OLIVIA FOX [Completed]

CHAPTER EIGHT

Thanks for reading.
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“Sing me a love song.” I say to him.
Orlando is my house. He came over this evening with cookies. We are sitting on the couch and his arms are wrapped around me.
“Huh? Me? Sing?”
“Yes Orlando. I want to hear you sing.”
He hesitates. “You asked for this.”
Wise men say. Only fools jump in. But I can’t help. Falling in love with you.
I begin to laugh and he joins me. His singing voice is awful. Ridiculously awful. But it is still cute and romantic that he sang for me.
“That was terrible.” He says.
“Yeah. Very terrible. Singing is not your thing.”
“Is that the only love song you know?” I ask.
“No. I have quite a collection. This one just so happens to be my favorite.”
“Hmm.”
“Let’s play a game.”
“You don’t get tired of playing games do you?” I ask and he smiles. “I’m listening.”
“Tell me or better still show me something you can do that no one has ever seen you doing.”
“Orlando. Nothing. I can’t think of anything.”
“That can’t be true. There has got to be something. Don’t worry. I won’t judge you.”
“er…” I stand in front of him. I am feeling silly and weirdly excited to show him. “I sometimes twerk in front of the mirror. Never done it in front of any body.” A sudden shyness overtakes me.
“What? Like booty twerking? You are kidding.”
“No I’m not. I can show you. Play something twerkable on your phone.”
He chuckles. “Twerkable.”
“If you can say fuckable, I can say twerkable.”
He let’s out a laugh.
“Follow me to the bedroom.”
We climb up the stairs side by side, his arm carelessly over my shoulder.
“You can’t twerk wearing that.” He points at the flowered  shirt dress I am wearing.
“True. That’s why I am going to change.”
I go into my closet and I pick out a tight cotton shorts and a yellow crop top.
“Olivia.” He calls out. “Come dress in front of me. I want to see you.”
I take the clothes I have selected back to the bedroom and I drop then on the couch at the foot of the bed. I slowly remove my stilettos. Then the dress. Revealing my lace cup bra and G-string panties.
“Your body. It’s amazing.” Orlando says and I can see him swallow hard. I like the way he treats my body. Like it’s more than just a tool for sex. I kit up in my twerking attire and I am ready to perform.
“Now play something.”
He plays Controlla by Popcaan and I start twerking. It’s very convenient that I am wearing these cotton shorts. They make my movements very easy. I bounce my booty up and down, up and down. Orlando is quiet. Very quiet. He is not laughing. It is like he is not even breathing. He is staring at my booty. I can bet anything on that. I feel very naughty. I stop. I turn and look at Orlando. His eyes are dark. Darkened by what looks like need. I pull him up to the wooden single chair near the dressing table. I push him down to the chair. I have no idea what has gotten into me. But I feel slutty. And I want to be his slut. Orlando’s slut. I sit on him. Facing him. I stare into his eyes and he stares into mine. I do not  take my eyes away. The song on his phone is on repeat and starts all over again. I begin to grind on him. Following the rhythm of the song. I grind slowly. I can feel him. His arousal. I can feel it so hard against me. Orlando shuts his eyes and grips his hair. I keep grinding. Moving my waist in a circular motion around him.
“Olivia.” He groans.
I feel good. Super good. Being in charge. Causing him pleasure. I stop moving and he opens his eyes. I unzip his zipper and he springs out. I get off him and take off my shorts.
“Olivia. What are you doing?” I can barely hear him.
I climb back on him and I slowly sit on him. His hardness feels me up and I feel paralyzed for a second.
“Oh.” Orlando groans.
I begin to move my hips up and down. Grinding on intervals. I have never done this before. I know I have had sex with so many men but I have never done it like this before. Orlando holds me with both hands on the waist and his grip is almost painful. Painfully sweet. I feel like I am his. Right now. His hold possessing me. I continue with my up and down movement till Orlando takes over. He begins to pull me up and down from the waist. Fast. It feels good. Very good. I start to moan and I can hear him moaning too. Then he reaches the pinnacle and I follow. I feel triumphant. I conquered.

“Coffee?”
“Yes please.”
Orlando is on the couch. And I go to the kitchen to make us some coffee. I come back with the cups of coffee.
“Here you go, big guy.”
He slaps my booty before I sit beside him. I giggle.
“Maybe I should leave you to rest.” He says after he drops his cup on the table. I feel sad. And lonely. And he has not even left.
“Er…Orlando? Please stay.” I am not listening to my head anymore. I am not thinking. I am not closing my mind to him. I am being reckless. And it bothers me.
He smiles. Widely.
“It would be my utmost pleasure.”
“Good.”
“I need to shower.” He says and sniffs his underarms and then makes a face.
“Me too.” I sniff my underarms too and make a face. We both laugh. Orlando takes my hand and kisses it. I get up and lead him to the bathroom. We undress and step into the shower. The water runs on both of us. Dampening our hairs and bodies.
“You are very beautiful Olivia. Your eyes. Your lips. Your body. It’s beautiful. You are the sexiest naked woman I’ve seen. No one has done the things you do to me. And no one can. It’s just you. My sweet Olivia.”
“How many naked women have you seen?” I query. That seems to be the only thing I deduce from all he said. I know this feeling. I have felt it with Cosmos. What is this feeling? Oh my God. Is this jealousy? Yes. Yes this is jealousy that I feel right now. I have never thought of it. Orlando has been with so many women. I am sure of it. And he probably has a woman or women he is still seeing. Thinking about it is making me jealous. Oh Olivia. You are such an idiot. You should know Orlando is not yours. He can never be yours.
I take the washcloth and I put some liquid soap on it and I begin to wash his body. This man is an artwork. He is tall. So beautifully tall. And he is broad. His chest and stomach are as strong as I had imagined when we first met. He has the body of a god. This is what a god should look like. Every part of him looks perfect. Is it even legal to have a body like this? He may call me beautiful. But I know my beauty does not match his.
I wash him up and he does the same for me. We come out from the bathroom.
“I’ll get my pajamas.”
“No Olivia. I want to sleep naked. With you.”

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