Chapter 7

7

ELLA

Someone knocks on the door, and I know exactly who it is.

“Occupied,” I choke out.

I don’t know why I’m so upset. I blow out a controlled breath. Well, I know why I’m upset, but does it have to happen in a fancy corporate suite toilet while his coworkers are on the other side of the door?

So a guy made a gross comment. Big deal. People are gross every day.

The fact it was in front of everyone? In front of Oliver? That stabs me in the chest. To have my fears broadcast to everyone by the shitty drunk.

Do I announce to everyone I can see their nipples? Nope. There’s wind on the balcony, everyone’s nipples are hard and do you see me shouting it from the rooftops and asking inappropriate questions?

And that’s not the worst part. The worst part is he’s right. I am just a piercer. Don’t know why I’m here, why Oliver invited me to his fancy suite for a sports game. I’m out of place and it shows. It was easy to forget my fears while Oliver’s arm was wrapped around my waist, while he whispered in my ear, but in the harsh bathroom light, my red lipstick stark against the black of my clothes, it’s not as easy to dismiss.

I stick holes in people. It doesn’t make sense that he’d want to be with me. Should have left and gone home instead of coming to the bathroom and watching the despair play out on my face. Why is it when you can see the emotions on your face it makes you want to cry more?

“I’m coming in,” he says behind the door. Good thing I locked it.

The door handle turns and the door swings open.

“Damn it. I thought I locked it.” Emotional distress must make me forgetful. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the vanity. No escaping now.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” He steps into the room and the door clicks shut behind him. The turn of the lock echoes through the room.

Though fancy, the bathroom’s standard. Small, with the basics, and a full-length mirror beside the door.

“I was about to come out.”

“Were you? You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye?” He leans against the locked door.

“No,” I mumble.

“So your plan wasn’t to duck out of here when half-time finished and ignore me?”

“No. I was going to text you after I left.”

“But you were going to leave.”

I shrug and sniff, the sound closer to tears than I’d like. “I didn’t think you’d still want me here.”

Oliver leaves the door and grasps my upper arms, sliding his warm hands up and down my cold limbs. Didn’t even realise I was cold.

The silver by his temples shimmers in the light. “Why would you think that?”

I shrug again, and his hands slide to hold mine. “Because he’s right.”

“Who’s right? Josh?” he asks. I nod and he scoffs. “He’s a dickhead.”

“What? He works for you.”

“And? Doesn’t mean he isn’t a dickhead, which I discovered tonight. I’m sorry he said that to you.” He rubs a thumb across my cheek. “What’s the matter, Ella?”

“Nothing.” It comes out tight and high, and my eyes blur.

“You expect me to believe that?” His thumb drifts to my eye and swipes away liquid.

I sniff and blink rapidly to clear the blurriness. “I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m upset.”

He wraps his arms around me and tucks my head to his chest. Surrounded by Oliver, I sigh and breathe easier.

“You do know. Tell me, please.” His hand strokes my back.

“I don’t think I belong in your world.” I loop my arms around his hips and press myself flush against him. “I’m a piercer. I don’t do whatever this is.” My hand flings out behind him and he senses the movement because he tenses, but ducks his head so our temples press together. It’s easier talking about this without facing him. “I know we have different jobs, achieve different things, and I love what I do. But it’s so different. And him saying that brought it all forward again.”

“Ella, I don’t give a fuck about what you do.”

I snort a laugh and pull back to see his face. “Really?”

“Nope. I got piercings to see you.”

My heart jolts. “You made me pierce your dick to see me? And went through the healing process as well?”

“Yep. And I’d do it again and again if it meant seeing you. If you worked at a restaurant, I would have eaten there, or if you worked at a hardware store, I’d take up gardening. I don’t give a fuck about what you do as long as you’re happy.” He gestures outside. “All that? Is luck and being in the right place at the right time with the company. It’s not needed, and it sure as shit doesn’t give people the opportunity to express themselves like you do. Or what Maddy does. It’s art. This stuff makes people’s lives easier, sure, but it doesn’t give them confidence in themselves. Not like you do.” His hands cup my cheeks. “I don’t care what other people say. So we’re in different industries? Who isn’t in a different industry to their girlfriend?”

I swallow harshly. “Girlfriend?”

His thumbs sweep distractingly across my cheeks. “If you want to be. If you’ll have me.”

“You don’t care about what people say?” I ask. My heart beats hard against my chest, and hope builds in my throat.

“All I care about is that you’re happy.”

Relief rushes through me, turning my limbs weak. “Can I kiss you?”

