The airport buzzed around Olivia with the low hum of rolling suitcases, overhead announcements slicing through the air in bursts, and the lingering scent of cinnamon rolls and disinfectant battling for dominance. Fluorescent lights reflected off the polished floors, creating a halo around travelers moving like choreographed chaos.
She lingered with Grayson just outside the TSA checkpoint, tucked slightly off to the side where foot traffic thinned. He stood tall above her, a tower of calm in the rush, dressed sharply in a navy sports coat, crisp white Oxford shirt, tan chinos, and brown Oxford dress shoes that clicked smartly against the tile. He looked like he belonged in a magazine ad for "Effortlessly Handsome Men." Olivia's reflection caught in a nearby window, skinny black jeans, a soft black tee tucked in loosely, a camel coat draped effortlessly over her small frame, a neutral scarf loosely wound around her neck, sneakers laced tight, and aviator sunglasses perched on her nose despite the dim lighting. Together, they looked like a storybook moment captured in a too-ordinary place.
"Okay, well, I am unsure how we are on the same airline again," Olivia said, a teasing smile curling her lips.
"Not so lucky that our gates are even close to each other," Grayson muttered, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her in.
She sighed into him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against her soft layers. "I really hate goodbyes," she whispered. "So… see ya lata, okay?" She patted his back lightly, preparing to leave, but he didn't let go. His embrace only tightened, and she melted into him without resistance. The familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne, cedarwood, leather, and something purely Grayson filled her senses.
"Mr. Steel. You have a call from Tiger Cakes from Japan," George's voice chimed in, polite but urgent.
Grayson pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of Olivia's head. "I have to take this," he said, frowning as if the thought pained him.
"Sure thing," Olivia smiled. "My plane is about to board anyway."
She turned away, her sneakers scuffing lightly against the tile, managing just five steps before she felt a tug at her hand. She turned, startled, but Grayson didn't answer. He simply pulled her with him, weaving through the sea of travelers like a man on a mission.
"Grayson, wait, what's happening?" she laughed nervously, but he remained silent, determined. Finally, he wrenched open the door to a Family bathroom and dragged her inside.
The door clicked shut behind them, and the sounds of the airport muted instantly, leaving only the sterile scent of overused cleaning agents. Olivia leaned back against the door, heart hammering against her ribs.
"Grayson, don't you have a call?" she said breathlessly.
His eyes were molten as they roved over her, finally landing on her bitten lip. He looked almost wrecked by restraint.
"Little Fox... I couldn't let us leave like that," he said hoarsely.
"Grayson..."
But it was too late.
His mouth crashed into hers, tongue plunging deep, claiming every corner of her mouth. His body pressed hers against the door, crowding her, consuming her. The growl that rumbled from deep in his throat vibrated through her bones, awakening every nerve ending. It wasn't a kiss. It was a detonation.
Her hands fisted into his coat, pulling him closer even as her brain screamed to slow down. Somehow, she summoned the strength to push him back slightly, breaking the kiss. They stood panting, staring at each other, faces flushed.
"One is never enough for me," he said, his voice dark and rough.
"I am well aware of that, Wolf," she gasped, her fingers tangling through her long chestnut waves.
He smirked, leaning lazily against the door now, arms crossed. "I needed a proper goodbye. That's all. I promise to be good." He held up three fingers like a solemn Boy Scout.
"See, that's why I can't trust you, Boy Scout," she teased, cheeks burning. "You're never good."
"Oh, I believe you're well aware that I'm more than just good; I'm exceptional," he remarked with a sly grin.
She rolled her eyes, trying to tamp down her blush, but Grayson's laughter filled the small, rich, unguarded space. He straightened, closing the distance again, but this time he simply kissed the top of her head.
The second the door cracked open, the bubble shattered, and the loudspeaker blared boarding calls, the scent of greasy food, and the scraping of suitcases against the floor. Olivia's heart squeezed unexpectedly. It wasn't the noise that bothered her. It was the realization that she was about to leave him.
Grayson retrieved her carry-on from George and handed it to her with a lingering look.She shifted her purse, blinking against the sudden sensory overload.
"What happened to your call?" she asked.
"I'll call them back," he shrugged easily. "Told them I was in transit and I needed somewhere private."
Olivia smiled slyly and bowed slightly. "Go fuben o okake shite mōshiwakegozaimasen. Subarashī kaigō ni narimasu yō oinori mōshiagemasu. Nochihodo go renraku itashimasu." (I apologize for any inconvenience caused. I hope you have a wonderful meeting. I will contact you later.)
