Boldly by Elise Faber

Chapter Seventeen

Oliver

She burst out laughing,and it was almost the best sound on earth.

Almostthe best because the absolute best was Hazel coming against his tongue.

Hands down.

He would remember her moaning his name until he breathed his last breath.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and handing it to him. “Pick something to watch while I suck you off.”

The remote tumbled from his fingers.

Mainly because that painted a picture he’d been fantasizing about for a good long while, but also to catch her shoulders when she tried to crawl down his body.

“Babe.”

She cupped him, and since he was only wearing sweats and he was harder than he’d been in his entire life and he was holding on to his control by the thinnest of razor-thin margins, he promptly forgot whatever the fuck he’d been about to say, his hands sliding from her shoulders.

Her fingers slipped under the waistband of his sweats, beneath his underwear.

They were cool and soft as they circled his cock. One stroke, and he was ready to explode, but he managed to summon a modicum of strength and started to reach for her wrist, intent on tugging her free. “Babe,” he began. “I didn’t—”

She kept moving, shifting farther from him. “Don’t give me some bullshit line about how you only came here for me, so now I don’t get to give you pleasure.” She released him, reached for the top of his sweats, and started tugging them down. “It gives me pleasure to give you pleasure, same as the reason you’re hard and straining against your pants from licking me senseless, honey.”

“I—”

Her hands paused, his cock an inch away from being free. “So, if you don’t want me to do this, say so, and that’s fine. But make sure it’s because you really don’t want it or you’re not ready, and not because you have this inane thought that you’re taking advantage of me when I dragged you out of your house at ten at night, all because I was horny and pushy.”

“I like you horny and pushy.”

A corner of her mouth curved. “Good, because I tend to be those two things a lot.”

“Along with sweet, kind, considerate, and a remarkably good kisser. Though you do watch penguin documentaries, so a perk might be that you’re kinky as hell.”

The other corner curved. “You already know about my countertop and desktop sex fantasies, should I tell you about my avian ones?”

“Are there avian ones?” A ripple of concern slid through him. Was she into feathers? That wouldn’t be too bad. He could do a lot with a feather and her naked skin. But if it went further, like baby birding some food…well, that wasn’t going to go on his Fuck List.

“No.”

He relaxed. “Good.”

“Now, can I suck your cock so deep that my eyes water until you come in the back of my throat?”

He choked, the cock in question jumping with excitement. “Um…”

“Is that no?”

No, it wasn’t a no. It was a yes, very much a yes.

“Honey?”

“Babe?”

“Is it a yes?”

He nodded.

“Need the word, honey.”

“Yes, babe. Fucking please, do that.”

Her smile lit up the room—or at least it competed with the documentary playing in the background—but then he wasn’t thinking of anything but helping her get his pants down. Though, with a quick tug that had his cock springing free, she proved she didn’t need his help to do anything.

Least of which was getting him deep in her mouth.

She sucked him hard enough that his eyes rolled back in his head, but then she paired it by dragging her teeth lightly up and down his shaft, her grip tight and twisting, her lips spread wide, her throat working to take him deep. He gripped the sheets, resisting the urge to thrust up, to bury himself in the back of her throat, not wanting to gag her. She pulled back, the head of his cock resting on her bottom lip.

“Don’t hold back.” Her mouth moved against him, forming the words.

His back bowed, his cock slipped back between her lips, deep, and she gripped him again, stroking him, using her teeth and tongue and—

Holy fucking shit, this wasn’t going to take long.

Orgasm so fucking close he could feel it tingling at the base of his spine, he struggled to slow, to regain control, to—

Then she cupped his balls, tightened her lips and he jerked, hitting the back of her throat. She coughed slightly, pulled back, tears clinging to the edges of her lashes, but before he could retreat, make sure he didn’t hurt her, she all but dove on his cock.

Deep strokes.

Lots of suction.

A tight hand.

He exploded.

She swallowed him down, but even if he’d been coherent enough to try to pull away so she didn’t have to, her grip tightened, she took him deeper, and…he came so fucking long and hard that he wasn’t sure if he still had a body any longer.

