Right Man, Right Time
: Chapter 23

“Silas?” I groan as I stretch my arms above my head. Light falls into his bedroom from the bathroom, and I glance over to see the door closed.

From the nightstand, I glance at the clock and let out another groan. Six thirty.

Ugh.

I have class this morning starting at eight thirty. Silas is probably getting ready for his away trip since they leave today. Grumbling, I flip the warm covers off me, letting the chilly air hit my naked body. I push my hand through my hair and make my way to the bathroom and hear the shower turn on.

I open the door and catch Silas slip into the walk-in shower surrounded in black marble tile. I stare at his muscular ass, the divots in the side and the dimples on his lower back. When he turns and lets the water drip down his body, all the way past his dick, my mouth waters. I need him. Even though I had him several times last night, I won’t see him tonight, which means I need to get in as much Silas as I can.

I walk into the bathroom and head straight for the shower. He spots me from the corner of his eye as he’s wetting down his body, and a sexy smile spreads across his face.

“Morning, baby.”

“Good morning,” I say as I slip into the shower. “Can I join you?”

“You don’t even need to ask,” he says as he takes my hand and brings me under the water. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay,” I answer. I push the water over my head and then look up at him. “I felt like I was trying to claw you as much as I could.”

“I could tell.” He kisses my forehead. “I loved it.”

He squeezes some shampoo into his hand and rubs his hands together before he gently massages it into my scalp. “When do you leave today?”

“Wheels up at three.”

I close my eyes as his strong fingers dig into my scalp. “Then why are you up so early?”

“I woke up around five for some reason and couldn’t get back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He helps me under the water, and I rinse my hair. “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m glad you did. I have two classes this morning, and I probably would have missed my first one if you didn’t wake up.”

When I’m done rinsing my hair, I switch positions with him so he can warm up while I put conditioner in my hair. Being the good man he is, Silas made sure that I had all the products I use daily in his apartment. He washes his hair as I comb through my conditioner. His eyes remain on me the entire time.

“What?” I ask as I set my brush down.

“Just keep thinking about how hot you are.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask as I grab his soap bar and suds up my hand.

His eyes fall to my hands and then back to my face. “What do you plan on doing?”

“Soaping you up,” I say as I reach for his semi-hard cock and pull it into my hand.

He smirks and then grabs the soap from me and does the same, but to my body. His hands pass over my breasts before he turns me around so my back is to his chest, and his hands travel up my body.

“Why do I feel like you have something else in mind?” I ask as he kisses up my neck.

“Because I do,” he answers.

“Then fuck me until I’m too sore to move.”

“Hell,” he mutters right before he nips at my neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and making his mark.

I let him because I wear his markings with pride.

It might look trashy from an outsider looking in, but to me, they’re reminders of who I’m with and why I’m with him.

As his mouth works around my neck, he plays with my breasts, one of his favorite things to do. He plucks at my nipples, pulls and squeezes them, and creates such a wave of arousal that I start to move my ass along his erection.

“That’s it, baby. Let me feel that ass against my cock.”

I push harder into him and rotate as he drags his mouth up my neck. He slides his hand up my throat and then turns my head so my lips meet his. It’s a short but passionate kiss, enough to make me want more. He reaches behind him and switches on the handheld showerhead. He rinses off our soap and then brings it to the front of me, right in front of my pussy, and says, “Spread.”

I do as I’m told, and the water blasts right against my aching clit.

“Silas,” I moan.

“Hold this here.”

I grip the showerhead and place it exactly where I want it against my clit as he bends me forward. With the hand not holding the showerhead, I brace against the tile and hold my breath as I feel him position his cock against my entrance.

“Don’t take your time, Silas. I need your dick now.”

Hands gripping my ass, he pushes inside me in one large thrust that nearly has me crumbling against the wall.

“Goddamn,” he shouts. “This tight pussy will be the death of me.”

