Oliver's POV
I stood by the edge of the bed, my chest heaving, my skin still on fire from the taste of her. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with the scent of her arousal and the sudden, sharp sting of her rejection. I was confused—completely and utterly blindsided. One second she was arching into my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair, and the next, she was looking at me like I was the devil himself.
I looked down at my hands, which were still trembling with a mix of adrenaline and frustration. My cock was still throbbing, painfully hard and demanding release, but the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut killed the mood faster than a bucket of ice.
Then, I heard it.
The sound of her sobbing. It wasn't just a quiet cry; it was a broken, racking sound that tore through the silence of the room and sliced right through my chest.
"Fuck," I hissed under my breath.
