Chapter 23 The Desk #2
Without hesitation, Ava turned around, flattening her chest on the desk and spreading her legs. Then wiggling her butt for good measure to tease him.
“Goddamn,” he said. His fingers ghosted over her hips before she heard the rustle of her purse being rifled through from where she’d dropped it nearby. A crinkle of foil, and then the heat of Owen behind her signaled he was in position. He gripped both sides of her ass, kneading the flesh.
“Still an ass man?”
His hands squeezed tighter at her question. She hoped it would bruise.
“Only for your ass, Birdie. So perfect.”
He let go to slide a hand up her back, a soothing warmth in contrast to the cool desk beneath her cheek.
“Ready for me?” Owen asked.
She nodded her head against the desk, eager to feel him inside her.
“Words, Birdie.”
“Yes.”
Ava inhaled sharply, her hips wiggling closer to him, seeking friction.
His hands slid to her hips once more in a bruising grip, holding her in place, bent over the desk.
“You liked that, didn't you?”
Ava bit her lip to hold back a moan at his question. He was no longer the teenage boy she grew up with, exploring their sexuality together. Owen was in charge, and he wasn't messing around with her pleasure. The thought turned her on even more.
“Yeah, you did.” She could hear the grin in his voice. “I'll keep that mind.”
Before she could think of a response, he stole the breath from her lungs as he eased inside her with a slow thrust until he filled her entirely. Consumed her.
“Breathe, Birdie,” he soothed as she adjusted to his length.
“Move,” she whined, pushing up onto her hands to fuck herself on his cock to get the friction she desperately craved.
At her plea, Owen moved, pulling out and snapping his hips against hers in deep thrusts.
She met his hips with her own, using what little leverage she had.
She wanted more. Needed more. Like he could hear her thoughts, Owen slid a hand between them and zeroed in on her clit, circling with his fingers to give her the stimulation she craved.
Between the slow thrust and the rapid rhythm on her clit, Ava's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave.
It rolled up and down her body in shockwaves, her toes curling from the impact.
Owen let out a strangled groan and stopped thrusting. Keeping his length halfway pulled pushed in.
“Don't stop, why did you stop?” she whined.
“Need a minute. Not trying to embarrass myself here,” he grunted.
He pulled out all the way, leaving Ava feeling bereft. He tapped her hip.
“Turn over for me, Birdie. Need to see you.”
She pushed back on her feet to stand, then turned around to face him.
Owen cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a bruising kiss, his cock hard against her stomach.
Without breaking the kiss, he released her head to grab her by the hips and place her on the desk.
She wrapped her hands and legs around him, back to their original position.
He slid inside her. Ava captured his groan with her lips and tightened her legs around his waist. They moved together; the angle hitting her just right as he thrust up into her, and she ground down to meet him.
The friction was delicious, winding Ava tighter and tighter.
Her legs burned from how hard she clung to him.
The snapping of their hips drowned out the creaking of the antique desk beneath them.
The thrill of their naughtiness, fucking in the building where anyone could enter, heightened her arousal. She could feel the tidal wave of another orgasm rising through her. She pulled her lips away from Owen's, tossing her head back and digging her fingers into his shoulders.
“Owen, I'm going to–” she panted.
“I know. Just let go, I'll catch you, Birdie. I'll always catch you,” he murmured.
At his words, Ava detonated. Where her last orgasm was a wave, this was a tsunami, short-circuiting all her senses.
“Owen,” she moaned his name. As pleasure washed over her, dragging on, Owen gave a final thrust and twitched inside her.
She wished there was no condom between them, so she could feel every drop of him.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hair, then pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a stuttered breath. “Fucking hell,” he chuckled. “I think you almost snapped my dick off with that grip.”
Ava gave a breathy laugh, her eyes blinking to stay open as she let out a yawn.
“Hold on to me,” Owen instructed.
She willed her limbs to tighten around him again, despite their protest to relax.
He walked them backward and lowered down onto the couch against the wall.
Still connected, he lay on his back and Ava curled up on his chest, enjoying the warmth and closeness.
The faint smell of coffee on his skin. The rhythmic beat of his heart under her cheek.
Before long, her eyes closed, and she drifted off in Owen's embrace.
Owen startled awake at the beep of a car alarm. He blinked against the sunlight streaming in from the windows.
What the hell? I always sleep with the blinds closed.
He sat up, realizing he wasn't in his bedroom. And he wasn't wearing any clothes. The previous night flooded back to him. Coming to the building to work and keep his mind off Ava. His anger, then relief. The desk.
We defiled my grandfather's antique desk.
He glanced at the wrinkled papers littering the floor around the desk. His clothes lay in a crumpled heap. The one thing missing?
Ava.
He walked over to the desk and pulled on his clothes, glancing around the room for any trace of Ava.
Was their night of passion a dream? No, he was sure it happened.
It had to have happened. He picked up the strewn papers and put them back on the desk, then returned to the couch where his phone and headphones sat on the floor beside it.
He bent down to retrieve the items, glimpsing something red underneath the couch.
His fingers closed around silky material.
Ava's red thong.
It wasn't a dream. Which meant Ava left him, dick out for anyone to find.
She. Left. Him.
He fisted the panties, swallowing down his hurt that she would leave him after the night they shared without so much as a goodbye. He wouldn't let her get away again. Shoving the thong in his pocket, resolve built inside him.
It was time to catch a Birdie.