Chapter 5
Owen
THE TWO SIMPLE WORDS send electricity racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly, making my already hard cock twitch against the thin fabric of my shorts.
I’ve never been claimed before, or wanted with such raw, possessive hunger.
The realization should terrify me. Instead, it unleashes something I’ve kept locked away so deep I never knew it existed until this moment.
Slade releases my wrist. “Go to the bed. Lie down on your back.”
My body responds before my mind can process the words. I stand on unsteady legs, the movement causing my shorts to rub against my erection. The friction pulls a gasp from my lips. I take the three steps to my bed in a trance, my skin humming with anticipation, every nerve ending alive and singing.
I lie back against the crisp white sheets.
The reality of what’s happening crashes over me in waves.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was preparing for a weekend of awkward social interactions with my ex.
Now I’m lying on a hotel bed, the taste of another man’s release coating my tongue, waiting for whatever comes next with an eagerness that should shock me. But it doesn’t.
Slade moves to the foot of the bed, his gaze traveling up my body. His cock is exposed, half-hard and glistening. The sight of it—of what I did to him, what he did to my mouth—sends another surge of heat through me.
“Lift your hips,” he commands.
I comply, raising my hips off the mattress.
Slade hooks his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, then pauses, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He begins to pull them down with excruciating slowness, revealing my skin inch by torturous inch.
The fabric drags over my aching cock, and I have to bite my lip to keep from whimpering.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for. More speed, more touch, more of whatever he’s willing to give me.
Slade continues his deliberate pace, eyes fixed on each new revelation of skin. “Patience,” he murmurs.
By the time he works my shorts past my knees and off my feet, I’m trembling. The cool air of the room washes over my naked body, raising goosebumps across my skin. My cock lies against my stomach, harder than I’ve ever been in my life, the head wet with pre-cum.
“Look at you,” Slade says, his voice tinged with wonder. “So responsive. So eager.”
The flush that’s been present on my face since he entered the room spreads down my chest. I should feel vulnerable, lying naked while he’s still mostly clothed. Instead, I feel seen. Desired in a way that makes my blood sing.
Slade strips off his shirt, revealing the broad chest and defined abs I glimpsed at the waterfall. His body is a study in strength and precision—not sculpted like a bodybuilder’s, but powerful and functional.
He kneels at the foot of the bed, then crawls up between my legs. The mattress dips beneath his weight, and I spread my thighs wider to accommodate him. His eyes never leave mine as his hands come to rest on my inner thighs.
“I can smell how much you want this. How much you want me.”
“I do,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
A feral smile spreads across his face. “Good boy.”
The praise sends another jolt of pleasure straight to my cock. A drop of pre-cum beads at the tip. Slade watches it with undisguised hunger.
He lowers his head, but instead of taking me into his mouth, he presses his lips to the inside of my right thigh.
His beard scrapes against the sensitive skin.
He trails kisses up my inner thigh, alternating between gentle brushes of his mouth and drags of his beard that leave the skin red and tingling.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets. “Slade, please.”
“Please what?” he asks, moving to my left thigh to repeat the torturous process.
“Make me come.”
He chuckles. “Not yet. I’m enjoying this too much.”
His mouth continues its journey, kissing and nipping at the tender flesh of my thighs. Each time he moves closer to where I need him most, only to veer away at the last moment. It’s maddening, exquisite torture. My hips buck, seeking contact that isn’t there.
One large hand splays across my stomach, pressing me back into the mattress. “Stay still,” he orders, and despite my desperation.
When I obey, he rewards me with a kiss that lands tantalizingly close to my groin.
I’m grateful now for the thorough shower I took before he arrived, scrubbing every inch of my body with obsessive care.
Somehow, I knew—or hoped—that this was where we’d end up.
That he’d want to explore me in ways I’d let no one before.
Slade’s tongue traces a hot, wet path along the crease where thigh meets groin, and I can’t stop the moan that tears from my throat.
“I love the sounds you make,” he says, his breath ghosting over my aching cock. “So honest. So real.”
“Please,” I beg again, beyond pride or restraint. “I need—”
“I know what you need. And I’ll give it to you. But not yet.”