“If you don’t, I’ll keep talking at you until you do.”

“You don’t care that lipstick will go all over you?” I put a fresh coat on when I fled the balcony to kill time.

In answer, he sweeps me onto the vanity, pushes my knees apart, steps between them and kisses me. A hard, demanding kiss, pushing me back against the mirror with his hand behind my head to soften the surface. I grasp the lapels of his jacket and yank him to me, licking into his mouth and thrusting a hand through his hair. My legs wrap around his waist as he sucks and nips at my lips. I pant and pull away to catch my breath and kiss down his throat, leaving red outlines of my lips all over him.

Marking him. Claiming him. Making him mine.

“Take your jacket off,” I demand.

He yanks it off and throws it out of the way, and my hands dart back to his shoulders. The heat from his body warms my hands through the crisp shirt, but my hands have a mind of their own. They rub up and down his back, around to his chest and back again. I urge him forward and our lips meet, our tongues brush together, stealing my breath and sending liquid heat to pool between my legs.

He sucks my bottom lip and releases it with a pop while his hand inches to my thighs. My eyes flick past his shoulder, and I realise I can see myself in the mirror beside the door. There’s lipstick smudged across my face, but it’s worn off my lips.

A smirk spreads across my face when an idea weaves its way into my mind, and I lean away from Oliver.

I reach over and grab my bag to dig out the lipstick.

“What are you doing?” His chest heaves.

“My lipstick’s rubbed off. I need to touch it up.” I swivel on the vanity and uncap the lipstick. I swipe it on my lips while he watches behind me, chest moving up and down, his hands bracketing me on the vanity beside my thighs. I finish touching up the lipstick and rub my lips together, swollen from his mouth, and wipe away some of the red near my chin.

Turning back to him, I say, “Now, where were we?”

I unbutton his shirt, rip it off his shoulders, and push it down his arms where it gets caught at his wrists from his cufflinks. The image of him restrained by his cufflinks sends a pulse between my legs.

His chest dusted in hair is bare to me, and I brush the first piercing I did for him, now holding my idea to make him laugh. My idea to make him smile. This CEO in his corporate suite toilet with a dinosaur barbell through his nipple.

I press deliberate kisses down his throat to his chest, the perfect imprint of my red lips trailing towards the jewellery. I want to see my lipstick on him. A physical reminder that he’s mine .

That he doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m happy. That we’re together and nothing can take him from me.

Red catches in his chest hair, and when I wrap my mouth around the jewellery and swirl my tongue across it, his stomach tenses and shudders. His hand threads through the short strands of my hair, sifting through it, and sweeping it away from my face. I bite the metal gently and tug. He sucks in a breath, his hand tightens in my hair, and I shift away from the jewellery and kiss across his chest to his other nipple, without my metal decorating him.

“I need to fix this,” I say, rubbing a thumb over his bare nipple, teasing it to harden.

His hands run down my neck and arms and back up again. Like he’s incapable of not touching me, of not moving his hands over my skin. “Fix what?”

“It’s not balanced. He needs a friend.” My other hand fingers the barbell, and I can feel his heart racing against my fingers.

He snorts. “He needs a friend?”

I gasp. “We could have matching ones! It would be our secret.”

He shuffles closer and fingers the straps of my silk top. “Do I get to see the infamous cherries I’d be matching to?”

My breath stutters, and my mouth goes dry, but I nod.

Red is smeared on his chest and across his face as his fingers slip under the straps and slide them down my arms, eyes never leaving mine. The straps catch on my elbows, and I untangle myself from the top to free my arms. His eyes finally dart down, and his body sways into mine, his teeth dent his lip, and his hands rub back and forth on my shoulders like he’s attempting to keep them from drifting.

“Touch me.”

His hands lift from my shoulders and hover over my breasts, nipples peaked and straining towards him. Silver cherries glinting in the light.

I tilt my head. “You don’t want to?” I’d be surprised if he didn’t want to after asking to see them.

His throat bobs. “What if I hurt you? What if the barbell catches and I rip it out? What if?—”

I attempt to hide my satisfied smile that he worried about me. “Did it happen when I sucked this?” I rub his barbell between my fingers, and he sucks in a breath.

“No.”

“So don’t worry about it. Just be gentle and don’t yank them.”

His hovering hands finally meet flesh and I push into them. His warm hands surround me, squeezing gently, lifting slightly, and brushes a thumb across the jewellery.

“Harder. I got them pierced because they aren’t sensitive.”

