Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia), page 17
“I already showed your mom her room,” Avery said from the shadows, startling me. “Your room’s ready too. My parents will be back in time for Christmas, but once they get back, they won’t mind if y’all stay here.”
“Thank you, Avery. I can’t begin to express to you how much this means to me,” I cried softly.
“Hey,” she whispered, hugging me. “I’m happy to help…but what happened?”
“I can’t talk about it right now. I’m sorry,” I sobbed, covering my face with my hands.
“It’s okay,” she rubbed my back. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. It was something with your dad, though, wasn’t it?” She questioned.
I nodded; she didn’t need more of an answer than that.
“He’s worse than what you told me, isn’t he? Did he hurt you, Livie?” She pulled away, looking me over.
My whole body was sore and I knew my arm would be bruised come morning.
“In more ways than what you’re thinking,” I whispered.
“Oh, Olivia,” she hugged me again. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this.”
I hugged her back, tightly, thankful again, and definitely not for the last time, that I had a friend like Avery. She could say crude things and get on my nerves sometimes, but at the end of the day, she had my back and I had hers. If that wasn’t friendship, I didn’t know what was.
She released me, wiping at her tear-streaked face. “Let me show you your room.”
I followed her through the massive house and up a sweeping staircase.
“This is my room,” she pointed to an open door. “Don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need anything or just a shoulder to cry on,” she smiled lightly. Opening a closed door at the end of the hall, she announced, “This is your room.”
It was a large, nicely decorated, guestroom. The walls were painted a light brown color with carpeted floors in a similar shade. The bed coverings were all white and the furniture was black.
“You’re probably going to want to sleep in, so I should warn you, my brother Nick will be here tomorrow. Don’t be surprised if you see a guy walking around in his boxers, scratching his balls, it’s normal.”
I laughed. I could always count on Avery to make a serious situation not so dark.
“Thank you again,” I told her.
“Not a problem. I’m going back to bed,” she padded down the hall and into her room. “See you in morning,” she chimed and closed the door.
I knew I should grab my suitcase, and try to go to sleep, but I didn’t want to.
I wanted Trace.
I wanted to tell him everything.
I wanted him to make me forget.
★★★
I found myself running up the steps, leading to Trace’s loft apartment, and banging on his door.
I kept knocking and knocking. I started to question whether he was even there and then I began to worry, what if he was here but otherwise occupied?
Trace would never do that to you.
The door opened underneath my banging fist, and I tumbled inside, captured by warm strong arms.
“Whoa,” he steadied me. “Olivia, what are you doing here? I thought you were in New Hampshire.” He gazed down at me and the intensity in his eyes caused me to shiver. I saw worry there too, swirling in the green depths. He knew something bad had to have happened to send me running here.
“I just…I needed you,” I whispered. “I have to tell someone. I have to.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he crooned, wrapping me into his arms when I began to cry.
He swept my legs out from under me and we settled on the couch.
“What happened?” He wiped away my tears with his large thumbs.
“So much,” I croaked.
For the first time, I noticed that he was practically naked, wearing only a pair of plaid boxers. At any other time, I would have snorted. Of course he wears plaid boxers.
“Tell me what happened,” he pleaded, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
The whole thing, everything that happened in the past forty-eight hours, and what had happened years ago, spilled from my mouth. I didn’t hold anything back. Memories I had long ago suppressed bubbled to the surface, and I told those too, like the time we were in the park and my dad—er—Aaron, pushed me off the swing, claiming I fell on my own and I ended up with cuts on my hands and knees.
There was another time, when he was teaching me to ride a bike, where he purposely let go of me so that I fell into a ditch full of large rocks.
As I grew older, he switched to solely using the verbal abuse on me, but in the back of my mind, I remembered walking in on him beating my mother.
So many years and so much abuse. I had been able to block a lot of it, but I was sure my mother hadn’t been able to do the same. She had to remember everything, and I wondered how she made it through each day, without crumbling to pieces. I guess she was stronger than I thought.
Trace didn’t say he was sorry, he simply held me, and that’s all I wanted.
To feel safe.
★★★
Sometime later, I pulled away from his embrace. He looked me over carefully with those inquisitive green eyes.
“Thank you, for telling me,” he murmured, “and for trusting me. I know it was hard for you to tell me.” He played with my braid and his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips.
“I’m so lucky I met you,” I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Flat tires come in handy sometimes,” he chuckled as his lips brushed against the top of my head.
“Mhmm,” I murmured and kissed his bare chest.
“Olivia,” he warned.
“Trace,” I smiled at his tone and kissed a spot on his collarbone.
“What are you doing?” He asked as one of my hands roamed over his chest.
“I think…” I leaned up and kissed his neck, “…it’s called seducing.” I draped one of my legs across his and sat on his lap so I faced him. I placed my hands on his stomach, just above his boxers, and then moved them up slowly. They lingered on his chest, then wound around the back of his neck, and settled on his ears.
