Oliver Queen hated moving, the packing and the sorting through old memories. He had put it off for far too long and it was time to move on. Most of his two bedroom condo was boxed up and ready for the movers on Saturday. He had finished with his home office and all that remained was his bedroom. Oliver looked around, unsure where to start. A lot of his clothes and toiletries were already at the other house. That left him with the smaller closet and his dresser.
Oliver sighed deeply and placed an empty box on his bed. He pulled open the closet, took the clothes, jackets all in one giant arm full and dumped it on the bed. He needed to go through them and donate the clothes he hadn’t worn in years. He pulled out old tennis shoes and tossed them down the hall toward his trash pile. He reached up on the shelf and his finger brushed a smooth box.
Oliver pulled it off the shelf and held it.The box was made of mahogany wood, roughly 6" x 8" in size. The lid had a porcelain tiled picture of a sunset over Lake Tahoe. Oliver ran his hand over the surface, the wood felt warm under his touch. It had been a gift and for over two years it sat on his dresser so he could look at it and remember. But after five years he had almost forgotten, almost.
Oliver sat on the edge of his bed and opened the box. Inside were stacks of photos, a carnival ticket stub, movie stubs, a pressed red flower, and a poorly made green and black friendship bracelet. The pictures were face down and he hesitated to touch them, not ready to open that door. He removed the green and black threads and ran them through his fingers. He had worn it until the threads frayed and locked it away in the box for safe keeping. Oliver touched the dried and pressed flower, he lifted it to his nose but the smell had long faded away. The movie stubs were for the same movie on different dates and five years later he still hadn't seen Transformers all the way through.
Oliver lifted the photos from the box before setting it aside. It had been so long since he turned the pictures away, it had taken him longer to forget the sound of laughter when he woke up from his dreams. He took a deep breath and turned them over. Bright blue eyes and dark golden hair greeted him with a dazzling smile. She had been captured mid laugh, her head back, a hand on her cheek in the front seat of his truck. The picture was a little blurry, he’d been laughing when he took it.
Oliver flipped to the next picture.
She was lakeside, cut off jean shorts and a red bikini top. Her hair up in messy bun atop her head, she held a fishing pole in one hand and a fish on the line in the other. Her face held both pride and disgust. Another picture, white lines on a queen size bed, an arm covered her eyes, the sheet pulled up over her breasts, blonde hair over the pillow and a creamy leg uncovered by the sheet. Pictures of the two of them wrapped around each other, in different locations. A line of pictures from a photo booth, a captured kiss.
With each picture a tidal wave of memories and sensations flooded him. He tried not to think about that summer, it would have been easier if he had forgotten everything. It was his biggest regret and no matter how hard he looked for her, she was gone.
Oliver laid back on his pillow, a picture held up above him. It was taken on their last night together. Her hair was down, her face clean of makeup. She had on one of his flannel button up shirts, and he knew nothing else. She stared out toward the lake, her eyes sad, her smile soft. Oliver trailed a finger over her cheek and let the memories wash over him and take him back.
Oliver had failed out of his third college, too much partying and not enough studying, or any for that matter. He was done trying, he didn't see the point. He was a Queen and no matter what education he had or not he would still be given a place in the company. Even if he didn't want it.
Since the letter and school dismissal, Oliver’s father Robert had refused to talk to him. Oliver didn't mind, he was tired of the lectures. His mother Moira sent him to their summer home at Lake Tahoe, Nevada, so that the silent battle of wills wouldn't be waged in her home. He had agreed to stay low key and out of the public eye. After his last on-camera drunken stunt, he was more than willing to hide out.
By Queen Manor standards the Tahoe estate was small, over 11,000 sq ft on 2.4 acres of land. It was a gated community, but the house had its own private gate. Hand-cut granite and cherry mahogany created the two story “L” shaped six bedroom and seven bath house with a four car garage. Inside the great room had a giant stone fireplace, soaring ceilings and a glass wall with a stunning view of the Sierra Mountains and Lake Tahoe. The house had a state-of-the-art kitchen, media room, wine cellar, formal dining room and a master wing. The property had a pool, a half court, and a separate one bedroom, one bath house with full kitchen.
