Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Oliver presses his lips together until they're a thin line. "I know."
Theron lifts his sunglasses and peers at Oliver, maybe sensing something's off, too.
"You don't sound happy," I whisper, watching his regal face for a reaction that will give away his true feelings.
"I'm always happy." A quick smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. And then he fills his chest with a breath that seems tense.
"Then why do you sound pissed off?"
"I'm not."
"Okay.” I switch my gaze to Theron, who is now sitting up, watching our interaction. Being rejected with an audience isn’t my idea of fun and I don’t get how Oliver moves so easily between funny, clever and caring, and wary and dismissive. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. Oliver moves his head so close to mine, our noses almost touch.
“You're a brilliant woman,” he whispers, “Too brilliant for this assignment. You should be writing about things that really matter in the world. Things that inspire you."
So that’s what he’s thinking about when Theron is nudging him in the direction of sex. I jerk my head back, surprised at the change of direction. "That's...I...thank you, I guess."
"So, what's stopping you?"
I twist, wanting to escape from the serious focus of his gaze on me. I know he thinks he’s being complementary and a friend, but the press of his questions is like a physical weight on my neck. Oliver takes a step back, giving me space, but then he reaches for my hand beneath the water.
Swiveling, I face him head on. "You know, you don't have to do this, Oliver, if you don't want to. Russell waited for you to claim me out of honor, but if you'd rather talk about how disappointed you are that I'm writing about cock rather than world politics, we can just skip it."
Pulling on my hand, he twists me to face him, regret furrowing his brow. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay. I'm used to mentoring people younger than me. This is...the age gap has me feeling all kinds of ways."
“The age gap isn’t a thing,” I tell him. “At least, it wasn’t for Stefan.”
"Maybe he wants you to call him daddy," Jonas yells out of nowhere from the side of the pool, helpful as always at reducing tense moments. When Oliver opens his mouth, Jonas puts his hand up. "Don't even try to deny it."
"I don’t,” Oliver says, but his pupils spread with a telltale darkness that shows me the truth. “I just want you to know your potential.” When I look away, he places a hand on my cheek. “I want what you want." His soft nod and a smile that flickers at the edges of his lips don’t convince me one hundred percent. Still, the way he cradles my hand is tender and the space he gives me is respectful.
"Allie wants you," Theron yells. "Why'd you have to make this more complicated than it is?"
“Do you?” There’s something about the way Oliver asks me that feels big, like my answer will push aside more than just his own reasons for being uncertain. I get his reticence. Where the other men have jumped into this crazy proposal feet first, Oliver is mature and a thinker. He probably deliberates as much as I do before making a decision. Our similarities only make me feel warmer towards him.
For all his uncertainty about this week, he’s always been caring and had my best interests at heart. I believe he’d push aside his own wants and desires if he thought they would hurt me in any way. The way he took care of me on the first day before any of the sex stuff was tender and considerate. I believe that’s the man he is under all of the formality and seriousness.
“Of course,” I say. I couldn’t single him out for rejection any more than I could the other men in the group.
Oliver’s eyes glaze but he’s still braced like he’s ready to fight rather than fuck.
I need to jolt him out of his overprotective tendencies so he can take what I know he wants. Maybe Jonas is right about what turns Oliver on. He’s been right about a lot.
“Daddy,” I whisper, keeping my eyes fixed on Oliver’s chest, and my pussy flutters between my legs.
“Fuck.” Oliver’s mouth is on mine before I can utter another word, his tongue invading, his hand gripping my chin and cheeks so he can angle my face exactly the way he wants to. His body presses me hard against the wall of the pool, his lean thigh shoving up against my clit. His arousal, all ten inches of it, is a bar of intent against my belly.
He pulls back, breathing hard. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Daddy.”
“Allie.” My name is a strangled whisper on his lips. His fingers play with the top of my bikini, sliding the fabric over my skin a little at a time until it snags on my nipple. He pauses, his eyes feasting on the roundness of my breast. "Just a little more and..." It’s like he’s giving himself instructions, forcing himself to go further than he ever thought he would. He tugs and my nipple pops out.