We had three days from our conversation the other morning until Oliver's plan to kill Jasper took place. Oliver's house was in a constant state of chaos. He had people coming in and out at all hours of the day, having meetings and lugging in various sized black metal cases full of god knows what. 

Each day that passed just put me more and more on edge and I could sense the same from Oliver, although he was much better at hiding it. 

Any moment he wasn't holed up in his office, I made sure he spent in bed with me- or on any other surface in his house for that matter. I was eager to spend whatever time we may have left appreciating each other and he didn't hesitate to kick everyone out of his house and make them wait outside until I was satisfied.

The thought of tomorrow was terrifying. 

It finally felt like our relationship was in a good, solid place. Oliver was being more open with me, despite still keeping me in the dark about his master plan, but now it felt like we were diving further into the unknown. As the day crept up on us, I started to feel more and more like everything Oliver and I have been working towards was about to be ripped out from under us.

As my fear for his safety grew, so did my need to be with him in any way I could. What started as an unhurried, passionate morning after our rather intense conversation quickly turned into desperate, frenzied trysts in between meetings. 

I might have felt bad about barging into his office and interrupting several times a day if he wasn't just as needy as I was. 

"You should get back to your meeting," I sigh as Oliver stands behind me to unzip my dress. 

He slips it down my body until it pools at my feet. His hands slide across my waist and his fingers dip just below the waistband of my underwear, toying with me but never touching where I wanted him the most. 

His breath fans across my neck, causing my heated skin to prick. He drags his tongue from my shoulder, up alone the curve of my neck to my ear and nips at the lobe. 

"As a matter of fact, I have very important business to attend to right here," he hums into my hair. 

I whimper as he slides a finger into me. He pulls my chin to the side with his free hand and kisses me roughly, sliding his tongue lazily into my mouth before adding a second finger. I start to grind my ass against the front of his pants, causing him to groan into my mouth. 

It was unintentional at first- an unaccounted for consequence of me rubbing my legs together as I desperately tried to ease the ache building between them- but as I realize the effect it has on him, I can't help the devious smile on my face as I push harder against him. 

I lean forward, propping my arms up on the dresser and push my ass further against him, grinding and writhing, feeling him harden in his pants. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He growls. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I respond breathlessly. 

He grips a fistful of my hair and pulls me back up before flipping me around and slamming me against the dresser. I smirk up at him and lick my lips, loving the way his eyes darken as he watches me. 

I kneel down slowly in front of him, making sure to maintain our eye contact as I unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. 

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. 

I only tease him at first, the way he's teased me countless times before, and wrap my hand around the base of him, stroking him slowly. 

"Please, Cam," he groans. 

The nickname he so rarely uses causes the aching between my legs to become almost unbearable. 

I wrap my mouth around him, taking only the tip of him in first before moving my head up and down in deliberate, even movements. 

I swirl my tongue around as I continue to stroke him with both my mouth and hand, and his hips begin to rock forward to match my pace. 

I look up at him- the expression on his face is almost enough to push me over the edge. His mouth is parted, his tongue poking slightly between his teeth, and his eyes are narrowed to near slits.

"Stand up," he commands, his voice rough. 

I do as he tells me and he rips off my bra and underwear in one swift motion. He wraps a hand around my throat and pushes me until I fall back onto the bed. He kicks off his pants and underwear, but leaves his shirt and tie on. 

I spread my legs for him as he climbs on top of me, whining as he slides his tip against me, stroking me continuously without giving me what he knows I need.

It's a game of cat and mouse we're playing, teasing each other until we're both at our breaking points. 

He wants me to beg for it. 

"Are you going to fuck me or do I have to finish the job myself?" I taunt. 

He responds by slamming into me, his hands gripping my hips tightly, pulling me closer to him. I cry out at the contact. There's a brief sense of relief as he fills me, easing the ache there, before the pressure begins to build again and I beg for him to go harder. 

When he doesn't immediately give in to my demands, I wrap my legs around his waist and start to meet him thrust for thrust. I push my hands under his shirt. My nails dig into his back, scratching so hard I know he has to be bleeding. 

One of his hands finds its way to my throat again while the other one pushes down on my hip, forcing me to stop. 

"You're not the one calling the shots here, babe. I'll fuck you how I want to," He whispers into my ear. 

Oliver pulls my legs over his shoulders and pins my arms above me. My eyes roll back into my head. His pace quickens mercilessly until we both find our release, moaning so loudly I'm sure everyone downstairs can hear us. 

I've gotten past the point of being embarrassed about it though. 

They can fucking wait.