Chapter 11 #2
Oh, God. The moment his finger swept beneath her panties and touched her—she nearly buckled.
And when he looked deep into her now open eyes, a moment of indecision flared there, but only for a moment.
He released his hold of her wrists and dropped to his knees, yanking her shorts and panties down in the process.
She found his shoulders, her head tipping skyward, as his tongue licked and baited her into sweet ecstasy.
He grabbed hold of her ass cheeks, pulling her closer to his face, and she bucked against him, so close to release—but then he stopped.
“Not yet,” he said while standing, killing her with his words.
She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her shorts, then tore off her tee and bra. When he lowered his jeans, she quirked a brow. “Boxers, huh?” An unexpected smile found her lips, a smile not supposed to be present during angry sex.
And when he freed himself of his boxers and grabbed hold of his shaft, which was roped in thick veins, she couldn’t help but reach between her legs.
He heaved out a deep breath and groaned before grabbing hold of her.
He lifted her like she was a feather and then turned and tossed her on the bed. His hands balled into fists at his sides as she propped her head up with her elbow and stared at him.
Naked on Owen York’s bed.
How was this happening? How was she letting this happen?
But she couldn’t stop herself, either.
Her body had taken control, and her fingertips trailed a circle around her belly button before wandering to her smooth center, and Owen’s impressive length seemed to grow even more as his gaze tracked her every movement.
He joined her on the bed with a condom he’d grabbed from his wallet. He braced himself above her, teasing her with the circular movements of his hips, his cock brushing against her.
She arched up off the bed, dying to have him inside of her—to have him do whatever the hell he pleased.
Somehow, their angry sex didn’t feel so angry, though.
The way he looked at her—the way she looked at him. It felt anything but.
She felt as if she were a marionette and someone was pulling the strings of her heart, making it dance, making everything inside of her move and come to life. Owen was somehow capable of this, and she couldn’t think about the how or the why; she only wanted to think about how damn good he felt.
His nose touched her chest. “You smell so good.” And then his mouth came down over her breast, and he flicked his tongue at her nipple as his other hand caressed her inner thighs, torturing her with the promise of what was to come.
And when his fingers slipped inside of her, it was as if he were readying her for him—warming her up to the moment he filled her.
He continued to toy with her breast, eliciting moans from her as her body kept lifting off the bed, desperate for more.
A few minutes later, he moved to his knees and sheathed himself. Gone was any look of indecision in his eyes.
Lust. A hell of a lot of lust, mirroring how she felt.
And then in one swift move, he plunged inside of her, and her head fell back as she cried out a hard gasp.
He slammed into her again. Hard.
Then harder.
A minute? He managed to keep pounding into her for . . . well, she lost count of the many minutes as she became hot and sweaty.
His stamina was out of this world.
She was growing dizzy with the need to come while trying to hold back. Then, he flipped her to her knees and held onto her hips—delivering what he’d promised: angry and hard sex.
Her hands fisted the comforter as she moved with him, fighting to hang on without coming so soon.
She grunted like an animal in the wild.
Her body tightened, and his fingertips bit even harder into the flesh at her sides.
Then he leaned in closer and brought one of his hands around and to her nipple, pinching and twisting.
She couldn’t last any longer.
She came, her voice deepening into what sounded like a lioness roar as everything from her core to her toes tightened and pulsed.
And then she could feel his release. Despite the condom, the heat of his orgasm warmed her, and she collapsed onto her stomach.
He grabbed hold of the flesh of her ass, squeezing it beneath his palms as he slowly slid out of her wet center.
She twisted her neck to the side to catch him walking toward the bathroom.
At the sound of a flush, she rolled to her back.
He came into the room, his cock still hard between his thighs as he moved toward the bed. He stood at the edge and dragged both hands through his hair and gripped at the ends as he eyed her.
She didn’t know what to do or say.
She’d never had sex like that, and for that long. She’d never wanted it to stop, though.
Her palms landed at her sides as she forced herself upright. Sweat dotted her chest and spine, and she could really use some water.
He turned and grabbed two bottles from the fridge. A mind reader?
He tossed one her way, and she caught it and nodded her thanks. His eyes were on her chest, and she followed his gaze to find her nipples hardening beneath his stare.
He sucked down the entire bottle before lowering it from his mouth. Watching a naked and very jacked former SEAL drink water had been one of the hottest things she’d ever witnessed.
“I only had the one condom.” He tossed the bottle in the recycling bin—because, of course, Owen York would be perfect and care about the environment. Another strike against him. A strike because she didn’t want to want him.
“Just the one, huh?” She arched a brow and fought the smile at her lips. She was supposed to be angry, right? She couldn’t allow any other emotion to reach inside and get to her. Not right now, at least.
“I don’t want to be done with you yet.”
I never want you to be done. She hated the thought that popped into her head, knowing being with Owen was impossible, but . . .
His hands went to prayer pose in front of his lips, and she tried to force her eyes to his and not on his incredibly distracting body.
“Don’t be done, then.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but she had been unable to stop herself from voicing her thoughts.
She forced her legs to fall to the side of the bed and rose, even though she felt wobbly and her thighs already ached. She was pretty sure Owen beat every other guy’s record in bed.
Every guy.
Brad.
She hung her head, and pain ripped through her hard and fast, but she didn’t want to give in to it.
No. She needed more time to breathe.
“What are you saying?” He cocked a brow when his hands fell heavy at his sides.
She forced the guilt from her mind the best she could and swallowed the gap between them. “Angry shower sex?”
His hand found her hip, his fingertips biting into her, and she liked it—his touch made her feel alive; it made her feel everything. “No protection, remember?”
She pressed up on her toes, trying to get closer to him. “Well, there are things we could do that would still feel good.” Her mind raced with thoughts of having this man beneath the water with her—to have his hands back on her body.
His hand slipped from her hip to the curve of her ass, which had her feet going flat to the floor.
His fingertips followed the slope of her cheeks, and she gasped when he found her center, holding her tight against him.
“You’re still soaked,” he said into her ear, his breath sparking a new wave of desire within her.
“Think of all the things you could do to me.”
He let go of her and stepped back, tipping her chin up with a closed fist, and she could smell herself on him.
“You are wild, aren’t you?” He glanced away and toward the alarm clock by the bed.
“One more hour,” he said in a deep voice as if trying to convince himself he could have one more hour with her—and then they’d have to face reality.
They needed to look at the security footage.
She should’ve been focused on the threatening phone call and the meeting with the president.
But instead, all she could focus on was Owen and the different ways he could make her come, make her live in the moment.
“Okay,” she whispered, and then he took her hand and guided her to the bathroom as if she’d get lost on the way.
Once the dual showerheads were on and the room gathered with steam, she pointed to the tiled seat within the shower and motioned for him to sit.
Water dripping down her body, she lowered herself before him, dying to take his shaft into her mouth and taste him.
Once seated, he found her eyes, his eyelashes wet, and he rolled his tongue over his lips to catch the water there. “I really do hate you.”
“I hate you, too,” she said then took all of him into her mouth.