It's about 25 minutes later that we're pulling up in front of a rather fancy house in the Hollywood hills. Meg punches in the gate code, and we're through to the courtyard. Everyone climbs out, stretching their legs, except Xavier. The little shit is snoring away. I want to punch him until he wakes up, but instead Meg gently shakes his shoulder, and he growls at her a little before allowing her to guide him out of the vehicle and to the door.
Meg reaches into her purse to pull out a key, which shouldn't surprise me. And yet it does.
She's supporting Xavier on one side while I've got the other side. Olivia takes the key from the personal assistant, turning it in the lock and pushing open the door. Together, Meg and I haul the punk inside, and I hear Olivia closing the door behind us.
"Which way?" I ask, trying to take more of the lug's weight so Meg doesn't fall over.
Olivia brusquely steps around us, leading us down a hallway to the left. I'm a bit disappointed that she knows the way to his bedroom, but she's an adult, I suppose. When we enter the room, it's a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere. The sheets are barely on the bed, the corner on one side completely loose, and the top sheet is bundled in a ball in the center of the bed. Maneuvering him over to the mattress, I signal to Meg that she should step back. Because the ladies are watching, I gently lower him to a horizontal position when what I really want is to drop him.
Before I can even take a breath, Meg is unlacing his fancy dress shoes and pulling them off. She seems too familiar with this task, and it makes my heart ache for her. Why should such a sweet woman have to put up with his self-destructive behavior? Placing her hand on my arm and giving it a little squeeze, (trying to suss out my muscles, eh?) Olivia smiles and suggests I wait for them in the hall.
The women exchange glances and talk in whispered tones. I hear a few words: "Titus", "parents", and "tomorrow morning", but I can't hear the whole conversation. Meg moves to the bed again, removing Xavier's belt; in his half-awake state, the drunk man grabs Meg's wrist tightly, focusing on her intensely.
"Stay with me," he grates out, pulling her onto the bed with him.
Plaintively, the younger woman looks at Olivia who shrugs, "Up to you," she mouths.
Kicking off her shoes, Meg climbs into bed with Xavier, curling up at his side. He pulls her close to him, wrapping his arm around her, sighing deeply as he fades back into sleep.
Olivia exits the room, clearly taken aback that I've watched the whole scene with her, Meg, and my co-star. With a sweeping motion, she gestures that we should exit. I can't help looking around the rest of his home on our way out. Every other room is neat and tidy, which tells me Xavier must live only in his bedroom. Just as we arrive at the front door, we hear a noise coming from a sunken room between the living room and the pool. Oliva whirls around in her party dress, heading straight for that space, and only my hand on my elbow slows her.
"Don't go barrelling in there, Olivia. You don't know who it is," I caution.
She agrees reluctantly, and I grab a large metal vase off an end table as we tiptoe towards the room. When we arrive, I protectively put my arm out to keep her from entering first. Peering around the corner, I spot the other room Xavier clearly lives in, as there is trash scattered everywhere, including old pizza boxes and empty beer cans. There's a guy on the floor, playing a video game, wearing headphones and leaning this way and that as he explores whatever world is on the screen. Doesn't look too dangerous, and I'm sure I can take him out if I need to. Putting the vase down on the floor, I step into the space, attracting his attention and startling him at the same time.
He rips off the headphones, putting one hand over his heart. "Who are you? And what are you doing in Xavier's crib?" Then he points his finger at me and says, "You look familiar. Do I know you?"
I'm shaking my head as Olivia is moving forward territorially. "I don't know what Xavier told you, but there should not be any guests in the house when he's not home. So you need to kindly pick up your toys and leave."
He looks hurt as he stands, turning off the video game and the television set. "Sorry, lady. I didn't know his mom was in town. I'm going." He stuffs his bare feet into sneakers, not bothering to unlace or relace them. Shuffling out of the room, he throws over his shoulder, "Tell X Sammy'll call him tomorrow."
Impressed, I watch this woman in front of me as she starts to shake. At first, I think she's going to burst into laughter at the strangeness of it, but then I realize she's experiencing an adrenaline release. Not so cool on the inside, is she? For all of 10 seconds, I debate whether I should say anything in jest, but quickly I discard that idea. This is not a woman who would want me -- or anyone else -- to know that her display had all been bravado. Magnificent. That's the word that comes to my mind. She is majestic and breathtaking all at once.
"Should we check the house for anyone else?" I ask.
Shaking her head, she moves to the front door. "Xavier only uses two rooms in the house. We passed the other bedrooms, and they were empty. I think we can agree that Sammy was the only intruder here."
