Chapter Thirteen #2
The praise punches straight through me.
Exhaling hard through my nose, I tighten my grip on her legs before I do something truly pathetic and grind against the kitchen floor for relief.
Fuck.
I kiss higher, slower this time, as she tries to hold onto some version of herself that still remembers how to form coherent thoughts.
That’s not going to last much longer.
My thumbs slide under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up inch by inch until she sucks in a breath. Remy’s panties are lace. Pale blue. Tiny little bow in the center.
I stare for a second too long.
“Those are cute,” I say hoarsely.
Remy covers her face with one hand. “Oh, my God.”
“What?” I grin despite myself. “They are.”
“You are not supposed to notice the bow.”
“I notice everything when it comes to you.”
That quiets her instantly, and the silence that follows feels charged. Her hand slowly lowers from her face, and the way she’s looking at me now puts a lump of emotion in my throat.
Like she believes me.
I slide my hands farther up her thighs, spreading them gently. My pulse is pounding so hard I can barely hear over it when I finally lean in and press one open-mouthed kiss directly over her panties.
Remy jolts. “Oh.”
The sound goes straight to my cock. Closing my eyes for one dangerous second, I breathe her in through the thin lace separating my mouth from her pussy, and my brain completely blanks out.
This is what I’ve been fantasizing about.
Not even the sex.
This.
Her above me. Her fingers in my hair. Her thighs around my shoulders. The feeling of her reacting to me.
I drag another kiss over her, slower this time, and she makes a helpless little sound that nearly kills me on the spot.
“Fuck, Remy,” I whisper. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her legs tighten instinctively around my shoulders. And that might genuinely be the hottest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. After hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties, I glance up one last time before I move them.
“Still okay?”
She swallows hard. Her lips part. “Yes.”
I ease her panties down her legs slowly, giving myself one last chance to stop before this becomes something neither of us can take back.
I don’t stop.
My hands skim up her thighs again as I settle between them, and for a second, I just look at her. Remy’s cheeks are flushed pink now, her hair slightly mussed from my hands and hers, her skirt bunched around her hips while she arches against the kitchen island, looking at me.
And somehow she looks composed, or she’s trying to. That’s about to end.
“Thank you for not leaving,” I say before I can overthink it.
Her eyes widen slightly. “Owen—”
“I’m serious.” My thumbs stroke slowly along the insides of her thighs. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.”
A soft, shaky moan leaves her lips. That sound alone could make me lose my fucking mind. Leaning in carefully, I kiss again before finally dragging my mouth where I’ve wanted it from the second she kissed me in this kitchen.
The first taste of her nearly short-circuits my brain.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her immediately.
Remy jerks softly at the contact, one hand flying down to grip my shoulder. I feel the movement all the way through me. Every tiny reaction she gives me hits like gasoline directly on a fire that’s already out of control.
I kiss her slowly at first. Openmouthed, unhurried, giving myself time to feel her instead of rushing toward an endpoint. She’s slick already. Warm. Sensitive enough that her thighs tense every time my tongue brushes her clit.
“God,” she whispers above me.
My cock pulses painfully behind my zipper. Tightening my grip on her legs, I lick her again, slower this time, and she sucks in a sharp breath that turns into my name halfway through.
There it is.
I think something inside me actually snaps hearing that sound come out of her.
“Owen…”
The way she says it nearly ruins me. She sounds needy, like she forgot to be careful.
I drag my tongue over her clit again and feel her entire body shudder. Her legs tighten instinctively around my shoulders, pulling me closer, and I groan into her without meaning to.
Fuck.
I love that.
I love the weight of her thighs around me. The way she reacts without thinking. The little helpless sounds she keeps trying to swallow down before they escape anyway.
“You taste so fucking good,” I say against her. “I knew you would.”
Remy makes a broken noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and I swear to God, my vision blurs for a second.
I’ve been with women before. But this feels terrifyingly intimate.
Every flick of my tongue gives me access to something I shouldn’t be trusted with, and somehow she’s trusting me anyway.
