“Mine.”
His lips crashed against mine, my lips parted, and the world caught fire as his tongue slid into my mouth. I kissed him back hard, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. I wanted him to understand that this feeling, this possessive, consuming, absolutely unhinged feeling, was exactly what I’d been living with for years.
The hand on my throat tightened, and I sucked in a sharp breath. His other hand slid from my hip to my ass, gripping hard and pulling me against him, pressing the evidence of his desire against my stomach.
“You’re mine,” he growled between kisses. “Say it.”
“I’m…” I tried, but he bit my bottom lip, and the words dissolved into a moan.
“Say it, Harlow.”
“I’m yours.” The admission came out broken. “I’ve been yours for so fucking long.”
He groaned as his mouth moved to my jaw, my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear, and my knees buckled. The hand on my throat was the only thing keeping me upright.
His mouth was back on mine, swallowing my moan as his hands slid down to my thighs, lifting me off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist, locking at the ankles, and he carried me deeper into the dark room.
He had all the control, and the thrill of it burned through every vein. My back scraped against a wall, then we turned, and my thighs hit something hard and cool. A desk? I didn’t know, didn’t care.
His hands pushed under the hem of my hoodie, sliding up my sides, his palms rough and warm as they found the thin fabric of my sports bra. He cupped and squeezed my breasts over the material, his thumbs finding my nipples and rubbing slow, firm circles. A low, needy sound escaped my throat.
He kissed me harder, his tongue thrusting deeper into my mouth, and I arched into his touch, fingers tunneling into his hair.
“Quiet,” he breathed. “Someone will hear.”
The warning only made the heat between my legs tighten, a sharp, sweet ache. I broke from the kiss, my chest heaving for air. “Then make it quick.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.
He grabbed my hoodie, and I raised my arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air hit my skin, goosebumps rising, but his body heat followed instantly.
He shoved my sports bra up as he lowered his head and took one tight peak into his mouth, sucking hard, igniting a wildfire of sensations. I cried out, my head falling back.
“Shh.” The vibration against my skin made me tremble. He covered the aching tip with his tongue, gently biting down, before moving to the other side and paying it the same devastating attention, sucking, licking, teasing, until I was writhing beneath him, hips rolling uselessly, desperately seeking friction.
Fingers hooked into my leggings and panties, dragging them down in one slow pull. Warm hands curled around my knees, spread my thighs wider.
His mouth left my nipple and began a slow, torturous descent, kissing the hollow between my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, and tracing a wet line down my stomach. He kissed my hip bone, the stubble along his jawline a delicious abrasion, and nipped at my inner thigh.
I jerked. “Owen, please.”
He ignored me, kissing his way down one thigh, up the other, breath ghosting over my pussy but never touching. The ache became a throbbing pulse. I was wet, open, ready, and he was driving me insane. I bucked my hips forward, a silent, frantic plea.
He hummed against my center and nearly stole my breath. “Tell me you’re mine.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. All the years of silent longing condensed into this moment in the dark.
I whimpered, the truth spilling out of me. “I am yours. I’ve always been yours. Owen, please…” The last word shattered as his mouth finally closed over me.
His tongue swept through my slick flesh in one long, firm stroke. My hands flew to his hair, holding him there. He licked into me in shallow, rapid thrusts, before swiping up and focusing on my clit, sucking gently, swirling until my legs shook, and my cries became ragged sobs that I tried to stifle against my arm.
A finger pressed against my entrance. He pushed inside slowly, one thick digit filling me, stretching me. The sensation was overwhelming as he curled his finger, finding a spot that made my body convulse.
“Quiet, baby,” he murmured against my skin.
He added a second finger as he pumped them in and out. The wet, slick sounds were obscene and loud in the quiet room.
Pressure coiled deep in my belly, tight and hot. My breath came in short, sharp pants. Every nerve ending was alive,focused solely on the points where his mouth and fingers connected with my body.
