33. Owen
“Turn around,” I told her when that fire sparked in her eyes, then pointed to a couch. “And bend over that arm.”
“Yes, daddy,” she quipped, spinning around and hinging at her waist, wiggling her ass in the air.
“Fuck, Whiskey,” I said, reaching out to smack it. She yelped, the sound shaping itself into a moan when I gave the other cheek the same treatment. “Your ass is unreal.”
“It’s all yours.”
I damn near choked on my own tongue at the implication in her words. “You mean…”
“Why not?” she said. “Go big or go home, right?”
“I—have you ever?”
Delia shook her head. “Have you?”
“No,” I whispered.
Delia grinned at me over her shoulder. “It’s like we’re virgins again!”
I groaned. “Christ, Whiskey.”
“Just trying to lighten the mood,” she said. “You’re fucking shaking.”
I was shaking, my hands settling on her hips without having thought about it, squeezing the shit out of her flesh. But it wasn’t because I was nervous. It was because I wanted to do this so badly with her, but I didn’t know if this was the place.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive, QB. Fuck my ass.”
Fucking hell . Those might have just become my new favorite words.
Folding myself over her, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and turned her head, giving her a messy kiss. “I’ll be gentle.”
“You better not,” she said into my mouth.
My control was barely leashed, and it took everything in me to not tear our clothing from our bodies. Slipping my fingers beneath the waistband, I peeled her jeans down and over her ass, letting them pool at her ankles. She made no move to step out of them, and I loved that we were adding a little bondage to the moment. Then I gripped the thin strap of her panties, curled it around my fingers, and tore it from her body.
“Fuck,” she breathed, her head drooping. “Add that to the list of reasons why I should wear panties more often.”
“You like me feral for you, Whiskey? Like when I’m out of control?”
“I live for it,” she responded. She straightened, her back pressed to my chest, and my hands came around her front, cupping her breasts through the thin material of her sweater. My thumbs brushed over the tight peaks of her nipples, and she arched against me, breath leaving her in a soft huff. She angled her head to look at me and said, “I’m the only one who gets you like this, QB. The only one who gets every version of you, and who loves each of them. You can be as unrestrained in bed as you want to be because I know outside of it, you fucking worship the ground I walk on.”
“You’re goddamn right,” I breathed reverently, kissing her roughly before shoving her back over the arm of the couch. A moment later, my own pants and briefs were around my ankles, one hand around my rapidly hardening cock as the other swept through Delia’s slit.
Already, she was fucking dripping, and I coated my fingers, then moved them to her ass. Dropping my cock, I spread her cheeks apart and settled my thumb against her hole.
“I’m gonna work you like this first,” I said, awed by the way she shifted back, urging me on, her body practically begging for it. She wanted this as badly as I did.
I worked her slowly, gently massaging before she relaxed enough for me to slip the digit inside.
She moaned in response.
“Feel good?”
“God yes.”
“Fuck,” I cursed. “I’m going to blow apart the second I sink in here.”
“What’re you waiting for?”
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” I said absently, marveling at the grip. It was tighter than her pussy, and I honestly wasn’t even sure how I’d fit.
We were about to find out, because I couldn’t wait any longer, and Delia had begun shifting back and forth against my touch, making little impatient noises, asking for more.
I withdrew my thumb and once again coated my hand in her desire, swiping up to her ass then using the rest to coat my cock.
And then I gripped myself at the base and placed the head against her.
“Relax, baby,” I said softly.
Delia exhaled roughly, her muscles loosening, and I pushed my head just past her rim.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
“What?” I asked, panicking. “You okay?”
“I’m good, QB. Just…give me a sec.”
I was fucking dying, but I stilled, allowing her a moment to adjust. I felt the moment she relaxed against me, and a beat later she said, “Keep going.”
Slowly, I inched my way in, sweat beaded on my brow and at my temples by the time I was fully seated.
“Fuck,” Delia swore.
“How does it feel?”
“So full.”
“You okay if I move?”
“I think I might die if you don’t.”
Nearly as slowly as I pushed in, I backed out, and Delia let out a loud moan as I pumped back in on a quick stroke.
“Oh god.”
“Not god, baby. Just Owen.”
“Move,” she gritted out.
As if I could do anything else.
With my palms settled on her cheeks, keeping them spread apart, I watched in fascination as my cock disappeared inside her. Slowly, I increased my pace, and Delia’s cries increased in volume as I did. Her legs shook as she struggled to keep herself upright, so as gently as I could while staying buried inside her, I banded an arm around her waist and lifted her, carrying us around to the front of the couch. With my cock still in her ass, she gingerly crawled onto the cushions, folding herself in half until her face rested against the cool leather.
Seeing her like that undid me, and the fucking wheels came off.
“Hold on,” I said in warning before I unleashed.
I fucked her recklessly, pounding relentlessly in and out of her. And she met me thrust for thrust, her hand disappearing between her thighs, flicking against her clit.