Eventually, he came to with Hazel cuddled up next to him, smiling like a Cheshire cat, her hand under his T-shirt, his sweats still around his thighs.

“You have a really nice cock, you know that, right?”

“Considering it’s still hanging out,” he muttered, summoning the strength to yank up his underwear and pants, “it’s good you think that.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t even taken off his shoes.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?” Smoothing back her hair, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I liked that.” She snuggled closer. “That ticks one box off my fantasy list.”

“Good,” he managed to say. He’d sit up in a second, leave her to sleep, but…just in a second. Because he didn’t feel like he had any bones left in his body.

“I think you might be able to tick off my entire list.”

His limbs were weighed down with concrete, he was so relaxed. The semi-constant background noise of pain of his injury had finally silenced, leaving only relaxed muscles and nerves and a brain that was full of haze. “Mmm-hmm.”

A giggle then her arm tightened around him. “Oliver?”

“Hmm?” he said again.

“Will you stay?” He sucked in a breath, some of that relaxation fading. “Just for a little while?” she added when he didn’t immediately respond. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she whispered as he was still trying to form words that weren’t hmm or mmm. “I know that you came out of your way and—”

“Babe.”

“Yeah?”

He summoned some inhuman strength and managed to say, “I didn’t even take my shoes off, I was in such a hurry to get to you. My shoes,” he repeated, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her close. “That’s how much I wanted to be here. You want me to stay, I’m here. Though,” he added gently. “I need to take off my leg to sleep, so if that’s something you’re not comfortable with…”

She sat up, hand on his chest. “It’s you, honey. I’m comfortable with every part of you.”

Something inside him relaxed. The last of those supports holding up the wall that kept everyone at a distance, the little bit of fear that this would be the moment she rejected him.

“Is there anything you need to make it easier?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t turn down a charger for my phone on the nightstand.”

She grinned, pushed off him. “I think I can do that.” Then she was out of bed, and he was watching her naked ass head for the door. She stooped to pick up her tank top and panties, pulling both on. Then she disappeared into the hall.

He summoned the energy to get out of bed, dealt with the post-best-orgasm-of-his-life wobble, yanked up his pants and moved to one of the two doors in the corner. One revealed a closet—messy enough to make him smile, apparently his woman was a packrat. The other was the bathroom. He did his thing, washed his hands, and when he came out to the bedroom again, it was to find Hazel plugging in a charger and draping the cord over the wood of the nightstand.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the drawer by the sink.”

“Thanks, babe.” He turned back, found the drawer and the toothbrush, did his thing again—albeit with his teeth this time, and returned to the bedroom. The penguins were off, but in its place was some cooking show that Hazel paused.

She got up, crossed to him, pressing a kiss to his jaw, and trailing her hand across his stomach.

As though she’d done that a hundred times before.

He liked it.

Liked the way it made him feel like he belonged here.

Smiling and probably having no idea that she had once again rocked him to his core, she moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The water turned on.

He moved to the bed, dug his wallet and keys out of his pocket, his cell out of the other, plugged it into the charger, and then took care of removing his prosthesis—working off the socket that attached it to the portion of his leg beneath his knee the doctors had been able to save, propping the prosthesis against the nightstand, then scooting back onto the bed and peeling away the liners and socks he wore beneath to cushion the impact on his skin and remaining limb.

Hazel came out of the bathroom, walking straight toward him, her eyes not once going to the stump or the space where his leg should be.

Instead, she crawled into bed, snuggled up next to him, yanked the covers up, and threw an arm over his waist, sighing contentedly.

“Beautiful.”

Her head tilted back, eyes hitting his. “What’s beautiful?”

“You.” He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “And what you’ve given me. I—” He wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t think I could have that. Not because I didn’t deserve it or there was something wrong with me—I battled through those demons long ago, and losing my leg wasn’t going to bring me back. I just…I just never thought that being with a woman would bring me this much peace, didn’t think I could open up enough to have that peace.”

“Because when you found it with Theresa and Alex,” she whispered, “and then that peace was taken away.”