Oliver stood in the entryway, staring out toward the mountains. The last time the family had been to the house was for a Christmas ski trip three years ago. Oliver loved the house, but he always felt small when faced with large snow-capped mountains, facing them alone for a few weeks would be daunting, in the echoing house. His mother had made arrangements for the property to be prepared for his arrival, the houses had been cleaned, bed and linens changed and food stocked. He had refused any staff, knowing that they would spy and report everything back to his parents. Thank god, Raisa had taught him how to cook simple meals.
Back at his last college he had been surrounded by a crowd of people, constantly. They wanted the show, they wanted the cameras and the prestige of being one of Oliver Queen’s friends . It took him months to figure out what bothered him about that, he felt alone. He was in a sea of people and no one knew him. The worse he felt the more he drank, the more he drank the more disappointment he saw in his father's eyes. He wasn’t the son Robert Queen wanted, and Oliver would never be.
Oliver turned away from the large window, picked up his duffle bag and walked through the circle drive to the smaller house. The front of the two story house faced the garage and master wing of the main house. Large picture windows and a high ceiling. The bedroom had cream colored walls, wood trim, a stone fireplace, a large queen-sized bed with a dark green bedspread covered in pillows. The bed faced the the windows and balcony, so the first thing he would see was the mountains. The balcony had a table and two lounge chairs. It was smaller than his room at home, but he felt more relaxed in the open space.
He found an empty crate and went to the main house to clear the kitchen of all the food. It took him three trips but he had a fully stocked kitchen in the smaller house. He locked up the main house and took his phone and let his mom know he had arrived. He made his promises and assurance to check in. He sent his love to Thea, his little sister, with a promise of gifts. Once clear, Oliver took a beer up to the bedroom balcony and looked out toward the mountains. This trip was about finding the strength to stand on his own for once. He was twenty-five years old, he need to take charge and he couldn’t do that in the shadow of Robert Queen.
The first few days at the estate, Oliver spent in the garage. For the last few months he’d been working on restoring a 1969 Ford Bronco. He’d rebuilt the V8 engine while in school in the only class he enjoyed and would show up for. It just hadn't been enough to carry him through and it had nothing to do with a business degree. His automotive engineering professor had tried to get him to change majors. When Oliver approached his dad, he had been met with contempt and was told that Queen CEO’s don't work on cars. Oliver’s love of cars was considered a hobby and one he needed to put aside if he wanted any right to his inheritance. A few months after that Oliver was asked to leave Princeton University, after being caught in the Dean's office with a co-ed that happened to be the Dean’s daughter.
Oliver understood cars, he liked taking them apart and finding the problem. It was hard, messy work but he loved it. He had recently got the Bronco painted, dark green metallic with black trim. He had the black hardtop replaced and added a sunroof. Oliver had replaced the manual transmission, he had placed a custom roll bar and traded up to bucket seats. His biggest issue was the gas gauge, no matter how many times he fixed it or replaced it the gauge said empty.
The weather was in the high eighties, but it felt like ninety in the garage. Oliver had scraped his knuckles while lowering the jack for the Bronco. His knuckles swollen and his mood sour, he needed a beer. He ran his hand through his hair. It had gotten longer in the last year. Dark blond hair brushed his collar, along his jawline, a bit shorter in the front it grazed his cheekbones and covered his eyes. Thea had teased him about cutting it, called it his serial killer look. He hadn't shaved since coming up to Tahoe. He looked down at his tan jean pants and dirty black t-shirt and shrugged. He was supposed to be low key, no one would dare think he’d go out looking like this.
Oliver washed his hands and face, grabbed his keys and headed into town to the Village Pub. They had decent bar food, cold beer, and wouldn't care if his shirt was covered in dirt. It was Friday night and the pub was busier with more than the usual local crowd. The pool and ping pong tables were occupied and most of the tables full. Oliver moved through the crowd with ease, got the darkest ale they had, and ordered a burger and fries to go. He was in no mood for crowds.
Loud country music blared from the jukebox, but he still heard the bubbling laughter from around the corner. It made Oliver smile without even knowing why. He leaned around the corner but only caught sight of long blonde hair. Oliver walked around the corner, he spotted four women, a bottle of Patron tequila and shot glasses on the table top.
The petite blonde sat in profile, long curly hair cascaded down her back. Her head was thrown back, hands with blue nail polish held on to the table, her chair leaned on the back legs. She wore a thin black t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Oliver moved closer, she was pretty and didn't seem to care if she was noticed. He watched the table for a few minutes, men walked close and tried to interrupt but they were turned away. He found an empty table and decided a little entertainment with dinner was just what he needed.
