Chapter 7 - Ivy #2
He's relentless, licking and sucking and doing things with his tongue that should be illegal. One hand grips my thigh, holding me open, while the other slides up to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.
I'm drowning in sensation. Every nerve ending is on fire. I can't think, can't breathe, can only feel.
"So sweet," he murmurs against me. "God, Ivy, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night."
"Please," I gasp, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for. More? Less? Everything?
He seems to understand anyway, doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. I feel pressure building inside me, something coiling tighter and tighter.
"Owen, I think something's—"
"Let go," he says. "I've got you. Let go for me."
And I do.
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, pulling me under. My back arches off the couch, my thighs trembling, and I'm making sounds I don't even recognize. Owen works me through it, his tongue gentling as the waves subside, until I'm boneless and gasping.
He presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, then another, working his way back up my body until he's hovering over me.
"Hi," he says, smiling.
"Hi." My voice is wrecked. "That was my first…"
"Your first orgasm?"
I nod, too dazed to be embarrassed.
"Good." He kisses me, and I can taste myself on his lips. It should be weird, but it's not. It's intimate. Real. "That was just the warmup."
"Warmup?" I stare at him. "There's more?"
"So much more. If you want."
"I want everything," I whisper. "I want all of you."
He closes his eyes for a moment, like he's trying to compose himself. "You're killing me, Ivy Rose."
"Good." I reach for his shirt, tugging at it. "Take this off. It's not fair that I'm naked and you're not."
He pulls back and strips off his shirt. I've seen him shirtless before, summer days at the lake when we were kids, but he was skinny then.
Well, he’s not anymore.
He's lean, defined, and there's a trail of hair leading down from his navel, disappearing into his jeans, and I want to follow it with my tongue. The thought surprises me. I didn't know I could think things like that.
"Your turn to stare," Owen says, amused.
"I'm appreciating," I throw his words back at him.
He laughs, then stands to remove his jeans. I watch, mesmerized, as more of him is revealed. Strong thighs, boxer briefs that do nothing to hide his erection.
He's hard. Because of me.
"Are you—" I swallow hard. "Are you going to take those off too?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
He hooks his thumbs in the waistband, then pauses. "Last chance to change your mind, Ivy. We can stop right here. I can hold you, we can talk, we can—"
"Owen Harper, if you don't get naked right now, I'm going to lose my mind."
He grins. "Yes, ma'am."
The boxers come off, and—
Oh! I've seen diagrams. I've read books. But nothing prepared me for the reality of Owen, fully naked, fully aroused, standing before me. His cock is hard, really fucking hard.
"Is that—will that—" I can't even finish the sentence.
"We'll go slow," he promises, coming back to the couch. "I'll make sure you're ready. I'll make sure it's good for you."
He settles between my legs again, and I can feel him hard against my thigh. It's intimidating and thrilling all at once.
"Wait," Owen says suddenly, his face falling. "Fuck. I don't have a condom."
"We don’t need one. I want to feel you," I whisper. "Just you. No barriers. I want to know what it's like."
Owen closes his eyes, his jaw clenching. "You can't say shit like that to me."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm barely hanging on as it is. The thought of being inside you with nothing between us—" He groans. "Fuck, Ivy."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a 'are you absolutely sure because once I start I don't know if I'll be able to stop.'"
"I'm sure." I spread my legs wider, an invitation. "I want this. I want you. All of you."
"Christ." He positions himself between my thighs, and I can feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Tell me if it hurts. Tell me if you need me to stop."
"I will. I promise."
He leans down to kiss me as he starts to push inside, and the pressure is immediate and intense. I gasp against his mouth, my hands flying to his shoulders, and he stops.
"Breathe," he says. "Just breathe. We'll go at your pace."
I take a shaky breath, trying to relax, and he eases in a little more. The stretch is bordering on painful now, and I must make a sound because he stops again.
"Should I—"
"No. Don't stop. Just... keep going. Slow."
He inches forward, and I feel the moment he breaks through, a sharp sting that makes me cry out.
Owen freezes. "Fuck. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. Just... give me a second."
He holds still, buried inside me, and presses kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. "You're doing so good. So perfect. Just breathe."
I breathe, focusing on his face, on the feel of him surrounding me, filling me. The pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. A sense of fulfillment.
And the heat… God, I can feel every inch of him, hot and hard inside me, throbbing slightly. It's so intimate, so raw, so much more than I ever imagined.
"Okay," I finally say. "Okay, you can move."
He does, pulling out slightly and pushing back in, and oh—
That's... that's good.
He sets a slow pace, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there's no pain now, just pleasure building with each thrust, each slide of his bare cock inside me.
"God, Ivy," he groans. "You feel incredible. So fucking tight and wet. Perfect. Like you were made for my cock."
I've never heard Owen talk like this, never imagined he could.
I love it.