I flatten my tongue against her slowly, and her hand tangles hard into my hair this time. Not tentative anymore. She’s breathing fast above me now, her composure cracking apart piece by piece every time I touch her.
“That’s it,” I say softly, almost without realizing I’m speaking. “You’re doing so good for me.”
Her head tips back. “Oh, my God.”
I’m completely fucking gone for her at this point.
I keep licking her slowly, steadily, paying attention to every little shift in her breathing, every twitch of her thighs, every sound she makes. It feels less like guessing and more like learning a language I somehow already understand.
“You’re close,” I say.
Remy shakes her head once like she’s overwhelmed by the idea of admitting it, but her legs are trembling around my shoulders now.
I kiss her clit gently instead of pushing harder. That softness is what finally breaks her. Her entire body jolts as a helpless sound tears out of her, and the feeling of her shaking apart under my mouth nearly destroys what little self-control I have left.
I stay there while she comes apart.
I don’t rush her through it. Don’t pull away the second her body starts shaking. I just hold her thighs firmly under my hands and keep kissing her gently through the aftershocks while she gasps my name like she can’t quite catch her breath.
The sounds she makes are going to live in my head for the rest of my life. By the time I finally lift my mouth from her, I’m breathing almost as hard as she is.
Remy’s knees wobble immediately.
“Easy.” I catch her hips before she can lose her balance completely.
A shaky laugh escapes her. “Wow.”
Yeah. That about covers it.
I rest my forehead lightly against her stomach for one dangerous second while I try to gather what’s left of my self-control. Her fingers drift into my hair again automatically, petting through it slowly, and something about that nearly takes me out emotionally.
Nobody’s ever touched me like they wanted to soothe me before.
My cock aches so badly it’s almost unbearable at this point. I’m hard enough to hurt, trapped behind my jeans, while the woman I spent the last ten minutes worshipping gently strokes my hair.
Which is fucking ironic, considering I’m built like a defensive wall and regularly let people fire vulcanized rubber at my face for a living.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
The concern in her voice strikes me harder than the orgasm I haven’t even had.
I laugh quietly against her stomach. “I’m trying really hard not to scare you right now.”
Her fingers still, then she tips my face up until I’m forced to look at her. There’s no fear there, only satisfaction. That realization lands so hard that the air thins around me.
“Owen,” she says carefully, “you know you’re not actually dangerous, right?”
Everything inside me goes completely still because nobody’s ever said it to me before.
Not like that.
People tell me to calm down. To manage myself. To think before I react. But nobody’s ever separated me from the worst moments I’ve had. Nobody’s ever looked at me like they believed I was more than the clip. More than the temper. More than the mistakes.
Remy does.
And Jesus Christ, I don’t think she understands what that does to me.
I stand slowly, my knees protesting after kneeling on the hardwood that long. The second I’m upright again, she’s still close enough to touch, flushed and gorgeous and looking at me with this soft openness that makes me feel weirdly exposed.
“You should not be looking at me like that right now,” I say hoarsely.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m…” I shake my head once. “Something good.”
Her expression shifts immediately, turning almost unbearably tender.
“You are something good.”
That one nearly buckles me at the knees harder than having her thighs around my head did.
I kiss her before I can think too hard about it. Slow this time. Careful. She melts against me immediately, soft and shaky from her orgasm, and the feeling of her trusting me with her weight nearly undoes me again.
My hands settle at her waist while her arms slide around my neck.
Neither of us says anything for a while.
The kitchen is quiet except for our breathing and the faint sound of traffic outside my condo windows, but everything feels different now. Like the entire shape of the room changed while I wasn’t paying attention.
I rest my forehead against hers again.
“I don’t really know how to do this,” I admit quietly.
“This” clearly means more than the sex.
Remy studies me for a second before her mouth softens into the smallest smile.
“Good,” she whispers. “Neither do I.”
Then she kisses me again before I can spiral about it any further, and my brain finally goes quiet.