Page 56 of Sparks Still Fly

“Oh, don’t be dense, Owen. I think you know what I was about to do.”

“About to? You hadn’t started yet?” I quickly decide that I want every single detail. Whether it’ll stop all the blood in my body from racing toward my cock is yet to be determined. She shakes her head, and her leg stills. “What were you about to do with your vibrator in your hand and my hoodie on your body, Maeve?”

Her breathing quickens, but she still doesn’t answer me.

“Were you going to get yourself off in my clothes, Maevey? So you can smell me on you?”

Goddamn it, if she doesn’t answer me, I might just lose my mind.

She keeps her eyes on me, those baby blues wide and bright. And then she fucking nods. And it’s not a small movement like the others. It’s clear as fucking day that she’s nodding.

“I wanna hear you say it, Maeve.” My hands are itching to be near her, to touch her, but I know that I can’t. This is already too much.

“Yes, Owen.” She pauses. “I was about to get myself off wearing your clothes, so I could smell you on me.” She pulls her hands out of her pockets and sets them on the countertop behind her. The sweatshirt rides up her thighs, and my eyes immediately track the movement.

Thank fuck I had the good sense to tuck my dick up into my boxer briefs when I went to get the first aid kit, or I’d be pitching a tent big enough for the two of us to sleep under right now.

Maeve’s eyes move to my crotch, and she smirks, not missing the way this interaction is affecting me. Well, I’m ready to play now.

“What were you thinking about?” I ask.

There’s no hesitation in her answer. “Your mouth. I was thinking about you trailing kisses down my body until your tongue was on my clit.” She spreads her legs a little further. “I wondered what it would feel like for you to kiss my pussy the same way you kissed my neck the other night.”

“Fuuuuck.” I rub a hand down my face and bring my eyes back to her. Her legs are now spread even further apart, and she’s practically panting, taunting me with her words and her smirk. She may act like she’s indifferent, like I don’t affect her, but clearly, that’s not true. Now I need physical proof.

“Are you wet right now, Maevey?" She pulls her lower lip into her mouth and her head moves up and down repeatedly. “Let me see.” Her breath hitches, and her eyes widen. She brings her other foot to rest on a stool, one hand slowly pulling up the hem of my sweatshirt to reveal a scrap of pink cotton that is clearly soaked.

A strangled groan leaves my body, and my hands ball into fists next to me, but I can’t touch her. I’m afraid that if I start, I’ll never stop. I want her too much. I want to pick her up and take her into my bed and not leave it until she’s had so many orgasms she can’t walk. Until all she can see, think, feel is me. But I can’t. So instead, I shut it down.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” I say with an aggravated grunt. Berating myself for letting it get this far in the first place, I walk away and head upstairs, stomping down the hall.

“Your room is the first door on the left,” I yell down. Then I walk into my room and slam the door, locking it, not because I think she’s going to come in here, but because I need the additional barrier between me and the urge to rush back into my kitchen to do exactly what she just described.

I lock the exterior doors of the house from my phone and turn the lights off in my room, reminding myself that she might be my wife, but she’s not mine to keep.

She doesn’t want this. You’re about to have a daughter. This isn’t the life she wants.

31/

sweet dreams, maevey.

maeve

That arsehole thinks he can just leave me here all wet and bothered like that? I think not! I hop off the counter, careful not to slam my foot down too hard on the floor and march to the bedroom he deemed to be mine.

I turn on the lights and pace around the large bedroom, barely taking in the furnishings. After muttering a string of expletives, I shove my hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt and settle on my plan of action.

I click the switch for the lamp on the nightstand, turn off the overhead lights, and settle into the king-sized bed, which is made up with white bedding and as many pillows as the bed in the guesthouse. I set my vibrator on the bed and toss my panties on the floor, leaving me in nothing but Owen’s hoodie.

I cycle through the settings, finding the one I know I like most, with not too much suction. This little guy really provides the best of both worlds, clit suction and G-spot vibrations.

I’m still soaked from my little moment in the kitchen with Owen, and now that the memory is back at the forefront of my mind, I struggle to rip myself away from reliving it all. I don’t want to think about him, but I can’t seem to help myself these days. The way his eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked when I told him I was about to masturbate while wearing his sweatshirt pretty much had me coming on the spot.

Leaving the vibrator next to me, ready to be used when I need it, I start with just my fingers, spreading my wetness around and pressing into my clit, flicking it in a way that has my nipples hardening and a strangled moan slipping past my lips. Bringing a hand to my breast, I pinch a nipple between my thumb and index finger. My moans are uncontrollable now. I’m so wound up, my orgasm rests just below the surface, and its ripples travel along my skin.

An image of Owen’s green eyes pops into my mind, and I don’t fight it. I shut my eyes tightly as the orgasm breaks through and takes over. At the same moment, the bedroom door bursts open, and when I look up, Owen is standing there, hands balled into fists, eyes dark as night and boring into me.

My body trembles as I reach the peak of my pleasure. My breaths come out in short gasps, and my back arches off the bed. His intense gaze only intensifies my orgasm, making it feel like it will never end. A small whimper escapes my lips before I finally collapse back onto the sheets, panting heavily.

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