“Tell me what you want, Gabriella…”
“You,” I moan, deeply, “All of you.”
My eyes close, waiting for him to take me harder in the throes of his climax. Just the thought of it has me on edge, and with only the first thrust, I latch onto the pillow behind me, my blood pumping hard, and every single part of me tingles in mad delight.
I call his name repeatedly, wishing this moment would never end, begging silently for the universe to shift and open the gates to us being together.
Opening my eyes quickly, I catch his desperate need to control the moment, holding back his impending orgasm until it gets the better of him. The grip of his hands is tight against my waist, slamming into me until his moans slow, and his hips follow on cue.
He falls beside me, both of us out of breath and reeling from what’s just happened. With only a faint glow from the moon that shines outside our hotel window, we continue to lie in the dark in utter silence. Neither one of us has anything to say but lay in each other’s arms.
Oliver traces my arm with the tip of his finger causing the small hairs to stand on end. Pulling the sheet out of my way, I move over his body and straddle him to give myself a better view. He continues to lie there, beautifully sprawled with his arm beneath his head, his muscles flexing with a satisfied smirk.
“What you got for me, baby?”
I lean forward, placing my mouth on his, desperate to taste him again. He doesn’t hold back, resting his hands on my hips as he grinds my body against his cock.
Letting out a long-winded moan, I sit up, arching my back and exposing my naked body completely. Beneath me, he becomes hard again, sliding himself in so easily.
Oliver is insatiable. His animalistic desire to be inside me leaves me completely breathless, once again.
I haven’t been with many men, sexually, but no one compares to him. No one has ever made me feel the things he has made me feel inside these four walls.
When he pulls himself out of me, we continue to lay perfectly still, his heart hammering against my back, a reminder of how real this has all become.
“Come with me, please… to my appointment tomorrow,” he murmurs into my hair.
I prop myself up on my elbow. “You really want me to be there?”
“I… I need you to be there.”
With a satisfied smile, I lay my head against his chest. I know how hard it was for him to open up, to allow me to be a part of something so close to his heart. And if only I could tell him how much that gesture means to me, how the three words crawling to the tip of my tongue desperately want to tell him I love him.
Yet words are just that.
There are no more questions, no more hesitation.
I will show him.
And the first step will be to tell Sebastian we are officially over.
Oliver
Surrounded by expired magazines, I sit in the waiting room, watched by a receptionist with glasses so thick, I’m surprised she can even see me.
My mind begins to wander to last night. Gabriella at the mercy of my touch. Every inch of her perfect body beneath me. The taste of her slick skin against the tip of my tongue. She’s everything I imagined her to be at that moment, if not, surpassing my every fantasy.
She begged me to take her in every way possible. To explore her body in ways I know no man had ever ventured to, and I did just that.
I know I was selfish, taking her rough like she’s mine, and I have to return her with the threat of never feeling her again. And perhaps, it warrants in some truth. By midnight, she left me alone, promising me with a single stare that what we shared meant more to her than her words could communicate.
I slept like a fucking baby after that.
Unlocking my phone, I look at the screen for the millionth time, it’s ten minutes past my appointment time, and Gabriella is nowhere in sight. I send her a text, asking how long she’ll be, and wait for her response. There’s nothing. So, I try to call, only to reach a dead end.
“Mr. Madden, Dr. Wheeler will see you now.”
I smile at the receptionist, hiding my disappointment and head toward the room staring one more time at my phone then the main door. Nothing. Reluctantly, I walk in and take a seat.
Dr. Wheeler begins by introducing himself, his credentials, and throws in a few jokes about Harvard Medical School. While his jokes appear to be a segue in getting me to calm the fuck down, I just need answers. My nerves are triggering, my knee bouncing beneath the large oak table. A small insect bite on my arm begins to irritate me, my fingers scratching repeatedly without any relief.
He speaks in great detail about my injury, talking me through the X-rays for what seems like forever. I try my best to concentrate. This is my fucking livelihood here, but my mind keeps wandering to Gabriella.
Where the fuck is she?
Dr. Wheeler recommends a specific surgery to correct my injury. He explains in great lengths what is involved and what the desired outcome should be.
I jump the gun, asking the burning question. “Doc, will I get to play again?”
Dr wheeler places his glasses on the table, giving me a reassuring smile. “Oliver, I feel confident that the surgery, combined with extensive rehabilitation which will include full rest and commitment to physical therapy, we can have you playing in eight to twelve months. Twelve months being the ideal time.”
I want to hug him, but at the same time, a part of me wanted to share this moment with Gabriella.
Where the hell is she?
This is the news I have been hoping for.
Flying across the world, searching desperately for answers.
