27. Delia
As Owen’s lips met mine, my stomach grumbled insistently, and I pulled away from him with a giggle.
“Feed me,” I begged.
He pressed a kiss to my hair then got off the bed, padding first to the bathroom and returning with a washcloth. Gently, he mopped his release off my skin, both from my back and between my legs. Then he moved to the walk-in closet on the far side of the room. I took the opportunity to admire his backside, from the hard-as-a-rock glutes, the hills and valleys of his back, the groove of his spine, all decorated with red scrapes left by my fingernails. I loved that I’d done that to him. Though the marks would fade, I liked to think they cut deeper than the surface, that I’d claimed him on a soul-deep level.
He certainly had all of me.
When he emerged, he was dressed in a pair of Mustangs gym shorts and carrying a tee and a pair of his boxers, which he tossed to me—a foresight I appreciated, having forgotten I’d come here without panties.
I slipped it over my head and crawled off the bed, sliding my legs into the shorts before following him downstairs to the kitchen.
I was surprised to find his refrigerator fully stocked. He worked so much, I expected it to be empty or, at the very least, full of take-out cartons or leftover containers. Instead, it was packed, the food all carefully arranged. He began shifting things around, pulling open drawers and piling things on the counter. After a quick trip to the pantry, he constructed us each a sandwich on whole grain bread, piled high with thick slices of turkey, provolone cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. On the side, he spooned healthy servings of some sort of pasta salad tossed with olives and peppers in an Italian dressing.
As soon as the paper plate was set in front of me, I dove in with gusto, my stomach practically eating itself at that point.
“Hungry?” Owen asked with a chuckle as he moved around to sit beside me at his massive kitchen island.
“Starving,” I said after swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. “ Someone worked me to the bone today.”
“There’s more where that came from too.”
I grinned. “I look forward to it.”
He nodded at my plate. “Food first. Then I want to give you a tour.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to be spending a lot of time here.”
Deeply pleased by his answer, I inhaled my entire plate with a speed that surprised even Owen, who finished only moments before me. Once he’d tossed our trash, I slid off the stool and turned toward the cavernous living room.
The walls were bright white shiplap, one dominated by a massive river rock fireplace, live edge, floating oak shelves branching out on each side and decorated with an array of framed photos. Another consisted of windows that soared from the floor to the delicate peak of the roof, centered around a tall sliding glass door that led onto a deck. The lawn beyond gently sloped to Owen’s private beach, the waves of Boardman Lake lapping against the shore.
“Why did you choose this place?” I asked. “I mean, instead of something on the bay or closer to the city?”
He shrugged. “Privacy.”
He inclined his head and led me from the room, down a short hall where three more doors branched off. One opened into an office that offered the same view of the water.
“When I first moved to Traverse City, it was a bit of a culture shock. It was easy for me to get lost in Detroit after my injury. I barely left my house. I paid people to deliver me groceries and other necessities, only venturing out for physical therapy in those early days. One day, I got sick of moping and made a plan, deciding it was time to take a good hard look at my future. Even then, even before I’d gotten back on the field and tested myself, I somehow knew I wasn’t going back. Call it that sixth sense that guided me my entire career but…yeah,” he finished on a rough sigh, and I laced our fingers together.
“I actually lived on the third floor of Lawless when I first moved here,” he told me, and I blinked up at him, surprised.
“I didn’t know there was an apartment up there,” I said.
Owen chuckled. “There wasn’t back then. I slept on an air mattress for two months while Jay and I gutted the club and I searched for a house. I found this place right as work finished, which was perfect timing because then we set our sights on converting the empty space up there into two apartments. I’ve had the same two couples renting them for the last seven years.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
“TikTok,” he said instantly. “It makes no sense to me.”
I giggled. “That’s why you have me.”
He bent and dropped a kiss on my mouth. “Lucky me.”
“So anyway…buying a house out here?” I prompted.
“Right,” he said. “Traverse City is a lot smaller than Detroit, you know? And when word got around that I’d moved here…I had a bit of a stalker situation. This girl kept sneaking upstairs at the club and leaving things at my door.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Creepy collages she made of photos from my playing days, love letters…her undergarments.”
“Oh my god,” I said, bursting out laughing. “She took jersey chasing a little too far.”
“She scared the shit out of me,” he admitted. “So I had to install all kinds of security measures on the place, and immediately started looking for a house. I needed to control who had access to me, and I got really lucky when I found this place. It used to be a vacation home for an older couple who lived in Lansing, and they were looking to sell it quickly so they could move to Arizona to be closer to their kids and grandkids. I installed the gates and a top of the line security system. The only people who know the codes are me, Hugo, Cal, and my housekeeper.”
“And now me. ”
“And now you,” he confirmed. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I gave him a cheeky grin. “Give me a couple more orgasms and I won’t.”
“That’s all it takes, huh?” he asked, smiling wickedly at me before lifting me up and tossing me over his shoulder. He practically sprinted through the house back to his room, both of us laughing the whole time.
Our next joining was soft and slow, a true moment of hearts and souls coming together as one. And after what seemed like eons, we finally drifted off to sleep.
I woke several hours later, the world beyond the windows dark, the light of the moon casting shadows across Owen’s bedroom. The wind howled as rain pelted the glass, a storm having rolled in while we rested. But I was safe and warm in his embrace, skin on skin, my back to his chest.
Despite the four—or was it five?—rounds we’d gone earlier, even passed out, Owen was somehow hard against my ass.
As though sensing I was awake, his arms tightened around me, and he gripped my hand in one of his, lacing our fingers together. Something cool and metal met my skin, and I brushed my pinky over it.
“What’s with the ring?” I whispered.
