I didn’t speak. I just took him in my hand, wrapping my fingers around his thick cock and feeling the velvety heat of his erection, the thick vein pulsing along the underside. Leaned down, I took him into my mouth, swallowing him deep. He groaned, a deep, ragged sound, and his hands fisted in the sheets.
I set a punishing pace, still buzzing from my own climax, a raw, needy energy driving me. I wanted to give him that same loss of control. I bobbed my head, using my tongue, my lips, my throat. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard. His hips jerked off the bed, thrusting in short, shallow movements.
“Harlow... fuck...” he choked out. His hands came to my head, not forcing, but guiding, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Just like that. So fucking good.”
His muscles were taut, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He was getting closer.
But then his hands were on my shoulders, pulling me off with a sudden, firm tug. I looked up, confused, my lips swollen.
“Not yet,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I want to be inside you when I come. Ride my cock, baby.”
He guided me back up, turning us so I was straddling his hips. I positioned myself above him, reaching down to guide him to my entrance. I was so wet, so ready, still throbbing from my first orgasm.
I sank down onto him, and all I could focus on was the way his cock filled me, so completely, stealing the air from my lungs. I paused, fully seated, just feeling him throb inside me, letting the stretch and the fullness settle deep.
I began to move.
I started slow, rolling my hips, grinding down against him, finding the angle that made us both gasp. His hands gripped my waist, his thumbs digging into the hollows of my hip bones. I set the rhythm, rising and falling, taking him deeper with every drop.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his eyes glued to where we were joined. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
His words spurred me on. I moved faster, my breasts bouncing, my hair whipping around my shoulders. The slap of skin against skin filled the room. I could feel another orgasm building, deeper, more consuming, born from the fullness and the friction and the sheer visual of him beneath me, watching me with pure lust.
“I’m close,” I panted, my movements becoming erratic. “I’m gonna…”
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Come on my cock, Harlow. Now.”
That was all it took. The second climax tore through me, even more intense than the first. My inner muscles clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, a blinding, white-hot pleasure. I collapsed forward, my hands splayed on his chest, my body shuddering uncontrollably.
Before the last tremor had even faded, he was moving. In one powerful motion, he rolled us over, pinning me beneath him. Henever slipped out, he just started fucking me, his hips driving into me with deep, hard strokes that pushed me right back up into the peak of my orgasm, prolonging it.
“Mine,” he grunted with every thrust. “You’re mine.”
I could only cling to him, my legs locked around his waist, my nails scoring his back as he took me, pushing me through the lingering ecstasy and into something new, something raw and primal. I felt him swell inside me, felt his rhythm falter. His thrusts became shorter, harder, desperate.
“I’m coming... Harlow...”
His body went rigid above me. A guttural sound was torn from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, and I felt the hot pulse of his release deep inside me. He shuddered through it, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his forehead damp against my shoulder.
There was only the sound of our ragged breathing and the frantic beating of our hearts.
CHAPTER 42
HARLOW
We had been backfrom Vegas for three days when I finally worked up the courage to take the test.
Three days of pretending everything was normal, of going to school, coming home, making dinner, and watching TV, like my entire world wasn’t potentially about to shift on its axis. Three days of that little box sitting on the bathroom counter, taunting me every time I reached for my toothbrush.
Owen hadn’t pushed. He’d just been there, steady and patient, waiting for me to be ready.
I was ready now. Or at least, I was as ready as I was going to get.
The bathroom door loomed in front of me like the entrance to another dimension.
Three minutes. That’s all it took for two pink lines to appear or not appear. Three minutes to find out if my entire life was about to change in ways I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
I’d been pacing the hallway for approximately seven of those minutes now, my bare feet wearing a path in the carpet. Back and forth. Back and forth. My phone timer had gone off two full minutes ago, but I couldn’t make myself go in there. Couldn’t make myself look.
