She bit her tongue when he argued one more point, not wanting to think about some scary person she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know; she never asked to know but he’d told her things and she couldn’t help but to argue. She’d been repressed enough that she couldn’t deal with it anymore, someone who would possibly try and repress her. It was bad enough the Paolo was being repressed and she was helpless to do anything to help him, short of giving him money to keep his master happy. But the thought of paying him didn’t sit well for the fact she didn’t want to treat him as a paid paramour. It wasn’t like that for her, she could see beyond and it did frustrate her to know that he was in a situation he could not get out of. She wasn’t aware of what kind of money he needed; otherwise she would have tried to help!

Luckily enough for her, her mind was brought back to what he was doing in cupping and teasing her breasts and distracting her from the ache within them. She sighed and arched against his hands, but then his mouth moved to her neck and then… Mmm…

Her body shuddered as his mouth teased her breasts. Olive wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and muttered, “If that was a joke about women being indecisive, I should slap you.” But when she laughed, he would probably get it that she wasn’t serious with the threat. Besides, Olive was too kind to lay a finger on people in such a manner. Well, unless they truly deserved it. For instance, the man that Gil dueled had gotten aggressive with her, and she kneed him solid in the cod. Served him right, too. Bastard.

Her little bit of laughter, such a rare sound from her lips but soft and lilting, turned into a groan as heat coiled deep within her again. “I don’t think you… object…” she panted out, “to my change of heart… Do you?” Her eyes closed while her fingers raked again at his pale back, “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Her laughter lilted again, mostly because the breast he used his hand on tickled some, added to her comment. Surprise entered her mind as she felt herself closing in on peaking from his ministrations on her breasts, and she whimpered, “Oh my God.” How had that never occurred before?

Her thighs shook a little and she clutched at his shoulders, “That’s… never… h-happened… Mmmmmm,” she was fighting it, which she knew Paolo would probably see as a challenge because he was just… that way.

More sex, less thinking. That, for once, Paolino was more than content to comply with. Olivia had offered him enjoyment with no strings attached, with no fingers on the pursestrings, with no guilt in the exchange. She'd also offered him her heart, but he had no way to receive such a gift anymore—incapable despite the longing such giving made him feel in the dark, hidden places of his own emotional cesspool that festered in the scarred depths of his chest.

"It wasn't a joke. It was the truth." He grinned at her even as his tongue teased over the hard, dark flesh of her nipples, even as his mouth moved to kiss and tease over soft, generous flesh. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment or two at her laughter and her words, shoulders tightening in pleasure at the raking of her nails, whispering with unfiltered honesty, "Of course I don't object. My life isn't worth talking about, though I can't seem to convince you otherwise. This seems to be working, however."

Her noise of surprise opened his eyes again, glancing up over the swell of her lovely breasts to arch a slim eyebrow, watching her well-disciplined struggle play across her beautiful face and feeling the trembling in the legs that encircled his waist. It was his turn to laugh, grinning broadly against olive skin.

He let his free hand drift between them, fingers brushing lightly along her inner thigh, trailing through dark curls to play between warm folds already slick from their previous enjoyments. Letting his tongue tease with a firmer, more purposeful motion over first one sensitive peak and then the next with a tilt of his head, he sought to coax her over the edge with his touch, achingly light but tantalizingly slow, enjoying the responses he could so skillfully drag from her body no matter how hard she tried to resist.

“Pfft, maybe most women,” she muttered, though sounding very uninterested, “Not me… I know what I… Want…” But then she stopped talking altogether, feeling him touching the already sensitive pearl beneath the veil of those curls. Of course she unraveled; she had no choice. Her breasts were feeling so sensitive and now he was playing between already quivering thighs.

She could most certainly no longer think clearly at all. Her hips lifted pretty quickly, pelvis thrust against his hand while waves crashed into her. She bit into her bottom lip, her hand moving down to clutch at his wrist in reflex. Her breaths came out shuddering and she muttered, “You wicked man… Seems I am now at your mercy.”

Olivia was most certainly not in control of herself anymore, and she bet that Paolo was gleeful of that because he seemed to like it when she wasn’t. It was as if he took her body as a personal challenge, to knock down her walls of discipline. She knew that he was going to get his way every single time, how determined he was. She licked her lips and pushed more against his hand, her trembling almost ceaseless.

Finally, what little resolve she had left within her just snapped with the second coming against his hand, she pushed it away. “Damn it, Paolo! Take me now… Fuck, you’re driving me insane!” He had this way of just pushing and pushing at button after button, something he liked to do, she thought, to make it that much more intense. That was part of what made him such a fantastic lover.

“I think you… want me… insane… don’t you?” she asked through clenched teeth, starting to try to tug him toward her with an urgency that spoke of just how many buttons he did push. Every time they were with each other, he found a different nuance within her and pushed some more.

And the day was spent thusly, passion, nap, passion, food, nap, fair thee wells.