I rolled my eyes and bypassed her small suitcase by the couch. Wearing her clothes would make me look like I was wrestling to climb inside doll clothes. Instead I’d look at the shirts in the dresser upstairs. Maybe I could find something that would work.
Owen followed me up the stairs and into the tiny bedroom we had claimed the night before. The sheets were still scattered from our morning tussle and I felt the heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks. It was followed by a small smile of pride which I tried to hide while poking through the chest of drawers.
I certainly had tried something new today.
Owen closed the door and walked past me to look out the windows that faced the street. He tucked his hands in his front pockets, the dwindling sun casting shadows across his jaw and sharp cheek bones. His eyes were scanning the street, but I could tell that his mind was elsewhere.
I stacked a wife-beater tank top and a blue button up shirt on top of the dresser. The top drawer was filled with neatly rolled socks and folded boxers. The thought of clean socks was more tempting than a chocolate cake, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear the old man’s.
“You might as well take the socks.” Owen’s voice cut through the quiet room.
I looked at him and frowned.
“It just seems so… disrespectful.” I shivered. “And gross. What if he had toenail fungus?”
“You had sex in his bed.” Owen pulled his hands from his pockets and moved toward me. His whole body language shifted as he moved gracefully in my direction. “I don’t think wearing the old man’s socks would be any more disrespectful.”
“You have a valid point.” I ignored the heat that was suffusing my cheeks and igniting in much lower places.
“I really enjoy the way your cheeks turn pink when I mention sex.” He dragged out that last word and moved so close that I had to look up to meet his gaze. “Like just now. Just the word makes you blush.”
“You’re making fun of me.” I tried to control my breathing, but my lungs refused to behave.
“No. No, I’m not.” He cupped the back of my head, forcing me to look up even higher. “I like the way you blush when I say sex because I know you’re thinking about having sex with me. Isn’t that right, love?”
I wanted to be coy, to rattle off some sort of sophisticated answer, but my mouth betrayed my brain.
“Yes.” I licked my lips.
“And if I said I wanted you right now, here, against this dresser, moaning my name, what would you say?” He backed me against the wooden furniture so that my rear was pressed against the top ledge.
“I would say that there are people downstairs who would hear us.” My body was screaming something else entirely, though. I bit my lip and managed to not squeak when he lifted me so I was sitting on the dresser.
“Do you find it hard to be quiet with me?” He leaned down and nuzzled my neck.
“Hm.” I tilted my head back so he had better access to my neck.
“What if I do this?” He dragged his teeth across the skin at the base of my neck.
The moan that fell from my lips couldn’t be helped. Having his mouth and teeth against my skin was an aphrodisiac that set my body on fire.
“That’s it.” He ran his lips back up my neck and nip my earlobe between his teeth and tugged. “That sound. I love when you make that sound for me.”
I ran my hands up his arms and fisted them in his hair, tugging gently so that he pulled back and met my gaze. His eyes were swirling with desire, half lidded, and looking at me as if I was the most delicious thing in the world.
“I love making those sounds for you.”
His eyes flashed brightly before his lips came crashing down on mine. His tongue wasn’t soft when he demanded entrance; his mouth wasn’t tender as it moved over mine. Raw, ragged need pulsed off him in waves that made my head spin and set my body alight.
I grappled to get closer to him, desperate to press the hot ache between my legs against him, to feel him move there. I needed him like I needed air. Now.
“Ava, I’m not in the mood to be gentle.” He breathed raggedly in my ear and began pulling at the button on the top of my jeans. “I need you.”
“Thank God.” I clawed at his shirt, desperate to have my hands on his skin.
We were in a mad race to get each other naked. He pulled me off the dresser and yanked my jeans down to my knees. Wasting no time he stood back up and peeled my shirt off, throwing it to the floor. I kicked at my shoes and jeans until I was free, working his pants undone so I could reach in and grasp him. As I slid my fingers down his length he hissed in my ear. Squeezing, I slowly jacked my hand up and down until I could feel his excitement run down over my fingers.
He ripped my bra off, throwing it across the room and knocking something off a shelf before dipping his head to catch my breast in his mouth.
“Owen.” My head fell back and I groaned loudly as he teasingly bit me before tracing my nipple with his tongue. My panties disappeared with the sound of popping seams and torn cloth. They were replaced with his hand, his fingers playing in the slickness between my legs.
His deep growl filled my ears and I bucked against his hand. He worked me with talented fingers, his mouth ravaging my breast as my cries grew louder. When I neared my peak he didn’t stop. Instead, he pulled back to watch my face as pleasure exploded in my body. I bit my lip to try and control my groans of pleasure.
Slowly he pulled his hand away and brought his fingers to his mouth. Deliberately he ran his tongue over them, tasting my orgasm for himself.