Chapter 8 - Owen
I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth.
I'm not like this. I don't talk dirty. I'm the guy who says "making love" instead of "fucking" because it feels more respectful. The guy who keeps the lights off and stays quiet because that's what you're supposed to do.
But with Ivy… God, with Ivy sprawled beneath me, her hazel eyes glazed with pleasure, her body stretched around my cock, I can't control myself.
And she loves it. I can see it in the way her eyes go wide, the way her breath catches, the way her pussy clenches around me when I say something particularly filthy.
She's sweaty, her hair plastered to her forehead, and she's smiling. This dazed, blissed-out smile that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Owen," she gasps. "Oh God, Owen, don't stop—"
"Never." I thrust deeper, harder, finding a rhythm that makes her cry out. "Never stopping. You feel too fucking good."
It's true. No woman has ever felt like this.
I've had sex before. Not a lot, but enough to know what I'm doing, and this is different.
This is better. Maybe it's because she's Ivy.
Maybe it's because I've wanted this for fifteen years.
Maybe it's because there's nothing between us, just skin on skin, her wet heat gripping me like a vice.
Or maybe it's because every time before her was just practice. Preparation for this moment, this person, this connection that feels like it's rewiring my entire brain.
I know one thing for certain: I'm never letting her go.
There's no going back to the city without her. No more pretending I can build a life somewhere else. Blackwater Falls is home now, not because of the town, but because of her.
I'll figure it out. I'll find a way to make it work. I'll open a practice here, work at the local clinic, anything. As long as I get to wake up next to Ivy Rose every morning for the rest of my life.
"More," she whimpers, and I realize I've slowed down, lost in my thoughts. "Owen, please, more—"
"I've got you." I pick up the pace again, angling my hips so I hit that spot inside her that makes her roll her eyes. "Is this what you need? My cock deep in your pussy?"
"Yes… God, yes—"
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, deeper. The position change makes us both groan, and I can feel her tightening around me.
"I'm close," she pants. "Owen, I'm so close!"
"Let me feel it." I lean down, "Cum for me, Ivy. Cum on my cock."
She does.
Her whole body goes rigid, her back arching off the couch. Her eyes roll back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Then the sound comes. This gorgeous, uninhibited cry of pleasure that echoes through the small house.
A tear slides down her cheek, and for a second I panic, until I realize it's not pain. It's too much pleasure, too much sensation, too much everything.
She's never looked more beautiful.
Her pussy clamps down on me like a fist, rhythmic pulses that milk my cock, and I know I'm done. There's no holding back. Not from this. Not from her.
"Ivy, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"
"Yes," she gasps, her hands coming up to cup my face. "I want it. Want all of it. Every last drop inside me."
Shy, quiet Ivy Rose just told me she wants me to cum inside her. Told me she wants every drop.
I'm lost.
I bury myself as deep as I can go and let go, pumping her full of my release. The sensation is overwhelming. Her wet pussy, her tight walls still fluttering around me, the knowledge that nothing separates us.
"Fuck, Ivy!" I can barely form words. My whole body is shaking, and I'm groaning so loudly it should be embarrassing, but I can't bring myself to care.
Ivy's hands are still on my face, her thumb stroking my cheekbone.
"I've dreamed about this moment for years," she whispers. "Exactly this. You and me. Finally."
Her words trigger something in me, something primal and possessive. I feel another surge of cum pulse into her, a second wave that makes me groan again, my hips jerking involuntarily.
"Jesus Christ," I pant, collapsing onto her but trying to keep most of my weight on my elbows. "That was incredible, Ivy."
"I know." She's smiling up at me, looking thoroughly debauched and absolutely radiant. "I know."
We lie there for a moment, both of us trying to catch our breath. I'm still inside her, softening but not ready to leave yet.
"You okay?" I finally manage to ask.
"I'm perfect." She runs her fingers through my hair, and the gesture is so tender it makes my chest tight. "That was fantastic... I had no idea it could be like that."
"Like what?"
"So intense. So..." She searches for the word. "Connected. I felt like we were the same person for a minute there."
"We were." I kiss her softly. "We are."
I finally, reluctantly, pull out of her. We both wince at the sensation, and I look down to see the evidence of what we just did: her thighs slick with our combined releases, a little bit of blood mixed in.
