Slowly, he kicked his shoes off, answering her with silence. Just as slowly, he stripped off his socks. Not that he thought that he had any prayer of escaping her fury and his guilt that was really swallowing him whole, for he knew he was doing exactly what Mae had told him not to. Carefully, he hung his soaked socks from the basket that held his soccer ball, then straightened his shoes, making them match exactly, against the wall.

"Do you want to be with me? Answer me, Oliver." Her voice was intense. "Don't you dare ignore me."

"Of course, I want to be with you!" Straightening, his heart pounding, he suddenly could almost taste fear.

What if she ended this? What if this, they were over? What if he'd ruined it all?

"Well you need to make a choice here?"

"I choose you. I've told you that." He tried his smile.

She wasn't buying it.

"Don't you dare smile at me because you're not. You're choosing to die. You're choosing to leave me alone. What time did you get up? As sweaty as you are, I would say it was hours ago." She totally stepped into his space and jabbed a pointed finger into his chest with the words, "Are you trying to kill yourself? Didn't Mae ask you to back off?"

"I . . ."

"Didn't I ask you to back off?"

"I . . ."

Her voice was rising as she screamed at him. "I nothing. I know Mae told you that you're not to run until you're a sweat ball. Do you want to die? How can you do this to me?" Her words were sharp, angry, like a wasp stinging, again and again.

"Straight to the point, as always, Felicity. Okay, I hear you."

His heart was pounding, as he walked past her and opened the fridge and removed his orange juice and a bottle of water, as he pushed down the guilt, knowing she was right. He was doing exactly what Mae had told him not to do, and he knew his blood pressure wasn't exactly under control.

"Don't you even think about lying to me this morning. You only hear what you want to hear."

Chugging the entire bottle of water, he carefully replaced the cap and then giving the bottle a salvage twist, he felt no release from the action as he slammed the mangled bottle into the recycle bin, with the words, "That's not totally true."

"And what would you know about the truth?"

Opening the kitchen cabinet, he carefully retrieved a glass and poured himself some juice.

Okay, he could admit to himself that he was stalling, that he was hoping that she wasn't leaving him, that if he just let her get it off her chest then it would be okay, even if he knew that she was about to rip him a new one.

"Probably not much. As usual, you're right, Felicity."

"And you're avoiding the question, side stepping, as always. What time did you leave my bed, Oliver?" Her hands were on her hips now.

"Before you?" And he gave her a small smile, trying to fake her out, trying to make light of this situation.

But, of course, it wasn't working for this was Felicity after all, and she was smarter than that.

"I'd totally put that smile of yours away, Oliver, for what you're doing to us is not funny at all."

She gave him a dark look, and his heart plummeted, as she said, "OKAY, one more time. Last chance. AND, how many hours did you sleep tonight? Three hours or four? You're reverting back to not sleeping again, you're not sleeping enough. You're endangering your life again. Well answer me."

"I was waiting for the end of your rant, and I'm sleeping."

"And now you straight out lie to me." She threw her hands up and then pointed and started talking with her hands. "Was one trip to the ER not enough for you? It's been days now that you have only slept a few hours each night. And I've looked it up. Not sleeping can spike your blood pressure. Oliver, I've known every night that you are getting up but enough is enough. No, more. It's time you made a choice between living with me or continuing doing what you're doing. But I mean it, I'm not going to watch you continue to exercise your way to dying and leaving me alone."

"You knew?" And, yes, his anxiety was stressing him, really stressing him. The idea that she could leave him was really stressing him, along with the fact that he really didn't know how to change, how to make the dreams stop, or how to stay in the bed.

"Of course, I knew." She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Look, I wake up when I reach for you and you're not there. I miss you, Oliver. I've excused you're not being there because I know this dream's a really bad one. But this not sleeping is really hard on your body and enough is enough."

"I'm doing better." He said the words with heat behind them, like if he could say them strong enough it would make them true.

