Garter Belt

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: Explicit
Author's Notes: Part of my Heartbeats Olicity smutlet collection.

Summary: Smut Drabble Prompt: dettiot – "felicity? is that-is that a garter belt?"

"Felicity? Is that... is that a garter belt?"

Oliver's rough voice had Felicity looking back at him over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised before she innocently looked down at where her skirt had ridden up. She reached back, lifting it higher, making his breath hitch as it revealed more of her pale skin, an erotic contrast with the black lacy material.

She made a show of examining it before saying, "I think it is, Oliver."

He swallowed audibly, his eyes glued to her leg. "And why are you wearing it here?"

Felicity smoothed her skirt back in place, hiding the garter once again before turning back to where she'd been laying out the packets for the investors meeting in his conference room.

"Now that's just a silly question," she said, leaning over again, her skirt going up again. She smirked when he let out a quiet moan from where he stood at the conference room entrance.

"Silly?" he repeated.

She looked back at him, and it was her turn to pause when she saw the dark lust in his eyes. Breathing became slightly difficult when his eyes slowly tracked up her body until his eyes met hers and she licked her lips.

"It matches my panties."

She wasn't sure what she was expecting him to do, but just stand there sure wasn't it. She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for more, but he didn't move, his eyes boring into hers. With a soft shrug, she turned back to the packets, leaning over to continue placing them in their respective chairs.

She didn't hear him move.

Hard hands gripped her waist, making her yelp and drop her packets as he forced her forward on the conference table. She braced herself on her elbows, his fingers finding her thighs before Oliver shoved her skirt up all the way, revealing the tiny black thong she was wearing that did indeed match the garter belt looped around her waist.

He let out a tremulous breath, his fingers following the lines, his touch setting her nerve endings on fire as he lightly dragged his fingers over her hips, down her ass and back up.

"Oliver, the meeting," she said, and she was darn proud that her voice didn't waver as he touched her.

And then his fingers slipped between her thighs, her wet arousal already soaking through her panties, and she let out a slight mewl when he swirled his finger through her thong, grazing her clit just enough to make her hips jerk against his touch.

"I," Oliver started, pressing the thong out of the way and slipping a finger against her slick entrance. She gasped, her nails digging into the table. "Don't give two shits about the meeting, Felicity."

And then she heard his zipper, and his hands were on her hips, lifting her higher.

"And if you did, you shouldn't have worn this."

He hooked his finger in her thong, pulling it up out of the way before he thrust into her.

"Oh god," Felicity gasped, arching her back to meet him His thrusts were quick and ruthless, hitting her deep, and she collapsed on the table, burying her face in her hands to muffle the sharp cries coming from her throat.

They had barely fifteen minutes before the meeting started and she knew he didn't want anyone to catch them like this - Felicity was more than ready to live the rest of the day knowing he got off and her punishment for teasing him would be having to wait until they got home.

But her boyfriend was a kind man. Sort of.

The quick sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, echoing his grunts and her whimpers of pleasure. And then Oliver braced himself on the table, pressing her further into the chilled wood, right against her clit, and the harsh rubbing in time with his thrusts set a fire in her center that spread so rapidly she barely caught her breath before she came.

Her shout slammed against the walls of the conference room, followed quickly by Oliver's as he emptied into her. She shuddered on the table, her throat raw from not screaming, as Oliver's thrusts became more shallow, gentler, before stopping altogether.

"Felicity," he said, her name coming out as a groan when he pulled out of her. She didn't move for a second, listening to him right his clothes and then she felt his hand on her lower back as he pressed her thong back between her cheeks.

The intimacy of the act made her shiver, but it paled in comparison when he made sure the thong was securely in place before leaning over her.

"Don't clean yourself up until after the meeting, Ms. Smoak."

From my "One Line of Dialogue" prompt request on Tumblr (I'm dust2dust34)

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