So, I do. I let myself moan and gasp as he lavishes attention on my breasts, as his hands explore my sides and back, as he maps out my body like he's trying to memorize every inch.
Then he's kissing a path down my stomach, and I realize where he's heading. He reaches my jeans and looks up at me, his eyes dark and heated. "Can I?"
"Yes." It comes out as barely a whisper.
He unbuttons them slowly, then slides the zipper down. I lift my hips so he can pull them off, and then I'm lying on the couch in just my underwear, plain cotton, nothing sexy, and I realize with horror that they're old.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I wasn't expecting… I mean, if I'd known—"
"Ivy." Owen's voice is strained. "I don't care about your underwear. I'm about to take them off anyway." He hooks his fingers on the waistband. "Unless you're regretting this?"
"No!" I say it too quickly, too emphatically. "No, I'm not. I want this."
To prove it, I spread my legs slightly. It's the shyest, most awkward invitation in the history of invitations, but Owen's eyes go dark.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters. Then he's sliding my underwear down and off, and I'm completely bare before him.
No one has ever seen me like this. No one.
Owen kneels between my legs, and the look on his face is pure reverence. "You're so beautiful. Look at you. Already wet for me."
I am. I can feel it, the slickness between my thighs, evidence of how much I want this. Want him. He leans down, and I tense, not sure what to expect.
Then his tongue touches my pussy, and the world explodes.
I've touched myself before, of course I have. But this is nothing like that. This is Owen's mouth on my pussy, exploring my folds, finding my clit and circling it with the tip of his tongue.
I cry out, my hands flying to his hair, and he makes an appreciative sound that vibrates against me.
"Owen… Oh God, Owen—"
He's relentless, licking and sucking and doing things with his tongue that should be illegal. One hand grips my thigh, holding me open, while the other slides up to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.
I'm drowning in sensation. Every nerve ending is on fire. I can't think, can't breathe, can only feel.
"So sweet," he murmurs against me. "God, Ivy, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night."
"Please," I gasp, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for. More? Less? Everything?
He seems to understand anyway, doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. I feel pressure building inside me, something coiling tighter and tighter.
"Owen, I think something's—"
"Let go," he says. "I've got you. Let go for me."
And I do.
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, pulling me under. My back arches off the couch, my thighs trembling, and I'm making sounds I don't even recognize. Owen works me through it, histongue gentling as the waves subside, until I'm boneless and gasping.
He presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, then another, working his way back up my body until he's hovering over me.
"Hi," he says, smiling.
"Hi." My voice is wrecked. "That was my first…"
"Your first orgasm?"
I nod, too dazed to be embarrassed.
