Chapter 20

TWENTY

Colin

O h gods. Oh fuck.

"Ahhhh," my moan is a ragged exhale. I'm already creating a wet spot in my pants.

Owen is touching me. I never thought this would happen. I may combust into fire and ash. The way my blood heats is nothing short of hellfire.

The cramped space under this chaise is not nearly enough room, not for leverage, not for movement, but right now I feel like I'm a teenage boy getting his dick touched for the first time. I'm about ready to come in my fucking pants.

"Out." Owen pushes me, giving me no option, just shoving me across the floor and out of his hiding spot.

"What? No!" I grab onto him, disgustingly afraid he's done with me.

He chuckles, a deeper sound than I expect, one laced with sexual promise, as he follows me and settles between my thighs.

The smirk on his face is a promise I can't wait for him to fulfill. "I'm not going to leave you hanging."

My crop top has ridden up, exposing more of my torso and one nipple. His hips are bracketed by my knees, keeping him where I want him while giving him room to move. The fabric of his slacks rubs deliciously against my indecently short shorts. If he isn't careful, he'll get a wet spot on his pants from me, too. I'm sloppy with pre-cum already.

Owen drops his mouth to my exposed nipple, sucking gently, then biting at it when it hardens on his tongue.

I arch off the floor, reaching for anything to hold on to and only finding his hair.

My feet hook behind his thighs, and I use the little bit of leverage to grind against him. "Shiiiiit."

"Are you going to come for me so quickly? I've barely done anything." Amusement colors his tone. The bastard is taunting me, but as long as he keeps touching me, he can do whatever he wants.

"Fuck, Owen," I pant when he nuzzles my shirt higher and starts in on my other nipple. "Please."

"Begging? I must be doing this right." His palm finds my cock, squeezing me through the thin material of my shorts, and it's almost too much.

But he doesn't stop there. The infuriating man kisses my stomach and runs his hand over the bulge in my shorts, cupping and squeezing me like he's testing the feeling.

He nips at the skin on my hip, sucking at it while his hand drives me fucking crazy. I'm about to sob and offer him anything he wants to get him to touch me when he grips the waistband of my shorts and pulls them, along with my jock, off.

"You are exquisite," he says, sitting back on his heels and just looking at me.

"Take your pants off."

He cocks a brow. "You aren't in control, princess"

"Do you know what frotting is?" I doubt he does unless he and Oliver have a lot more conversations about sex than I expected.

"No, should I?" He rubs his thumb through the pre-cum pooling at my slit.

I can feel my lips turn up in a slow, seductive grin. "I'll teach you. We need lube." Luckily for me, I stashed bottles all over this apartment for just such an occasion. Reaching for the chaise, I shove my hand behind the cushion and feel around for the bottle.

"What are you?—"

"Got it!" I hold it up and lay back down.

"You have lube hidden in the furniture—no—never mind. I am not surprised in the slightest."

"Yes. You're welcome." I open the cap and pour some in my hand. "Dick, out, now."

Owen pushes to his feet and opens his pants as he stands over me. I squirm as he watches me stroke my cock. I bite my lip, rotating my hips as he stares.

Fuck, I love his eyes on me.

I love knowing he's never looked at anyone else like this.

He shoves his pants down his powerful thighs, then straddles my hips, pinning me in place.

"I found silky lube, so it's not sticky," I tell him, and his eyes jump up to mine.

"You did?"

I get more lube, and he watches as I cover him in the smooth liquid. "Is it sticky?"

"No," he groans. "It's quite smooth."

"Do you like it?" I ask on bated breath.

His head tips back, stretching his body out in the most delicious way. "Yes"

"You are so fucking hot."

His nostrils flare, and he fucks himself into my hand. "Why does that feel so divine?"

"Better than your hand?"

"Far, far better." His words come between gasps, and I feel so fucking powerful.

"Better than my mouth?"

His eyes snap open, and he hesitates, watching my hand move over him. "No."

I grin. "Want to try frotting now?"

"What is it?"

I hook his ass with my legs, urging him forward. "Come over me."

He plants a hand next to my head, lowering himself over me. My breath catches, and I bite back a plea for him to fuck me. When he's settled into place, I guide his cock to mine and wrap my hands around both of us.

"Fuck my hand."

He pushes into my hands.

We moan together, the slickness letting our sensitive skin drag across each other.

"Fuck." His moans encourage me, and I grip us tighter.

"Like it?" I ask.

He nods, unable to speak.

"That's frotting."

He glances between us to watch, increasing his pace, then teasing me with barely any movements. He's working us up slowly, like he wants to savor this moment like I do.

I grab his ass like I could get him to move more, or give me more pressure, but he doesn't acquiesce to my silent demands. At least he doesn't seem to mind the liberties I'm taking.

"Kiss me?" I ask when I can't take it anymore.

"Needy princess." He smirks, and I shudder, but he takes my mouth in the same rhythm he has going with his hips.

We're sharing air and heartbeats.

For just a second, I can believe he wants to make this work, that he cares about me more than just a front. My poor heart needs the security of love more than my brain wants to admit. It's in moments of pleasure I'm able to hide the pain, find relief, and convince myself that this is all I need, but it's all a lie.

I need someone to love the broken parts of me, too. I need someone to see through the attitude for what it is, a defense.

Tears prick my eyes, but I keep them squeezed shut tight.

"Come for me, Colin."

"Princess." My voice cracks on the word, but I hope he doesn't notice. I don't want the name my parents gave me in these moments between us. I want the name he gave me.

"Princess." Owen growls the name and picks up his pace, thrusting against me harder, faster. He tenses and starts to shake, clearly holding back.

I squeeze my legs around him, the friction between us setting my blood on fire. "Come on me, husband," I whisper against his lips. "Paint me in your cum."

He shudders as electricity shoots through me, pulsing in my groin. Owen's cum hits my skin a few seconds before my own does, mixing into a pool on my stomach as we pant and whimper through the waves of pleasure. Owen drops his forehead to my shoulder, sucking in deep gasps of air.

"What does it taste like?"

My hands are trapped between us, my head on the floor, as I re-acclimate to earth.

"What?"

"Cum. What does it taste like?"

Brain. Need. Work.

"Uh, it's kind of salty or bitter, depending on the guy. It's kind of hard to explain. It doesn't really taste like anything else." I'm still panting when I feel him shift to one side. Cracking an eye open, I watch him touch a small spot and wipe it into my skin.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like the taste of cum?"

He nods.

"Yes."

He hums and swipes his finger over my lower lip, then kisses me. Sucking it from my skin so we can both taste it. Good fucking gods, that was hot. My dick twitches against his stomach, and he chuckles.

"Really? You like it that much?"

"Oh honey, that was from you sharing it with me more than the taste itself."

He looks at me for a moment, processing the words, then brushes his fingers through the pool of both of our cum on my stomach, and then pushes it between my lips. I tighten them around him, sucking. He brings his mouth down on mine again, joining his tongue with mine around his fingers while he fucks them in and out of my mouth.

I melt into a liquid pool of moans.

"Are you hard again?" he asks, surprised.

I nod, not trusting my words.

"Because of me or because you like to come that much?"

"You."

"I like that."

I know one thing after that night.

Owen is going to kill me.