Chapter 27
twenty-seven
OWEN
Claire leant over me to grab the bowl of crisps from the arm of the sofa. She paused with them in her lap as she picked her favourite ones – the rare ones that have an air bubble in the middle.
The King of Queens was played on TV, but I only half-focused on it. I’d seen every episode a hundred times before.
‘I’m afraid to let you down like this, but I’ve totally fallen for Arthur.’ Claire nudged me and fed me one of the smoky bacon crisps.
‘Well, I’m afraid I saw him first.’ I said. ‘We might end up with an Arthur of our own one day. Should we start clearing the basement for Mum and Dad?’
Claire choked on her mouthful. ‘We?’
‘Mmm. I’ve decided I’m keeping you, Miss Braxton.’ I said, stealing the bow away and kissing her when she reached for it.
‘Oh really? And what will you do with me?’
‘Awful, terrible, glorious things.’ I kissed along her jaw.
‘Oh, tell me more…’
‘Patience, you. We have the whole night ahead of us.’
‘What’s wrong, old man? Can’t keep up?’ Claire’s voice grew teasing, and I fought the urge to pin her right there on the sofa.
‘I’m only six years older than you. We’re both in our thirties, you cheeky mare.’
Our attention drifted back to the TV for a few moments before I threaded my fingers into hers.
‘I mean it, though. I know you have this whole life back in London, but I’d love you to stay here a bit longer if you can.’
Claire dragged a finger over my forearm and blinked up at me. ‘I can probably swing a few months’ rent if I get a good deal on Rose Cottage, and I guess it might be quite picturesque spending Christmas here.’
‘In Otterleigh Bay?’ I asked.
‘In your arms.’ Claire’s words made me grin like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Plus, I’m currently unemployed, so I probably can’t afford bread in London anymore.’
I caught a stray strand of red and twirled it around my finger. The silkiness of her hair always soothed me. ‘I don’t mind helping strays, you know… I can feed you, and give you water, and you can curl up at the bottom of my bed while I sleep.’
‘Unbelievable,’ she laughed, shoving me with her knee.
‘I can tie you to the headboard if you prefer?’ Her cheeks pinked.
She tucked her toes under my thigh for warmth, and I welcomed the chance to be her personal hot water bottle. On-screen, Doug created chaos while Carrie huffed about it.
‘You’re relaxed,’ she said quietly. ‘Like properly relaxed. No frown lines or anything.’
‘Turns out the secret was crisps and a hot little redhead.’
‘Don’t forget the prosecco. That always helps.’
We negotiated the remote, and Claire switched over to Friends, her own comfort watch. It became quickly apparent that she was my comfort watch. The freckles that dusted her nose. The way she crinkled her nose. The tilt of her chin right before she laughed.
‘You’re still in your kilt,’ she said, eyeing my bare knees. ‘And you haven’t fucked me while wearing your kilt.’
‘Mmm. Would you like me to?’
‘I would.’ Claire traced her fingers underneath the heavy tweed until she found my cock, slowly working it until it engorged for her. It didn’t take long.
‘You know,’ she said, eyeing me like a fox eyes a henhouse, ‘I bet I could outrun you in your kilt, with a boner.’
‘No way.’
‘I’m smaller and that means faster.’
‘And I’m heavier and meaner.’ I let out a moan as she flexed her wrist, stroking me until I wanted to burst. The idea of chasing her was delicious.
‘You’re all talk, Harris.’ She ran her finger around the swollen tip of my cock, like she’d already planned my ruin. ‘Bet I can outrun you for twenty minutes.’
‘That a dare?’
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘And what are the stakes?’ The idea of chasing her made it increasingly difficult not to give in to the tempting twist of her wrist.
‘You win, and you can tie me down and use me however you please. And if I last the full twenty minutes without being caught…’ Claire nipped her lower lip before her eyes widened. ‘I get to tie you down and use you how I please.’
‘Deal, but only because I know you’re not outrunning me.’
We looked at each other for a quiet, loaded second. Then we were on our feet, me hunting for my work boots by the back door, her already jamming her feet into her shoes by the front. She was out before I could get my second boot off, her voice lilting in the breeze.
‘Catch me if you can, Sir!’
A minute later, I tore after her, the night hitting me with a damp chill. My blood seared as I narrowed my eyes in the dark, before turning back and grabbing a handful of rope.
