Olivia Fleur Nude Novels & Stories

Next to nothing. ‘Do share mutt.’ ‘Nope.’ Then he is gone again curled into the back recesses of my mind. I get off my bed and walk out of my room just as Olivia is stepping out of hers. She looks beautiful and I stop in my tracks. She's wearing a teal body hugging dress that stops midthigh. She has cut her hair so it rests just at her shoulders and she has it styled wavy. Another she-wolf steps out dressed similarly and they are laughing. “Livie if your not to busy could you walk with me back to your fathers office.”

She felt Stark naked under those dark eyes. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of believing she was afraid of him. Furthermore, she smiled cutely, accentuating the faint dimples spotted on her cheeks. Olivia was eighteen, yet her good looks and figure could put her fellow girls into shame. Hair wavy and brown, eyes large and white like that of a puppy, porcelain skin smooth as jade, busty and tiny waist swaying down to a curvy and plump hips. All these were followed with smooth long legs.

Emily placed her cake on the table as she types Olivia's name in the search bar. She noticed her friend requests, messages, and notifications three words away from the search bar – empty. She shrugged and entered Olivia's name. Countless of Olivia Lovett appeared in the search results but hers stood out due to her profile picture. Under the sun, she sat on the small wooden bridge with a fierce look applied on her face. The black knee-high boots she wore is paired with a black bodycon dress and a beige cardigan. Their colors, even her skin tone enhanced by the touch of the sun rays.

Olivia, I thought, and my stomach went cold while my face flamed red hot. “What in the world?” I demanded, shoving past my husband and a cloak of Olivia’s perfume she was wearing. Inside the decidedly luxurious suite, I saw an opened bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, clothing scattered about the room, and, yes, a pair of Olivia’s signature, red-soled Louboutin pumps on the floor near the blue velvet sofa. Olivia walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a white sheet wrapped around her sari-style, and all I could do was stare at her. She had always been so much prettier than I was, and now so many years my junior at twenty-eight with flawless skin and thick blond hair.

The headlines alone were enough to spark curiosity. Was Olivia really juggling more than just Brandon and the other Harper brothers? When people clicked in, the revelations were jaw-dropping. Each post featured intimate photos and videos of Olivia with various men. While their faces were blurred, their body types, clothing styles, and haircuts made it clear these weren’t the same guy. The videos painted an even wilder picture of just how bold Olivia had been. In one, she was seen performing a striptease, ending up in nothing but a bikini.

A red that calls for biting and kissing. I take my bottle of perfume. A drop at the base of my neck. One on my wrists. One last, intimate, between my thighs. An invisible promise, a secret weapon. He’ll only have to come close to be ensnared. When I straighten up, I feel my legs shaking with excitement. I glance at my reflection one last time. It is no longer Tania, fragile and hesitant, standing there. It’s a woman ready to bend Lucas, the man every woman desires, but who is waiting for me, tonight.

If he's going to make me do this, then I'm going to make him horny as fuck, but he won't get to do anything about it! Olivia went upstairs and put on normal clothes, well, normal but revealing. She put on a pair of camo green gym shorts that were practically spray-on as they were so tight to her body and rode between her firm arse cheeks. They were so high up as well, showing the bottom of her bum cheeks. Then she put on a camo green sports bra that was just straps on the back, showing off as much skin as possible. They pushed her tits together and made her cleavage pour out of the top.

I got down, holding the flowers I'd picked up on the way in one hand, a cup of cappuccino in the other. From where I stood, I noticed Jess checking me through the curtain. I leaned by the door, hands pretty occupied. The door slowly opened, and Olive walked out wearing a black sheer mesh bodysuit—or was that a romper? She had black opaque tights underneath, with a beige trench coat over it. Her hair was a half-up, half-down updo, glasses on this time. She looked hot. And this time, I mean it. She *is* hot. Her tits practically looked like they were made for that outfit. She approached me, a shy smile on her face, as I noticed her tall black leather boots and the fact that she wore something

Olivia was waiting for me in the hallway. She looked like a dream. When she wasn't wearing work clothes, she loved to expose a lot of skin and show off her piercings. Bras were non–existent to her and her nipple piercings always peaked from her tiny little crop tops. Her flawless golden brown stomach was toned and tanned and her belly piercing drew attention to her perfect stomach and tiny little waist. Her sweatpants fitted her snugly and hung low from her hips.

But then—movement by the pool, a familiar figure that I’d missed seeing. Her. Olivia. She wore a teal-green bikini. Small, barely a fabric as it hugged her body, exposing more than what it was supposed to cover. My gaze raked over her, the swell of her breasts spilling from the green top. The flatness of her stomach, the smooth, long lines of her legs as she stood on the edge. Her body, oh god! Wet. Perfect. Curvy. Every curve, every dip, every smile—a perfect torment to the one I was already experiencing.