“No,” I growled, swatting her hand away. “My pussy.”
“Okay, daddy,” she said, moaning long and loud when I buried three fingers inside her.
I pounded into her roughly from both sides, my hips and hand moving in perfect tandem, driving her higher and higher. I’d never heard her moan like that, so loud, so unrestrained, as though I was tearing her apart from the inside and the only thing that would save her was letting her come. And as her orgasm built, my own gathered at the base of my spine, balls drawing in, preparing to unleash on her.
“You can rub your clit now, baby.”
Her hand flew to that bundle of nerves, circling roughly in time with mine fucking her, and a few pumps later, she shattered, a scream tearing free from her throat, my name on her lips.
“That’s it, Whiskey,” I said through gritted teeth. “You let everyone know who fucks you this good. ”
“Come, O,” she gasped.
I did as commanded, spilling hot and long inside her. My entire body shook with the force of it, the edges of my vision darkening, every thought vacating me but a single word.
“Delia!” I shouted, my movements erratic as I worked us both through it.
That orgasm—fuck, it went on forever. I swear I lived entire lifetimes in the span of the minute we blew apart and were pieced back together.
The second I returned to my body, I pulled my fingers and cock free, sitting down and gathering Delia against my chest. I peppered her face and hair with kisses.
“You okay?”
“I think I died and came back to life,” she said, and I choked on a laugh. When she tilted her head to look at me, her eyes were heavily lidded, a blissed out smile playing on her lips. “I’ve never come that hard before.”
“Me either,” I agreed. “But how do you…feel?”
Delia giggled. “My ass will survive, QB. But your cock is massive so I’m going to be a little sore.”
I lifted her off my lap and rose to my feet. “Let me clean you up, then we can go home.”
“What about dinner?” she asked sleepily.
I raised a brow at her. “You really want to be in public after that?”
She giggled. “No.”
“Exactly. So we’re going home.”
“But which home are we talking about?”
I returned from the bar with a wet cloth, and she shifted to let me wipe her up. The scene would’ve made me laugh—her ankles banded together and trapped by her jeans—if that orgasm hadn’t altered my brain chemistry.
When she was once again on her feet, pants back in place, my cock tucked safely away, I answered her question with one of my own.
“Does it matter?” I said. “To me, home is wherever you are.”
“You ready?” Delia asked me.
It was Saturday, and we stood in the foyer of the distillery, facing the doors. Outside, people milled around, chatting excitedly as they waited for us to welcome them in.
“As I’ll ever be,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze.
“It’ll be great, QB. Everyone is going to love it.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
I’d never been nervous before opening a business. None of them had ever meant so much. It had been a pipe dream until Delia came along and made it possible, not just with the land, her marketing expertise, and keen eye for design, but by being her . By giving me something to live for again, by giving me someone to share my life with.
With a final pulse of her fingers against mine, Delia pulled free and approached the door, swinging it wide and shouting, “Welcome to Unlawful Distillery!”
The crowd outside sent up a cheer and they all descended, rushing past Delia to get inside and scope the whole place out.
We’d disinfected the anal couch, though the fucking caveman in my chest wanted to throw a sign on it commemorating what exactly happened there as I watched people move near it.
Finally, after a mass of friends swept past us, Delia’s family crossed the threshold, each of her sisters wrapping us in hugs, her mom kissing my cheek, her dad enthusiastically shaking my hand.
“You did good, son. With this”—he gestured to the building—“and with her.”
“I love her,” I said simply.
“Good enough for me,” Leon said, clapping me on the shoulder as he moved past me, following his wife toward the bar.
“How come it’s good enough for him when you say it, but when I tell him I love Amara, it’s, ‘get out of my face, Ryder’?” Cal whined, and Amara and I both broke into laughter as she pulled him past me.
There were still quite a few people outside, and I blinked rapidly when I swore I recognized one of those heads. Before I could investigate further, Delia clasped my forearms and turned my back to the door.
“I have one more surprise for you,” she said, “and I need you to not get mad at me for keeping it from you, just like I promise not to get mad at you for lying to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I invited a few more guests,” she said, inclining her head behind me.
“Hi, baby,” my mom said when I spun and came face to face with her.
“I—what?” I glanced between her and Delia, my brain short-circuiting. “What?” I repeated .
“Your girl called us,” my mom said, tucking herself into my side. “Since you didn’t invite us yourself.”
My eyes widened, all the blood draining from my face as I stared at Delia, a million apologetic words sitting on the tip of my tongue.
“Like I said,” she told me. “I’m not going to get mad at you for lying to me.”
“I love you,” I told her before wrapping my arms fully around my mom and squeezing her tightly, my eyes closing as I let her familiar, soothing lavender scent wrap around me. They quickly popped open. “Wait, what do you mean ‘us’?”
“Just your siblings!” my mom said happily, letting go of me as my brothers and baby sister filtered through the open door.
I was instantly engulfed in a mass of limbs, each of them wrapping themselves around some part of me, our mob morphing into my favorite—and deeply missed—group hug.
