“Maria‘s popped to the shop,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine, “which means you can scream, Lucy. Which means I can make you scream. And I will, because I hate that you’re spiralling. I hate that you can’t process. I hate that you’re fine, when you should be fucking amazing. Because you are amazing.”
He works me with his fingers in and out, his hand reaching out to grab my breast before reaching down to my clit where he works it with his other hand.
I’m mewling and moaning, and he is milking every sound out of me as the noise reverberates around the small shower cubicle.
“I hate it,” he admits. “I hate that you can’t voice it, that you can’t speak your truth because you’re scared to say the words.”
My fingers dig into his biceps, my fingertips scratching at him. Between my noises, and the noise of my slickness coating his fingers, I’m building.
“Why won’t you say what you want to say?”
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Owen.”
“Yes, baby, ride me. Ride my fucking fingers. You’ll have my cock in a minute. Forget, baby. Forget it all.”
I want him to slam his mouth onto mine, but he doesn’t. He continues to rest his forehead on mine as he watches me come undone. I clench my eyes closed.
“No, Luce, keep them open, watch me. Look at me.”
I do, and his eyes are so mossy green.
“I need you to hear something,” he says as I climb, and I climb. “I need you to understand what you mean to me.”
“Oh God, I’m close.”
“I love you; do you hear me?”
I explode.
My hips pump against him, his fingers thrust in and out, his finger works my clit, and I grip on with dear life.
“I love you more than anything else in this entire world. Everything about you I love. Your stubbornness, your misdirection, your heart. I love every single inch of you, just like when I was a kid. It was only ever you, and it will only ever be you.”
My eyes slam shut as his voice washes over me, second to the pleasure of the orgasm.
“Do you hear me? I. Love. You,” he says it again, and he crashes his lips to mine.
And I don’t care that I’m wet and he’s fully clothed. I climb him, wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bed.
And he fucks me until I scream his name, just like he said he would.
I can’t say the words. I never could. Not as a young girl, not as a grown woman.
But I love this man, too.
Because he has had my heart since the day he passed me the teddy bear.
It’s always been Owen and Lucy, and it will only ever be Owen and Lucy. Together we can do anything, be anything, and beat anything. Because we did as kids, and we’ll do it again as adults.
He slides between me and rocks into me, in and out.
In and devilishly out.
Whatever comes next, nothing will be the same. Because Owen King has my heart, life, soul and protection. I will die to make sure he lives. Even though I lied to myself to make him the bad guy, to make him the villain by becoming the very thing I despise in this world.
A politician.
I could never hate Owen, because he’s nothing like the villain. He is everything good about this world, and I’ll die protecting it.