"Shit." I sit up, suddenly aware that we're on her couch and I just took her virginity. "Are you sore? Do you need anything? Water, a towel—"
"Owen." She catches my hand, pulling me back down. "I'm fine. Better than fine."
"But you're bleeding—"
"A little. It's normal." She cups my face again, forcing me to look at her. "Stop panicking. I'm okay. That was perfect."
"It went over whatever I thought it would be," I admit. "So much better than I imagined. And I've imagined it a lot."
She blushes, even after everything we just did. "You have?"
"Ivy, I've been fantasizing about you for so long. But the reality?" I kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. "The reality is so much better than any fantasy."
"Even though I didn't know what I was doing?"
"Especially because of that. Because you trusted me. Because you let me be your first." I pull her against my chest, holding her close. "You have no idea what that means to me."
We lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs, can feel the rise and fall of her breathing gradually slowing to match mine.
"Owen?" she says quietly.
"Yeah?"
"You said something earlier. About how no woman has ever felt like this."
"Because it's true."
"But you've been with other women."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "A few. Nothing serious. Nothing that lasted more than a couple of months."
"Why not?"
I consider lying, or deflecting, or giving her some generic answer about bad timing or incompatibility. But we just shared something too intimate for lies.
"Because they weren't you," I say simply.
"I tried to make it work with other people.
Tried to convince myself that what I felt for you was just some teenage fantasy I needed to get over.
But every time I was with someone else, I'd think about you.
Compare them to you. Wonder what you were doing, if you were happy, if you ever thought about me. "
"I did," she whispers. "Think about you. All the time."
"Yeah?"
"Every time I had a date, which wasn't often, I'd spend the whole time wishing it was you instead.
Wishing you'd come back to Blackwater Falls and see me.
Really see me." She tilts her head up to look at me.
"I used to have this fantasy where you'd show up at the library.
You'd walk in during my shift, and I'd be shelving books, and you'd just appear at the end of the aisle and smile at me.
And somehow, in the fantasy, I'd be brave enough to talk to you. To tell you how I felt."
My chest aches. "Why didn't you? Reach out, I mean. Call me or text me or—"
"Because I was terrified you wouldn't remember me. Or worse, that you would remember me and not care." She traces patterns on my chest with her finger. "It felt safer to just keep it in my head. To imagine what could have been instead of risking the reality of rejection."
"I would never have rejected you."
"I know that now. But for fifteen years, I didn't." She sighs. "We really were idiots."
"Complete idiots." I kiss the top of her head. "But we're not anymore. We're here, we're together, and I'm not wasting any more time."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm not going back to the city without you. It means I'm going to find a way to make this work, us work. Even if it means uprooting my entire life."
She goes very still. "Owen, you can't do that. Your practice, your patients—"
"Can be referred to other doctors. Ivy, I've spent fifteen years building a life I thought I was supposed to want.
Good job, nice apartment, respected career.
And I've been fucking miserable." I shift so I can look at her properly.
"The only time I'm happy, truly happy, is when I'm here. In Blackwater Falls. With you."
"But—"
"No buts. I know it's fast. I know we just confessed our feelings a few hours ago.
But Ivy, I've loved you for fifteen years.
That's not going to change. And now that I know you feel the same way?
Now that I know what it's like to be with you?
" I shake my head. "I'm not letting you go.
I'm not spending another fifteen years wondering what if. "
Tears are streaming down her face now. "You'd really do that? Move back here for me?"
"I'd do anything for you. Move back, find a new job, learn to knit, whatever it takes.
" I wipe her tears away with my thumbs. "I love you, Ivy Rose.
I'm in love with you. And I want to build a life with you.
Here, in the town you love, surrounded by books and terrible coffee and whatever else makes you happy. "
"Owen—" Her voice breaks.
"Too much?" I ask, suddenly worried I've pushed too hard.
"No. Not enough." She pulls me down for a kiss that tastes like salt and hope.
"I love you too. So much it scares me. And the idea of you being here, of getting to see you every day instead of just in my dreams…
" She laughs through her tears. "It's everything I've ever wanted, and I can't believe it's real. "