He hesitates, but when I nod at him, he rubs harder and I gasp, jerking closer to him. My hands fly to his biceps and clench, nails dig into flesh, the red stark against his skin.

His eyes brighten before a look of intense concentration clouds them. Head ducking, he wraps his lips around my left nipple and swirls his tongue around the jewellery like I did for him.

I moan.

A fast learner. His teeth nip and tug at my nipple before he swirls his tongue around it again. And again.

My legs around his waist tug him closer. One hand grips his hair, the other scratches up his back, urging him on.

I wriggle on the vanity. “Keep doing that.”

He moves to the other nipple, leaving a wet trail behind to cool in the air. I jump when he bites down, but melt into him when he sucks and licks, his other hand fingering his necklace around my throat.

It’s one thing to claim him and have visual proof of it. It’s another for him to claim me.

His hand slides from the necklace, down my chest with a gentle brush against my nipple, and down my stomach to land on jeans. Oliver’s thumb brushes past the zip and finds the seam of my jeans like he did in his office. I gasp and shudder on the vanity.

He glances at me and lifts his head from my nipple with a pop. His thumb drifts lower and lower, and then he presses.

I moan and my head falls back, knocking against the mirror, but I don’t care. He keeps the pressure consistent and rubs back and forth, remembering what I liked yesterday. My hips roll uncontrollably and my eyelids are heavy, but I manage to keep them open to see his face. His staring at me, head tilted to look into my eyes. My breath ruffles his hair, and I make a whining sound when the heat coils tighter in me, and my legs release his hips to bang against the cupboards below the vanity.

Oliver keeps his eyes locked with mine, the pressure and movement unchanged, and then his other hand lifts and he rubs a thumb slowly across my nipple. The jewellery moves pleasantly and causes a matching tug right where he’s pushing the seam of my jeans against my clit. I glance at his chest and see my red lipstick staining him, and I’m done for.

I groan and yank him down to me so I can kiss him through the pleasure rolling through me. His tongue thrusts against mine, urging me further over the edge, and I pull away and gasp for breath.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” I brush my thumb on his bottom lip and he sucks it inside his mouth, the tug and swirl of his tongue causing aftershocks to ripple through me.

He shrugs. “I wanted to make you feel good. To stop thinking about things that don’t matter.”

I smile and tug him into a hug, the red lipstick on his chest transferring to mine, the hair on his chest rubbing on my nipples. “Well, you succeeded.”

“Now the question is, do you want to stay here and continue, finish watching the game, or leave and come to mine?” His hand runs up and down my vertebrae.

I glance at the door. Go home and have sex with Oliver in a bed, or do it in his fancy bathroom with his coworkers on the other side of the door after one of them thought I wasn’t good enough for him? Tough question.

“Let’s stay here and continue.” I drag a hand down his chest and brush against his trousers. “I haven’t done anything for you yet.”

“You don’t need to. Only if you want to.”

“I do.” I drag his zip down and push the trousers to gather at his feet, but before I do anything interesting he pulls away.

He kneels in front of me, lips pressing against my stomach and tongue darting out to lick my hipbone. Oliver’s hands wait at the button of my jeans, a question in his eyes, and when I give him my nod of consent, he releases the button and drags the zip open.

“How is this helping me do something for you?” I ask, my stomach tensing when he licks across my pubic bone.

“I’m helping you undress.” He gives my jeans a tug, but unless I raise my hips or stand up, they won’t be going anywhere.

Oliver tugs enough to reveal the top of my curls, but I stop him. “I’m not sitting on the vanity with my bare ass.”

He gives up trying and laughs. “Why not?”

“Because it’s cold! Standing will be easier.” I nudge him out of the way and hop off the vanity. I push my jeans and underwear off, and my top slithers past my hips, until I’m standing before him naked, with my clothing around my ankles.

He blows out a slow breath, and his eyes trail down my body and up again, catching on my piercings before focusing on my face. I smirk and raise my brows, giving a pointed look at his boxers.

He gets the message and hooks his fingers in the elastic and shoves them down to pool around his ankles with his trousers.

I bite my lip and suck in a breath. There it is. All my decorations, and his hard work healing them properly.

The metal gleams in the light. He’s erect and straining towards his stomach, and I can see everything. His Jacob’s ladder, the placement carefully decided by me, is on display for me. The three barbells strategically placed to look aesthetic and give pleasure to both parties have smaller and flatter balls holding the barbells closed to avoid discomfort for anyone. His Prince Albert in the thick curved barbell I chose, pointing at me. Pierced by me.

