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"Ik hou van jou, Adam." Olive says with confidence, spreading her palms over his shoulders.She could see the flicker in his brown eyes, the moment he was certain of what he'd heard, that she wasn't leaving. Not anymore. Never again.
Olive loved him too, and that was all that mattered.For the first time, she saw him smile — not the weird, strange thing his lips usually did… for the first time, a smile. A real one. From that angle he looked even more handsome, the dim light tracing every feature of her Adam, everything she'd fallen for and then some, so she smiled back, happy enough to float. As if everything she'd feared so much was suddenly insignificant, and the weight lifting off her shoulders was the realization that she really could be happy. Adam pulled her by the waist and, before she could react, felt his soft lips against hers. Clumsy, familiar. She closed her eyes and something in her stomach twisted when his hot tongue met hers, stronger than last time, her fingers running into his soft curls as he gasped against her mouth, a plea in dutch she couldn’t understand.
Olive pulled him clumsily up the small steps, breaking the kiss only to open the door: the moment her back was turned, Adam grabbed her by the waist again, lips trailing down her stretched neck as she tried to get her brain working, trembling hands fumbling with the key, and the second she managed it, he pushed her inside with both gentleness and strength.
The door slammed shut and Olive was pressed between the wall and Adam's strong body — now he was truly in command: his fingers traced around her black bra after taking her shirt off as impatiently as possible.
"I've always loved you, Olive." The words were confessed on the curve of her neck, where he kept planting small kisses, trailing down to her breasts, and she shivered "Fuck, if you…”
She couldn’t handle it. And they couldn't do this in the entryway. Olive reached for his hand and led him inside, but was caught off guard when Adam grabbed her waist harder, lifting her like she weighed nothing: he got his hands over her ass and carried her to the dining table, where he set her down.
Olive's bra vanished like a magic, he leaned down further and took her already-hard nipples in a firm suck, wet sounds filling the room mixing with hers, loving every second of it. The first time was good, so good she hadn't thought anything could be more intense, and he kept his eyes fixed on Olive.
"In that bathroom, I already knew I was done for. Completely fucked."
The words made her stomach flip, her fingertips already white, gripping the table. Olive's lips were swollen, the skin near her breasts wet, a devastating heat spreading between her legs, and she let her head fall back, no longer able to keep up with so many emotions. He took the chance to slide a hand up to her neck, whispering how much he loved her, how smart she was, brilliant, that he'd do anything to make her happy, that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
She didn't remember ever hearing him talk this much, and she wanted to answer but couldn't. She felt closer and closer to an edge, her body already feverish, aching for him. But the hand on her neck disappeared, he took a step back, and Olive was already ready to complain. Then she saw him fall to his knees in front of her after pulling off his own shirt, taking off his pants in a clumsy way then dragging the thick fabric down her freckled thighs, and the anticipation made her press her legs together.
"I only thought about you — no, I only think about you. You could do anything. I'm all yours, I’ve always been, Olive."
She lifted herself slightly to help, and once she was almost naked under the gaze of the man she loved, she heard him sigh heavily as he spread her thighs, not gentle at all. Her soaked green panties made her blush, and she was already about to apologize when he cut her off:
"My favorite."
Adam pulled her a little further to the edge of the table, kissing her inner thigh, hands over her ass under the panties, listening to her moans, which only turned him on more — his cock already so hard he feared he'd come just from this, but he couldn't, not before doing what had been on his mind for days.
It was the slight touch of his hot tongue right against the fabric that made her gasp loud, crying out his name. He didn't waste time pulling the panty aside, losing himself in Olive's sweet taste, in the way she melted over his touch, because it was him doing this to her. He knew her body now, and he took full advantage of it.
Olive wasn't being rational anymore, Adam was eating her out like his life depended on it, the wet sounds mixing with her moans, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer, but he showed no sign of stopping: rubbing his face against her, biting, licking her clit as hard as he could.
She didn't notice when one of his big hands left her ass, but she felt the firm grip on her breast, the way he pinched her already too sensitive nipple, and he started saying, in that melty tone:
"Eyes on me, Olive."
It was the same as last time — the command in his voice, a little rougher than usual, the way he pulled her even closer, rubbing his face against her pussy like it was the most delicious thing in the world, showing no intention of stopping. With great effort, Olive obeyed, finding the eyes she loved so much between her legs, his silky hair against her thigh as he went a little deeper.
She wasn't going to make it. He would ruin her.
"Adam, I'm going to—" she gasped, hardly breathing.
"Fuck, no. You're not coming yet."
She felt Adam in every pore, in her core, from the strands of her hair to the tips of her toes. And that was the final push: with a loud moan, Olive's vision blurred, her thighs trembled under his head, an overwhelming pressure building in her stomach, and she came hard, he slid two fingers inside her without warning, while still sucking hard.
"Adam, I…" she tried to gently push his head back, hands still shaking.
When he pulled away, his wet lips were smiling. Fingers were still inside her as he rose, met by Olive's bright eyes, now moaning against his chest. He watched the small movement of her hands, the thin line of sweat between her breasts, her uneven breathing, how open she was for him. Ready. Like she loved his touch. Like she loved him.
She lifted her neck a little more and pulled him into a kiss, sighing now and then when his arm brushed her nipple, or when he deepened the kiss and moved down to her neck, his free hand pulling her soft hair down. She pulled back just enough to look at him, moving her hand to the top of Adam's pants, which were rigid:
"That night… I wanted to do this."
