your ass myself, listening to your pleasure right there with you, I want that right now, chevalier,” she whispered.
“Me too, baby,” he grunted, jacking his dick harder as he fucked his own ass.
“When I have you again, after your punishment, I’m going to show you off.”
His fist pumped faster and the noises he was making escaped as they did, and for once, Olly didn’t try to stop them.
Without her there, he wanted her to hear.
“Take you to the social room,” she shared. “Parade my beast. Bask in their envy that that magnificent body of yours is mine, that brute of a cock is mine, those beautiful balls are mine, that ass is mine.”
God, he wanted that.
How could he want that?
He just did, and him starting to raise his hips, fuck his own fist, his finger up his ass, made that undeniable.
Which meant Olly could no longer deny that he liked that she liked to show him off. He liked she was proud of him. He’d been beginning to understand as he saw that Stellan asshole watching her work him why he’d feel the sneer of conceit spread on his lips, watched the corresponding sneer of pure jealousy spread on that asshole’s mouth, knowing that guy might say he was a Master, but he wanted to be right where Amélie had Olivier, taking anything she wanted to give.
Fuck, Olly even got off on seeing what became only shadows beyond that glass when Amélie was opening his world, arrogant, even smug that she’d chosen him and he was hers as she was his.
Olly loved she’d claimed him and was so deep in that he got off on the fact she wanted to rub the others’ noses in what she gave him.
And what he gave her.
“Amélie,” he bit out.
“Oil you before we go. Prepare you. Bend you over a table, your legs spread, your ass on display. My ass. They can look, they can’t touch.”
“Plug me,” he grunted.
“If you wish, my Olivier,” she sounded pleased, hot and pleased.
“Only yours,” he told her.
“Only mine as I’m only yours, darling.”
“Fuck,” he grunted.
“Bent over a table in social, would you ride the handle of my crop in your ass, performing for me?” she asked, her voice hotter, breathier, the purr hitting extremes so it was almost like he could feel it on his skin.
“Do anything you want, Amélie,” he groaned.
“Then right now, my stallion, offer me your seed.”
He came on demand, driving his finger up his ass and shooting up his stomach and ribs, grunting her name through it.
His orgasm not close to what she could give him, but it far from sucked, he was so deep in it he almost didn’t hear her command of, “Milk yourself dry for your Mistress.”
But he did hear her and did as told, muttering, “You got it.”
“Slide your finger out, Olivier, and stroke your cock gently.”
He did that too.
Like she was attuned to him completely from whatever distance they had, after a while she whispered, “You can stop stroking at your leisure, Olly.”
And that was it. They were out of their scene and back to Olly and Leigh.
“Are you okay, darling?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, Leigh-Leigh.”
“Good.” It was still a whisper but he could hear she was pleased.
“You come, baby?” he asked, wishing he’d heard if she did, though wondering if he would since she looked great coming but she didn’t make a lot of noise.
“Mm, next time.” She was back to purring.
“Right,” he said through a grin. “And when do you want this next time to be?”
“Tomorrow morning, at this time, Olly, if you’re free.”
He would be.
“I’m free,” he confirmed.
“Prepare for me, Olly. Harness and a towel on the bed.”
Fucking hell.
He had a feeling, with a heads-up, she was going to give him even better.
“And, your decision, but if you text me your address, I can have some things delivered that will make times such as these between us much more interesting.”
When he didn’t answer that immediately, she continued, her voice softer, reassuring.
“It will come direct from me, courier delivery. No way to know what’s inside. And I’ll do nothing but use your address for the delivery. Your space is yours and I’ll only occupy it on your invitation, darling.”
Yes, she took care of him.
“Then send what you want to me.”
“It’ll be there this evening.”
The amusement he felt was in his voice when he replied, “Awesome, Leigh.”
“I’ll let you go, but before I do that, I just want you to know that I’m pleased you phoned.”
“You not comin’ means I’m more pleased.”
The amusement was now in her voice, as well as something richer, warmer … happy, when she said, “Good.”
Shit, him, her, the both of them were getting in deep.
He just couldn’t stop it.
And what they had was so good, in a playroom, a booth with a drink or on the phone, Olly was also beginning to wonder why he was allowing it to fuck with his head to even try to stop it.
“Gotta go, sweetheart,” he returned, knowing he should hide the regret in his voice and not stopping that either.
“Okay, Olly. Until tomorrow, mon chou.”
“Yeah, Leigh. Later.”
“Good-bye, darling.”
He hung up, laid in bed on his back with his cum on his stomach, the feel of his finger up his ass, his cock sensitive and still semi-hard, and he waited for it.
The uncertainty.
The shame.
But it didn’t come, mostly because all Olly could do was wonder what she’d send, wanting to hear her come for him too. He’d been up all night, was right then seriously relaxed, so he needed to shut his eyes and sleep.
To that end, he swung his carcass out of the bed, went to the bathroom, cleaned off his cum, and climbed back into bed naked, throwing the covers over him.
Nothing, not that barest inkling fucked with his head as he fell right to sleep.
* * *
Olly got the delivery before he went to work.
He opened it like a fucking kid at Christmas and felt his dick jump at what he saw inside.
A small plug, some lube, a remote control, a cock harness with attached ring, and a Bluetooth earpiece to allow him to be hands-free and have her sweet voice right in his ear.
He opened the thick stock, classy-ass, light beige notecard that had an elegant but contemporary embossed AMÉLIE HÉLÈNE STRAND on the flap at the back.
And there it was.
She gave him more.
He had her full name.
Damn, that felt good.
The good he felt knowing her name got better when a chuckle burst from him to see she’d sealed the note with a kiss from lipsticked lips.