At last, they let me go, and I stared at them all in shock.
At Trey, who could’ve been my twin even though he was almost two years younger, his hair the same shade and damn near the same length, the Lawless Ranch hat settled backward atop it the twin to mine.
At Lane, still testing the limits of his cotton pocket tees with his ridiculous biceps and pecs that I swore got more swollen every time I saw him. Admittedly, it had been a few years since I’d seen him in the flesh, but I reached out and wrapped a hand around one.
“You gotta chill, dude,” I said. “You’re making me look bad.”
“Not hard to do to a washed up QB,” he quipped.
I chuckled, hooking my arm around his neck and ruffling his hair.
When I let him go, my gaze strayed to the twins. Only anyone who knew them well would be able to tell them apart, though the hair helped a lot. Like Lane, Finn preferred to keep the sides shorn close in a high fade and leave the top longer. West liked his long, longer than mine and Trey’s even, the sandy blond strands brushing the collar of his flannel shirt. Aside from that, they were carbon copies of each other, two sides of the same coin.
Next to them stood my littlest brother, Crew. Despite the chill outside, he wore his standard short-sleeved Henley, similar to the ones I favored. It provided a stark contrast to the tattoos engulfing his left arm, most of the ones on his forearm doing their best to cover the severe burn scars he’d sustained in a work accident a few years back.
Before I could open my mouth to officially introduce Delia to everyone, a tiny blonde girl rushed me and launched herself into my arms. In a well-practiced dance, I scooped her up and twirled her around, squeezing her tightly.
I returned her to her feet a moment later, squinting at her. Since the last time I’d seen her, my baby sister had grown a lot, losing the last of her youthful, teenage features and becoming a young woman.
“Who are you and what have you done with Aria?”
My sister rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-two now, O.”
I glanced up at Mom, feigning shock. With a delighted smile, she said, “Afraid so. Our baby isn’t such a baby anymore.”
“God you guys are annoying,” Aria said.
“There she is,” my brothers and I said in unison, and with a stomp of her foot, Aria disappeared into the crowd in the bar, mumbling about how grateful she was to be old enough to drink.
I met Delia’s eyes through the crowd of my family, and as if sensing we needed a moment, my mom touched my arm and said, “We’ll see you in there,” before ushering my brothers away from us.
In two long strides, my hands were on Delia, crushing her to my chest.
“You did this for me?” I asked into her hair.
She shrugged. “While I’m… annoyed you didn’t do it yourself, of course I did. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me. You said it wouldn’t be the same without them, so I made sure they were here.”
“Fuck, Whiskey,” I said, pressing my mouth to hers, murmuring, “I love you,” before I pulled away fully.
“Love you more,” she replied. “Now what do you say we go mingle?”
Fingers laced, we proceeded onto the main floor, where our friends and family chatted happily over our custom cocktails. The two bartenders were hard at work, and Brie and Ezra had set up camp near the buffet table, where they’d collaborated on a spread of finger foods and desserts for our guests to enjoy.
In one corner, the twins had matching tumblers of an amber liquid—neat and, if I had to guess, bourbon—deep in conversation with Cal, probably pumping him for financial advice. Near the bar, unsurprisingly, Logan and Lane were talking animatedly about something, Logan gesturing wildly as he told a story, Lane clutching his side as he cackled loud enough that I could pick it out over the din of the crowd.
My eyes swept over the room, landing on my mother chatting with Leon and Lena, the former perched on the arm of the anal couch, the same spot I’d had his daughter bent over two days before.
I quickly averted my eyes, lest he could read my thoughts from lingering too long.
We celebrated deep into the evening, probably later than we should have, both Amara and Chloe taking turns shuttling people to their various homes and hotels.
Unbeknownst to me, Delia and her family had put my family up in the Villa, so with them taken care of, after we bid everyone good night, Chloe dropped me and Delia off at her house on their way back to the city.
My limbs and head buzzed pleasantly from the alcohol I had consumed, and as Delia went through her nighttime routine, I shed my clothes and slipped into bed, sighing deeply when my head hit the pillow.
“I’m never leaving this bed,” I told her, eyes closed as I sank deeper into the mattress.
“What’s mine is yours, QB.”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re going to force me to take your last name when we get married?” I asked.
My girl barked out a laugh from the bathroom, her head poking around the doorframe a second later. “How much did you have to drink tonight? ”
“More than I apparently thought,” I giggled.
Yeah, I, a fully grown, thirty-seven-year-old man, fucking giggled .
Which triggered a fit of laughter from Delia and, though her face was slathered in some sort of greasy looking substance she’d previously told me was a cleansing balm, she threw herself atop me.
Face inches away from mine, she said, “When we get married, I will absolutely be taking your last name, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Delia Lawless,” I drawled. “I love the sound of that.”
“One day, QB,” she said as she heaved herself off me and retreated to the bathroom.
“I’m ready when you are, Whiskey.”