"Liar. You're such a liar. And you know what's bad? You're not just lying to me, you're standing there lying to yourself. I'm sleeping. I'm doing better. No, Oliver, you're not! Now it's time you talked about this dream, tried to put that time in your life to rest. You're not just doing this to you, Oliver, you're doing this to me too. I'm not getting enough sleep either. Please Oliver, go and see Riley Clark. I want you to go and see Riley to get help."

"Don't you think I've tried to put this dream to rest. Don't you think if I could make it stop, I would." His anger was rising, flooding through him, as he ignored the comment about Riley Clark. How that man just came cropping up just infuriated him.

"Then talk to me, Oliver. Tell me."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Riley and everything I've read says you have to face the memories, and stop suppressing. I know you're dreaming about whoever gave you that H scar on your back and the scar on your chest because you're not sleeping AGAIN. Are you still trying to use the replacement imagery?"

"Of course, I've tried. It's just not working. Do you think I like this?" Now his anger was raging, tightening his stomach, and he clinched his teeth.

"No, I don't think you like this, but do you think I like this? You sleeping a few hours and then getting up and PUSHING yourself, trying to die on me, or worse yet stroking and living with a side of your body just gone."

His voice was climbing, along with his rage. "I'm not trying to die on you, and, of course, I don't think you like this, but this is the way I am, Felicity. You said you could live with the way I am, just stop trying to change me, stop pushing me. I'm sick of people pushing me." Replacing the juice in the fridge, he slammed the fridge's door, shaking the entire appliance.

"I'm pushing you? Hardly! I'll show you pushing." She stepped into his personal space. Poking him in the chest with her pink painted nail, she ground out the words, "You accuse me of pushing you when I just stand by and let you get away with not sleeping, let you get away with running until you're a sweat ball. Let you get away with trying to kill yourself."

He stopped her sharp finger with his quick hand, his voice hard, violent, "You act like I have a choice here."

Jerking her hand away from him, her words were harsh. "You do have a choice just like I have a choice and I'm making it. Oliver, I'm done ignoring your problems. It's time you man up and go and see Riley. It's time you let someone help you. If you won't talk to Riley, then talk to me. Tell me."

"I can't."

"Not can't, WON"T. You really work at making me mad, Oliver, did you know that? And this dream's tormenting you and you won't let me or anyone help you. No, you won't even try."

Felicity was talking with her hands, and he suddenly wanted to kiss her, to shut her up. Yes, he just wanted to just end this conversation with sex. Damn what Mae wanted, it should be about what he wanted. And what he really wanted was to just take her right here, what he really wanted was to be the man, to be the one who could hush her smart mouth with his and make this entire situation go away.

But, he had a feeling that she might she not welcome him. No, for the first time, she might just push him away, and she might really mean it. So, he did nothing, as that terrible thought froze him in his tracks and fed his anger. Yes, those thoughts made him say in earnest, his hands clenching, as he tried to drive his burning anger down. "Don't you understand, I've TRIED and I can't stay in the bed, Felicity. I JUST CAN'T."

"Yes, you can. You just need to try."

He forced himself to school his expression, to pull his anger, his black rage, back before he said something he would regret. Softening his voice, he said, "I've tried. Please, Felicity, don't ask me to stay in the bed. I have to get up. It's is too long for me to lay there and. . . and," he couldn't make the words come out.

"And what? Don't you dare shut down on me. The truth, Oliver. Stop lying to me by avoidance. What is about PTSD that makes you do that? RILEY does that to Anna too. The TRUTH, Oliver! Tell me!" Her voice was intense. She was really pushing him here and pure fury threatened to engulf him.

"You want the truth?"

"Yes, the truth from you would be a breath of fresh air."

In a rage, he jerked his wet shirt off, throwing it savagely into the sink, as he pointed to the wicked scar on his chest and said in dark voice, "I'll give you the truth. You see this scar?"

Pressing her lips together for an instant, she then stuck out her chin, clearly daring him. "Tell me, Oliver, tell me how you got that scar, tell me why you can't stop this dream."

