Page 3 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

His wrist adorns his signature gold Rolex gifted to him by my parents on his twenty-first birthday, and beneath it sits the multicolored woven bracelet I gave him as a gift when I was fourteen.

He drags one of his thick fingers over his sharp jawline as he assesses me, and I chew on my bottom lip, wondering what he’s thinking. Does he have the same lustful thoughts racing through his mind as me, or will he always see me as “Owen’s helper” and a little girl?

Forever forbidden.

I turn to face him, and his gaze roams over my dress. My nipples peak with desperation, begging him to take me, and when he swallows thickly and his eyes fill with lust, I know he wants to do just that.

“Do you like my dress?” My voice comes out breathy, and my pulse races with the heightened tension, waiting for a response that never comes.

He releases a low grunt, and I sigh, knowing that’s all I will get from him. That’s all I ever got from him, never anything more, just the gruff noncommittal noise from somewhere deepin the back of his throat. I spin on my heels to face the mirror again and lift my lipstick as if I didn’t just apply it.

All the while, the heat of his stare radiates from him like a furnace.

He steps up behind me, his chest to my back, and I pause with the lipstick midair.

Then he pushes his hard length against me, forcing my heart to still. “That answer your question?” His gravelly voice sends desire flooding through me, and Jesus, his cock is hard because of me.

I swallow, then he slides his thick hand around my throat, and my entire body freezes, shocked by his commanding touch. His touch a whisper against my skin, but still, it’s there, he’s there, touching me like never before.

The fire in my belly ignites, and a glimmer of the hope I always had sparks, creating a determination like no other.

I want him, and judging by his rock-hard cock digging into my back, he wants me too.

“Owen?”

“Shhh,” he breathes into my neck, trailing his nose into my hair, forcing my heart to race as I watch him in the mirror. His eyes are hooded, his shoulders tense, and a tremble escapes him. That makes me realize how much he’s holding back, and I revel in the thought.

He withdraws a box from his slacks and flips the lid, then pushes my hair to one side. With trembly fingers, he settles a beautiful white-gold necklace around my neck and an emerald pendant falls from it. Emotion overcomes me as my fingers graze over the stone—it’s beautiful.

“You’re beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful it hurts.” His admission makes my eyes fill with tears. His words, his actions, they’re everything I’ve ever wanted and so, so much more.

He uses his body to cage me in, with one hand on my hip. His eyes are full of craving, his muscles coiled tight, and as his hand moves to cup my jaw, I jolt at his firmer touch. His blue eyes snap to mine as if seeking approval, and I bite into my bottom lip, forcing his focus there. Then his thumb plucks it from between my teeth where he leaves it resting. He slides his thumb back and forth over my lip, and when he swipes the lipstick roughly from my lips, my mouth falls open. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks on it, our eyes never straying from one another’s.

OWEN

Two years later, she still tastes like cherries. The first time she stuck her tongue down my throat, I had to push her jailbait ass away, but she tasted of cherries then too. I gift the soft skin of her neck with a gentle kiss and her pulse races beneath it. I revel in the effect I have on her.

“Are your panties wet?”

She shudders at my words, and I smile as I kiss down her neck.

“I’m not wearing any.” My lips still as I freeze, then lift my head to search her face in the mirror for a hint of a lie.

My cock leaks as I trail my hand from her hip over the fabric of her flimsy dress and down to her thigh. She sucks in a sharp breath when I slide it between us and over her firm ass. Then I push my hand under the material, ignoring the flash of goose bumps that erupt over her skin at my touch.

“Open your legs,” I whisper into her neck, and shuffle back, allowing her the room to accommodate my demand. Her legs part, and I slip my thick, tattooed fingers between her thighs. Wetness coats my skin as I stroke over her slick pussy lips, and I hiss at her dripping arousal coating my fingers. Liquid heatsurges through my veins at her desire. I strum her clit and relish the whimpers she makes as she pushes her ass against my cock.

My fingers twitch to push inside her, to feel her tight little cunt wrap around them, but my cock is more eager, determined to succeed in the war raging inside me.

I’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. The moment I stepped into her room being one of them, and now with her pussy juice on my fingers and her ass thrusting against my cock, I know I’m about to cross more.

There will be no coming back after crossing this boundary.

“Please, Owen…” The sound of her begging is so beautiful, so enticing and imploring, it sends a tidal wave of ownership through my veins.

“Who owns this cunt, Laya?” I grip her pussy and blow into her ear, delighting in the stuttered pant that leaves her perfect lips.

“You.”

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