Because when I won, I was going to make my girl scream.
The distillery was deserted, just the swish of pipes and the caw of wildlife amongst the trees that ringed the house.
A flash of maroon caught my eye. There, by the brick outer wall of the still house. Claire’s excited laughter egged me on. I gave her a head start because I wanted her to get the thrill of the chase before I tie her face down, ass up and lose myself inside her.
To start with, I didn’t run. I walked. Hunted and tried to use my knowledge of the site to cut her off with smarts.
But the minutes ticked by.
And soon I was tearing after her, skidding around corners and panting as hard as she was. She took the side stairs two at a time. I cut through the mash room, jumped a coil of plastic hose, and nearly went face-first into a bucket of wastewater. She mocked me from the mezzanine.
‘Watch your step, Sir!’
‘Mouthy brat.’ My breath came hot. ‘God, I’m going to ruin that smart mouth when I catch you.’
‘I’m going to ruin your pretty mouth when you don’t.’ Pure devilment filled her face. ‘Tie you down and ride it until you beg for breath.’
Jeez.
Why didn’t I hate the idea of that?
It wasn’t remotely in my wheelhouse, but if Claire would enjoy it…
She darted out of sight, and my erection actually did start to affect my run.
I took another approach and hid, waiting for her to seek me.
Her feet were light as she crept along the wall, and I ducked further into the shadows.
It took everything for me to resist darting out and snatching her, but I had to wait for the perfect time.
Patience…
Patience…
Throwing myself forward, I grabbed her waist, but my Claire was a wily little beast. She slighted and turned, spinning right out of my grip.
‘Too slow!’
I grinned despite myself. ‘You’re mine.’
Our footsteps crashed through the distillery, and our grunts and laughter too.
Her hair tore out of her bun, cascading around her shoulders.
I followed, closer, the sweet scent of her perfume, drawing me in.
The way she panted had me feral for her.
I wanted to feel each ragged breath from within her lovely cunt.
She glanced back, saw how near I was, squealed, and burst into a full run.
Laughing, I barreled into her and picked her clean off the floor, one hand still gripping my rope, and the other landing square between her thighs.
She wriggled like a fox, and I bit into her neck, high on the simple animalistic drive of catching her.
‘Say it,’ I murmured, nipping closer to her ear.
‘You win,’ she panted, already moaning as I rolled my fingers against her heat. ‘I’m all yours, Owen. Now ruin me.’
‘Nasty girl.’
‘Not nearly nasty enough yet.’
She made a noise that melted my bones. The caveman in me couldn’t be tamed, and I hauled her up and over my shoulder like she weighed nothing. She squealed and laughed.
‘Put me down.’
‘No.’
‘You absolute—’
I slapped her arse hard enough to make her whimper, and she went quiet, her complaint turning into a sordid little moan.
‘You weren’t supposed to like that…’
‘Oh, but I did.’ She wriggled against my shoulder, and I grinned.
I spanked her once more, harder. She yelped before melting against me.
I carried her between the rows of casks to one of the display barrels.
It lay on its side, set firmly into a brace which stopped it from rolling away.
I flopped her down onto it, stomach breaching the topmost curve, arms on one side and legs on the other.
I worked quickly to loop the rope around wrists and ankles, yanking them wide.
Securing them to the brace took a minute, but Claire lay there wide-eyed and intrigued.
Standing back to admire my handiwork, I grinned. Ass up, stomach over the barrel, smoothed from years of being touched before it was retired to display only.
‘My, my. Not so mouthy now, are you, Claire?’
Pressing my hand into her red locks, I tipped her head and crouched before kissing her until her breath hitched.
‘You made a mistake,’ she said, molten. ‘Sir.’
I huffed a laugh that wasn’t steady at all. ‘Oh really, Brat, and what’s that?’
‘You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.’
That was no mistake.
I took my time to look first. Circling her and brushing my hands over her. She grew tense and demanding the longer I took.
‘Maybe I’ll just use that smart mouth and leave you tied like this for everyone to discover in the morning.’
‘You wouldn’t da—’
I pulled my kilt up and filled her mouth as she spoke. Not sweetly. I pressed my hard dick deep until her body heaved against the barrel.
‘That’s it… there… fuck, you’re such a good girl.’
She gagged, sending a rope of saliva dripping between us. It only drove me to thrust deeper. To press and press until she gagged on my thickness. It was a fucking beautiful sight.
