56. Kit
Kit
We're both breathless and panting when Bowen kicks the cabin door closed behind him. My fingers are tangled in his hair, wet strands like silk between my fingers.
I hold his gaze through the living room and down the hall, the black pools of his pupils growing and shrinking with the changing light. I can hear water drip drip dripping on the hardwood floor of his bedroom.
He closes the door. And it's just us. Just us and the sun streaming in from the window, casting the room in just enough light. Just enough for me to see him clearly when I pull back and unhook my legs from his waist. His fingers flex into me, momentarily refusing to let go.
Bowen is tense, and I expect to feel him vibrating under my palms. I hold his eyes for a moment longer, then suck in a breath, steadying my legs with my hands on his pecs. His beautiful jaw flexes when I slide one of my hands up to his throat. His neck.
I cup the pulse point there, feel the way it dances the same visceral, heavy beat as my own.
How many times did I fall asleep to the beat of his heart?
How many days did I spend just trying to breathe around the world, only finding the first hit of pure oxygen when his life was fluttering against my skin?
His pulse thumps wildly, and I close my eyes. A tear tracks slow and steady down my face when a big, warm hand grasps my neck. A mirrored touch.
Mirrored pain.
Mirrored rhythm created by us.
Bowen walks forward, gently forcing me to take steps back until the backs of my legs hit the bed, and I tumble into the soft sheets. They're cool against my heated skin. I peel my heavy eyes open, and Bowen's breath hitches when I lock eyes with him again.
His nostrils flare when I reach down and hook my thumbs under the band of my pants and briefs, pushing them both down with one go and nudging the wet fabric off the bed.
There's a quiet voice whispering somewhere in my mind about not being what Bowen wants. Not having the right parts. Not being soft and curvy. Not being bold or beautiful. But the louder part of my brain is humming with carnal appreciation at the man standing in front of me.
Bowen chased me. Bowen kissed me.
I place my foot on his stomach when he goes to climb over me. One of his dark brows quirk, jaw positively thrumming. He holds my ankle, rubbing his thumbs over a spot I didn't even know was tender.
“Let me see you,” I murmur, scooting back and leaning up on my elbows. “All of you.”
Bowen watches me until I'm squirming, then he pushes down his pants and kicks them with mine.
I start at his legs, gliding my eyes up muscular thighs, narrow hips. His cock is thick. And hard.
“Makes sense,” I murmur, grabbing my own erection at the base and squeezing. I do not want this to be over before it even starts. But God, Bowen Briggs naked is a fucking religious experience. A dark, brooding demigod with the power to fry my brain waves.
“What?” he asks.
I huff a breathy half-laugh, half-moan. “I felt you for days after...” It's a risk, bringing up the one and only time we were together before.
But it's us. It's all a part of our story.
However messy. However painful. It's us.
“I felt you every time I moved. I ached when I sat down.” My squeezing turns to a light stroke up my shaft, and I moan fully this time.
“I didn't get to see you…” I swallow another moan and take my hand away from my cock to grip the sheets instead. “But I see you now, Bowen. I see you.”
I end my statement by taking in his face. Heartbreak haunts around the corners. Who I was two years ago made wounds on this man, and I can see it.
But I can see the want. The desire.
It's evident in the way he crawls up over my body and swallows my next moan. He eats at all the truths gathered on my tongue and presses down when I cage him between my thighs.
Nothing has ever felt as right as holding him.
Skin to skin. Feeling his hot exhales and soft lips.
His teeth nip at my own mouth, my jaw. His mouth is desperate.
But his hands? His hands are worshipful.
Full, slow sweeps up my sides. Down the outside of my thighs.
He lifts me enough to squeeze my ass in his hands then those same hands hold my face like I'm something precious.
Something tender. All the while groaning into my very fucking soul like he wants to eat me alive.
“Please,” I gasp, groaning when his hips slide forward and our cocks press together between us. I try to reach down, but Bowen snatches my hand and holds it above my head on the mattress.
He leans up, looking down at me with a swollen, puffy mouth. And grabs our cocks together in his free hand.
