He does, ripping it over his head. I place my palms on his hot, smooth skin stretched over taut muscle, smiling when his stomach clenches as my fingers slide lower and then lower. He inhales sharply and throws his head back.
“Vivian,” he groans, reaching up and running his fingers through my hair. He takes my lower lip between his teeth before kissing me again. “What do you want?” he asks, sliding one hand downmy belly, curling his fingertips inside the elastic of my panties but no further, moving slow enough to make me crazy.
“Yes,” I moan. “I want your fingers inside me, I want your hands on me, I want—”
“You want to be fucked,” he finishes for me, voice a low rasp. “Do you want me to finger-fuck you until you soak my hand?”
Oh, God. This stoic man being a dirty talker is a delicious gift. “Yes. Please.”
He slips his hand inside my panties, and when his fingers slide through my slick folds, my whole body jolts. He hums like he’s satisfied with the state he’s put me in. His thumb finds my clit and circles with enough pressure to make sparks jump along my nerves. He doesn’t rush. He teases until my thighs quiver.
“Tell me what you like,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth while his fingers move slow and steady. “How do you want me to fuck you? Slow or fast?”
“Harder,” I breathe, hips jerking. “Press harder. Please.”
He presses hard, and my clit throbs under his thumb, sensitive and swelling with each circle. My body answers instinctively, pelvis rocking into his hand because it needs this friction like oxygen.
“Inside,” I whisper, already gone. “Owen, please—inside.”
He curses softly and slides a finger inside me. Curling it, he presses that ache-sweet spot that makes me see stars. He pulls almost all the way out and pushes in again, a slow stroke that makes me buck against him. When he adds a second finger and swipes his thumb over my clit, I grind down on his hand,desperate for more. A high, keening moan erupts from me and echoes through my apartment.
“Can you take a third finger?” he asks, voice deep and thick.
“I want—” The sentence disintegrates as he crooks his fingers, and my body clamps down hard. “Owen, God—stay right there—right there—”
“Here?” His fingers work my G-spot with a precision that makes me scared of my building orgasm. I don’t know the last time I had a powerful orgasm like the one building inside me now. Every cell in my body is electrified, ready to explode into a million stars. “You like it when I fuck you like this? When I make you shake?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, yes—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. He watches me, eyes dark and intent, and works me with ruthless patience until the coil inside me snaps. My orgasm slams through me, hot and sharp and total; I seize around his fingers, clenching, pulsing, moaning his name like it’s the only word I know.
“That’s it,” he says, low and rough, kissing me while I tremble. “Come for me, Vivian. You are so fucking sexy when you come for me.”
He doesn’t rush me back down. His fingers slow into soft strokes that milk every aftershock until I’m molten, draped over him, panting into his neck. I feel the slick mess I’ve made of his hand, of myself. I can’t believe Owen did this; that I’ve just come more powerfully than I ever have before.
He draws his fingers out, coated in my slick juices. He lifts his hand and shows me, then brings his fingers to my mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.”
My tongue curls around my juices, and his eyes flare. He curses as he watches me, the muscle in his jaw flexing.
I slide off his lap onto my knees before his self-control can reappear. My hands go to his belt, and he catches my wrist.
“Vivian,” he warns, watching intensely.
“I can stop,” I tease. I know he doesn’t want me to, but I want to hear him admit it.
He swallows, his eyes wild as they hold mine. “No.”
“Shall I take you in my mouth?” I say the words slowly, watching as he gives himself over to me.
“Yes,” he says hoarsely. He scoots his hips closer to the edge of the couch and spreads his legs wider. “Christ, yes.”
I free him with a slow zip. His cock springs heavy and thick into my hand, hot against my palm, and his breath hitches as I wrap my fingers around him. He’s big, the head of his cock already slick with pre-cum. I stroke once, twice, watching how he responds to me. Then I bend and lick a long, slow line from base to tip, tasting salt and skin and him. He curses quietly, the sound going straight to my hot core.
I flick the head of his cock with my tongue.
He puts one hand in my hair, gentle but shaking. “Vivian. You’re going to kill me. I love your mouth on me.”
I take him between my lips and watch his expression flicker into something filthy and helpless. I hollow my cheeks and slidedown, taking as much as I can without forcing it, then back up with a slow, tight pull. He groans as I work my mouth over him.