"I can't stop the dream because I don't know which time I'm going to dream about. I don't know which time's coming to haunt me, because he cut me over and over again. You wanted the truth, Felicity. Well the truth is that's what he did. He CUT ME, and he cut me a lot. He bought me, and he owed me, and I couldn't stop him for a long time. I had NO control."

His voice was dark and bitter. "And this dream is not repeating like the other dream was. I'm just dreaming about him, about his sharp knife, about my time there. And, I don't know what time is coming next. I can't rewrite the dream when it keeps changing."

Flipping around, he bared his back to her, as he clutched the counter top and looked out the window, but he wasn't seeing the gulf. NO, not the waves and he reached to touch the cold tile on the countertop, as he desperately clung to staying here, as he asked. "Do you see the huge H on my back? Do you know why it looks like an H? DO YOU?" He couldn't keep the desperate tone, the rage, out of his voice.

"No, tell me." Her voice was small and quiet and demanding.

"Because his name was Hedeon. It's Russian for destroyer and that's what he did. He destroyed people. He bought me, and he marked me as his property. He insured it that if I ran that no one would help me, that I couldn't escape. . . And I tried to run and because of that H." He stopped as his heart sped up and it became almost hard to breath as the memory started to smother him.

She said nothing, and he breathed in deeply, trying to think about his breathing, attempting to control himself before he went on. "It didn't work. The men that caught me turned me in. Collected the reward for me."

"Oh, Oliver. I'm really."

"DON'T say dare say you're sorry for me. I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to understand why I can't stay in the bed, to understand that I belonged to him. You need to understand that I was his property to do whatever he wanted with, and he proved that to me, repeatedly. I want you to understand that repeatedly, he proved that I BELONGED TO HIM. AND," his voice was raising, along with his anger, the liquid burning fire inside him spilling out beyond his control. He released the counter, his hands fisting, the desire to rip the room apart, to punch something hard almost overwhelming him.

Yes, the animal inside him had slipped his leash, and he couldn't stop the harsh words.

"Do you see how thick the lines on my back are? How he made the H wide. Felicity, I want you to think about how many times he took his knife and cut me to make that scar that thick, that raised."

She gave a small distressed noise but there was no stopping his words now, for they were flowing out of him like a black river.

"So, I don't know which time I'm going to dream about. And I hate dreaming about him. I detested that I couldn't stop him then, and I can't stop him now. It's like I'm reliving it. I need you to just understand that that I still can't fight him."

"Why couldn't you fight him. You're really strong, Oliver. Why couldn't you stop him? Take him out?"

Swallowing hard, he forced the words out, "If I fought back then he would put me in the . . ." He stopped right there and pressed his lips together, but he could see it in his mind, and just thinking about it made his body cramp.

She said it for him and he cringed.

"The small cage?"

Turning his head away, he gave a slight nod, before he said, "And the worst part was I couldn't control the situation. Yes, I was much stronger than him. Yes, I could have snapped him into pieces, but I couldn't stop him from coming at me again and again, not if I wanted to stay out of that cage."

The words wouldn't stop now. "So, I had to let him cut me. I had no choice. And, Felicity, I had to stay out of that cage. And I had to fight for him and I had to do what I had to do." His hands were aching fists now, aching to punch, and aching to feel the pain. His mind was starting to replay the fights, the adrenaline rush, and the aching pain in his hands.

The words wouldn't stop as the darkness engulfed him, as he said, "And I just can't stay in our bed for hours on end, trying not to fall asleep while I'm waiting to dream about that sadist, butcher with a knife, carving me up again and again. As I'm waiting for him to widened his H, his mark, as I'm waiting for him to take the stitches out of my chest over and over. Don't ask me to do that, Felicity, because I can't. I JUST CAN'T DO IT. I JUST CAN'T."

"He cut you and took your stitches out repeatedly? How could anyone do that?" she asked in a weak voice.