The ladies seemed to be playing a game, Oliver tried to figure out the rules. It appeared to be a combination of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever. Taking turns, one of the women made a statement, if the others had never done it they were given a choice: tell a truth or complete the dare. Those that had done the act or statement were supposed take a shot. So far she had only drank twice, her first shot was for once having sex in the open and another shot for kissing a girl. Oliver wished the rules included details. The petite blonde spent more time completing dares than drinking. He hadn’t seen her tell one truth, but she did jump on top of the table and dance. He had almost spit out his food when she did the Robot and moved into the Sprinkler.
Oliver tried not to stare, but she was animated and she didn't seem to be scared of anything. She was nothing like the girls he knew, and he was fascinated. He didn't notice the other women, he did see her friend grab her arm and whisper in her ear. She sat up straight, turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. Her makeup was soft, her face made him think of peaches and cream, she gave him a half smile with flirtatious eyes. Oliver raised his glass and nodded, she raised a shot and downed it in one gulp. She turned back to her friends coughing, her friends looked at him and back to the coughing blonde.
He finished his food and pushed back from his table. Oliver didn't see her until he stood up and she was under his nose. He looked down at sky blue eyes, dark pink lips, and a cute nose. She was smaller than he thought, if he held her, he could have rested his chin on top of her head. Oliver was a little taken off guard by the sweet smell of apples and the spice of cinnamon.
“Oh you're so big, and by that I mean tall. Not that I would know how big that is,” she looked down at his pants. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shot back up to his. “Not that I am trying to find out how big that is. I am sure it is just the right size, stopping in three, two, one.”
Oliver had been flabbergasted, his mouth slightly open, his ears felt hot. He didn't know if he should laugh or take her home and keep her forever. He shut his mouth and smiled.
“Oh frack,” her voice squeaked. “So I have to complete a dare and my ex friends picked you.”
Oliver didn't say anything, his mouth was dry and he wasn't sure if he could talk without sounding like a sixteen-year-old. Oliver never had a problem finding women, they honestly came to him. This feeling of nervousness was unfamiliar and out of place. He didn't know why he was so affected by this tiny woman, but he was willing to find out. He arched a brow and waited.
“Well you see, I have never kissed a stranger, and you sir are a stranger.”
Oliver stood up straighter and licked his lips. He wished he had gone for that shower after all.
“Don't think this means anything.”
She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. Even prepared, he was caught off guard and immobile. His eyes opened, his arms held out toward her. She smelled of apples, cinnamon and tequila. She pressed hard, her eyes slammed shut, her cheeks puffed out and a scowl formed between her brows. She pulled away with a huff and started to turn. Oliver blinked once, twice, she made it a few steps away before he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She looked down at his hand and back to his face.
“My turn,” Oliver almost growled.
He’d been thinking of what it’d be like to kiss her all night and he wasn't going to let that be his only chance. He stepped against her, cupped the back of her head with both hands, fingers tangled in her silken hair. His thumbs brushed over her jaw. He pulled her up to meet his lips. Oliver gently rubbed his lips against hers, he didn’t want to scare her off. She sighed and relaxed against him. Her hands wrapped around his wrist. He melted into the warmth, sinking deep into the softness of her lips.
The room around him went silent, he forgot everything but the woman in his arms. He used his mouth to coax her to deepen the kiss. She shifted, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her tongue explored his lower lip, the touch sent a thrill through him he had never known before. He opened his mouth and danced his tongue along hers. She dragged her hands over his shoulders, he dropped a hand around her waist and lifted her up. She pulled her mouth away with a delighted laugh.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands wrapped around her waist and he tightened his grip. He gasped for breath, she rubbed her thumb over her lip, her eyes locked on his mouth. He didn't know her name but he knew that he needed to kiss her again.
Cheers and hollering erupted around them, Oliver remembered where they were and that they had an audience. She looked around her eyes wide, her cheeks bright, she gave him a shy smile and shimmied down his body. He groaned when she brushed over his cock, she snapped her head to his and bit her lip. Oliver wanted to press up against her and show her how much she affected him.
She stepped back, her hand on his chest, he hesitated to let her go.