He works his erection in and out of me at a demanding pace, and all I can do is brace myself as he builds both of our orgasms to the precipice.

The vibration of the water bouncing off my clit combined with his wet strokes has me clawing to hold on longer.

“Jesus, I’m already there,” he says, pumping faster.

Thank God.

“Me too,” I squeak out as the first tingle of an orgasm zings down my legs. “Fuck, Silas . . . I’m . . . I’m . . .” I can’t get out the words because together, we both groan, our orgasms making us incoherent.

I push against him, he tugs, and together, we slowly ride down the high.

On a deep breath, I stand and lean against his chest, where he holds me tightly.

“Shit, Ollie. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I ask.

“Because I wanted that to last longer, but the minute I was inside you, there was no chance.”

I turn toward him and use the showerhead to rinse his chest. “I was right there with you.”

He pinches my chin. “How can I still come that fast with you? It’s fucking embarrassing.”

I chuckle. “I think it’s all the spanking, pinching, tools, and dirty talk,” I answer. “We don’t give each other a chance.”

“You’re right about that.” He takes the showerhead from me. “How did this feel?”

“Phenomenal, but your dick felt better.”

“Good answer.” He presses a kiss to my lips, and then we get lost in each other’s mouth once again. This time, we turn off the water.

“DID SILAS GET YOU THAT SWEATSHIRT?” Ross asks as he examines the black hoodie I’m wearing that says Property of the Vancouver Agitators.

“He did,” I answer as we wait at our favorite coffee kiosk on campus for our drinks to be made. Thanks to post-shower sex on the bathroom floor, I was almost late for my first class. Silas was insatiable this morning, and no matter what I did, he wanted more.

Not that I didn’t want it, either.

But I barely made it out the door with clothes on. He gave me this sweatshirt this morning, one that fits better, and then sprayed me with a touch of his cologne before kissing me goodbye.

The entire drive to campus, I wore a huge smile on my face.

Throughout my first class, I kept thinking about him and everything we’ve done in the past twenty-four hours.

Even now, when getting coffee, all I can think about is how Silas would hate my order and cringe at it.

“I like it,” Ross says. “I’d ask Ian to get me one, but he’s pretty much opened his entire closet to me. So I can take what I want.”

“And what did you take?”

Ross smirks. “A few things.”

“Ollie,” the barista says, setting two drinks down on the counter. I grab them and hand Ross his order, and together, we head toward our class.

“So, hear anything from Roberts?” Ross asks.

“No, and I’m sort of getting nervous about it. Don’t you think he would have said something by now?”

“I don’t know,” Ross answers as the fall wind whips around us. It’s getting to that point in the year when a hoodie just isn’t going to do it anymore. “Roberts is a weird guy. He doesn’t praise very often. I turned in my paper and heard nothing. It published and all was good. So I think it’s better not to hear something.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but—”

“Hey, hot stuff.”

I pause and turn to the side just in time to see a large mass of a man wrap his arms around me and scoop me into a hug. I’m about to start kicking when I smell a very familiar cologne.

“Silas?” I ask, completely off guard.

When he pulls away and I see his handsome face, partially hidden behind sunglasses, I nearly squeal.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d spend the morning with you since I don’t have to be at the airport until later.” He glances up and nods. “What’s up, Ross?”

“Hey, Silas. Risky coming to a campus where you’re worshipped.”

Silas just shrugs and then brings his lips to mine. “Surprised?”

“Yes,” I say, still trying to grasp that he’s here, with me, at my school. “I have to go to class, though.”

“I know. Figured I’d just go with you, then take you out to lunch. You good with that?”

The corners of my mouth tilt up. “I’m perfect with that.”

“Good.” Silas loops his arm over my shoulder, and together, we all walk. “How are things with Rivers?” Silas asks Ross. “He doesn’t talk much in the locker room.”

“Things are great,” Ross says, that ever-present smile on his lips whenever Ian is mentioned.