Behind me, Owen breathed in deeply, his exhale warm against my bare shoulder where he’d rested his chin. “It was my dad’s wedding ring,” he said softly, voice husky and thick with sleep.
God, every time he mentioned his dad, my throat clogged with emotion. I couldn’t imagine the pain and grief he dealt with every day. Suddenly, I was gripped by the desire to make this man the happiest he’d ever been. To give him a reason to smile every day, if only to lessen the obviousness of the hole in his life where his dad should’ve been.
And since his cock still pressed insistently against my backside, I knew an easy way to bring him pleasure right then. I wriggled a little, bringing our lower halves closer together.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, tone amused.
“You’re hard.”
“Your ass is pressed against my cock,” he said. “Of course I’m hard.”
“We should do something about that.”
Owen didn’t say anything, only moved the arm that had been banded around my waist, running his hand down my side until he reached my thigh. It was too easy to let him open me up, to hook my leg over his thick quad, the coarse hair there tickling my smooth skin. I shifted a bit to look at him, and he slipped his hand between my legs, fingers brushing across my slit.
“Don’t toy with me,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied, sliding two fingers inside me, pumping them slowly. “Gotta get you ready.”
My breath left me in a whoosh, and I spread my legs wider, giving him a better angle.
I reached for his cock, gripping him a little roughly. “I need you.”
With a sigh, he withdrew his fingers, and he covered my hand with his own, guiding his cock to my entrance and slowly pushing inside.
“Fuck,” I said on an exhale. He hadn’t even started moving, but the way he filled me was a sensation I’d never get over. “Nothing has ever felt as good as you, QB. ”
“Or you, Whiskey.”
Then he moved, a languid advance and retreat of his hips, his cock deeply branding me every time he was fully seated. Even in this half-awake haze, his hands were seemingly everywhere. Tweaking my nipples. Pressing against my clit, slow circles timed to the pump of his cock. His mouth moved along my shoulder and the back of my neck, pressing biting kisses and soothing them away with his tongue.
My orgasm built slowly, my nails digging into the hand he’d anchored on my thigh to hold me wide for him as he drove me higher and higher.
When I came, it was with a hoarse, near-silent cry as he shot me into the sky. I was floating in the cosmos, stars dancing along the backs of my closed eyelids, exactly as Owen had promised all those hours ago.
I returned to myself at last, limbs deliciously limp as Owen continued those languid strokes inside me, not having joined me on my trip to space. Not seeming in a rush to get there, either.
“Are you ever going to let me sleep tonight?” I asked, and he slipped free as I turned in his arms to face him.
He responded with a noise that rumbled through his chest and mine, his eyes remaining shut as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“You started that round,” he said at last. “And I didn’t even get to come.”
I hummed, burying my face in his chest, burrowing deep into his scent and warmth. “I could take care of that.”
He grumbled when I found his nipple in the dark and flicked my tongue over it, dipping my hand between us to palm his cock, the length coated in my release, smoothly slipping through my fingers.
I rolled into him and shifted him onto his back, rising up to straddle his lap, his cock nestled between us. A moan came from deep in his chest at the pressure of my body.
“I’m too wired to sleep,” I said, digging my nails lightly into his chest, rocking my hips experimentally. He groaned in response, and I grinned. “I can’t get enough of you.”
His hands came to rest on my hips. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Definitely not,” I said.
“Sure feels like it.”
But he didn’t move me off him, though he easily could have. Despite his protestations, his cock twitched against my ass, telling me he wanted this as badly as I did.
I shifted, pressing his cock into his stomach as I moved along it, his girth spreading my pussy open, his thick head teasing my clit with every undulation of my hips.
“Fucking hell, woman,” he gasped. “Fucking your pussy like this? It’s almost as good as being buried inside you. Those smooth lips feel incredible.”
I tapped my mouth, biting down on my bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck these ones next.”
“You gonna choke on it?” he asked, his fingers sinking deeper into my flesh, holding me steady while I slid my slit across his length over and over. I couldn’t wait to wake up covered in bruises tomorrow.
“Yes, baby,” I said, moving faster. There wasn’t enough friction to get me off, but I wanted to unravel him the way he’d been doing to me all day and night.
He rewarded me a moment later, his cock pulsing against my slit as he came in spurts all over his stomach.
I slowed and stilled, reaching down to drag my finger through his cum, spreading it across his skin. Then I lifted my finger to my mouth and closed my lips around it, licking it clean. His musky, salty flavor burst on my tongue, and I moaned.
“Filthy little girl,” he whispered, the words reverent. Praising.
“Filthy old man,” I shot back.
Unable to stop touching him, I reached out and traced my fingers over the compass inked on his pec. “What do these numbers mean?” I asked.
“They’re the coordinates for the ranch. So I always know which way is home.”
“That’s…ridiculously sweet,” I said, smiling down at him. Every new thing I learned about him made me fall harder, and the sentiment behind that tattoo only added to it.
He removed one of his hands from my thigh and patted the dream catcher on his opposite side. “This one is for my dad,” he said quietly. “He always encouraged me and my siblings to dream big, so now I’m reminded of that every time I see it. If you look closely, you can see his initials etched onto one of the beads.”
Squinting in the dark, I leaned forward until I was inches away from the tattoo. Sure enough, on one of the little beads drawn to look like it was holding a feather in place on a piece of suede hanging off the hoop, three initials were sketched onto Owen’s skin. I bent further until my lips brushed his warm flesh, pressing a kiss to that spot. Owen only hummed happily in response.
Then I shifted and pressed myself against the length of his body, not caring that his cum, which we hadn’t cleaned up, now decorated my stomach as well .
“I don’t know how we’re ever going to go back to real life after this,” he said, sweeping my hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear to meet my eyes.
I pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “This is real life now, QB.”