Chapter 45
Lucy - Present
“You awake?” Owen asks as he closes the bedroom door. The light from the hallway illuminates the room before the darkness takes over. My back is facing the doorway, and I don’t move to watch him get himself ready for bed. It will open that conversation he wants to have.
“I can hear your cogs turning from here,” he says as he shuffles about. “Want to talk about it?”
“What is there to talk about?” I finally answer, rolling onto my back.
“I dunno. I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to unpack it.”
“Did you and Luca have heart to hearts all the time? Is that what’s made you want to share our deepest, darkest secrets all the time?”
“Today’s been heavy.”
The cover lifts and he climbs in. I glance across to see his muscular legs and chest as he gets under the cover.
“What if I’m tired of talking?” I ask, rolling towards him, onto him. I lean over the top of him, taking in every single inch of his face.
The frown mark, the green eyes, the pupils dilating. His breath coming quicker. The tension building.
“What if I’m so tired of feeling all the things I’m feeling, and just want it all to stop?
What if I really don’t want to have a conversation about everything that is flying through my head?
What if I want all those thoughts to stop, even if it’s for a minute?
And what if I want you to be the one to do that? ”
I drop my head and take his mouth in mine in a quick, chaste kiss, pulling his lower lip into mine and biting softly.
“And what if I don’t care that Maria is next door? Because I want you to kiss me. I want you to make it all go away, like only you know how to. Is that enough talking for you?”
He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t have to.
I can see everything written across his face. His jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold himself back. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing with the effort to stay in control, but his hands are already in motion.
He wants to do right by me. He knows the weight of the day, the pain of the past washing over us both.
But it’s still there between us. The longing. The conflict. The pull.
He runs them through my hair, slow and gentle. Then tucks a loose tendril behind my ear, fingers grazing my cheek before tracing softly over my lips.
There’s a moment when his eyes meet mine. It’s barely a breath before it breaks.
Before he breaks.
Then he grips my neck and pulls me to him. And devours me.
Our lips move in perfect unison, our tongues thrash as he moans into my mouth. His hand grips my hair as I hold myself up over him.
My hips undulate against him, and our kiss turns savage. His length grows against me, and I grind against his hardening cock. A small moan builds in my throat, and as if he senses it, he thrusts his hip and moves quickly so that he’s on top.
His leg kicks mine out the way as one hand tracks down my body.
His fingertips dance across my chest, my breastbone, pausing on my nipple as he circles it, I arch into his touch. I’m wearing a thin top that he pulls down as he pulls back to stare at my hardened nubs.
“You’re fucking beautiful. You’ve got a flush that runs across your cheeks.” He kisses them. “A flush that covers your chest.”
He drops down and kisses it.
“And your fucking nipples are rock.” He pulls one of them into his mouth, his tongue warm and it’s like heaven as he licks around the sensitive spot before pulling it between his teeth, gently biting down, causing me to gasp.
“Hard.”
He goes to the other one, and I’m writhing below him, a slave to the feeling he brings me.
“Tell me what you want, Lucy?”
He devours my other nipple, his hand slipping underneath my shorts, parting my folds and touching my clit.
My eyes roll back into my head, and any coherent thought I had disappears from my brain on a moan.
He tsks. “You said you could be quiet. Don’t make me gag you with my cock.” His finger pushes into me, and I’m gone.
“Mhhhm.”
“You’d like that?” he asks, adding another finger. “You’d love to suck it, wouldn’t you? The thought of it turns you on. You’re sopping wet, Lucy. Does the thought of you sucking on me, gagging on me turn you on?”
“You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you for a politician.”
He curves his fingers up, making me moan again. He pulls his fingers out and runs it over my lips, into my mouth, where I pull his finger in and suck.
“Fuck,” he says, his eyes looking the darkest I’ve ever seen them. He moves position again quickly as he straddles my chest, pulling his throbbing cock out his boxers.
“Suck it,” he demands.
I meet his eyes and wet my lips as I see the small bead of pre-cum pooling on the tip.
“I said suck it, Lucy.”
I wrap my hand around his shaft and squeeze, and he hisses his approval. I pump it once, twice before engaging my core, sitting up, and pulling him into my mouth. His skin like silk.
Warm, soft, and rock hard all at once.
I work him, pulling him deep into my throat as my gag reflex kicks in. I pull him back and drag him deep again.
My hand works his shaft.
My other hand cups his balls.
He falls into the headrest, gripping it tightly and begins thrusting.
The new position doesn’t give me much leverage, so I grab his arse cheeks in my hand and pull him into me, showing him the rhythm I can handle, showing him what I want him to do. My fingers spread his cheeks, my index finger moving closer to his puckered hole.
And I touch it.
“Fuck.” He clenches, but I don’t remove the pressure. “More,” he groans.
But I don’t. Instead, I pull back, remove his cock, put my finger in my mouth to wet it, then take his cock back in my mouth and go right back to what I was doing.
I put more pressure on his bud, and push through the warmth.
Owen shakes above me as I tilt my index finger to touch his g-spot at the same moment I pull him deeper. Relaxing my throat as much as I can. I let him fuck my mouth, whilst I fuck his arse with my finger.
“Oh fuck. Lucy, fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna come,” he groans.
His teeth grit to hold back the noise, the sound ragged and guttural as he explodes. Hot come hits the back of my throat that I swallow down, desperate for more, desperate for all of it, all of him.
“Fuck me,” he says, falling onto his side. “I think I need a minute.”
I grin at him before looking down at his still hard cock. “I don’t think you need a minute. But I’ll give you one, anyway.” I climb out the bed, take off my top and shorts, then walk to the end of the bed and pull his boxers off.
I crawl on him, positioning myself over him. I grip his cock, hold it at my entrance, and then slam down on him.
I’m soaked, I’m turned on, and I want to fuck this man into oblivion.
Because for the first time in a long time, my head is quiet.
There is nothing other than us, in this moment, together. There is nothing other than the feel of his cock as I ride him.
In and out, in and out.
I use the headboard as leverage and squat so I get the position I want. I’m a slave to the pleasure. Just as I think I’m about to fall over the edge, Owen changes the tempo and pistons into me. He takes control and I let him. Because all I can do at this moment is hold the fuck on.
I explode.
It comes out of nowhere, the slow build that I was chasing replaced by the pleasure that explodes through every cell of my body, and I can’t be quiet.
“Owen, fuck yes.”
His hand wraps over my mouth and he flips me. My front lands on the soft bed. He yanks my arse up and thrusts straight back in, fucking me with abandonment.
I’m not sure why he’s worried about me making noise; the bed isn’t exactly hiding what we are doing in here. And Maria is no idiot. But I don’t give two fucks.
I look over my shoulder, his hand still gripped over my mouth. I bite down as sweat beads on his forehead. He frowns and looks up as pleasure erupts through him, and he holds himself in me, filling me again.
He collapses on top of me.
“See?” I say breathlessly. “Sometimes, Owen, talking is a waste of time.”