‘Take it… fuck, that sound… swallow it for me, darling…’
Claire sucked like she needed to taste me. Bratted, too, pulling her mouth away and grinning when I groaned.
But I didn’t want to come, not yet. Not until I’d written my obsession with her over her skin with my tongue until she forgot her own name.
‘Owen,’ she gasped when I pulled back and walked around her. I grabbed a shears on my way past the utility desk. ‘Please, I need you.’
‘All you have to do is beg,’ I said, fitting the shears against her dress.
‘I’m going to rip these from you, but I’ll replace them. Yes?’
I didn’t want her mad at me for tearing off something she adored.
‘Owen, for the love of god, if you don’t tear them off, I might scream.’
‘Oh, you’ll scream either way, you little brat.’
I snipped a small slit in the tight stretch of the dress beneath her arse before grasping the material and tearing it apart.
The dress gave way with a resounding rip sound, and Claire shuddered in delight.
I unsnapped her bra and unhooked the straps, pulling it out from under her.
I knew well how expensive they could be, and there was no point ruining something for the hell of it.
But the panties. Oh, the panties were going.
Drifting my fingers over the lacey black, I felt just how excited Claire was.
‘What’s this? All this wetness for me?’
‘Yes,’ she moaned, trying to arch her hips, but fastened too tightly to the barrel.
‘Mmm, there’s no leeway. You just lay there and take what I’ve got for you like a good girl.’ My voice came out low and gruff. I was just as desperate as she was.
I ground my fingers against her until she melted into a wet mess, before snipping the soaked panties and discarding them.
Fuck. She looked delicious. Bare and wet, and all mine.
I dove in to feast without another thought, pressing my mouth to her and swallowing her scent.
‘Oh, fuck,’ she moaned, wriggling but unable to access more or less. Just getting exactly what I gave her. I swirled my tongue through her, revelling in the softness and heat. Alternating between her quivering entrance and the knot of swollen nerves nearer the surface of the barrel.
Fucking delicious.
Having her belly down while I ate made breathing a little trickier, but I dove in anyway. Losing myself in her sweet cunt.
If I die, I die.
Her whimpering increased, and every time it coincided with her muscles twitching, I held back. Keeping her on the edge until she begged for more.
‘Owen, fuck me. Right now. Before I bust out of these ropes and make you.’ I sucked her clit into my mouth until her demands turned to pleas.
‘Oh god… Owen… please? I need more. I need you to fill me.’
‘Fill you?’ I asked, standing, moving my kilt and pressing my length against her heat. ‘I’m not going to fill you, Claire. I’m going to fucking ruin you.’
‘You’re all talk, Owen.’ Even in her need, she couldn’t help but be a brat. And I loved her for it.
Loved her.
‘Tsk, tsk. That’s a bratty thing to say.’
‘Then make me sorry, Sir.’ The challenge in her voice crumbled the last of my willpower.
I didn’t make her sorry. I made her loud. I braced her hips and pushed into her heat and lost he last remnants of my gentlemanliness. She egged me on, taunting and praising and begging in turns until I grew truly feral. I set a punishing pace deep, harsh strokes that stole both of our breaths.
‘Your cunt is perfect. So fucking hot and wet. You should see the way it swallows my cock. So greedy.’
‘Harder,’ she moaned. ‘More.’
Lying my body over hers, I forced my fingers into her thick red curls and pulled her head up viciously.
‘That’s it. Take it all.’
I scooped my hips as I landed each stroke, my eyes rolling at the bliss that coiled deep within.
The second she fell over the edge in a flurry of clenching and crying out, I joined her. Each perfect grip of her cunt sent waves of pleasure flowing through me.
My orgasm was raw and rasping. A spilling of more than just cum.
‘I love you,’ I whispered, my lips scoring the words against the side of her neck. ‘I know it might not be right to say them after this, but I can’t hold them back any more. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and I bloody love you.’
‘Untie me,’ she whimpered, her body sagging against the wood.
My stomach lurched. She hadn’t said it back.
It was too soon.
Ony a few weeks.
Damn it, Owen.
I untied her while trying to find a balm for my sore heart. When I lifted her down to her feet, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me with all the fervour of someone who hadn’t just been screwed over a barrel.
‘I love you, too.’
My chest expanded, and you couldn’t have removed my smile with a bloody sledgehammer.
‘Thank god.’