Page 2 of Love Me

Chapter 2

The lights in the hallway followed by the quick knock startled me out of my daydreams. Owen filled the doorframe, a paper bag in his hand.

“Hungry?” Owen asked.

He sat down next to me without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing he could do, a wealthy businessman sitting on the floor, next to his artistic girlfriend. These moments when Owen seemed like a normal person, moments that made it seem like we were an ordinary couple, made me burn for him. He inhabited the opposite worlds flawlessly: the role of a powerful billionaire and a boyfriend. I was hungry, but not for dinner.

As he reached into the bag to pull out the sandwiches, I straddled him. I cupped the back of his head. The bag dropped to the ground with a crunch. I kissed him, grinding my hips in, wanting to feel his need for me. His hands traced my lower back and squeezed my hips, sending shivers to my shoulders.

“Would you have stayed if I didn’t want to move?” I asked.

“Without question,” he said. “I need you, Riley.”

And our lips met again, soft but purposeful, his grasping for my own, nibbling and pulsing. The way he moved was like he was saying I was the only woman he cared about, the only thing that mattered, as if he would leave everything behind if it meant helping me. And yes, I was scared about what our future held, about leaving the safety of what was familiar, but I wanted him to know I felt the same way. I wanted him to feel it in the way I kissed him, to know I needed him and would do anything for him too.

He laid me down on the ground, my back arched against the hard surface, and he unbuttoned my shirt slowly—achingly slow, letting his fingertips drag on my skin as he moved the buttons through the loops. I reached up to undo his, and he pushed my hand away.

“Relax,” he said.

I don’t know if it was the command, or the control he knew he had over me, or the sensuality of his fingertips, that sent my mind to a place of slow yearning. All I could think about was Owen’s body on top of mine, feeling the safety of his weight, the grip of his hands, the smell of the woods and smoke, his eyes daring me closer to the edge.

His mouth dragged along the top of my pants, his teeth nipping my skin. He unbuttoned my pants, then slowly pulled the zipper down with his teeth, inching the fabric off of my thighs, breathing on my legs. Goosebumps spread across my skin. I bit my tongue. His breath penetrated the fabric of my underwear, teasing me with its warmth. I clenched, aching, holding back. He licked my folds, the fabric a thin barrier between us.

“You taste like honey,” he moaned.

He teased me like that, licking the fabric, the threads tickling my skin, making each point of contact increasingly sensitive. I grasped for anything to squeeze, but we were on the hardwood, the closest rug too far away. I pulled him closer, wiggling my hips into his face, and he pinned my legs beneath him, pressing his manhood against my thigh.

He stopped and grinned down at me, watching me writhe on the floor.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

I bucked my hips at him. “Why’d you stop?”

“Tell me what you want, Riley,” he said.

I arched my neck. “I want you to fuck me.”

“But I’ve already made you come—” he paused, “how many times today?”

“Owen, please!”

And he mounted me, his cock edging me closer. Owen buried his nose in my neck and he held my body gently, though his rhythm told another story.

“I want to come inside of you, Riley Glass,” he growled.

And I wanted him to. It was a moment of firsts, and I had never let anyone do that before. I wanted to feel that closeness. I wanted him to know I trusted him during this strange turning point in both of our lives. For a moment, I didn’t care about the consequences I knew we might face. Besides, neither of us had ever risked this much for another person, and we were in this together.

“Please come inside of me,” I said. “I’m yours.”

And with those words, he came, his member pulsing inside of me, his moans twisting with my own, and I came too, my core molten and yearning for his need.

For everything uncertain about our future.

For him.

For me.

For us.

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