“You must practice that, ‘cause you are a really good kisser,” she breathed.
“Can't say this has ever happened to me before.” Oliver contemplated. He’d had girls randomly kiss him before but had never lost himself in the kiss of someone like he did with her.
“I should go back to my friends,” even as she said it her hand tightened on his shirt. He covered her hand and held it.
“Do you have to?”
“I should,” her voice soft, she took a step closer.
“But do you want to? I might have another proposition for you.” Oliver's hand ran up and down her arm, she shivered.
“That sounds tempting, really tempting actually.” She looked back at her friends, two gave her shocked disapproving looks, but one gave her a thumbs up and a wink. “I shouldn't.”
Oliver squeezed her hand and took a step back, he wouldn't pressure her. She wasn't like anyone he had ever been with and he didn't want to mess it up.
“You could walk me to my truck and wish me goodbye?” Oliver offered.
“Are you leaving?”
“If I don't go now, I might beg. And if I beg, I might grovel.” Oliver liked the startled laugh she gave him. “It won't be pretty, you might give in out of pity.”
“Hmm that does sound horrible,” she pursed her lips. “Maybe I should walk you to your car, I can keep you safe.”
“Safety in numbers,” Oliver said with a grin.
“I'm just going to grab my bag.”
Before he answered she stepped back and went to her friends. She grabbed a duffel bag that was under the table. Her friend grabbed her arm and whispered frantically. She looked back at him, before dropping a twenty on the table. She gave a quick wave. She stood in front of him, her head tilted to the side. He felt like he was an open book and she was reading him. He didn't know what she saw in him, but she walked toward him and offered her elbow.
“I figure that it might be better if I make sure you get home safe as well,” she explained.
“That is very kind of you, I feel safer already.”
They walked out of the bar hand in hand. He walked to his car.
“Do we need to get your car?”
“Oh no I just got to town, took the bus. Those girls rode up with me. We were just letting off steam and then you showed up.”
“Would you feel better if you knew my name?”
“Actually no, I have never done anything like this before and the less I know the better. So we don't need to do any of the awkward getting to know you talk. We both know this is a one night kind of thing. Which I am more than okay with. The only thing I want to know is how far away do you live and is there a girlfriend?”
“Twenty minutes and no, I don't do girlfriends,” but he might make an exception, Oliver thought to himself.
“Good neither do I,” she laughed.
“But you did kiss a girl?”
“So, you were paying attention?”
Oliver chuckled, opened the door for her, and helped her jump in. She ran a hand over the dash, her smile soft. Oliver ran around the front and jumped in the seat before answering.
“I noticed everything,” he leaned toward her and waited. She shifted forward, tugged his ear, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
“I’ll be the judge of that, Captain America.”
“Why Captain America? I've always preferred DC over Marvel,” Oliver teased. “Maybe I’m Batman!?”
She snorted, “You are no Batman, maybe the Green Arrow.”
“Why couldn't I be Batman? And what's wrong with the Green Arrow?”
“Oh nothing is wrong with Green Arrow, I’ve seen you smile too much to be Batman. But I'm not calling you The Green Arrow.” She said it sarcastically with a deepened voice. “It takes too long and sounds pretentious. How about Arrow? Or FLYNN!?”
“Flynn!? How the hell do you get Flynn out of Arrow?”
“See if you can keep up,” she giggled. “Arrow made me think of Robin Hood. And my favorite Robin Hood is Errol Flynn, and Arrow sounded like Errol. So since I refuse to know your real name I will call you Flynn.”
Oliver took his eyes off the road and stared. She had thrown him with the comic book talk, but she had jumped from thought to thought faster than anything he had ever seen. As dizzying as it sounded it made a crazy kind of sense. He had to know what other twisted logic she'd come up with next. He enjoyed talking to her and he was starting to think that if nothing else happened it would still be one of the best nights of his life.
“Al-right,” he hesitated. “So what do I call you? Wonder Woman? Or Diana Prince? Or if I go by your thoughts Lynda? Mmm Lynda Carter…”
He really loved watching her face light up with laughter, she threw her back, her eyes sparkled and she didn't hold anything back.
“Oh, that is a good one. Maybe you can call me Princess?”
“I thought all women wanted to be Queens?” he joked, even if she didn't truly understand.
