Over the course of the last twenty-five years, Elliot developed a system, a way to compartmentalize, to keep himself from losing his mind, to help him remember who he was meant to be, and what he was meant to be doing. There were things he allowed himself to think about, and things he didn't.
Liv's smile; that was safe, something he could think about, something a man might admire about anyone without consequence. Liv's eyes; that was unsafe, something he couldn't think about. Couldn't think about how beautiful they were, big and dark and so unlike Kathy's, couldn't think about how it made him feel, when she cocked her head to the side and studied him with those dark eyes, thoughtful and resolute and everything he ever dreamed about. Liv's strength; safe. Liv's ass; decidedly unsafe.
On and on it went, an endless list of this not that. In the months before Ohio - in the months before she died - the system had begun to break down. He'd started thinking about it. About how it might feel to cradle the heavy weight of her breasts in his hands, to feel her heartbeat against his palm. About how she might kiss him, if she ever found the courage to let down her defenses and reach for him at least. She'd be soft, that was what he'd started to think. That she'd be a little hesitant, still, a little scared, that he'd have to coax her out, reassure her, show her that he meant to take care of her. He thought it would be slow, if he ever got the chance to hold her in his arms.
What he hadn't thought about, what he'd never even considered, was what Olivia might do, and what she did was shock him. Like a bolt of lightning, she electrified him. There was nothing soft or hesitant in her; the moment his lips touched hers she was on fire, burning, alive, chasing his tongue with her own, her teeth catching against his lip and pulling him into her every time he tried to slow things down, nails clawing down the bare skin of his back, hips rocking into his. He had her bent back over the sink, her body bowed in a sinful arch that thrust those pretty tits up and out and towards him, and he wanted to touch her there, wanted to kiss her, wanted to suck a bruise into all that pretty tanned skin but he couldn't tear himself away from her mouth and the fever of her kiss.
It swallowed him whole, her kiss. Hungry and devouring, it chased every thought from his head until all that was left was need, base and primal. That kiss was all heat and wet, his beard burning against the softness of her mouth and her pressing into him like she couldn't get enough of it. Back in the bedroom he'd been half-hard before she even crawled into his lap and now his cock was standing at full attention, and he ground it shamelessly into the cradle of her hips, let her feel him, let her feel what she did to him.
For twenty-five years he had been cataloging a list of things he was not allowed to want but he could have them all, now, and he meant to take them. Starting right here, in her kitchen, just like he and Liv should've started, in the kitchen. He should've caught Liv in his arms and backed her up against the island, lifted her up and dropped her on top of it and kissed her until she understood how much he loved her, but he'd let the opportunity pass him by, and he wasn't gonna let that happen again. He'd never get the chance to feel Liv's arms around him in her kitchen, but Olivia was holding him now in hers, and he was determined to do for her what he could not do for Liv. To love her, not just with the quiet yearning of his heart but with every piece of himself, with hands and tongue and cock and heart all together. He wanted her to know she was enough. He wanted her to know that she was everything.
And Christ, he wanted his hands on her.
So he loosed his grip on her hair, kept right on kissing her but drove his hands down beneath the waistband of her leggings, dug his fingers into the swell of her ass and rocked her forward into him. With both hands he held her, felt her flesh spilling between his fingers, swallowed down the sound of her moans and guided them movement of her body. She was standing on her tiptoes, legs spread wide to accommodate him, trying to draw him into her, to help him get the angle right so he could grind his cock against her sex. Not passive or afraid, not for a second; she was in this with him, throwing all of herself into this passionate, desperate clinch, and her response to him only made him want her more, if such a thing were possible.
One of the things he didn't allow himself to think about - but did think about, at length - was what he'd do if he ever got his hands on Liv. How he'd take his time, build her up slow, touch her everywhere, sink his mouth over her cunt and taste her before he ever slid inside her. Soft thoughts, romantic thoughts, he'd had them all, imagined that their first time would be slow, and paperback novel perfect.
There were no thoughts of perfect in his head just now. With Liv he'd always felt like it would have to be perfect, the first time, or she'd never let him back again; with Liv he'd always felt like he would have something to prove. That he would have to be the best, that their future, their happiness, their love, their very selves would depend on him getting this part, the fucking part, exactly right, on the very first try. There was no such pressure, with Olivia; it didn't feel like this would be the only time. It didn't feel like the end of everything, the end of a partnership, the end of a quarter century's worth of repression and guilt and quiet longing.
This, here, with her, felt like a beginning. Like this was just the start, just the first time he'd get to hold her, and it didn't have to be perfect. All it had to be was what it was, and what it was was whatever they wanted it to be. Want, that was all that mattered now, what she wanted, what he wanted, how they were going to give it to one another. She wanted his hands on her ass, he thought, liked the way he clutched at her, tight and demanding. And he wanted his mouth on her tits, so he compromised, kept his left hand clutched tight around her ass and drew his right hand away, used it to tug down the neckline of her tank top until one of her breasts came spilling free and the second it did his mouth was on her, sucking her nipple hard, drawing her flesh into his mouth until she could feel the sting of his teeth, and she gasped, wrapped her hands around his head and held him tight to her breast while her hips bucked up against him.