“Ian is a real daddy . . . if you know what I mean,” I say, causing Ross to push at my shoulder. “What?” I ask. “It’s true.”

“You don’t need to tell Silas that.”

“Sorry to say, whatever I know, he probably knows,” I reply.

“So you two actually talk? That’s shocking since Silas’s dick is always down your throat.”

Silas nearly chokes on his own saliva as I laugh. “I’m a good listener.” I wink.

Ross leans forward so Silas can see him, and he says, “And just so you know, since we’re spilling secrets here, congrats on the piercings, Silas. She is positively infatuated with them.”

Silas lets out a deep chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

We make our way through the crowd of students, and I don’t know if it’s because no one’s paying attention or Silas did a good job covering himself with a hat, glasses, and hoodie, but we go undetected. When we reach the classroom, thankfully, it’s a larger one, so we can sit in the back.

When we sit down, I notice just how big Silas is for the seat, his shoulder expanding into my space, but I welcome the comfort of having him near.

As I take out my laptop to take notes, I say, “Now, no distracting me. Got it?”

“How would I distract you?”

“Uh, touching, talking . . . breathing.”

“You don’t want me to breathe?” he asks, a raise to his brow.

“It will remind me how you breathe in my ear when you’re ready to come. There will be none of that.”

“You have to let him breathe,” Ross says. “Having a giant hockey man pass out in the middle of class will bring more attention than you want.”

“Fine,” I huff. “You can breathe, but that’s it.”

“Understood,” he says. “And just to clarify one more time, there’s a strict no-touching policy?”

“Very strict.”

“No handholding?”

“Would that be touching?” I ask him.

“Yeah.”

“Then no . . . no handholding. Just sit there and try not to turn me on.”

He stretches his arms in front of him and says, “I can’t make any promises since I’m so alluring to you, but I’ll try.”

“The cockiness is actually making me dryer by the second.”

“Can we not?” Ross asks as he sips his coffee. “I don’t want to think about your wet nether regions.”

“I sure as hell do,” Silas says.

I point at him. “That’s exactly what not to do. No comments like that. Just sit there and be quiet.”

The professor walks in before I can shoot off any more warnings to Silas. Class starts, I prep my notes with a header, and just as the professor starts talking, a text message pops up on my computer.

Silas: You look really pretty.

I glance over at him, and he points to the front of the class and whispers, “Pay attention.”

I roll my eyes and focus up front even though I can smell his addicting cologne waft toward me every time he shifts.

I start typing something the professor said when another text pops up on my screen.

Silas: That sweatshirt looks hot on you too.

My nostrils flare, and when I glance in his direction, he points at the front again.

He’s in so much trouble.

So instead of turning toward him, I type him back.

Ollie: What happened to no distractions?

Silas: Can’t a guy tell his girlfriend he thinks she’s pretty?

Ollie: Not when she’s trying to pay attention in class. This might be how you acted when you were in school back in the day, but not me.

Silas: Using the term “back in the day” will get you spanked, and you text me all the time from class, so don’t try to be Miss Studious just because I’m here.

Ollie: Threatening me with a spanking? Oh no, I’m shivering in my boots.

Silas: I can taste your sarcasm it’s so heavy.

Ollie: Do you really think a spanking is a punishment? You know I only get wetter when you slap my ass.

Silas: Fine . . . then your punishment will be no fellatio.

Ollie: Ew, don’t use the term fellatio. God, Grandpa.

Silas: I’m surprised you even knew what that was. Fine, no sucking my cock.

Ollie: That’s fine. I can handle that.

Silas: Liar. You’re itching to blow me right now.

Ollie: You’re vulgar.

Silas: LOL. Says the girl who tells me to fill her with my cum every goddamn time we’re together.

Ollie: That’s not vulgar. That’s just an honest request.

Silas: I love how you’re able to run circles around the truth. Truly inspiring.

Ollie: I’m studying to be a journalist after all. We have to run around the truth a bit.

