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.
CHAPTER NINE
OWEN
Irun the kitchen tap in the villa and splash icy water on my face, but I’m still a raging inferno after that scene.
I feel like a drug addict—one taste and I’m hooked. I need more, and not just her body. I want weekends at home, watching her fingers darken with charcoal. I want to leave the office and come home to her spread out in her own studio, being herself, not pretending to be whom others expect.
I understand why she stepped in for Eloise. She loves her family and is doing what she thinks she needs to to keep them happy. It’s admirable that she cares so much for other people, but I can’t keep up the charade anymore. I need her to know that I wantherand that her father’s company is safe whether she wants me or not.
But God, I hope she wants me, because she’s sketched her way into my skin and tattooed my heart.