“Boe,” I choke. Pre-cum slicks his palm, making the second stroke so good, my eyes flutter.
“Don't you fucking dare look away, kitten. Do you understand?”
I whimper at the next stroke, his thumb rolling over the head of my cock. Then he pauses, and I'm ready to start begging.
“Do. You. Understand?” he emphasizes, and my hips rock up. I nod frantically.
“Yes… fuck, Boe. Please.” I hardly recognize my own gritty voice. Deeper with desire. Desperate.
I watch with bated breath as Bowen leans down and kisses my chest. I fight closing my eyes when he looks at me while he licks the flat of his tongue over my nipple. He kisses and nips his way down my fluttering stomach until…
“Oh, God,” I gasp. Bowen wraps his mouth around me, and I squirm, gripping the sheets so hard I'm surprised they don't tear. His eyes never leave mine, not when he sucks me to the back of his throat. But they flutter briefly when I slide my fingers into his hair.
He licks and sucks until I'm on the cusp of exploding. Then I'm pushing his head. “Boe, stop. Please. I need you. Please.” I don't even know what I'm saying, but Bowen rolls over and rips the nightstand drawer open.
He's back with a bottle of lube and a condom. He tosses the condom next to us and snaps open the lube. I spread my bent legs wider and try to calm my raging heart when his fingers reach for me.
Bowen leans over me, kissing my panting mouth. The tip of a finger swirls and swirls around my hole. Just when I think he's trying to kill me, he sinks it inside, and we both groan.
Just like the first time, Bowen is there for the stretch. The burn. He kisses and sucks at my lips. My neck. He whispers my name like a prayer until I'm lifting my hips to every thrust of his fingers.
“More,” I moan. His fingers slip free, and I watch with hooded eyes as he leans over for the condom.
My heart stutters. He didn't use a condom the first time.
The packet crinkles when he tears it open.
“Bowen, I've never had sex with anyone but you.” My admission has him snapping his eyes up to me. They're so intense, I fidget under him. My body feels empty without him. I don't want anything between us. “Have you been checked? I… If you trust me…”
He sets the packet down on the bed in his gripped fist, leaning down until our mouths are so close I can feel the whisper of his skin on mine.
I jump when his slippery fingers push back inside me.
In. Out. In. Out. Pressing and rubbing again the spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
My gut clenches with an oncoming orgasm. My spine tingles.
“Say it, kitten.”
“Say what?” I pant. I'm frantic for him to stop. To keep going.
“Say that you're mine.”
I'm nodding, lips bumping and eyes locked. “Yours. I'm yours.”
His fingers disappear, and he lubes his cock, then he's pushing the sweaty hair off my forehead. “Are you sure?’
My brain can't comprehend what he could possibly mean. I'm on the verge of sobbing. “If you don't fuck me right now, Bowen Briggs, I swear to gooo…yesss..” I hiss and grab at Bowen's sides.
It's everything I remember and more. The initial burn. The stretch that feels like it's going to be too much. Every inch feels like it has to be the last until I'm completely impaled, and my head is thrust into that airy place I've only ever found at the end of a run.
“Look at me, kitten,” Bowen breathes. The vulnerability in his voice makes it shake.
I do. I open my eyes, and I hold Bowen as close to me as I possibly can. We're not just body to body. We're soul to soul. I hold his pulse with one hand and his side with the other.
The way intimacy dances with carnal desire is intoxicating. A gentle kiss. A thrust that sends the headboard banging into the wall. Slow hands. Teeth dug into skin.
Bowen moves to kneel between my legs, whispering, “So pretty,” as he watches his cock slide inside me. It's hard. Soft and perfect. It's tender and raw. I never want it to end.
I'm whimpering and rolling my head back and forth on the bed under him. Trying to lift my hips to meet every hard thrust. He drags against my prostate with every move of his hips and I'm gasping. Bowen licks his palm, wraps it around my cock, and two strokes later, I'm shouting his name.
All I can hear, all I can see, all I can smell is him.
It's all I ever want.