Spinning on his heel, he looked in time to see her face fall, to see the horror he'd caused. Her hand was cupped over to her mouth, and as he watched the light in her blue eyes went out, and pure horror engulfed her face before she could mask her reaction to the pure evil that he had just unleashed on her with no real warning. Instantly, he regretted letting the words out, the horror out, and he instantly wanted to drag all of his dark words back into the blackness that was his soul.

But like Pandora's box, once the evil was out of the box, it wasn't going back in.

Shutting his eyes for an instant, he fought the intense anger that raged through him, fought the need to beat his fists against the table, as his guilt attacked him, for he knew he was past bad, past wicked, and he should have kept all of that to himself. He always kept the darkness to himself, what was he thinking? How could he do that to her?

Opening his eyes, he saw the true distress in her face, in her body language and it cut him to the core. He softened his voice, "I'm very sorry, that was cruel. I was heartless to tell you almost nothing and then to tell you something like that bluntly."

"You never meant to tell me at all." She said softly.

The self-hatred was silently smothering him. And he flinched as she reached out her hand and touched his chest. "You're right, Oliver, that was cruel, but how do you tell me something like that? Send me a text? Write me an e-mail?"

He wanted to pull away from her, as he wished his shorts had pockets, for he needed a place to put his hands, needed a place to steady his hands for they had a tremor. Catching her eye, he said sincerely, "Hey, look, I'm sorry, I said anything. I was lashing out. It was wrong of me."

"No. It was right of you to tell me. I asked you tell me. But it's just that I used to think it was an animal that gave you the scars on your back, something on the island, I never imagined," she said in a small voice.

"Oh, he was an animal all right." He scrubbed his hands over his face because he knew that he had been an animal too, then and now for sharing this with her, sharing that evil man with her. Sadly, his heart heavy, he said, "Look, I'm tired, that's why I told you. It's wrong of me to share that darkness with you, to burden you with knowing. You never needed to know any of that. I'm truly sorry. Forget what I said."

Putting his head in his hands for an instant, he tried to put his mask back on, tried to put on his mask, the mask he wore, that hid things like this from other people, but he was struggling here.

"How, Oliver?" Her hand was smoothing his chest, soothing him. "How do I forget that another human being was really sick and that he cut you repeatedly?" Her hand hovered over the large scar on his abdomen but she didn't touch him there. "Now I know why this scar on your chest looks like it was stitched repeatedly, because it HAS. But knowing helps me understand you better."

She reached out for him, softly touching the scar, and he flinched, physically pulling away from her.

And she just as quickly pulled back too, as though she was suddenly afraid to touch him, and it was his fault because he had pulled back first.

Abruptly, he felt the chill, the icy cold, engulf him. Immediately, he felt like he had just driven a wedge between them that had never existed before, and it was his fault because he'd shared his darkness, because he had shared the blackness in his soul with her. Yes, he was the animal now, for he knew a part of him had wanted to shock her, had wanted to prove to her that she really didn't want to know what had happened to him.

"Look, I need a shower." He stepped back away from her, pulling away from her not just physically, but emotionally as well, as he forced himself to shut his emotions down, to stop his emotions before he was lost in the darkness again. It was moments like this that made him question why he thought he could have a relationship with her. All he was doing was hurting her. What was he thinking?

"Don't you dare move away. Stop with shut down mode, Oliver. And you're right you were lashing out. And, you're trying to teach me a lesson, trying to teach me to stop asking questions about your dreams, about your past. Well it's not going to work."

The vicious part of him had wanted exactly that. His heart was suddenly heavy and his chest felt like ice, as the cold rage at himself for telling her, for exposing her to the darkness within him was growing.

"Wait. I see you pulling away from me. No, you don't, you don't get to tell me that and then shut down." Closing the gap between them, she stepped into his space, as she refused to let him get away from her, but she didn't touch him this time, as she said, "You're avoiding, Oliver, withdrawing. I know you. And I get that's how you cope."

She reached and he sidestepped with the words, "Don't touch me, I'm sweaty." And guilty he thought, guilty of being almost cruel to her.

