“Arlo, I really need you to fuck me,” she says, her eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure. I smile around her nipple, then lick the tip again before releasing it and kissing a path to her underwear. I hook my fingers into the thin fabric and slide them down her legs and then lower my mouth to her clit, sliding a finger inside of her. She’s wet and so damn sensitive her thighs quiver.
Liv fists the comforter as I run my tongue flat against her and then dip it into her. I pull back before she can find her release and move over her, lining up at her entrance. “Liv, look at me,” I demand, needing to watch her. Her blue eyes convey so many emotions of want and desire and something more that is beyond falling—something that makes me feel weaker, though I want it to make me stronger. Her lips slowly curve with a shy smile, and I kiss it off her face, wanting to see the lust that has her planting her feet on the bed. I stroke her clit and am instantly rewarded with a moan that has her bucking her hips against me. I shift, holding my weight on my right knee and elbow as I guide myself into her. She’s so tight that I have to ease myself in slowly, pausing when her mouth opens and discomfort twinges in her gaze. Several seconds pass as her body relaxes, growing accustomed to my size, and then her beautiful, stark blue eyes find mine, and she nods. I ease myself in, inch by inch until I’m fully sheathed inside of her. I gently lay my forehead against hers, our heavy breaths mingling. She’s so tight that I want to drive into her and find what I know would be a quick release, but I’m intent on her coming first.
I draw back and slide into her again, drawing another moan out of her that does nothing to help ease my desire to fuck her harder and faster. I pull back and pump into her a little faster, thinking about Brighton’s playbook and ice packs, and the pain I’d felt after surgery—anything to make me hold onto my control. I find a rhythm that has Liv sucking in her breaths, releasing them as garbled pleas, and then I speed up, going only slightly harder, my thumb finding her clit. Liv closes her eyes, her head drawing back as her thighs tremble, and her muscles tighten. I thrust into her even harder and faster, and Liv cries out her release, and I chase it quickly with my own, my breaths heavy as sweat gathers around my brow.
I press a languid kiss to her lips as I draw out of her and lie on my side, pulling her against me.
“I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad you came back for me.”
38
Olivia
Arlo is still asleep when I open my eyes. It’s too early for me to be up, and yet I feel wide awake, an anxious pull in my chest. The first light of dawn streams through my closed shades, allowing me to study him. His smile has always been a favorite of mine, but even when his mouth is relaxed as it is now, he’s strikingly handsome—the kind that warrants underwear advertisements and Levi’s jeans. I trace over the bruises around his eye and lip from the fight. They’re more purple today, creating a pang of guilt and anger at both the strangers and my father.
There’s a heavy knock at the front door, muffled by my closed bedroom door. My heart taps a quicker beat as I reluctantly slide out from my spot beside Arlo, missing the warmth of him instantly as I slip on a clean pair of underwear and a sports bra before grabbing some sweatpants and Arlo’s T-shirt—the closest shirt I can find—and rushing to get them on as someone knocks again.
I hastily close my bedroom door behind me, trying to be silent, so Arlo can sleep. He looked exhausted before we had sex—the last few days have definitely taken a toll on him.
I glance out the peephole, and my thoughts tumble and crash like dominoes.
“Matt?” I say, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
His blond hair is messy, and he has bags under his eyes. “Sophia came back and said you left.” His familiar blue eyes prod at me, begging me to tell him it’s all a lie. Part