Oliver pictured bringing her home, his parents would have no idea how to talk to her. She talked fast and had a quick wit. He saw intelligence behind her eyes layered within her words and speeches. He was sure that Thea would love her.
“Oh no, a princess gets all the fun and none of the responsibility. And this trip is about not being responsible. So I am not a queen, but tonight I can be whomever you want me to be.”
Oliver pulled up to the gate, and pressed in the code. He looked over at her and saw her eyes widen. He waited for her to ask questions, could even see them in her furrowed brow. He would have told her if she asked, he would tell her anything. But she only sat back and waited. Oliver felt a strange sense of disappointment.
He pulled up in front of the smaller house, reached for her bag, but she pulled it back from him and stepped out of the car. She looked around in wonder and appreciation. Oliver stepped behind her and open the door to the house, he heard a sigh of relief behind him, he wanted to know what was going on in her mind. She doesn't want his first name, he doubted she would want his last, or know anything about his family. For one night he could be her Flynn and leave the mantel of Oliver Queen behind.
“Are you thirsty or hungry?” he offered. “I am not expecting anything, just so you know. If you get uncomfortable or want to leave just let me know and we can stop. There is a media center in the big house if you just want to watch movies.”
She ran a hand through her loose hair, looked around and back at him. She took a step forward, placed her hand on his chest.
“Is that what you want, to watch movies?” her voice was soft, sending heat through his chest. “Because I didn't come home with you to watch movies.”
He wondered when he would stop being surprised by her, he had a suspicion that he’d always be a step behind.
“No, I don’t want to watch a movie, but I think I should shower.” He grabbed her hand and lead the way up the stairs. “I’ll hurry, you can put your bag anywhere.”
Oliver stepped into the large bathroom and stripped off his shirt, kicked of his shoes and socks. He stood in his jeans and turned on the tap, tested the water and waited. He felt the air stir behind him, heat radiated off of her. He fought down his urge to turn, his skin tingled with anticipation. Her fingers were cold against his hot skin. She drew a line up his spine, and he shivered. He felt her naked breasts against his back, her arms wrapped around his waist. She pressed her lips between his shoulder blades.
“If I wait, I might overthink this and lose my nerve. I really don't want that to happen.” Her mouth was against his skin, she pressed open-mouthed kisses with each word. “I really hope I didn't misjudge your intentions here.”
Oliver’s muscles constricted, his heart thundered in his chest and sent heat down his body. He turned in her arms and captured her lips. She had stripped down to bright blue satin underwear, he regretted missing her strip. Her arms went around his shoulders, her fingers tugged on his hair. Overcome with the need to possess her, he couldn’t be bothered with removing his pants. His hands slid down her smooth back and over her firm ass as he lifted her up and held onto the back of her thighs. He walked her in the large glass shower, warm water rained down from above. Oliver pressed her against the wall, dragged his mouth down the column of her throat. He found the source of her sweet apple cinnamon smell, when he nibbled on her ears.
Oliver put her legs down, his knee between her legs. He trailed his hands up her sides. He watched her face as his hands slowly moved from her sides to her stomach up to her small firm breasts. She arched back, her eyes shut, her lips between her teeth, a moan caught in her throat. Wet hairs clung to her skin, her nipples hardened under his palms. He dragged his thumb over a soft pink nub, she shuddered and rocked her hips, rubbed her heat against his jean-covered thigh. She responded to his every touch with wanton moans.
Oliver had always been a selfish lover, more concerned with his needs than his partner’s. But with her, his need to watch her come undone was more powerful than his own pleasure. She was exquisite in her ecstasy and he needed to know how she tasted.
Oliver dropped to his knees, he glided her panties down her legs. Her hands were tangled in his hair. His hands on her hips, he looked up her wet glistening body. He waited until she looked down at him, her eyes dark with desire. Water ran down the curve of her breasts, into his eyes. She pushed his hair out of his face, ran her finger down his nose, over his lips. She gave him a curt nod with a smile that made Oliver's mouth water.
He stroked his hands over her hip, down her pelvic bone, he spread her open with his thumbs and used the flat of his tongue to taste her. She let out a quivering moan and tightened her hold on his hair. He nibbled and feasted on her juices of lust. Oliver lavished her with slow and smooth strokes of his tongue. Teased her clit with a sweep of his thumb, she withered beneath his worship. His wet pants were almost painful around his throbbing cock, he shifts his hips to relieve some pressure. He looked up over her stomach and saw she was watching him. Her hand on one of her breasts, she pulled and tugged at her nipple. Oliver needed to see her cum.