"Oh yes, you're really sweaty, always exceedingly sweaty and you're right, you do need a shower." But she just moved into his space as she grinned up at him and then reached and wrapped her arms around his neck, before she said, "But I don't care. And I'm not going to let you beat yourself up about telling me, Oliver. I'm not sorry you told me. I'm glad you shared with me."

However, he couldn't meet her eyes. "Well you should be sorry. It was wrong of me."

"No, Oliver, you should tell me. It was right. We're a team and you need to let me help you make peace with that time in your life. Telling me is not suppressing the memory, it's bringing that horrible time into the light."

"It doesn't belong in the light. I shouldn't have told you. It was wrong, evil of me."

"No, it was right and you're not evil. I can see the good in you, Oliver. It's in there. The good is in there. It's still inside of you. I can see it and remember I love the now you. And that's why these memories haunt you because you refuse to think about them. The more you try not to think about it the more your brain wants to bring it to the surface. So, let me or Riley Clark help stop the dreams."

"Stop shoving Riley Clark down my throat."

"No, I won't. We need help, Oliver. You need to help me stop your nightmares. You deserve to sleep peacefully. I love you, Oliver. I just want to help you. And, I know each of your scars have a story, that someone hurt you or you wouldn't have the scars. I've accepted that you have scars. And, I'm tough, Oliver, you know that. Probably not tough enough to have survived what you have but still I'm tough. Look at the heels I can walk in."

Heaven help him, she had just made him almost smile.

"So, you can tell me anything. I may not like it. I may want to kill them or hope you killed them, but I can take whatever has happened to you. What I can't take is you not sleeping. What I can't stand it you pushing yourself too hard. I need you."

He could smell her, that scent that was her, and she was staring into his eyes, and the light was back in them, along with something else. Something that made his heart beat hard.

"I don't want your pity, Felicity. I can see it in your eyes."

"You don't see pity. What you see is horror, for what happened to you, for what that monster, that animal did to you. What you see in my eyes is compassion and empathy, there's no pity. And you need to understand that what happened to you wasn't your fault, Oliver. You didn't ask them to sell you, to hurt you. How could they do that to you? I hope you cost them a chunk, that they paid top dollar for you."

"That's funny, Felicity."

"No, it's not. But you didn't deserve what happened to you. It was their wrong not yours. Shame on them. They shouldn't have done that to you or to anyone for that fact. Yet, it's not your fault, not something that you could control. It's not like you asked him to hurt you."

However, he knew she was wrong. He'd asked Hedeon repeatedly to cut him to avoid the small cage. But that small fact, that darkness, he would keep to himself. It was bad enough he'd told her what he had. And he had tortured, many times, more than once, so what goes over the devil's back comes under his belly, two fold, and that was the way his life had been.

From the time, he'd stepped on that boat fully intending to cheat on Laurel with Sara, he'd sealed his fate. And he knew he'd destroyed all their lives, all of them, even Laurel and her family had paid dearly because of him. All of that darkness was his fault. He'd chosen Sara over Shadow, and Shadow had died. He'd chosen to kill Slade and that choice had caused his mother's dead, and then he'd lost his family's fortune.

All those bad decisions. You reap what you sow.

Yet, then she moved completely into his space. Carefully, almost cautiously, she placed her mouth, her lips on his chest, her lips just brushing, then hovering just above his heart. A very soft kiss first, then she sucked his skin slowly, just tasted his skin, before she said, "Stop brooding, Oliver. I know now, and I still love you, maybe more than before. And, I'm still here."

"But will you really stay? How much time will I get?" He couldn't finish the rest out loud but in his head he thought, how long before she figured out that he was an animal too? How long before she left him alone? His hand twitched again, and he made a fist to stop the tremor.

"Oliver, pay attention. I'm not leaving you because a monster named Hedeon hurt you, cut you, bought you and owned you. I know you're standing here thinking that I'm going to figure out how evil you are and leave you. But I won't. I've known you for over three years. Don't you think if I was going to walk away, I'd have done it by now."