Silas: Studying to be a journalist? Seems more like you’re occupied with texting your extremely hot boyfriend.

Ollie: Yes, my extremely hot boyfriend who is thirty-one and sitting in a college class because he’s so attached to me that he can’t spare a moment without smelling my pheromones.

Silas: Is that what the oniony smell is?

I gasp and poke him in the side, causing him to laugh, drawing some attention from the students around us. Silas adjusts his glasses and sinks lower into his chair.

I see him type away on his phone, and I try to pay attention to what the professor is saying, but it’s no use as another text from him pops up.

Silas: You’re going to get yourself thrown out of class. Is that the goal?

Ollie: The goal is to pay attention, but you’re distracting me.

Silas: It’s because I like you, and I think you’re cute.

Ollie: We would never have been able to be in class together if we were the same age.

Silas: We wouldn’t even be talking to each other if we were the same age.

Ollie: Why do you say that?

Silas: I was a dweeb in college. Didn’t have dick piercings, which I know is a huge plus for you. Barely had any tattoos, and my head was shaved.

Ollie: Oh my God, I need to see pictures.

Silas: Maybe one day if you’re lucky. But you must earn the opportunity.

Ollie: Sucking your dick every night hasn’t earned me that opportunity?

Silas: It’s brought you closer. These are sacred pictures. But back to us knowing each other in college. I would never have gone for it because I was with Sarah. I never would have even talked to you.

Ollie: What if you came to college single? Then what? Would you have talked to me?

Silas: Still no. You would have been placed in the too pretty catalog.

Ollie: Now you’re just being ridiculous.

Silas: I’m not. It’s the truth. You’re gorgeous, Ollie. I would have been intimidated.

Ollie: Nope, not falling for it. I’m not reaching over and holding your hand because you’re being all cute and telling the truth. Nice try, fella.

Silas: Wasn’t looking for a handhold . . . but it would have been nice. I like holding your hand, makes me feel at home.

“Oh my God,” I mutter right before I rest my hand on his thigh. From the corner of my eye, I see his grin stretch from ear to ear. His hand encapsulates mine, and he gives it a good squeeze.

For the rest of class, he sits there, holding my hand while I take one-handed notes on my computer.

And honestly, I’m not even mad about it.

“DID YOU SEARCH THIS PLACE OUT?” I ask Silas as we sit at a small, hole-in-the-wall deli where we ordered pastrami sandwiches.

“I might have looked up delis near your campus. Being the sandwich lover you are, I assumed you already knew about this place.”

“I don’t, and I feel embarrassed about it.”

“You should,” he says as he unfolds his sandwich. It smells amazing.

I lift the pickle that comes with the sandwich and take a bite. As I chew, I lightly moan. “Oh my God, so good.” Silas stares at me, a pinch in his brow. “What?” I ask him.

“Can you please not moan? I don’t want to have a boner while eating a pastrami sandwich.”

I chuckle. “You need to control yourself.”

“Won’t happen when you’re around. Sorry. Control your moaning.”

“Can’t when a pickle hits me in all the right spots.”

“You hear yourself, right? You hear how that can be taken out of context?”

I smirk. “Maybe I wanted it to.”

He shakes his head at me. “You’re so fucking dirty.”

“Pot calling the kettle black. Not sure I’ve ever met a dirtier man than you.”

“You haven’t lived long enough,” he says as he lifts his sandwich to his mouth. “Talk to me when you’re thirty.”

“First of all, I don’t plan on having experience with anyone else, and also . . . when I’m thirty, that means you’re forty. Will you even be able to walk around with me, or will Granddad need a cane?”

“Make fun of me all you want,” he says, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chews and swallows. “But when I’m forty, I’ll still make you come harder than any other man.”

My cheeks blush as I realize that is so true.

“So what are the plans for when I’m gone?” he asks as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Wallow in self-pity because my fine-ass boyfriend won’t be around.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Just the answer I was looking for.”