He covered her hand over her breast and they kneaded the soft flesh together. Her eyes locked with his. He slowly inserted one finger inside her velvet heat. She closed her eyes. Oliver pulled his mouth away.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Her eyes popped open, he watched in satisfaction as her blue eyes darkened before him. He thrusted his hand smooth and slow, he leaned in and flicked his fingertip over her swollen clit. Her deep sighs turned to loud moans, and Oliver inserted a second finger in. She was tight and wet, she constricted around his fingers and let out a long cry of pleasure. Oliver felt her, tasted her climax, and he needed more.
“Please, please,” she begged.
“What do you want baby?” he whispered against her skin.
“Don’t stop,” she panted.
Oliver stood up, the need to kiss her overwhelmed him. He shook his hair out of his eyes, and pulled her up against him. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Her mouth open, she sucked on his tongue and made him see stars. Her hands were everywhere and her touch scorched his skin. She unsnapped his pants, pushed down the zipper and shoved her hand down his boxers. Oliver groaned at her small hand wrapped around his cock, he thrust up into her fist. His teeth crashed against hers, his open kiss wild and desperate.
Oliver had never wanted anything more than he wanted her right now. He reached over, shut off the water, and lifted her up over his shoulder. Her cry of surprise turned into laughter. Oliver walked from the bathroom his wet pants hug low on his hips, he dropped her on the bed. Oliver tried to remove his pants but they stuck to his legs, and he stumbled. She giggled from the bed, but reached out for him. He sat on the bed and pushed down on his pants, she stood up and pulled. Oliver laughed when she fell back onto the floor with a plop, the wet pants in her hands. He had never had this much fun when it came to sex. She gave him a huff and stood.
“Think that’s funny mister,” she smirked. She walked toward him, naked soaking wet and seductive.
“I think it’s hysterical, I also think you’re the hottest thing I have ever seen.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she teased.
She walked between his legs and pushed him back on the bed. She crawled up on the bed and straddled his thighs, then she laid down on top of him and kissed him. Her lips soft, she feathered kisses over his lips and jaw. Her hand smoothed down his hair, he brushed hers over her shoulder. Oliver rolled them over, he sat up, pulled out a condom from the nightstand. She took it from his hand and opened it, took him in her hands and stroked him a few times before smoothing the condom down his hard shaft. She wiggled and lifted her knees up, her hand tight around his cock, he followed her lead. She positioned him into place. Oliver looked down at the woman beneath him, moonlight from the widow cast light on her face illuminating her smile. He held his breath and sank into her. Oliver was lost in the warmth of her and his heart hammered so fast he thought it might burst from his chest.
Oliver was startled by the sound of his phone ringing in his ear. He looked around dazed, he was hard and his body ached for her. He shook his head and tried to pull himself back together. That was the past, that was something that he had lost and he would never get back. His phone rang again and he looked at the screen. He pressed the answer button.
“Hey Tommy, what’s up?” He answered.
“Uh what’s up is you’re late?” his best friend answered.
Oliver looked at his phone and noticed the time. He cursed and looked down at his clothes and his raging hard on. He was not going to make it in this state.
“Is she going to kill me?” Oliver asked.
“Nah not yet, for some reason she loves you. But you better hurry.”
“I’ve got to shower and change and I’ll be there in forty minutes.”
“Make it thirty man, I think I just saw your mom working her way over toward your lady.”
“Oh shit, I’ll hurry.”
Oliver dropped his phone on the bed, he stripped down and jumped in the lukewarm water. He was glad he kept his hair shorter now it made showering easy. It was his throbbing cock that was a problem. He lathered up his body and took hold of his cock. Thoughts of blue eyes, laughter and blonde hair, hot wet skin under his tongue and within a few strokes of his hand he felt his release of pleasure. He finished quickly and dried off. He grabbed his suit and changed.
Oliver reached down to grab his phone, it had knocked over the box and the contents had fallen out over his bed. Pictures spread across his bed, her face was everywhere. The bracelet had fallen on top of his phone and he picked it up, and without thinking he put it in his pocket. Oliver grabbed his phone and keys, he was almost an hour late for his own rehearsal dinner.