"But now is different. We're together now."

She gave him a very solid look. "You're right. Now is very different. But you need to process it, Oliver. I really love you, just you. People have done terrible things to you but that doesn't change the man I love. I love the now you, remember that, the now you. So, stop blaming yourself. Stop the blame game. No way did you deserve what happened to you, what that monster did to you."

"I've done bad things too, really bad things." Things he would never tell her about, ever.

"That was a long time ago. Remember it happened a long time before we met. I'm truly glad you survived, Oliver, and remember, I've seen your scars. They're a part of you, and they don't brother me." Her words were soft, then her mouth moved and savored his skin again. Her lips lay soft against his skin before she laid her head against his chest and just held him close, just pulled him to her.

And suddenly, he felt something just melted inside of him, for he believed her, as hope was growing in his chest, hope that she would truly stay, hope that they could really make this work. Her small hands were stroking his back, and he loved that she was still willing to just hold him, loved that she was still willing to even want to touch him after she knew those terrible things about him.

For just a few instants, she just held him close and finally, he said, "I've seen and done such evil, Felicity. How can you know and still love me?"

He asked the words very quietly, with a deep sigh, as his arms slowly reached to wrap around her, to pull her head closer to him, to feel her body against his chest, even against the ragged scar on his chest, as his fingers wrapped in her silky blonde hair.

His heart contacted, and he exhaled sharply, as she said, "Because really you're worth it, Oliver. No matter what has happened to you, you're not evil. Never think you are. I know better. I've seen all the people you've helped, all the good you've done, the things you've survived. And we'll survive these dreams too, because I believe in you and us. I believe we'll figure these dreams out and put them to rest. We just maybe need some help. You need to just let people help you. Together, we'll figure this out. Together, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, he leaned into the hug, but he didn't agree.

"Okay, Oliver? This requires an answer. And yes, I'm pushing you here. Something has to change, Oliver. I mean it. And what changes is up to you. Do you want to stay with me?"

And even as fear was coursing through him again, fear that she would end this, end them, then her mouth was moving on his chest, tasting him, making him forget the bad, making him ache, as she tipped her head and reached and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Oh, he was really taller than her, but if he tipped her head back just so, it worked, truly worked as his lips meet hers.

And how she was igniting his blood, and even if everything was very messed up in his head right now, her hot mouth felt just right against his. Slowly, he just tasted her, and she tasted sweet, really good.

Yes, very good and he used his mouth to try to make her forget her question, trying to sweep her away with his kiss, even though he knew this was Felicity, a woman, who was too smart for that.

And she didn't disappoint him, when she broke the kiss, and she said, "Hmmm, you can really use that mouth of yours, but you need to choose, Oliver. Together or alone? What's it going to be?"

"Together, Felicity. There's no choice to make, you know I'll always choose you." Even if his heart was racing at the very thought of what he was agreeing to, since, he knew Riley Clark was involved if she had anything to say about It. And he still didn't think he could go and see the man, but he would deal with that later, for now he was getting a reprieve.

"Then, let's take a shower, Oliver. I'm past needy for you right now, and you're really sweaty."

"But Mae said."

"I know exactly what Mae said, but if you haven't had a heart attack or a stroke after kicking the ball half the night, sex isn't going to kill you. And since when have you or I ever worried about breaking the rules?"

And, then, she giggled, as she launched herself at him, and he couldn't help but grin, as he swept her up in his arms, and the icy cold around his heart warmed, as she felt wonderful, incredibly right in his arm.

Carrying her, he walked to their bathroom, and he stripped his t-shirt from her body, while her hands were ridding him of his shorts and boxers. His mouth moved across her skin. Finding that spot at the nape of her neck he knew was sensitive, he tasted her skin, and her head dropped back, as he inhaled her scent. Reaching down, he cupped her awesome ass, while her hands were digging into his shoulders and her legs were wrapping around his waist, pressing herself against him, grinding herself against him.