"Fuck, yes," she hissed, and he grinned against her, proud of himself and wanting more.
Gently he caught her nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue until she was mewling, panting, and then he opened his mouth wide and sucked hard, and then he repeated the whole thing, over and over, testing her responses, learning the sounds she'd make.
"I need -" she gasped after a moment.
He knew what she needed.
With both hands he caught hold of her hips and yanked her away from the sink, and then he looked in her dark eyes as he took hold of her leggings and panties both, and tugged them down. She smiled at him, bright and wanton, and helped him peel them off, and as he straightened back up she tore off her shirt, too, and then she was naked in front of him.
Christ, she was beautiful.
Thick thighs, thick tits, thick ass, smooth arms, soft belly; perfect, he thought, looking at her. The dark thatch of curls between her legs was perfect. Her golden skin and dusty pink nipples were perfect. Freckles and scars and wrinkles, every part of her, every inch, perfect, but before he could tell her so she caught the back of his neck in her hand, drew him to her for a bruising kiss and while he was distracted she reached her hand straight down into his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
That wasn't something he'd ever allowed himself to think about Liv doing - except that he had, more than once, taken himself in hand in the shower and imagined it was her instead, but nothing he'd imagined was like this. Olivia's touch was insistent, not shy or exploring; she wasn't afraid of him, wasn't afraid of crossing a line she'd never drawn, wasn't afraid to admit that she found his body desirable, that she wanted him. She pumped him, swiped her thumb over the damp head of his cock and made him shiver.
"Off," she growled into his kiss, shifting her hand so he could feel the stretch of his boxers over her wrist.
God, yeah, he thought. Thought but did not say; he was too busy plunging his tongue into her mouth to speak, but he reached down, helped her pull his boxers off, and then it was easy, too easy, to curl his hand hard over her thigh, hook her leg high up over his hip and thrust his cock between her legs, running over the length of her cunt and feeling her wetness smearing across his skin.
There was no question of whether he'd fuck her, not now; the only question was how. From behind, with her hands curling around the edge of the sink and the counter digging into her belly? He didn't want to hurt her, and he wanted to see her face when he made her come, which he was determined to do. Lift her up and sit her down on the edge of the counter, wrap her legs around his waist? No, he thought, the counter was too high, that wouldn't do.
"Here," she said, hands on his face, and then she was moving, kissing him, pulling him with her until her back hit the fridge and she threw one of her legs out, braced her foot on the counter behind him. One foot on the floor, one on the counter, she stood open and ready for him, looking at him with hungry eyes, and he fell upon her like waves rushing to the shore.
Deftly he scooped one hand under her ass and tilted her hips just right, and with the other he caught hold of his cock, and surged forward, and then he was there, the head of his cock plunging between her dripping folds, and he snapped his hips forward, buried himself the rest of the way inside her in one smooth thrust, and when he did she cried out and wrapped her arms around him.
When he thought about fucking Liv - which he definitely, definitely was not allowed to do - he always thought it would be slow.
It wasn't slow, with Olivia. She didn't want it to be, and he didn't, either. He just wanted, wanted the molten clutch of her cunt and the sting of her nails and the sound of her cries as he fucked her hard and fast and desperate. Wanted to lick the salt of her sweat from between her tits and did, tongue dragging through the crease between her heavy breasts while his hips set a punishing pace, and she only encouraged him, met each of his thrusts with the rocking of her hips, used the foot propped up on the counter for leverage and tightened her muscles around him until he growled and sank his teeth into her breast.
"Touch yourself," he grunted at her from between clenched teeth; he would've done it himself but his hands were busy with the rest of her. Ass and thighs and belly and hips, he touched her everywhere he could, addicted to the softness of her and the sight of her flesh spilling between his fingers and he wanted her to come and he was running out of time and she'd know better, anyway, would know just how to rub her clit until she tumbled from the ledge instead of having to wait for him to learn.
"You gonna make me come?" she panted at him as she reached between them, took a moment to feel his cock pistoning through her wetness before she began to rub at her clit with a will.
"Yeah," he managed to choke. "Yeah, I wanna see it."
She tossed her head back against the fridge, and they watched it happen together, both of them. Looking from the place where his cock was fucking into her, where her fingers were busy drawing steady sounds of pleasure from her mouth up to one another's eyes, heavy and dark and unblinking, they both looked, and he felt his release barrelling towards him like a goddamn tornado.
"You gonna let me come inside you?" he asked.
"Yeah," she gasped. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Each time she said it the pitch of her voice only increased, and then she cried out, flung herself forward, wrapped her arms around him and clung to him while her cunt spasmed around him, wet and hot and perfect, and he came undone, then. Came inside her just like he'd asked for, just like she told him he could, and his vision went black for a second, and all he could do was just hold her and try to remember how to breathe while the pleasure burned him to ashes in her embrace.