Fated To Not Just One, But Three

Chapter 467: Sex In The Study

Olivia’s POV

The moment his lips found my inner thigh, the world outside this room vanished. His whispered words—"I love you"—didn’t just resonate; they became the only truth. A fierce, possessive kind of love that mirrored the terrifying depth of my own.

I tugged at the back of his neck, urging him closer, wanting to feel him, all of him, not just hear the confession. "Show me, Levi," I breathed out, the command husky, desperate.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He lowered his head, and the light, tentative touch became a hungry, demanding kiss that stole my breath. A gasp tore from my throat, raw and unrestrained, as a shockwave of pleasure unlike anything I’d ever known arced through me. The feeling was electric, a searing brand that reminded me exactly who I belonged to, in every sense of the word. My nails dug into the firm muscle of his back, anchoring myself to him as the intensity ratcheted up, eclipsing thought, guilt, and memory.

He worked with a devastating, focused need, his tongue and lips mapping every sensitive peak. The desk pressed coolly against my skin. My body arched, a natural, involuntary response to the flapping of his tongue in my pussy.

"Levi... please," I choked out. I was running out of patience. I needed him inside me.

He paused, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest, a sound of control barely contained. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine—dark, blazing, and completely consumed. He rose, his hands not leaving my thighs, his gaze never leaving my face. The sheer raw intensity in his eyes was the most beautiful, terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

He stood before me, chest heaving, his half-open shirt a mess. He finished what I had started moments ago, yanking the rest of the clothing away with quick, impatient movements. I watched, my chest tight, as he released the zipper of his pants.

The sight of him, hard and ready, was the final trigger. My own body was aching, thrumming, a chaotic mess of sensation.

He reached down and settled his hands around my hips, tilting me forward on the desk’s edge, positioning me with a possessive strength that I craved. He leaned in, his mouth finding mine in a brutal, urgent kiss. It was a kiss of reunion, of claiming, a furious battle of two people trying to pour every unspoken word and every regret into a single, desperate act.

with a low groan that vibrated against my lips, he

that had me crying out against his mouth. He filled me entirely, banishing the emptiness, the loneliness,

his eyes searching mine again, a final, silent check. "Olivia," he whispered, his voice thick with a tortured emotion I knew was mirrored in my own

his waist, pulling him deeper. "Don’t stop," I begged, clutching

was all he

that rocked my world. Each thrust was a hammer blow, driving out the pain, replacing it with pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. I

pure, unadulterated release tore from my throat as I bucked

tighter, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his own

my neck, circling his waist as

I simply tightened my hold on him

pounding deep and steady, and I could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter in my core with

low, rough growl by my ear, his

words wouldn’t come. Only pleasured gasps and

drove in one last, agonizingly deep time, and I felt the world dissolve entirely. My body convulsed around him, another wave of pure, shattering release sweeping through me, pulling a final, choked cry from

into my neck,

feeling momentarily lost and cool. He didn’t step away, though. Instead, his strong hands settled firmly on my

done yet," he murmured, his voice still thick with desire,

edge of the mahogany desk. I braced my hands flat on the cool wood, my ass facing him, my body still trembling

pulling me back against him until he was perfectly aligned. He drove into me again, this time from behind, the

my neck and shoulder. His left hand