He nodded, voice cracking when he said, “It took them ages to get in. Then they were…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And then they were gone.”

He nodded, smoothed her curls back, letting them bounce through his fingers. “Yeah, babe. Then they were gone. But”—a breath, needing to tell her this, needing to admit it aloud since it was all up in his heart—“you’re here now.”

She gripped him tighter, snuggled closer against him, sliding her leg over his thighs so she had him wrapped in a full-body hug. “I’m here,” she said, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

He was wide open. Vulnerable.

But Hazel had her body wrapped around him. Her promise on the air.

So, he wasn’t scared.

“What do you think?”he asked, the next night.

Hazel walked through his living room with its gray on gray on gray decor and winced. “It’s nice,” she began.

But he could see her face and having spent some time at her place the previous morning, he knew that it was as he’d thought. Her house was a home. Warm and lived in, with loads of pictures and knick-knacks and artwork. It wasn’t like he wanted his shelves and walls filled with clutter. It was just…he wasn’t afraid of the connection now.

He wasn’t afraid to have something warm, worried that it might be taken away.

That had already happened, and he’d survived, and he was doing Teresa and Alex a disservice by continuing to hide. And if they were there, they’d kick his ass for daring to live that way. A big life, Teresa always said. We want you to live a big, big life.

Hazel had helped him remember that.

Because she saw beneath the barriers.

Gave him the courage to move beyond them.

So, he was continuing with his plan to slowly (okay, maybe not so slowly), to reel her in, and that meant getting her to invest in him, in them. Which was why he’d invited her over under the guise of “helping” him with a few things.

“You see my problem?” he said.

“That it looks like a very expensive hotel room?” she asked. “Or that fancy living room that you’re not allowed to step foot in because you might spill on the white carpet?”

“Yes. That.”

She grinned. “I see your problem.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Go boho chic like my place?”

The term boho made him shudder, and chic wasn’t much better, but he put on a brave face and nodded. One, he wanted Hazel to keep coming around and decorating his house as a great excuse to spend time with her. Two, if she managed to give him a bit of what she had at her place, he could build on that, keep making his house a home. “If that’s what you think will work best,” he said, meaning it. “I want to come home and feel home, not like I can’t step on that white carpet.”

She smiled at him, wide and open. “I am teasing about the boho chic, but I don’t think you’d go wrong with a little color.”

Color he could do.

Especially if it wasn’t more gray.

“So,” he said, “if I turn you loose at Target with my credit card, can you give me a little color in here?”

“In here,” she said, rolling her earring, as she always seemed to do when she was thinking hard about something, “Target will do. This whole house?” She spread her hands wide. “It’s a lot of space, and a designer might be better.”

“A designer is what got me into this.”

“You and me and Target will take time.”

He shrugged. “I have time.”

“You and me and Target means multiple trips to Target.”

Another shrug. “I like Target.”

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Do you have a fever?” she teased. “What man in his right mind likes Target?”

“Will Target be with you?”

One half of her mouth hitched up. “Yes.”

“Then I like Target.”

She melted, her body going soft against him, and he’d thus resisted kissing her so far, but he couldn’t resist then, not with her so close and so soft.

When they broke apart, he dragged his mouth down her neck, nipped the sensitive skin of her collarbone. “Come on,” he said, tugging her into the kitchen, “I’ll cook, and then we can go shopping.”

Hazel sidled up to him. “You know what’s great about Target?”

“What?” he murmured, taking another bite out of her—figuratively, not literally, though he did have his teeth on her skin, her taste on his tongue.

“You can get food there,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Popcorn and slushies?”

“That.” A beat. “And Starbucks.”

“My woman needs coffee?”

She beamed up at him. “Your woman always needs coffee.” A hand on his waist, her lips on his throat. “And a cake pop.”

“You get this place looking and feeling like a home instead of a very luxurious jail, and I’ll buy you two cake pops.”

Fluttering eyelashes, twitching lips. “Oh, you know how to treat a girl.”

He cracked up.

Then swatted her on the butt.

Then he took his woman to Target.

And got her three cake pops.