Olive pressed against the bulge in his pants, and when she circled the head with her fingertips, Adam moaned loudly against her shoulder. She calmly unbuttoned and lowered the zipper, pushing herself off the table and dropping to her knees, finally pulling his pants down.
His black boxers outlined his already very hard cock, he kicked the fabric away and touched the top of Olive's head, who smiled against his thigh. She placed a kiss there. Then another, running her nails inside the waistband and pulling it down, feeling Adam stiffen under her touch. She could clearly see the hair on his toned stomach, the defined lines of muscle in his thighs, the way he held his breath when she took hold of his cock, stroking without ceremony.
Adam was big. She already knew that. It wasn't the first time, but this was different: on her knees, pressed between him and the dining table, at an angle they'd never tried. He murmured things she didn't understand, but cursed loudly when Olive kissed the base, then started to suck. She opened her eyes and watched him tip his head back, then look back down at her, his eyes darker than usual. He gave her a few instructions, tested how much she could take, traced the shape against her cheek, and told her she was perfect. That he loved her. That she was beautiful, so smart… that he admired her. More than loved her — admired her.
"Olive. Damn… Olive." he touched her shoulders, and she pulled off, holding him close to her cheek, attentive. "I— fuck, come here."
Her lips were wet. So inviting. Adam looked close. He pulled her up in one firm motion and sat her back on the table, spreading her legs and settling between them. Olive pulled him by the waist, he seemed confused for a second, but she touched him again, this time guiding him toward her pussy.
"God. You're killing me." he groaned, a little shaky. She moaned, the head pressing against her swollen clit.
She guided him into her, inch by inch. That position wasn't easy. Adam wasn't easy. But she pushed through, taking him in, riding out the spasms, the feel of his hot skin, his uneven breath against the top of her head, the way his hands gripped her waist. Her stomach twisting, pleasure mixed with the ache taking shape, that liquid, pulsing feeling. Shit. It was so good.
He kept glancing where they were connected and Olive's blushed face — she was the one in control now. It was obvious. Her toes curled up every time Adam pushed further, watching her every signal of her body, she was clearly enjoying it. She already knew him. They already knew each other.
It got easier little by little. Adam still wasn't all the way in, but he could move now, moaning against her lips as Olive pulled him in by the hair, into a hungry, wet kiss, feeling him as he stretched her.
Olive rested her face against his shoulder and placed a hand to his waist, pulling him in further, until, with one clumsy thrust, he sank all the way inside her, and she couldn't hold back the loud moan of his name that escaped her. Whatever self-control either of them had left disappeared in that moment. The friction made Olive's legs weak, Adam's eyes rolled back, his jaw clenched.
"You… need to tell me if you like it." Olive whispers against his skin, the clear effort in her voice. "Because, Adam, fuck, this feels amazing."
He groaned against her, a sound almost primal, straight from his chest. Things escalated from there: the thrusts growing deeper and harder, Olive's orgasm feeling closer with every second. She wasn't going to last much longer — not if he kept touching her exactly the way she liked, hitting all the right spots, saying the things he kept saying.
At some point — she couldn't say exactly when — Adam pulled out of her, gripped her ass, and set her on her feet, only to turn her around, guiding her with a hand on her lower back until she was bent over the table. She could hardly breathe, squeezing her eyes shut as he circled her entrance with his cock, sliding back in without giving her time to protest.
Not that she had any objections. In that position he felt even bigger, and he had a perfect view of her freckled back, her brown hair spread everywhere, framing her face as she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He looked completely destroyed. So beautiful. So hers. So Adam, her Adam. She wanted to memorize that moment, that image, print it into her DNA.
Olive's legs gave out, she was so full, so avid, right at her edge, and she knew she wouldn't last. She could see his half closed eyes, his sharp jaw… and one harder thrust was all it took. She felt it in every pore, head to toe, the orgasm hitting her full force, black spots on her vision, needing one more minute, maybe five, a moan so loud it barely sounded like her own voice.
Someone else was moaning too. She felt Adam come inside her, cursing as he gripped the soft flesh of her ass. She would never recover from this.
Malcolm could never find out she just had the best sex of her life on their dining table.
They stayed like that for a while, both trying to catch their breath, Olive not even sure she could walk, her legs shaking violently, and Adam seemed to notice, pulling out of her carefully and holding her close, kissing her freckled shoulder before turning her around to sit her on the table.
He smiled. She smiled back. Olive's brain simply couldn't form a single sentence, and maybe it wasn’t necessary.She just absorbed all of it: Adam's sweaty chest, the smell of everything they'd just done, her own body with the marks he left, the small kisses he placed on the tip of her nose.
She thought about everything they'd been through to get there — how just a few months ago he was nothing but a name at the back of her mind, and now he was the beginning and end of every thought. How much she loved him… how foolish she was. The Wednesdays they'd spent together, the glances down the hallways of Stanford, the trembling feeling when getting a text from him, the way Adam's hands always held hers so gently, how honest and open he'd always been. She smiled again, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn't need to say she was exhausted, or ask him to carry her again, like a bride, down the hallway filled up with the odd collages Malcolm made every Tuesday. Olive didn't need to point out which room was hers, because the running medals on the door gave it away, and she didn't need to apologize for the messy room and the unmade bed. He laid her down carefully, pulled over another pillow, and covered her with the lilac blanket, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She didn't want to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't stay awake much longer, her eyes closing on their own as she thought about everything and nothing at once. She didn't know how much time passed, but she felt the mattress sink, his jaw against her neck, Adam's strong arm around her waist, and a whisper that nearly made her cry:
"Ik hou van jou, Olive."