She then bowed again, surprising both. men
Grayson's eyebrows shot up. "Anata ga nihongo o hanaseru to wa shirimasendeshita." (I didn't know you spoke Japanese.)
She winked. "Hay muchas cosas sobre mí que no sabes." (There is alot about me you don't.)
"Little Fox and her surprises," he chuckled, touching her shoulder affectionately and with twinkling eyes.
"Text me when you arrive at home. Be safe, okay?" he said, brushing her cheek and thumb stroking across her still-swollen lips.
"I'll be safe," she promised, though her path wasn't leading home, not yet.
She glanced at him and noticed his smile-a sly,a grin reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. She took a step back. "I'll be late if I keep lingering with you, Wolf."
"We mustn't have that." His mischievous smile remained.
Grayson leaned down, whispering in her ear. "Let's not forget our bet, Little Fox."
Olivia blushed anew. "I didn't forget, Mr. Steel."
"Good." He grinned wickedly before walking away with George, the two of them fading into the crowd.
Olivia turned toward her gate, her body still humming from the stolen moments. She scanned her boarding pass, barely keeping it together, and slipped into her business-class seat, feeling both too hot and cold all at once. Unaware of the bustling world around her. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted past as the flight attendants hurried to prepare for takeoff.
Once settled, she sent Haley a quick text: On my way. No need to pick me up. Will Uber.
She dropped her phone into the seat pocket and leaned her head back, finally allowing herself a shaky breath. Her heart was a wreck, her mind a jumble of goodbye kisses and whispered bets, and her lips… her lips still tingled from Grayson's.
As the engines rumbled to life beneath her, she let herself drift, remembering the night before the bet she'd foolishly agreed to.
As Olivia stared blankly at the patterned fabric of the seat ahead of her, her mind betrayed her with vivid memories of the night before. She could see it all.
Arriving back from dinner, Grayson had held out his hand, leading her upstairs to his penthouse. As the door clicked shut, he scooped her into his arms and kissed her like a man starved. In a frenzied blur, their clothes were discarded in a trail through his expansive hallway.
Grayson had pushed her panties aside, sliding one finger, then two, into her soaked core as he swallowed her moans with his mouth. She pulled away from the kiss.
"Oh my God Grayson."
Screaming his name, the climax ripping through her body violently. He didn't stop. Her legs wrapped around his waist, still trembling when he sank his cock into her, sliding deep, forcing her to hold onto him desperately.
Without breaking stride, he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom, flipping her onto the bed with a powerful, effortless motion. She gasped, scarcely able to catch her breath before he was already plunging into her once more, each thrust driving deeper, each stroke more powerful, each stroke merciless.
His hand snaked around to her clit, rubbing fierce, insistent circles in perfect sync with his relentless thrusts. Grayson's movements, intensify the sensation. Olivia felt herself unravel completely, climaxing with explosive force, her body quivering and barely recovering before another overwhelming wave of ecstasy crashed over her.
"Grayson..." she panted.
"That's right, Little Fox," he growled, his rhythm faltering as his own release built, "come for me one more time."
His words sent her hurtling into an overwhelming orgasm, and with a series of fierce, ravenous thrusts, Grayson gripped her hips and drove into her with relentless ferocity. His words tumbled out in a frantic, primal chant, barely coherent. "Damn..." "Fuck..." "Mine...Fuck..." "Little fox..." "Fuck, Olivia." "So fucking good..." With each powerful thrust, each word punctuated his fevered movements until Grayson erupted inside her bellowing her name with an unrestrained fervor.
Exhausted and drenched in sweat, they collapsed onto the bed, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to catch their breath.
The room was filled with the gentle hum of the air conditioner, a soothing sound that seemed to wrap around them like a gentle embrace. The cool air caressed their flushed skin, gradually calming the fire that had coursed through their veins.
Its rhythmic whir is a constant in the stillness of the room. Slowly, the euphoric high that had once coursed through their veins began to ebb away, leaving a languid calmness that settled over them.
Grayson eventually roused, padding naked to the bathroom. When he returned, he kissed her shoulder and whispered, "Hey, beautiful. I have a shower waiting for us."
She barely had the strength to stand but leaned heavily into him as he helped her into the massive shower. Warm water cascaded over them.
