Jacky giggled. "Funny you should mention that." She opened a drawer and took out a large bolt. "I thought maybe you could help me with this. Maybe tomorrow." She laid the bolt on the dresser. "Take your clothes off, Oliver."
The focus inside him strengthened. He dropped his clothes at his feet without changing expression, kicked off his shoes, took three steps, and pulled her to him. "Aren't we strong, today," she teased. He turned her backwards onto the bed. She fell beneath him and wrapped her legs around him. "My fierce little man."
This was the way it was going to have to be, Oliver realized. Talk wasn't going to do it. A counselor wouldn't work. This was their language.
He pulled up her skirt and curved his right hand between her legs. His left hand reached up under her head and took a fistful of hair. He pulled her head down, immobilizing it, and rubbed slowly with his right hand. Her shoulders strained upward twice in resistance or surprise. Oliver held her head back and continued to rub.
Jacky adjusted quickly. She pushed up against his hand. "Take them off," she said. Oliver rolled sideways without letting go of her hair. He pulled her panties down, and she bent her knees. He slid them over her feet and then moved back on top of her. "Give it to me," she said.
Oliver entered her, slowly and deeply until she was pinned to the bed. She made a small gurgling noise. He withdrew and then pushed into her again. "Oliver?" He increased the pressure on her hair and went on fucking her silently and slowly. "Oliver?" He didn't trust himself to speak. He was afraid to speak. She would regain control, somehow. "Ohh," she groaned. "Sweet?" The question in her voice was increasing, changing to doubt. His intensity strengthened, feeding on her doubt.
He kept an impersonal rhythm, driving her into the bed with each stroke, holding his grip on her hair. "Baby," she said. "Fuck me." She began to writhe beneath him, meeting him, trying to draw him on. Oliver refused to hurry. "Oliver?" She was pleading, now. Deeply in. Slowly out.
Jacky began to strike him in the back. She made angry sounds. Her fists drummed on his back. I—am—in—control, he said to himself. "Damn you!" she exhaled. She stopped hitting him. "All right. All right." She went limp.
Oliver continued without varying. She gave up. Her hands went to his back and her body molded to his. Her breath began to whistle on each exhale as he drove into her. She came with a sudden release and a series of falling sighs. Her hands fell back on the bed.
Oliver released his grip on her hair and cradled her cheeks in both hands. He kissed her for the first time. Holding her lips softly under his, he began to move faster. Her hands went to his shoulder blades. Her tongue touched lightly in and out of his mouth. In a minute, he was done. She stroked his back.