I nudge his shoulder with mine playfully and say, “I don’t know. Probably try to catch up on schoolwork. Watch the games with Ross now that he’s an addict. Work out of course. Not too much.”

“Are you behind on schoolwork?”

“Just a little. I’m not one who likes to procrastinate. It’s why it really bothered me to take so long on that article for Roberts. I just like to get my stuff done and not have it hang over me. But ever since I started seeing this guy, he seems to consume a lot of my time.”

“Hmm, he sounds like bad news.” Silas takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, he’s not too bad. But I figured the best time to catch up is when you’re on your away trips. Kind of works out nicely. Spend time with you, catch up on schoolwork.”

“Are you going to be going out?”

He’s fishing for information, and I don’t know why, but I find it endearing in a weird sort of way.

“Are you asking if I plan on going out to clubs and dancing the night away while my boyfriend is gone?”

“You said it,” he says, and I know he’s joking, but there’s also a layer of insecurity inside him. He might trust me, but he still battles that niggling doubt. So I make it easy on him.

I press my hand to his and say, “I don’t plan on going out, not without you.” He glances up at me, those ice-blue eyes piercing my very soul, and I have this overwhelming sense of affection for him. Consuming and almost paralyzing because, at this moment, I know . . . I know I love him.

My heart is screaming at me to say it, to tell him how I truly feel. But my brain is slamming on the brakes. It might not be the best idea, not when he still seems a touch flighty and not sure of himself. I don’t want to scare him away. That’s the last thing I want.

“If you wanted to go out . . .” He pauses and swallows. “That’s your choice, and I’d be fine with it.”

I set my sandwich down and face him. “I appreciate that, but just so you know, I don’t need that in my life. I have you now, and that’s all I need. So don’t worry about me when you’re gone, okay?”

He nods and then lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to regain that sense of trust.” He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Sarah really fucked me up.”

“I get it, and I have no problem being patient while you figure it all out. But I need you to know something about me, Silas. I hate cheaters, so I’d never become one. I’m with you, so in my mind, that’s that.”

He presses his finger under my chin and brings me in close. He stares at me for a heartbeat, and for a moment, I almost think he’s going to say exactly what I’m feeling—it seems like it’s on the tip of his tongue—but then he closes the rest of the space between us and kisses me lightly on the lips.

“Thank you for understanding me.”

“No need to thank me,” I say as I grab my sandwich. “We understand each other, hence this giant sandwich in my hands. You know what I like.”

“I do.” He smirks. “Sandwiches, pickles, and my cock.”

“In precisely that order.”

His brow raises, causing me to laugh. “That exact order?”

“Yup, that exact order.”

TO: Ollie Owens

From: Alan Roberts

Subject: Article

Miss Owens,

Your article has been reviewed and although it was not what we asked for, we’ve deemed it adequate. It’ll be published in the next few days.

Please note, you have gained credit for your internship, although barely. I suggest in the future, when you’re given an assignment, you execute it correctly.

As for your internship for the rest of the year, it is up to you if you would like to stay. I have other candidates more than happy to come back to the office for experience, candidates more willing to listen and execute assignments properly.

If you’d like to move forward, I suggest we have a conversation about advancing your career and what that takes.

Sincerely,

Alan Roberts

I read the email a few more times, my heart pounding in my chest.

I passed, but . . . Roberts is also not happy, and if Roberts is not happy, then that means I could be fucked. Future employers will see his name on my résumé, they’ll call for a reference, and if he tells them that I’m not a team player or that I don’t listen to instruction, that could be very bad.

I press my hand to my forehead in distress. Sure, it was a long shot that he’d like the article, given he wanted something else from me, but I wasn’t expecting such a negative, scathing response.

Needing to talk this through in private, I quickly make my way to a conference room, lock the door, and dial Ross’s number.