His cock is mine.

And I have the decoration to prove it.

If anyone saw it, they saw my work, my decisions, my jewellery . They saw me. They just didn’t know it.

He’s mine. Just like I’m his.

I twist the necklace around my throat and take a step towards him. My hand drops, and I drag a hand down his chest, down his stomach, and grasp him. I give a slow pump, eyes locked with his dilated ones, and he groans and jerks in my hand. My hand brushes over the metal, slow and gentle; he’ll be more sensitive because of it, but I do it again, and again, and swirl my thumb over the curved barbell.

His eyes flutter. “Holy fuck.”

I giggle and raise an eyebrow at his contorted facial expression. “I barely touched you. You remember the piercings make you more sensitive, right?”

He groans and pants. “Yes, but I haven’t been with anyone since getting them. Only used my hand. Having you touch me is different.”

My hand flexes on his cock involuntarily, and he jerks froward. He hasn’t been with anyone since the piercings? I would be his first with piercings? I swallow hard and press a hand on his chest, on top of the barbell and the red surrounding it. He keeps proving to me that I’m his, in multiple different ways. Can’t believe I was worried about not fitting in. No way is he ever getting rid of me.

“You’ve never had the pleasure of having your piercings warmed by a cunt before?” I ask, giving my hand a twist, watching his hips twitch in response.

“No.”

“Why?” I demand. I want him to say it. Say why he didn’t fuck anyone with them when women would fall over themselves to be with him.

His hips jerk again, but I loosen my hold. He won’t get anything until he answers the question.

He makes a frustrated sound, looks me in the eye, and says, “Because I was waiting for you.”

A smile spreads across my face. “Good.” My grip tightens, and I move again, giving him what he wants as a reward. I squeeze the base and wrap an arm around his neck, and pull him to my height. “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t been with anyone who has piercings here.” I squeeze him again. “Haven’t been with anyone since I met you.”

“Really?” His voice sounds surprised, and he shifts his hands to my ass and lifts me to my toes.

“Really. So we can have the first together.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since you pierced this.” He takes my hand and presses it on his nipple and attacks my mouth in a drugging kiss, and I forget to keep up my movements, instead I yank him closer and thrust a hand through his hair.

Pull him close and suck on his lip, his tongue, anything I can reach. My hold’s loose around him—I’m too distracted by his mouth trailing down my throat to keep it up—but he begins to thrust, which reminds me. I tighten my hold, careful of the piercings and the rings on my hand so they don’t chafe, and rub pre-cum over him. His head drops to my shoulder with a guttural groan when I brush the tip of his cock around the curved barbell.

“You ready for this, darling?” I ask, guiding his cock down and pressing it against my cunt. I roll my hips and feel the metal scraping delicately over my folds and nudging my clit. My fingernails dig into his arms, and my stomach clenches at the sensation.

“Fuck yes.” His eyes burn into me, mouth swollen from mine, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me. To feel the jewellery I decorated him with inside me.

“Go on. Put your cock inside me, Oliver,” I whisper.

His eyes are blown wide, and with a flush spreading across his cheeks, he slips a hand between us and grasps himself, bends slightly, and lines himself up at my entrance. He brushes my clit, causing my eyes to flutter.

“Wait,” I gasp as the head of his cock pushes inside me.

He stills instantly, hands clenched on my hips, not moving an inch. He tilts his head in question.

“Do it in front of the mirror so I can see. I want to see my jewellery decorating you. See it when you thrust inside me.”

He doesn’t move for a few seconds, just swallows harshly before whirling me around until my front faces the full-length mirror beside the door. My back presses against his chest and his chest hair tickles my back. I can see my clothes gathered around my ankles, his shirt stuck at his wrists with his hands resting on my hips.

We lock eyes in the mirror. My head barely reaches his chin, and my body doesn’t hide the red lipstick adorning his shoulders.

“You want to see your jewellery decorating me? See your claim on me while I thrust inside you, while I hold my hand over what’s mine?” His hand lands on my collarbones, touching the necklace he gave me, thumb brushing over the chain.

“Yes,” I groan. “Yes, do it.” I push my ass back into him.

“Stand on my shoes.”

I tilt my head until it rests on his chest. “Why?”

My eyes follow him in the mirror as his head ducks and his breath ruffles my hair. “So I can reach you better.”

I can’t control my shiver. Glancing at the clothes gathered around our feet, I lift one foot, and then the other onto his shiny shoes. My sneakers dent them but raise me enough that he gives me a satisfied nod.