He squished his eyes closed. “It’s working. Then again, you don’t have to seduce me.”
I rubbed my fingers down the back of his ears. “Don’t make me beg,” I whispered.
His hands came up to grip my waist. “Olivia,” he said as if pained, “don’t do this to me.”
“I want you,” I sat back on his lap, staring into his eyes; trying to get him to see that I needed him.
His hands tightened on my waist. “I want this to be perfect with you,” he murmured fiercely. “I don’t want this…sadness, clinging to you. I want it to be only about you and me. No one else. I don’t want you to use me to erase your pain.”
“I’m not,” I kissed his chin. “This is about no one else, but you and me, and the fact that I want you in every way.”
“Olivia, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he pulled me against his hard length, “don’t make this any harder on me.”
I grinned. “I don’t think you can get any harder.”
He groaned. “You’re really trying to kill me.”
“Ah, but what a pleasant death it would be,” I ran a finger from the indent of his collarbone, straight down, hooking it into the edge of his boxers.
His hand closed around mine. He swallowed thickly. “It’s too soon, Olivia. But I want to, so bad.”
“Then don’t hold back,” I coaxed. “I’m ready.”
His hands flexed against my waist as I watched an internal battle rage across his face.
I was about to resort to begging, but before I could open my mouth, his lips were on mine as he resigned to the inevitable.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, as I pressed against him, closer, closer, closer. I knew I wouldn’t be close enough until our bodies had melded together, and even that, I was sure, wouldn’t be close enough.
He pulled back and lifted my sweatshirt off of my head, throwing it to a far corner of the room. My long sleeved t-shirt quickly followed and I was left in only my bra and jeans.
He kneaded my breasts through the thin cups of my bra before undoing the clasps and tossing it as well.
He pulled me against him so that we were chest to chest. I felt his heart racing as quickly as mine and I was pleased to know I wasn’t the only one affected by this. I wasn’t naïve; I knew Trace had loads of experience in this department.
“You can still tell me to stop,” he panted breathlessly.
“I’m not asking you to,” I ran a finger along the curve of his jawline, “and I won’t ask you to.”
“Okay,” he whispered, standing. My legs wrapped around his waist and he held me tightly against him, his hands clasped below my butt. “I’ve got you,” he assured, nudging his bedroom door open further, and laying me down on the mattress. The covers were pushed down to the bottom of his bed from his haste to answer the door when I arrived.
He stood, gazing down at me, and I blushed shyly as he scrutinized my body. I was still wearing my jeans, but the way he looked at me, made me feel as if I was bare everywhere else.
“You’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he crooned.
He leaned down and I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the light pressure of his lips meeting mine. Instead, I felt a slight tug, and the ponytail holder holding my braid in place, came undone. He fanned my hair around my head and appraised his work. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, Olivia,” he whispered.
I reached for his arm and felt the muscle flex at my touch.
“I’m getting lonely down here,” I pulled him slightly closer and he moved the rest of the way.
“I can’t have you getting lonely, can I?” He grinned. He scooted me up the bed until I lay in the center and covered my body with his. His fingers rubbed against my jean-clad center and I arched against his touch. He popped the button with deft fingers and eased the zipper down. My breathing accelerated.
My only experience with sex had been nothing like this.
That time had been clumsy and fast while this was slow and intimate.
Trace’s eyes met mine when the zipper could go no further.
He scooted down in the bed, placing tender kisses along my breasts, and stomach as he went.
He spread my thighs apart, and not taking his eyes from mine, he blew a gust of hot air against where I needed him the most.
This was torture.
The sweetest, most delicious, kind of torture, but torture nonetheless.
He hooked his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, tugging them down slowly. Trace kissed each piece of skin my jeans uncovered. Not a centimeter was left untouched by his lips.
I heard my jeans fall to the floor and then we were both left in only our underwear. He moved back up my body, kissing his way there.
When he reached my face, he clasped both of our hands together, and stared into my eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.
“I’m not.”
He released one of my hands and smoothed his large thumb over the skin between my brows. “This wrinkle here suggests otherwise.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I didn’t know how to express to Trace exactly what I was feeling. I wasn’t scared about the actual sex…I was scared that sex with Trace would only make me fall harder for him.
“I am a little nervous,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Don’t be nervous with me, ever, Olivia,” he whispered, staring intently into my eyes.
“Okay,” I replied but his words had done nothing to ease my racing heart. I feared that it might gallop right out of my chest.
He kissed the dip between my breasts, before releasing my hands, and palming them.
“You have the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen,” he gazed down at them. I squirmed under his scrutiny. He pressed one hand against my stomach, stilling me. “Don’t do that,” he scolded. “There’s no need to be embarrassed I’m just…enjoying the view.”
I nodded.
