Chapter Eight
Sunlight filters in through the curtains, catching on the crystal pendant hanging in the corner. The rainbow pattern dances on the floorboards, but its beauty isn’t enough to distract me from looking for a particular dirty spot on the glass.
The evidence that Owen stood outside of the window, jerking his cock while he watched me, is gone. But I know it happened because he told me.
Last night.
After he made me come.
I kick my feet beneath the blanket, slap a pillow over my face, and squeal. “Oh. My. Gosh.”
“Last night must have been one hell of an orgasm.”
My heart reverberates against my ribs like a pencil clattering to the floor. Slowly I pull the pillow down from my face and see Owen leaning against the doorframe, coffee in hand, cocky smirk lighting up his face. “Up for round two?”
“Yes.”
Heat explodes up my neck. I shove my face into the pillow and groan. What happens to my filter around him?
His laughter soaks into my skin, coils between my thighs, and starts an unending pulse in my clit. “Get that sexy ass out of bed then so I can feed you; you’re going to need the energy.”
My blood feels like it’s boiling, and a vibration hums beneath my skin. I’m like a drug addict needing another hit, but instead of taking me home after breakfast and delivering on his promise of round number two, Owen is dragging me through the beachfront stores.
I swear he’s teasing me on purpose.
He’s standing a few steps away, watching me.
Our eyes lock, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode. I’ve been interested in guys before, but none have left me in this permanent state of sexual awareness. It’s intoxicating and wrong.
So, so wrong. He chose Eloise.
Yet the more time I spend with him, the more he feels like mine.
Does he feel the same way?
“That’s beautiful.”
I look down at the dress I’ve been absently holding while lost in my thoughts. It’s soft, maroon, romantic, and looks to be easy to take off.
I picture Owen drawing the zipper down my back.
“You should try it on.”
Is he thinking the same thing?
There’s a commotion behind him, further down the street. I look over his shoulder to see a group of people holding cameras with long lenses. Those are big cameras for tourists.
Paparazzi.
Owen follows my line of sight and looks over his shoulder.
He mouths a curse before turning around and stalking toward me.
He presses a hand to my lower back and guides me into the store.
The paparazzi are looking around like they are searching for someone. “Are they here for you?”
He keeps his hand on my back as he walks us to the rear of the store, follows me into a changing room, and locks the door. “I don’t know, but I’m not giving them the opportunity to ruin our day.”
Butterflies scatter through my belly when I hear our. “I thought you liked being in the media.”
He frowns at me. “What gave you that impression?”
“You’re a regular on gossip sites.”
His head shakes slightly and he lets out a disgruntled sigh.“Just because my face is constantly plastered all over the internet doesn’t mean I seek out the attention. I’d much rather my personal life not end up as fodder for the rest of the world.”
I try not to let the surprise show on my face. I’d always assumed he enjoyed being in the public eye, like Eloise. Seeing him try to avoid the cameras and hearing that that isn’t the life he is interested in don’t fit with the person I assumed he was.“You’re an attractive billionaire. People are curious about you.”
His eyes crinkle at the sides, and his lips turn up into a smile. “You think I’m attractive.”
My cheeks flush hot, and I’m suddenly very aware of how tiny the space is between us. “I’m sure women tell you that all the time.”
“There’s only one woman whose opinion I care about now” His eyes slide lower, and his gaze drops to my mouth.“Are you going to try the dress on?”
The small changing room feels even smaller. The butterflies in my tummy go crazy, tickling me, making me want to laugh.
But there’s nothing humorous in the way Owen’s eyes darken.
I make a spinning motion with my finger.
He sucks on his bottom lip and drags it between his teeth before turning around.
I hang the dress on the wall hook and grip the bottom of the dress I’m wearing, ready to pull it off.
My eyes flick to the mirror and lock with Owen’s. His back is still turned away, but his head is tilted to the side, watching my reflection in the mirror on the side wall.
The erratic butterfly buzz slows to long, sensual strokes, stoking the desire that’s quickly building.