They stepped into his shower, enveloped by the steam that clung to the air like a comforting mist. The warm water cascaded down, a gentle embrace that wrapped around her skin like a soft, cozy blanket. As Grayson filled the loofah with soap, the rich aroma of vanilla intertwined with the crisp scent of lemons, creating a fragrance that danced in the air. Olivia surrendered herself to his touch, allowing him to gently wash her, each stroke deliberate and tender. He moved with careful precision, taking his time to scrub and cleanse her body, cherishing every curve and contour. Her skin became a canvas of foamy lather, a soft, creamy froth that shimmered under the gentle spray.
She stepped beneath the rain shower head, the water cascading over her like a refreshing waterfall, rinsing away the soap and leaving her feeling renewed and invigorated.
Olivia's eyes were closed, and she leaned her head back to let the water soak her hair. Although she couldn't see Grayson, she sensed his fingers weaving through her hair. "May I wash it for you?" he asked. She chuckled softly, eyes still shut. "Mmm, yes." Grayson shifted slightly before his hands returned to her head. He worked the shampoo into a lather and massaged her scalp. "Mmmm," she murmured, enjoying the sensation.
"I'll always say yes to this." "Good to know," he replied, guiding her back under the showerhead to rinse out the shampoo. Then, he applied conditioner and repeated the process. Once her hair was free of any soap, they were done.
Her skin glistened under the soft, ambient glow of the bathroom light, each droplet shimmering as it clung to her. Grayson leaned in and kissed her gently. This was not a kiss born of urgency or need, but rather one rich with slow-burning passion. It was a deliberate, lingering kiss filled with passion and tenderness. Grayson drew her closer, their bodies warm and slick from the shower's embrace.
Olivia wrapped her arms tenderly around his neck, pulling him in as their kiss deepened, their tongues entwining in a dance as rhythmic as the water cascading around them.
Grayson leaned back slightly, reluctantly breaking the kiss, allowing Olivia to step aside and open her eyes. The droplets clinging to her lashes like tiny jewels, she looks up to meet his gaze.
"You are beautiful, Little Fox," he murmured, his voice a soft caress, as he reached for a different body wash. Gracefully, like a synchronized dance
They switched places, and he moved under the shower head, the water enveloping him in a cleansing cascade. Grayson moved under the shower head. The shower's gentle stream flowed over his skin.
His eyes closed, Olivia watched, utterly mesmerized, as he meticulously washed his body with a slow, deliberate grace. His hands glided over his neck, tracing the elegant curve down to his beautifully sculpted abs, each muscle defined and glistening under the water's sheen.
His hands continued their journey, sliding over to his impressive cock, now standing hard once more.
With careful diligence, He meticulously lathered and cleaned, his hands moving with purposeful, dancing up and down with intentional rhythmic strokes, tenderly cupping and cleansing the sensitive region beneath. Grayson's fingers lingered gently on the sensitive skin. Each deliberate stroke was slow, a dance of precision and intent.
As he continued, his breath hitched with each careful stroke. The sound barely escaped his lips amidst the soothing splash of water as Grayson struggled to suppress a moan.
Olivia stepped into the cascading waterfall from the shower head, the steam billowing around her like a spectral cloud. She lowered herself onto her knees before him, the warm rivulets streaming down her face, forcing her to close her eyes and navigate by touch alone. Her fingers gently alighted on his hip, while her other hand coaxed Grayson's hand away from his length. His sharp intake of breath at her initial contact was audible even over the sound of the rushing water. "I…" he began, his voice faltering in a whisper, uncertain what to say or expect.
With the water sluicing down her face, Olivia couldn't see his expression, but she felt his body tense in anticipation. She slid her hand along his shaft, the silken skin smooth and taut beneath her palm. A low moan escaped his lips, growing louder as she began to stroke him with a steady rhythm. But it was when she took him fully into her mouth that his body jerked and a ragged oath tore from his throat. "Holy fuck, Olivia," he groaned, his hands grasping for purchase on the slick shower walls.
She moved her mouth with a practiced ease, her lips and tongue working in harmony to accommodate his size. She bobbed her head in and out, taking more of him with each descent. Her hand worked in tandem with her mouth, stroking him firmly as she took him deeper. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing the pulsating vein that ran from the hilt to the tip. "Olivia, fuck. Holy shit," he gasped, his fingers grasping for any semblance of stability as she enveloped him completely. She hollowed out her cheeks and sucked, the pressure intensifying his pleasure. The water's steady drumbeat against the tiles was drowned out by his ragged breaths and her steady ministrations, the world outside the shower fading into a distant, inconsequential hum.
The man, Grayson Steel, breathed in the steam of the shower. "Little Fox, I need to fuck this beautiful mouth of yours." His fingers wrapped around her head, and his thumbs brushed the sides of her cheeks.