Forcing himself, he pulled his lips from her skin and turned the shower on, but she had turned his head then caught his mouth, nibbling on his lips just before her mouth plundered his, waging war with her awesome tongue.

He was drowning in her, pulled under in a sexual haze. Oh, how he loved her skin, how he adored her bare skin, that scent that belonged to her, only to her.

Turning the water on, he placed her on her feet in the shower and then plastered her against the shower wall. Attacking her with his mouth, his hands, he was barely able to contain himself, and totally unable to slow down for an instant, as he fought how badly he wanted her.

"I love you," he ground out, as his mouth captured hers, and she kissed him sweetly, but then she push him away, and he took a step back. With a grin, she reached for the soap and his eyes became hooded, as she slowly began to rub the soap across his chest, paying special attention to each scar. His blood was rushing in his ears, as her hand moved across his chest, caressing his skin, and he inhaled sharply as her soapy hand skimmed his belly and moved downward.

She was making it hard for him to breath, as her hand grasp him and then moved running the soap over the length of him, stroking him, slick and soapy, with a strong hand. A groan escaped his lips, as he was past hard, throbbing, as he leaned into her hand, thrusting, aching, not wanting her to stop, yet wanting a lot more.

"Felicity, I can't stand it." Gasping, he reached and stilled her hand. "My turn." Stealing the soap from her, he lathered his hands up, and he started with her lovely slender neck, then running the length of her collarbone while she shuttered for him. With soapy hands, he ran down both arms. Lacing his soapy fingers with hers, he pulled her close and gently kissed her, refusing to let her deepen the kiss, even though his blood was racing, singing in his ears, even though she was pulling on her hands trying to free herself.

Pulling her head back, she was panting. Crushing her breasts into his chest, she attacked his neck making him groan and release her hands. Wasting no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, she climbed him like a tree. There was no waiting now. No, she was controlling the moment, as she found him and lowered herself slowly down.

Very hot, really tight, he let her rock on him, as she locked her heels around his back, but he wasn't going to be able to wait. Reaching back behind him, he killed the water that was becoming cold.

Moaning, she sank deep, pulled him deeper into her, and he loved it, desperately loved her reaction, gloried in her reaction as he watched her.

"Help me," she told him gasping, as she began to stroke, began to set a pace that was never going to be fast enough for him. "Please, help me."

"Shh, I will, believe me I will," he told her, as he grasp her hips and began to help her move her body, as he began to slowly kiss his way down her collarbone, tasting her skin, and slowly picking up the pace, as she moaned deeply for him. As she moved and ground herself against him, it was grand and unquestionably hot.

"Yes, right there," she cried out, as he moved his hand between to them to rub a finger over her clit, using his fingers to circle her hard nub, while she threw her head back and moaned deeply, her breath coming faster now.

She was rocking against him. Pressing herself against him, he couldn't help but pick up the pace. Hot, she was past hot and was making all those sounds that said she was lost in him.

Her hands were pulling him closer, fisting in his hair, she was frantic now as she cried out, "Oh, Oliver, I'm going to cum."

"Yes, cum for me. I can feel you, really feel you. CUM, Felicity! YES!"

Faster, he needed faster, harder, more. He was flying now, interlocked with her, as he felt her fall apart in his arms, as he supported her, as she fell gasping into his arms, as she shattered for him, but he wasn't done.

No, not yet.

His hips began to drive into her, pistoning into her as he flexed his hips, driving into her. She was humming her pleasure into his ear, as she clinched and unclinched around him, as she caught her second wind and began to meet him stroke for hard stroke.

Skin was slapping skin. Glorious skin, his breath heavy, both of them gasping, reaching and rushing. And now it was him that was needy, past needy. He wasn't going to be able to wait much longer. Sweet heavens, he truly needed her.

"Oliver, I can't wait finish it."

She threw her head back and clamped down on him. He WAS desperately lost now, as he lifted her hips and drove himself solidly into her.

"How do you feel so incredibly good?" He said. "Unbelievably good." Pumping into her, slamming his body solidly into her, he was actually absorbing every part of her as he thrust himself into her harder, and harder.