He smiles, shakes his head, and turns back to stare at the blank wall in front of him.
My heart thunders, but I grip the hem of Eloise’s dress and pull it off. Who is this version of Charlotte? She isn’t nervous. She’s curious and excited.
I stand there in my bra and panties, waiting for him to look again.
But he’s being a gentleman.
I hang Eloise’s dress on the hanger, then slide the maroon one over my arms and let it settle around my hips. “Zip me?”
He turns around, and his gaze starts at my legs, slowly roaming up to linger on my hips before looking over my shoulder and locking his eyes with mine in the mirror.
His fingertips brush the bare skin of my lower back. The spark of electricity is wild compared to earlier, racing through my veins and settling in my breasts.
He pinches the base of the zipper and slowly slides it up. Warm air rushes across my neck, his lips so close to my earlobe that I can hear the uneven shudder in his breathing. “How does it feel?”
Too right.
“Light and soft.”
There’s a dark, seductive intensity to the way he watches me in the mirror.“Where?”
Everywhere, but with the way he’s looking at me, I feel it in one spot most. “My thighs.”
His fingertips touch the hem of the dress, lightly brushing my knee. “Here?”
I nod.
His fingers glide back and forth against the top of my thigh, then dip between. “So soft.”
“It’s my turn.”
“Your turn for what?”
“To watch you,” I whisper, as surprised by my own words as he looks.
“Here?”
His voice is strangled restraint, trying to quiet his surprise.
Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s because I spent half the night with my fingers between my thighs, but I don’t want to think about all of the reasons why this is a bad idea. Iwant to be wild and reckless and take what I want. “Yes.”
He captures his bottom lip between his teeth, and his shoulder shifts, drawing my eyes down to his belt buckle. The sound of his zipper dragging down is magnified, as if there’s a microphone right in front of it, so clear and defined; even with my heart beating so hard, I can hear it in my ears.
He peels his pants open, hooks his fingers into his briefs, and tugs them down slowly, revealing his cock head and shaft.
A rush of warmth envelops me, likeI’ve slipped into a lukewarm bath, the water filled with oil, indulgent and silky as it ripples over my skin.
His briefs stretch across his thighs, leaving him completely exposed to me.
My eyes drink him in, the long, thick line of his shaft, smooth in some places and veiny in others. My breathing picks up, and my heart beats so hard every other sound is muffled. It’s the first time I’ve seen a penis in person.
My virgin heart does a giddy happy dance.
His gaze is dark, intoxicating, and fulfilling every fantasy I’ve ever read, impersonating every love interest I’ve read about or sketched.
He leans back against the wall of the changing room, curls his fist around his length, and slowly strokes it up and down.
“Sit down,” he orders, his whispered voice gruff and demanding.
I drop onto the small bench. The cool wood on the backs of my thighs is a temporary relief to the lust boiling beneath my skin.
He steps in front of me, his shins touching my knees. His cock is so close to my face it’s better than any high-definition porn video I’ve seen. He’s so close I can smell him—earthy and salty.
He’s close enough to taste if I’m brave.
He cups the back of my head. Excitement flutters in my belly. Is he going to tell me to open my mouth?
No.
He stays silent as his fingers slide through my hair, then grip it in his fist and tug until I’m looking up at him.
He towers over me, looking like the hero out of a romance novel or an idealized ancient Greek marble statue.
“Do you like what you see?”
I nod.
He loosens his grip, sliding his hand down and guiding my hair forward until it’s brushing the tip of his cock.
He lets out a soft hiss.
I clench my thighs together and watch as he wraps the ends of my hair around his tip.
He watches my hair slide around his cock with each pump.
I don’t care that we are in a changing room in a store with photographers stalking the streets to get a pic of Owen, because for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
Safe enough to experience things I thought I’d only ever read about in books or watch in movies.
He lets out a ragged breath. “Give me your panties before I spray cum all over your face.”
Owen squeezes his cock tight.
My mouth waters in anticipation. “You don’t need them.”
