Page 28 of Fix Me Up

Electricity arcs through me at the touch of his lips there. Him sucking, kissing, teasing out my nipple, might be my new favorite thing. My tiny, restrained moans make him suck harder, grazing his teeth over that tight bud. I grow impossibly wetter at that.

He switches to the opposite nipple, while his hand cups the one he just finished suckling. He runs the pad of his thumb over the tight tip, wringing out more and more from me, making me so damn heated I could scream.

Instead, I bite my bottom lip, basking in the pleasure of his mouth, his tongue, his sandpapery fingertips doing magical things to my skin, to my nipple.

I’m fighting this moan of pleasure that keeps bubbling up. I am the picture of control, until he switches back to the other nipple, this time taking more of my breast into his mouth.

That’s when I feel his teeth graze over the excited tip once again, which pushes out a gurgling, desperate noise from my mouth.

I half expect him to chuckle about it, but Owen answers with a rough, hot growl.

“Daisy, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Owen…I…oh god…”

He releases my breast but he’s far from finished. Owen’s head dips so low he can no longer stay upright. Sitting down on the adjacent barstool, he pulls me onto his lap.

I’m forced to grip his waist with my thighs.

My hands go to the back of the barstool, which swivels slightly under our jerky movements.

He plants one hand on my thigh, holding me steady, while the opposite hand lifts one of my breasts, letting him lick the underside of it.

This new sensation has me twitching, then grinding down against Owen’s lap.

I’ve never in my life had someone’s tongue slide over that hidden spot, and it feels so damn good I could cry.

He repeats this with the other underboob and switches back and forth, all the while gently kneading and teasing my tits with those rough fingers.

“Owen,” I whisper, sounding more whiny than I intended. “I need…”

“I got you, Daisy,” he murmurs against my skin.

He does have me. I believe he knows what he’s doing. He has my trust and takes control without me having to ask for what I want.

He pushes my hips up just a touch, giving enough room for him to reach between us, pulling aside the thong that’s in the way.

The soft sound of his jeans unzipping follows this, and I swallow hard. This is happening.

I stare in wonder as he hefts his cock out of the confines of the boxer briefs.

Eye contact is almost too much. Carefully, I ease forward and plant kisses along his neck, behind his ear, my eyes noticing how crispy the bacon is, how perfectly he sliced the watermelon and the cantaloupe, and marveling at the sheer amount of food he prepared for two people. It’s laughable.

But then my mind goes somewhere else, and I think that maybe he did all this to take care of me later today, tonight, and the next night.

So thoughtful.

And so fucking fuckable, I think, as he adjusts me how he wants me, pulling me back down on his lap so there’s no distance between us.

“I’m ready, Owen.”

The way he smiles up at me nearly rips me in two. I feel so ready, it hurts.

“Let me watch you come first.”

Oh no. Didn’t he hear what I said?

“How?”

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