And she felt damn good.

"YES!" She was screaming, as he picked up the pace, as he drove into her, deeper it seemed than ever before. Using his arms to pull her harder against him, he used his strength to touch her everywhere. But, she was going to force him to cum.

"I can't stop, Felicity. OH. . . I'm going to cum."

"YES, don't stop, Oliver. JUST, DO IT. HARDER, FASTER. I NEED MORE GIVE ME MORE!"

"YES!" Flying, racing, giving it to her harder and faster, he was incredibility connected with her, joined, fused with her.

And both of them rushed forward, and then he was at the peak, at the very top of the peak.

In the perfect position now, he felt such a part of her and he was very deep. She was really tight, burning hot, surrounding his dick, surrounding his body, totally filling his mind. And now, he was driving desperately into her, and she was rushing to meet him, rushing greet him.

It was blazing hot, breathtakingly wonderful, and truly mind blowing.

"OLIVER!" She screamed, head thrown back, burning hot as she tightened on him, pulling him somehow deeper, both of them gasping now.

Falling, head long into the abbess, his intense feelings overwhelming him, as she drug him over the edge with her ragged breath at his neck. At the very top of the pinnacle, as his release started in his balls and he flew up mindlessly, as pure pleasure flew rapidly up his spine, then down his legs and had him flying upward with her entire body surrounding him and then his entire body EXPLODED with her.

Gasping, enjoying, almost too much loving it, he felt every inch of his body, felt incredibly alive. Sex with her was better than any adrenaline rush he'd ever experienced, as he felt every inch of her skin, as he exploded inside her, as she clinched and trembled, milking him, drawing his orgasm out.

And he couldn't stop the feelings that were engulfing him, surrounding him, making him weak when he was with her. How did she do this to him? How did she touch him so deeply?

Trembling, he found he could barely stand and had to lean against the shower wall for an instant, just coming down, as they both gasped for air. Heart pounding, amazingly alive, in a haze, he reached and grabbed a towel and carefully, he gently wrapped her up while she still fought to breath, then he carried her limp form to the bed.

Using the towel, he rubbed her skin dry, and already his blood was quickening for her again. Finishing at her feet, he threw the wet towel on the bed, his thoughts now on her.

"Hey, don't leave the wet towel on the bed." She reached and slung it in the floor.

"You do know I hate that?"

Flipping on her side, and giving him a great view, she propped her head up on her hand before she said, "Well I hate wet towels on the bed. And I hate that you're a neat freak sometimes." But her hand was tracing his chest, roaming, making him swallow hard.

"One of us has to be neat." But the wet towel in the floor was bothering him, and she giggled before giving him a push with her hand.

"Go on, Oliver. Be a neat freak. I know you're not going to be happy until you pick it up."

"Can't say the same about you." Rolling out of the bed, he grabbed up the wet towel and went to hang it in the bathroom and unable to help himself, scooped up the clothes they had discarded earlier and tossed them in the hamper.

Returning to the bed, he eyed her dress in the floor, but he refrained from picking it up. They had agreed that he would ignore her clothes in the floor as long as the pile didn't get too deep.

Reaching for him, she pulled him down with the words, "All better now?"

"I'm getting there." Then scooting down the bed, he started at the arch of her left foot, as he slowly kissed his way up her body. And her skin was sweet against his lips.

Reaching her core, he put his lips on her and sucked lightly.

"You're killing me, Oliver," she said with a gasp and a lazy grin.

"But what a way to go. Now, Felicity, hold on to me tight. I'm just getting started. I need to touch your body."

"Yes, touch me, Oliver. I want you too." And she laced her fingers through his thick hair and held on tight, as he showed her just how much he loved her and how much he needed her.

#####QOQ#####

Okay, my readers you know the drill. Hope to hear from at least a few of you. And as always thanks for the read. I love it when you take the time to TALK to me. So do it. Review. Many read and few talk. Be the one! I want to hear from you.