I look up and see his eyes darken in understanding. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I wait for nerves to derail me, but there is an unconscious confidence coursing through me.
He is hard for me.
He is about to come for me.
I lean forward and slide my mouth over him. The silky heat of his head hits my tongue, and he’s thick and heavy as he slides to the back and hits my throat.
His cock pulses, and even my virgin self can tell what this means. He’s close.
The euphoria and self-satisfied feelings that radiate through me are empowering. I’m about to bring Owen Phillips, billionaire playboy, to his knees. Me, virgin Charlotte.
A new, desperate ache pulls in my core.
Owen smacks one palm on the wall behind me, his other hand cupping the back of my head and holding me still.
I look up to see him biting his bicep.
Is he trying to muffle a moan?
I rub my tongue back and forth along his shaft.
He drops his forehead onto his arm and begins to pant as he watches me with a mix of disbelief and some other emotion I don’t recognize but like. I want him to look at me like that every day.
I latch on tighter, not moving, just slowly sucking on his shaft like a candy.
His eyes widen suddenly, and his cock pulses. Hot gushes of salty cum spurt on my tongue and coat the back of my throat.
I cough at the unexpected rush and gulp, swallowing every new jet as it fills my mouth.
I roll my tongue around his cock, cleaning him, savoring him, relishing my first blow job.Owen’s flavor is one I could quickly become addicted to.
His breathing slows, and his cock softens. His grip loosens in my hair, and I slowly release his shaft and sit back.
“Stand up.” He growls.
The authority in his voice turns me on even more.
I stand.
He grips my hips and spins me around to face the mirror.
Is he going to fuck me? Am I going to lose my virginity in a changing room?
Yes. I don’t care. I just need him. Now.
He covers my mouth with his palm, kicks the inside of one foot, forcing my legs wider, and slips his other hand between.
He finds my panties, slick with arousal, and presses right where my clit is.
Desire sparks in my belly, and my entrance pulses and clenches with need.
His lips brush my neck in a feather-light kiss. “Is this for me?”
I nod, breathless from his touch.
He pushes his fingers past my underwear to my bare skin. My slick arousal eases his path as he strokesfrom bottom to top and finds my swollen bud.
The orgasm sparks, making my thighs clench and my toes curl.“Oh.”
“Shhh.” He muffles the moan with his palm and runs his mouth over my earlobe. “Fuck, you’re sensitive. Are you going to come that quickly on my dick?”
He rocks against me.
My little virgin body is sparking to life again. Is that why I’m so sensitive?
I don’t care. I just want him to keep touching.
His fingers slip inside me, and a low moan rolls up my throat.
“Dirty girl. You better keep that mouth shut unless you want an audience.” I lean forward, pressing my hand to the glass, and roll my hips against him.
He bites back a groan and shoots me a warning glare in the mirror.
“Or do you like to be watched?” he murmurs. “Because I like watching you.”
I rock back against him harder.
He presses his hips against my ass, forcing me to bend forward more, and slides his fingers even deeper into me.
I’ve touched myself countless times before, but it’s never felt this intense and overwhelming or made me this needy.
His fingers push in and out, tension building as I get closer to a release that already feels stronger than any before. He grips my neck with his free hand, his touch gentle but dominating enough to bring me to my knees if I’m not careful.
I whimper and try to press my knees tight together to stop myself from falling, but his wrist works back and forth as his fingers push in and out, holding my legs apart as he drives me closer and closer to the edge.
I’m a noisy, breathless mess. If my whimpers don’t give us away, the wet sound his fingers cause will.
He squeezes his hand tighter around my neck as he tilts my head to the side and licks me. His hot, wet tongue lashing at the sensitive skin beneath my jawline sends me over the edge.
Sensation cascades inside of me, and I fall into an intense orgasm. He smothers my moans with his palm, coaxing the last of the orgasm free as I pulse around his fingers.
I slump backward against him, panting and breathless.I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She is flushed, satisfied, and confident enough to say what she wants.
Who am I?
Owen Phillips’s wife.