Page 101 of Fragile Hearts

“Owen,” I call out, and with one more greedy thrust, he comes undone, coming with me.

His forehead drops to my back, and I feel the hard puff of his breath, but when I try to move, he holds me in place. The tightness of his hands cut into my hips, his fingers digging in, willing me not to move, and I give in to his silent command.

With my ass still in the air, he pulls himself from my body and sits back on his heels. I can’t help but look over my shoulder, watching him as he watches me.

I feel him leak from my body, running down my thighs as he lets out a strained hard exhale, and I know he loves what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his fingers toying with our combined wetness, and I grow desperate, the words leaving my lips without giving them a second thought.

“Tell me what it looks like,” I whisper seductively, and I have no idea who this girl is, but I fucking love her and who she is with Owen.

“Babe,” Owen moans, my lips parted, my breathing labored as I look at him. “There’s nothing more beautiful than watching my cum seep from your tight little pussy. All milky white and messy, us mixing together.”

There’s a possessiveness, a need to claim me, to mark me, and I’m fucking obsessed with it.

His eyes flare, his pupils dark as his fingers continue to explore, and when his fingers brush my clit, slick and soft, I let out a low moan.

“Put more inside me,” I tell him, my words almost a harsh demand. “Fill me up.”

I wake the next morning with a delicious ache between my legs, Owen’s release still sticky on my thighs, and we’re going to need to change the sheets. We both collapsed last night, unconcerned with the mess, exhausted and sated in the best possible way.

Slipping from the bed without waking him, I grab some clothes off the floor and make my way into the kitchen with Mochi following behind me.

Good thing he’s a tiny little thing, making hardly any noise when he moves. The only sounds are his little claws tapping against the wood floor.

I smile down at him as I fill his bowl with food and change his water.

“You coming with me to get something for Daddy?” I ask Mochi, giggling at calling Owen “Daddy”, but Mochi doesn’t seem to care, doing a little spin move at my words.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I respond, talking to our little fluffer as if he’s a person, and I guess in a way, he is our baby. Our first baby.

Scooping Mochi up, I tuck him under my arm, grab my purse and slip on a pair of flip flops as I head out the door.

We’ve stopped setting the alarm since my mom’s arrest, and it feels good, a level of safety and comfort that has returned to our house.

Dropping Mochi in the passenger seat of Owen’s big SUV, I climb into the driver’s side and head over to Nate and Sage’s place.

I still can’t believe I was able to keep this a secret from Owen, but even more than that, that Nate was able to finish so quickly. He said it was one of the easiest pieces he’s ever done, despite it being the biggest.

Nearly six feet wide, it’s massive, but it’s the perfect size for over our king-size bed. The wall above it is blank, indicating that Owen was a bachelor before I moved in.

Living with his cousin Eli before he went to Oahu didn’t do that house any good. While it’s gorgeous and the finishes are pure perfection, it’s basically bare of anything that shows who lives there. They even turned one of the bedrooms into a home gym.

A typical guy retreat.

And I can only hope that Owen doesn’t think this is too forward, too girly, too much. He said it’s our home, and this, to me, shows him exactly how I feel about that.

Pulling in around back of The Pipe Dream, Nate is waiting for me outside the garage. He’s turned it into his studio, doing most of his designs out of it, the walls covered in his art.

With all the land, they’re actually building him a studio, but it won’t be finished for a bit, and for now, the garage seems to work.

“Hey,” Nate says when I walk up. “Sage is still sleeping, and obviously, those two are too.” He laughs, pointing to the guest house where Flynn and Alana now live.

“Funny, isn’t it? Normally we’re all up early to catch some waves, but it seems it was a good night for all of us.”

Nate lets out a chuckle. “It certainly was.”

Following him into the garage, I notice the painting is covered up with a huge canvas tarp, and he motions to it, a gleam of pride in his eyes.

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