I'm two steps behind her as she reaches the front door, so I don't get to open it, but I have the privilege of holding it as she walks through to the SUV waiting for us. Once we're seated behind Paul, my driver tonight, I ask if she'd like to go back to the party. Predictably, she declines the offer, "I was there for Xavier. He's home now, so I should get some sleep too."
Paul waits while she debates what address to give, finally settling on what would appear to be the truth. The vehicle starts up and we are on our way to the Carlyle Residences, which are apparently in downtown LA. How can there be so much fucking traffic at 1:30 in the morning? To get my mind off the traffic, I turn in my seat towards the lady next to me.
She looks radiant, her blue eyes capturing my attention before I allow my gaze to roam over her face, taking in that jawline and cheekbones. She is one lovely woman. Oh, she's not model material, I'm sure. Her eyebrows are too close together, and her nose is slightly off center. But she is beautiful in her own way, and I'm honored to sit next to her. Locking eyes with her, I reach out my hand to cup her face. Her skin is soft, and she tilts her head to rest her cheek in my palm. I can't resist. Leaning towards her slowly, giving her time to back away or tell me no if she prefers, I close the distance between us. This time when my lips touch hers, she doesn't pause at all, opening her mouth to invite me in. My tongue sweeps past her lips, and I taste the Dom Perignon from earlier. And something uniquely her.
I live for you. I long for you. Olivia.
Our tentative coming together has crashed into a fierce give and take, as our tongues battle for supremacy. I don't want to admit defeat, so I twist more forcefully towards her, bending her head backwards as I plunder her mouth. She moans, and her hand snakes along my arm to my neck, pulling me closer as we both breathe through our noses to avoid having to break this magical and seriously hot kiss. I knew there was passion under her cool exterior. Simmering there. Fuck. I haven't made out in the back of a car in ages, but this feels so right. Honestly, I want to sling my leg over her lap so she can feel how hard I'm getting -- like a teenager. Thirty years old for less than two hours, and I'm acting like a boy half my age.
I retreat, and her tongue follows me, giving me access to suckle it and swirl my own tongue around hers. The gentle suction I'm applying makes her whimper, and her fingers knot in the hair on the nape of my neck. When the car stops, I don't even recognize at first that we have arrived at her building. Paul clears his throat, and that's my signal to ease from the kiss. Pulling back, I lean my forehead on hers, preparing to make some smart ass comment about how Dom Perignon always goes to my head. But then she whispers, "Come upstairs," and I freeze.
Yes. Yes. Yes. That's the first thought that runs through my mind. 'What are you doing? You don't sleep with random women you've just met' is the second thought.
But when she skims her hand from my neck, over my shirt, lingering a bit at the top buttons, pressing her hand just inside my unbuttoned Gucci to press her palm flat against my pounding heart before traveling down to my crotch; I know I'm going to say yes.
Slipping out of the car, she stands at the entrance to the building, watching me make up my mind. But my decision has been made; I just need to communicate with Paul. Within moments, I'm standing next to her. Our hands are at our sides, and we're both breathing a bit hard, but we don't touch as she twists to enter the building.
Waving her hand at the attendant, she greets him, "Good evening, Frank! I've got company."
Frank grunts, but says nothing else, not even looking to see who she's brought with her. Olivia uses a key in the elevator to get to the correct floor, and the door opens directly into her foyer. Her apartment on the 12th floor is huge and must have an amazing view with the wall of windows. As soon as the elevator doors close, she kicks off her heels, grabbing my hands. Walking backwards, she pulls me with her, and I don't hesitate for even a second. There's light coming from somewhere, but they're dim, and I'm relieved. Bright lights might wake me from this dream I'm having and remind me that I'm being irresponsible. Thirty is supposed to be an age of maturity, but it certainly isn't a sign of adulthood to be in the home of a stranger, contemplating what I'm about to do with this gorgeous creature.
She doesn't lead me to the kitchen to offer me a glass of wine, and it's clear as soon as we enter her bedroom that this isn't going to be a 'Let's have a chat' kind of night. I see where we're going, so I take over the movement, drawing her close to me, sliding my knee between her legs as I reach behind her to unzip her dress with its plunging V in the back. The sides of the garment fall away as I capture her lips in another sizzling kiss, letting the front of her garment fall down to just the edge of her bra. She moans into my mouth, leaning over slightly to reach the bedside table lamp. Soft light fills the room, but it's still muted enough that I don't have to awaken quite yet.
