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It was a Tuesday morning, and we’d been camped in the hotel until Ollie fully healed.
He was still asleep when the sun rose and yellow and orange rays swept through the hotel room through the partially opened navy blue curtain. His arm rested over his head as his face tilted away from me, and I took the time to trace my fingers over his sculpted features daintily. My fingertip outlined his tattoos, hard chest, down his abdomen where bruises had changed colors, and over the curves of his abs. His body, branded in black ink, was the eighth wonder, and I’d wished I could hang him in the sky, his iridescent vibe raining over this somber earth. Maybe, then, people could finally stop and see the world the way he saw it and have a reason to smile again.
Ollie hummed in his sleep at my touch, and I lifted my gaze to catch his lashes fluttering and lips part as a breathy moan escaped. I waited until he stilled before moving my hand south, feeling the light trail of hair beneath my fingertips. Last night, we laid naked, twined parts, anchored hearts, and twisted souls, and this was what love with him was like.
His gifted size stretched in my hand, swollen and warm, and I sank beneath the covers between his legs with a spontaneous smile. I dragged my tongue up the length of his shaft, and the muscles in his thighs tightened under my palms. “Jesus Christ,” he growled before I circled the end of my tongue over the bead of pre-cum, then taking him all in to my mouth.
Ollie’s hips jerked forward and his fingers tangled in my hair as I sucked him slowly, stroking the sensitive spot with my tongue. The white and navy duvet was kicked off from over me before he pulled his knees up, and I looked up to see Ollie staring down at me through heavy green eyes.
I took him deep, and Ollie’s head fell back into the pillow. “You keep doing that, I’m going to come.”
“That’s the point,” I whispered, my lips brushing his tight skin.
Ollie’s pleading eyes returned to me, and he pushed the hair from my face and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. I crawled up his torso until his nose brushed mine, and I straddled him, sinking over his arousal until inch by stretched inch, he filled me. Our fingers laced together as my sex clenched around him, grinding and rolling to an intense beat. His hands left mine to run the tips of his fingers along my curves, to my hips, and ultimately grabbing two handfuls of my bottom as his moves became frantic, meeting my every grind. I bit down on my lip to fight the climax threatening to spill, but my legs were giving me away, shaking uncontrollably.
Ollie grabbed my hipbones, pi
I laughed into the crook of his neck. “Good morning, by the way.”
His hands roamed from my ass and over the scars of my back. “I knew I liked mornings for a reason.” And his nose brushed mine once more before I rolled off of him and to his side.
“Ollie?”
“Yeah?”
“Why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm.”
Ollie rolled onto his side and licked his lips. His mouth opened, about to say something, then closed, stuck in turbulent thoughts. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”
“A cemetery,” I questioned, my tone pitched and recovering from the story he’d gone over. Twice, because I asked him to retell it to be sure I’d heard correctly. “You buried the money in a fucking cemetery?”
“Yes.” He nodded, resolved.
“Let me get this straight. You stole all the assets from your brother’s prostitution ring and buried it next to George something’s gravesite because …”
“‘When death comes, it is never our tenderness we repent from, but our severity’, George Eliot,” he quoted, which didn’t help clear this up at all.
“I don’t think Mr. Eliot wanted the earth around him disturbed by fuck money.”
“First of all, George Eliot was a woman and a legend. Second, I think she’d find the irony amusing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very poetic, Ollie.”
“Thank you,” he said through a smile. “Tonight, we have to break into Highgate cemetery to retrieve the money.”
“Then you’re just going to, what? Hand the money off to Dex?”
“That’s the plan.”
“How much are we talking?”
“forty-three grand, give or take. But Dex doesn’t know how much exactly. I’ll give him half, and drop the other half off to Brad Burn’s family. Leave the rest for his kids and wife. They don’t deserve to struggle without a father.”
“That’s a lot of money you buried.”
“I was pissed off whiskey and a grudge. Lost a grand somewhere between the car and the tombstone, I’m sure,” he shrugged. “Not my greatest moment.”
I shook my head, gri
Ollie stroked my side. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“They say you can’t bury the money with you. You sure showed them.”
Ollie’s head fell back, a small cackle escaping.
“It’s just … I’m glad you told me, you know. Including me in this. You can’t take all your secrets to your grave.”
“Oh, here we go.”
“What?” I arched a brow. “Am I digging myself a deeper hole?”
Ollie’s smile was contagious, and he tried shaking his head through his laughter.
“We’re six feet deep into this mess,” I laughed, “and I could go all day.”
“You do that.” He smacked my ass. “I’m going to shower. You coming?”
“You going to bury yourself inside me again?” Ollie turned his head and walked away, but I felt his smile linger as I watched his smooth ta
The sound of water bouncing off the tile spilled from the bathroom, and Ollie poked his head through the doorway. “You’ll be in grave danger if you’re not in here in five seconds.”
The car stopped in front of a cobblestone cottage, and my gaze snapped to Ollie, who wore a proud smile. “Welcome home, love.”E
“Ollie …” I whispered, my eyes glued to the charming little house.
He grabbed my hand from my lap and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “Come on. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
Ollie cut the engine, and we both exited the car. My eyes landed everywhere, the gate with an empty bronze plaque waiting to be engraved, the tiny bridge arching over a creek, the mailbox, which was an exact miniature replica of the cottage. Vines crawled vertically up the front of the house, clinging on to the gray and white stone surface, and the front door was curved and chipped around the antique knocker. We’d left our bags inside the car, and Ollie opened the gate and let me walk ahead of him. “This is … I’m …”
“Gobsmacked?” he finished.
“Yeah, Ollie,” I laughed, “I’m fucking gobsmacked. Houses like this belong in books. Fairytales. They don’t belong in the real world.”
“This is real, and this is yours,” the door creaked open and we walked inside as he continued, “I haven’t been here yet, so please excuse any mess Travis left. Him and Summer stayed while I was away. But they’re gone now. It’s just us …” but I could hardly listen as I took in the nostalgic vibe the home transcended. We walked right into a small living room, and two thick wooden beams stood on both sides of us as a large leather couch sat against a wall, facing a fireplace. An old piano tucked in the corner. “Watch your step,” he grabbed my elbow, leading me off a single step.