He could already feel the heat of her mouth, the slick, tight space he craved. Her hands drifted from his shaft, leaving him throbbing and impatient.
She grasped his hips, her fingers digging into his wet flesh, silent, eager permission. Her eyes flicked up to his, and in the foggy air, he could see her dilated pupils wide and eager for what he needed.
He tangled his fingers in her wet hair and began moving. His cock, swollen and aching, slid between her parted lips, gliding over her tongue, and hitting the back of her throat. His hips picked up a steady rhythm. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue velvety as it slid against his shaft. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking as his hips retreated. The sight of his cock, glistening with her saliva, disappearing into her mouth, was his undoing.
"Fuuckkkk..." he groaned, his body moving faster, his fingers gripping her hair tighter. Olivia held on, her fingernails biting into his hips, her breath coming in quick pants through her nose. She could feel his pulse in his cock, could feel the twitch that signaled his release. His body tensed, and he thrust once, twice, three times, before throwing his head back against the shower wall, shouting his ecstasy to the ceiling. "Fuck...Olivia." His chest heaved as his body trembled with the aftershocks of his climax.
He leaned back against the shower wall, repeating, "Holy shit." Olivia, still under the shower head, couldn't see him clearly. Eventually, she managed to stand up, albeit a bit unsteadily, and cupped her hands to drink some of the shower water. Grayson watched her with a smile.
"I don't know about you, but I think it's time for a snack," she remarked, stepping out of the shower.
A few minutes later, after rinsing off again, Grayson followed her. She was drying her hair, standing naked. Grayson took a second towel and wrapped it around himself.
He approached her and took the towel from her hands. "Let me handle it," he offered.
She gave him a suspicious look, to which he responded with a grin.
"Little Fox, you're the one enticing the wolf with fresh meat," as he gazed down at her.
"There were only two towels here. What else could I do?" she replied, placing her hands on her hips.
"I'll make sure that's not a problem next time. Now, could you hand me the towel, please?" he asked with a smile.
She handed it over, and he gently dried her hair until it was no longer dripping. Afterward, he went to the closet and retrieved another towel for her to wrap around herself.
"You could have just told me where the towels were from the start," she said as she wrapped herself up.
"True, but then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of admiring your naked body for the past ten minutes, now would I?" he teased, giving her a smile and a kiss on the neck. She blushed and looked at him.
"Insatiable," she remarked. "Seems like it, but that's true only when it comes to you," he replied with a smirk.
Grayson chuckled. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." He took her hand, and they left the bathroom together. Grayson entered his closet and exited wearing light blue cotton poplin pajama pants with a soft, flexible waistband. Olivia briefly stared before regaining her composure, noting his damp hair from the shower and how the pajamas hung on his hips, forming a striking V shape. She realized that she might be just as insatiable as he. She shook off the thought, and they both walked out of the bedroom and made their way to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Grayson headed straight for the fridge, its stainless steel surface gleaming under the soft overhead lights. "So, what do you want for a snack?" he asked, his voice casual as he peered inside the well-stocked refrigerator. His housekeeper in New York visited twice a week, meticulous and reliable, ensuring the shelves were always brimming with fresh produce and gourmet delights whenever she knew he was in town.
"Ummm, Grayson," she said, her fingers lightly tracing the cool marble of the island countertop as she leaned against it, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
"Hmmm...?" he responded absentmindedly, his attention still fixed on the contents of the fridge, the hum of its motor a soothing background noise.
"Where's my suitcase?" she inquired, her tone now edged with curiosity.
"Suitcase?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone, yet his eyes remained focused on the task at hand as he began to pull out items—a jar of chocolate sauce, a jar of caramel, a container of strawberries.
"Yes, my suitcase with clothes, shoes, toiletries—where is it?" she asked, a playful note threading through her voice.
Finally, he turned, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Ah yes, I'm holding them hostage for the moment."
"What!" she exclaimed, half outraged and half-amused, her eyes widening in mock surprise.
He chuckled softly, his laughter warm and infectious. "We kind of got a little distracted," he admitted, a glimmer of humor dancing in his gaze. "But this became a hostage situation once I got you back in my home."
She pulled out a stool from beneath the island, the soft scrape of wood against tile echoing faintly as she settled herself onto it with graceful ease. Crossing her legs with an air of feigned resignation.
Olivia's expression was a mix of amusement and curiosity. "So, will I be getting my things back?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes, of course," he assured her, popping open a jar of rich, golden caramel, the sweet aroma wafting into the air as he assembled their impromptu feast.