His hands skimmed lower and then came back to my breasts.
Goosebumps broke out across my skin from pleasure and my head rolled to the side.
He gripped my chin and forced my head back.
“Don’t look away from me and keep your eyes open. I want to see you,” he rasped.
I nodded, my voice leaving me, and he placed a tender kiss on the end of my nose.
“Look at me,” he warned again when my eyes threatened to flutter closed.
I opened them wide and he smiled.
His head dipped down and he began to kiss my neck. Then moved down to my breasts, where he spent an exceptionally long time, and over my stomach. His tongue flicked out, playing with my belly button ring.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered so low that I couldn’t be sure I heard him correctly.
His fingers hooked into the edge of my panties but he didn’t pull them down.
One hand ventured inside the elastic and he hissed through his teeth when he found how wet I was.
One finger slipped inside, pumping in and out.
“Trace,” I gasped.
Just as I was getting accustomed to the feeling, he removed his finger, and pulled my panties down, kissing my thighs and calves as he went.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine before his tongue delved into me.
“Trace, don’t,” I cried, but it was too late.
His tongue swirled over my sensitive nub and I bucked against him. His chuckle vibrated against me, and if I had half a brain left, I’d be blushing.
He lapped at my aching core and I was a willing prisoner to the feel of it.
His tongue swirled inside my entrance, and my hips lifted up off the mattress, desperate for more.
I mewled in protest as he rose up. “Enjoying yourself, baby?”
I nodded woodenly, but what I wanted to say was, Oh, yeah.
He grinned and dipped his head back down. His mouth closed around my clit and tingles zinged through my body. I knew I was close to reaching that peak everyone talked about.
He sucked harder and I came apart.
I’m pretty sure I saw stars at that moment, or maybe it was heaven, because I could have died and never known.
My fingers tangled into the soft strands of his hair.
He lifted up and smiled at me. His lips were slick, and instead of being disgusted, it only made me want him more.
“That’s just orgasm number one,” he murmured promisingly.
My body hummed at his words.
More?
Was that possible?
He moved back up my body, kissing me deeply, as his erection pressed against me.
I gripped his boxers and pulled them down. He removed them the rest of the way, and rested between my thighs, his hot length pulsing against me.
My heart stuttered, knowing what was about to happen.
I hadn’t known Trace very long but this felt right with him.
He twisted his fingers in my hair, gazing down at me.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but kissed me instead, our tongues tangling together.
My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him against my core.
“Not yet,” he rasped.
He flipped to his back, taking me with him, so that I straddled his hips and gazed down at him.
He may have called me beautiful, but he was wrong. Trace was the beautiful one, inside and out, not me.
His fingers trailed gently up my back, causing me to shiver.
He sat up and took one on my breasts in his mouth. I cried out, gripping the short dark hairs at the base of his neck to steady myself.
All of the nerve-endings in my body seemed to react to his touch.
His body was warm against mine and slightly damp with sweat.
His arms wrapped around me, hands clasping around my back, bringing our chests flush against each other. I bent my head, kissing his lips, chin, and neck.
He felt perfect against me. I knew, then, that Trace was it for me. There would never be anyone else that made me feel this way. It wasn’t possible for more than one person to make you feel this…complete. This was once in a lifetime, and once you found it, you held onto it with everything you had.
He flipped me over so my back rested against the mattress and my head was cradled on his pillow.
He reached for his night table and opened the drawer. Pulling out a foil packet, he laid it beside my head.
He held himself above me, his eyes roaming over my body, and I did the same to him.
His body was muscular and masculine, the hard length of him jutting proudly out of his body.
I reached down, and gripped him in my hand, feeling him twitch.
He swallowed thickly as I smoothed my hand up and down, rubbing my thumb over the sensitive pink head. A small drop of liquid coated my thumb and I swirled it around.
He gazed down at me and a small smile graced his lips.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, reaching for the condom packet.
He ripped it open and together we fixed it onto his length.
“Ready?” He asked.
“I’ve been ready,” I panted, “you’re the one that insists on dragging this out.”
He chuckled huskily. “Perfection takes time, baby, and you deserve nothing less.”
“I thought you said perfection doesn’t exist?”
“It doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth searching for,” he reached between us and guided his thick length to my entrance. He squeezed inside, just an inch and stopped. “Oh, God,” he moaned.
My heart beat faster at the intrusion. Trace was large, and I had only had sex once before, my body still unaccustomed to the foreign feeling.
He slid inside slowly, the rest of the way, and stopped there.
He looked down at me and panted, “I was wrong. Perfection does exist and it’s right here. With me inside you.”
I gasped as he pulled out, and then rolled his hips forward, slamming firmly back into me.
I clawed at his back, desperately seeking something to hold onto, and anchor myself.
He reached around, and undid my hands from his neck, then entwined our fingers together once more as he slowly rocked in and out of me.