Oliver slides his hand touching the necklace down until he cups my breast, lifts it and pinches my nipple between his fingers. “Put the dick you decorated inside your cunt. Watch as the barbells slip inside you. Watch as you claim what’s yours, what’s always been yours, Ella.”

Hearing him say that makes me arch back into him, and press my ass against his cock to feel everything against me.

“Watch,” I tell him and wait for his nod before I move.

Slipping a hand between us, I grasp him and position him between my legs so I can see everything in the reflection. The three barbells running up him and the second piercing I gave him, the curved barbell pointing at the mirror. Already between my legs and weeping at the tip, I can feel the heat radiating from him, can see his tense expression while he waits for me to guide him inside.

I hold him and run my hand up and down, watching his expression to see what he likes, watching my hand holding him as the jewellery is covered and revealed again.

He grunts. “If you keep doing that, you won’t have a chance to feel the jewellery inside you.”

I smirk at him and nudge him inside me, pressing down while Oliver thrusts up.

“Ah, fuck. Ella.”

His face contorts and I laugh at the expression until he thrusts harder, lifting me to my toes on his shoes, and I whimper. Fuck, the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, the metal scraping me.

“What does it feel like?” he asks as he pushes back inside me, the jewellery glinting in the light before disappearing inside me again.

I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him down for a messy kiss. “Like the best ribbed condom.”

He chuckles and tweaks my nipple, and I clench around him.

“Shit, El. It’s like I’m on fire.” He bends his knees and buries his head in my neck, sucking around the necklace. He looks up, and our eyes meet in the mirror, one hand wrapped around the necklace, the other playing with my piercings. “Ready?”

I clench my walls around him in response, and he thrusts into me hard, rocking me on my toes and ripping a gasp from me. My hand grips his hair.

“Evil, Ella,” he pants.

“But you liked it.”

“Yes. Honey, how close are you because I’m holding on by a thread?” Oliver stills his movement and bites the flesh between my shoulder and neck gently before soothing it with his tongue. His laboured breathing is harsh in my ear.

“I’ll catch myself up if you keep touching my nipples.”

He nods against my shoulder, and his other hand slips down to play with my other nipple. He pinches them and nudges the jewellery, switching up the movement to keep me guessing. It sends a tug straight to my cunt and I pulse around him. I keep one hand buried in his hair and slide the other down my front, straight to my clit.

My hand dips and I feel myself stretched around him, but I try not to get distracted. There’ll be time for that later. My hand travels back up and I create short, quick circles around my clit. Around and around, occasionally dipping down to gather more moisture, and to brush against him and feel his resulting thrust and groan.

“Okay, go,” I say through broken gasps.

He doesn’t wait a second to start moving again. Our eyes lock in the mirror and one of his hands comes to rest on my collarbones again, and it shouldn’t send heat straight to my cunt, but it does. To see his hand wrapped around me, wrapped around his jewellery decorating me, telling the world who belongs to him.

His rhythm falters, and he stops playing with my nipple, but it doesn’t matter because I’m nearly there. Can feel the clenching getting harder, the fire racing through my blood, and the shaking in my thighs.

“Oliver, who do you belong to?” I ask.

“You,” he gasps, wrapping an arm around my hips and holding me still so he can pound into me.

So I can feel the scrap of metal against my walls. Feel the curved barbell at the tip of his cock find places inside me I can never reach. So I can feel the three horizontal barbells disappear in and out of me and watch the glistening metal in the mirror.

“And who do I belong to?” I ask, the circles around my clit becoming more rapid and sloppier, touching anything I can get my hands on.

“Me,” he growls, and his brows come together as he thrusts again and again before he jerks inside me, the jewellery tugging deliciously on my insides as he orgasms and pushes himself deeper into me.

I moan when I see his face, and when his hand flexes on my throat and tugs at the necklace, I fall over the edge. I clench around him and he moves in and out of me slowly, the ribbed sensation prolonging my aftershocks until I shake my head and he stops.

I sag against him and turn my head and guide him down so I can kiss him through our broken breathing.

He steps back cautiously because I’m still standing on him and leans heavily on the vanity. Oliver flinches and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Bit cold on the bum?” I giggle.

“Little bit, but I’m too wrung out to care. Ella, that was amazing.” He wraps his arms around me, enfolding me and covering my cooling body with his warm one.

“Let’s go home and do it again.”

He hums. “Home with you. I like it. I’ll need the car ride to recover.”

I laugh and lean my head on his shoulder. “I think you did quite well. Now let’s go home.”

And we did.