Stepping back from the kiss, I push the dress down so that it falls to her waist, her hips holding it up as I take in her breasts in their lacy bra. It's soft pink, and her nipples are beaded underneath. With two fingers, I tweak her right nip through the material, and she bites her lip as she throws her head back. Reaching behind her, she unhooks the lingerie, sliding the straps down her arms, tossing the lace away from us. With a shimmy, the dress slides down her legs, leaving only her pink lacy panties. I thought I was ready before, but damn. My cock is hard as a rock now.
Taking her left breast into my mouth, I suckle as if I could get milk, and the sensation is enough to make her hot. I know because my hand is tracing over her lace panties which are gathering the wetness from her. Reaching between us, she shoves my hand to the side, away from her promised land as she unbuttons my shirt, pushing it to the sides but not off as she slides her cool palms over my skin, raking her nails across my nipples. I gasp, releasing her boob from my mouth, tilting my head back at the feeling of those nails on my chest.
"My turn," she sighs, laving my nips with her tongue, and this time I'm the one biting my lip as she unbuttons my pants, sliding them over my hips and down to the floor. Her hand reaches for my cock, still in my underpants, and I can't take much of this torture. It's been too long since my last booty call, and I am going to explode way too early if I don't get inside her soon.
Removing her hands from me and holding them out to her sides, I shuffle forward a bit, causing her to step backwards until the back of her thighs are touching the bed. "I need to be in you," I murmur, and she nods in agreement, climbing backwards onto the bed. Splaying herself on top of the duvet, she looks like a Playboy cover.
With both hands, I ease her panties down her legs. As soon as her feet are free, she slides her legs wide open for me, and I am sweating now at the desperation to be inside her, to feel myself buried deeply.
"Are you ready for me?" I ask, and she sinks her own pointer and middle fingers into her entrance, swirling around briefly before pulling them out and offering her coated digits to me. It's one of the hottest things I've ever witnessed, and I lean over her to pull those fingers into my mouth, tasting her sweet juices. Fuck. This is quite the birthday present. She tastes like sunshine and the warmth of a fire on a cold day.
Without waiting any longer, I reach for the condom I keep in my trousers, but she's faster, opening the bedside table to reveal two different kinds. Not caring too much what I grab, I rip open a package and sheath my length, giving it a stroke or two for good measure. Not that it's needed. I'm so ready for her.
Without even kicking off my pants, I climb onto the bed and ram myself into her. She cries out, her knees coming up to cradle my body while I drive into her. I'm going mad; I swear I am. Her walls surrounding me feel so good, and the slickness and warmth make me feel like I've come home. I feel her nails on my back, and I know there are going to be marks there tomorrow. Deep ones, as she clings to me, encouraging me to move more rapidly, to pump more forcefully. Her whispers in my ear echo her motions, "Fuck me, Harry. Harder. Faster." That raspy voice in my head almost pushes me over the edge, but she's not close enough yet.
Reaching down, I massage her clit, flicking it from side to side as she starts making sounds that let me know she's coming. Bucking up into me, she splays her legs further apart, "Deeper, Harry. I want to feel you everywhere." As her walls convulse around me, she calls out a primal cry, and I'm so honored that I've gotten to hear her climax, for it is a sound I will never forget. I continue to thrust into her as she rides out the waves washing over her, and it's this motion that sends me over the cliff as well until I collapse, her legs surrounding my hips to push me further inside her.
Wow. Holy shit. That was practically a religious experience. I'm pretty sure I called out to God multiple times at the end, and the explosion I felt at my release is the most incredible sensation I've ever experienced in my life.
Lying on top of her, though, my senses return, and I'm appalled at my decisions. She's bewitched me. It's the only explanation, as I haven't slept with a random stranger since the last One Direction tour. When we've both caught our breath, I withdraw, removing and tying off the condom before pulling up my pants. The bathroom is easy to spot, and I dispose of the evidence in the bin before returning to her side. My shirt never got removed, so I button it while I watch her on the bed.
At first, she just looks wanton, but then it's clear that she's come to her senses too, drawing the comforter over her body so that only her arms and head are still on display to me.
"That was lovely," she sighs.
"Agreed."
"I assume you can see yourself out?" she asks, and I nod.
"Thank you for the birthday present," I softly say, leaning over for a quick, meaningless kiss.
"Don't read too much into this, Harry," she says, sitting up, situating the duvet more closely around her breasts.
"I'm not reading anything into it. We're consenting adults. We had fun," I mean it, too. I've enjoyed myself, but this isn't something I'm likely to do again with her. I'm 30 years old, for Christ's sake. It's time to think about settling down. Not having one night stands with total strangers I've just picked up.
"See you around," she waves, and I smile, turning away to let myself out of her apartment. And her life. Definitely an unexpected birthday gift. I grin proudly to myself as I text Paul to meet me out front. Time to head home and get some sleep.