On the second ring, he answers, “Hey girl, I was just about to text you. Those cider donuts you like are back in stock at the store. Want me to grab you some?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, my voice shaky.

“What’s wrong?” Ross asks, clearly able to read me so well.

“Roberts emailed me.”

“Oh shit, did he not like the article?”

“He claimed it was adequate. I passed and got a credit for the internship.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

“Sort of. He wasn’t happy in the email and made a dig that if I don’t want to listen to the assignments, other candidates would gladly take my position for the extended internship.”

“He said that? Damn. That’s not good.”

“I know,” I say on a groan. “I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, Ross. What am I supposed to do now? What if he gives me another assignment on the Agitators? I can’t write that piece. But if I go against him, he could seriously make sure I don’t ever get a job after college, and then what? I go back home?”

“Okay, I can hear you’re spiraling a touch. First of all, you got credit for the internship, so that’s good. That’s all you needed, so pat yourself on the back. And you did it without compromising Silas. Now, as for the rest of the internship, I’d take it one day at a time. Meet with him, feel out Roberts and see where his head is at. It would be best if you probably reminded him of where you excel, maybe even come in with a few assignment ideas, how you can be beneficial to the company, and see what he says from there.”

“That’s a good idea,” I say, feeling the tension slightly ease from my chest. “If I go into the meeting prepared, then I can at least provide him with options rather than him dictate. I mean, he will dictate, but if I can sell myself on the lifestyle brands while emphasizing my piss-poor hockey reporting, maybe he’ll ease up.”

“I think it’s a great idea. And before you meet with him, please talk to me about your ideas first. We don’t need you going in there with anything lame. You need to wow him.”

“Oh, I will,” I say. “Trust me, I won’t do anything stupid, not with so much on the line.”

“Good,” he answers. “Okay, so yes to the donuts?”

I chuckle. “Are the donuts for me, or are they for you?”

“You know I always use you as a scapegoat when it comes to pastries.”

“Yes to the donuts.”

“Okay, I’ll grab two boxes just because I know you love them so much.”

“Uh-huh.” I laugh. “We can eat them tonight while we brainstorm some ideas.”

“Sounds perfect. Have fun at work.”

“Thanks, text you later.” I hang up and then open up my text thread with Silas.

Ollie: Got an email from Roberts today (finally). Said that I got credit for the internship. Only took him long enough.

Lucky for me, Silas texts right back.

Silas: Babe, that’s awesome!

Ollie: I feel relieved. Now I just have to talk with him about my journey and where I’m headed in the company.

Silas: Got to love those conversations. When is the article being published?

Ollie: A few days he said.

Silas: I’ll look out for it so I can print it and frame it.

Ollie: You know that’s not the first article I’ve written, right?

Silas: Who said framing it was for you? I like to frame everything that has my name on it.

Ollie: Oh my God.

Silas: LOL. Seriously though, you can add it to a scrapbook for us. You know, create one of those so we can look back at how we started.

Ollie: I’ve actually collected a few things for a scrapbook with you in it.

Silas: Really?

Ollie: Yeah, just some things like a napkin from the bar where we first kissed, and pictures we’ve taken, and some pamphlets from the zoo . . .

Silas: Well fuck, babe, that’s really cute. Is there anything I can look at yet?

Ollie: No, it’s just a collection right now, but hopefully, once I catch up on everything, I can put together a little book for us.

Silas: I can help.

Ollie: You’d want to help with my scrapbook?

Silas: Hell yeah. Do you need supplies? I can get you one of those letter-cutting machines.

Ollie: A Cricut? That’s okay. LOL. I like to keep it simple.

Silas: Well, you let me know if that changes. I’d be more than happy to grab some things for you.

Ollie: Thank you. But if you really want to help, then that could be something fun we do together, when of course we’re not fucking.

Silas: Fucking first, then scrapbooking.

Ollie: I feel like we’re becoming so domesticated.

Silas: How do you feel about that?

Ollie: Perfect.

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