"Prey tell, the time of which that might happen?" she smirked, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh...right. Promptly at 8, tomorrow morning," he replied with an air of certainty, his voice steady and firm. "Grayson, sweetie... why are my things being held hostage?" Her voice was teasing, yet there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.
"Well, two reasons, actually," Grayson began, his tone playful yet earnest. "One is that you have a tendency to vanish on me while I sleep. The second is so I can officially ensure I say goodbye." Olivia gazed at him, myriad thoughts swirling in her mind, yet none seemed ready to form into words.
"Fine," she conceded, a hint of resignation in her voice, "but I don't want to stay in a towel all night." She gestured down at the towel wrapped around her, her fingers brushing the soft fabric. Grayson sighed deeply, as though releasing a breath he had held too long. "Ahhh, I was hoping I could keep you naked this whole time," he confessed, a touch of melancholy in his words.
He walked back to his bedroom, his steps deliberate and unhurried, and returned with a silk pajama shirt. The fabric shimmered under the soft light, a cascade of smooth elegance. "Here, this will cover that beautiful body of yours," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. Olivia opened the towel slowly, and Grayson's eyes followed her every movement, captivated.
She didn't bother with the buttons of the silk pajama shirt; instead, she simply slipped it over her head. The material draped loosely over her, caressing her skin like a whisper. Grayson continued to watch her, his gaze unwavering. "Little fox... I love how you look in that," he murmured, admiration in his eyes.
She blushed, warmth spreading across her cheeks, and quickly attempted to change the subject, aware of the intensity of his gaze. She knew exactly where they would end up if he continued to look at her that way. "What are you making besides a mess?" she asked her voice light and teasing, steering the conversation to safer ground.
The counter was a chaotic canvas, strewn with an array of pretzels, glistening chocolate sauce, fluffy popcorn, and sticky caramel. "It's not a mess; it's going to be a masterpiece of edible art," he declared, lifting his hands dramatically as if conjuring a culinary vision. "Picasso, you're not. I hope it tastes better than it looks," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she smiled at him. "I need you to stop judging me with your judgy face," he retorted, pointing at her with mock seriousness.
"Hey, there is no judgment here... okay, maybe a little... okay, yes, I am judging you," she confessed, laughter bubbling up between them.
Grayson shook his head, a grin playing on his lips, as he transferred his haphazard creation into a large, colorful bowl. He ambled into the living room, settling comfortably onto the plush couch. Olivia trailed behind him, perched on the opposite end of the couch, intrigued. He passed the bowl to her, and she examined it with curious eyes. "So, I am supposed to eat this, right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. But wait," he instructed, springing up from his seat. He dashed to the fridge, its cool air whispering around him as he retrieved imported beers. With a satisfying pop, he opened them and returned to the couch, the bottles clinking softly in his grasp.
This time, he was seated much closer to her, occupying the middle seat. "Alright, dive in," he urged with enthusiasm. Olivia glanced at him, then at the bowl, and shrugged. She grabbed a small handful and took a bite. An explosion of flavors filled her mouth: salty and sweet, crunchy and soft. "Mmmm. Steel, it's pretty good," she remarked between bites. Grayson took a handful for himself, munching away, then washed it down with a sip of his beer, his eyes on Olivia.
"Alright, now that we've indulged in some snacks and cleared our minds, we haven't forgotten what's truly at stake tonight, have we?" he asked, a playful grin lighting up his face as his eyes met hers. She picked up her cold beer, the condensation dripping down the bottle, and took a swig, clearing her throat. "I haven't forgotten," she replied, her expression shifting to a calm, neutral demeanor.
"Great, so let's do this, shall we?" Grayson said, enthusiasm in his voice as he picked up his phone and navigated to his sports app. Olivia leaned back, stretching her arms across the plush corners of the couch, her posture relaxed and confident. She looked at him with a smug smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Grayson, I just want you to know, I take no pride in watching you lose repeatedly," she teased.
"Yes, you do," he chuckled, a warm, light-hearted laugh escaping his lips. "However, this time I won't fail," he declared, determination evident in his voice.
"Well then, let's begin. Which sport do you want to start with?" she asked, her lips curling into a smirk.
"You should already know I'm going to say Baseball," he replied, his smile broadening, dimples deepening on his cheeks.
"Indeed, I did, Mr. Steel. Indeed, I did," she stated with a grin, her eyes twinkling in the room's soft light.