His hands slide under my thighs, lifting them, exposing me completely. I should feel shame at being spread open like this, but all I feel is desperate want. His thumbs trace small circles on my skin, moving inward, upward, until they’re framing my entrance.
My breath catches. No one has ever touched me there before. The thought should make me tense and pull away. Instead, I relax into his touch, surrendering to the unfamiliar sensation.
Slade’s eyes meet mine, checking for consent. I give a small nod, unable to form words. He lowers his head again, but this time, his destination is clear. His tongue traces a path from the base of my cock, down over my balls, continuing lower until—
“Oh fuck!” The curse explodes from me as licks across my entrance. The sensation is so new, so intense, that my entire body jerks.
His hands tighten on my thighs, holding me in place as he repeats the movement.
His tongue is hot and wet, circling the tight ring of muscle with light pressure.
Each pass sends jolts of pleasure radiating through me, building and building until I’m certain I’ll explode without him even touching my cock.
“Slade,” I gasp. “I’m going to—you need to—please let me—”
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold it.”
I don’t know how I can obey, or how I can contain the force building inside me. But I try, focusing on my breathing, on the ceiling, on anything that might help me stave off the approaching orgasm.
A sudden knock on the door shatters the moment.
“Owen? Are you in there?”
Maia. Fucking Maia.
Slade freezes, his tongue still pressed against me. Our eyes lock, panic mingling with frustrated desire.
“Owen? Ava asked me to check on you.” Her voice carries through the door.
I open my mouth to respond, but Slade chooses that moment to resume his attentions, his tongue flattening against my entrance with renewed purpose. A strangled sound escapes me instead of words.
“Owen? Are you okay?”
I swallow, trying to gather enough composure to form a coherent sentence. “I’m fine,” I call out, wincing at how strained my voice sounds. “Just…resting.”
“You don’t sound fine,” she persists. “Can I come in?”
Slade’s eyes glitter with mischief as he continues his relentless assault on my senses.
“No!” I say, then soften my tone. “I mean, I’m not dressed. Just woke up from a nap.”
There’s a pause, and for a second I think she’s left. Then: “Are you sure you’re okay? Ava said you’ve been acting weird all day.”
Slade chooses this moment to do something new with his tongue—pushing it inside me. The invasion is so unexpected that I can’t hold back the moan that tears from my throat.
“Owen? Are you hurt?” Maia’s voice rises with concern.
“I’m…I’m fine. Just—stretched wrong. Muscle cramp.”
“Do you need help?”
“No!” I interrupt, desperation clear in my voice. “I’m totally fine. I’ll…be down soon.”
“If you’re sure…” She sounds unconvinced.
“I’m sure,” I insist. “Please, just go.”
There’s another pause, then: “Okay, but Ava wants you to join us for dinner if you can.”
“I’ll try,” I promise, willing her to leave.
I hold my breath, listening for her footsteps. After what feels like an eternity, I hear them—receding down the hallway, growing fainter until they disappear altogether.
A breathless, hysterical laugh escapes me. “You bastard,” I whisper to Slade, who looks too pleased with himself.
His only response is to withdraw his tongue and thrust it back inside with more purpose. My cock, which had softened during Maia’s interruption, returns to full hardness, leaking onto my stomach.
But just as I’m adjusting to the new sensation, Slade withdraws. Before I can protest the loss, he moves upward, taking my cock into his mouth in one smooth motion.
The wet heat engulfs me. After all the teasing, all the denial, the feeling is so overwhelming that I know I won’t last. Slade seems to sense this too, because he doesn’t tease any longer. He sucks hard, his tongue pressing against the underside of my shaft, his hand reaching up to cup my balls.
The pressure that’s been building explodes all at once. “I’m coming,” I warn, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.
Slade doesn’t pull away. He takes me deeper, swallowing around my cock as the first pulse of my orgasm hits.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed as wave after wave crashes through me. It goes on and on, longer and more powerful than any orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Slade stays with me through it all, swallowing everything I give him, groaning with his own pleasure at my taste.
When the last aftershock subsides, my body goes limp, utterly spent. Slade releases me, placing one final kiss on the sensitive head before crawling up to lie beside me. His expression is one of smug satisfaction, his lips red and swollen from his efforts.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, struggling to form coherent thoughts. “That was…”