Page 53 of Fragile Hearts

“I gotta tell you something. So, Daisy told me you have a twelve-inch dick, and while it’s not twelve inches, it’s certainly substantial.”

He laughs, falling back into the mound of pillows as he drags a hand through his hair. “Daisy, huh? When has she seen my dick?”

“She mentioned something about a bet in high school…” I trail off, feeling my cheeks warm, and I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning at the memory of what happened in the pool.

“You’re blushing,” Owen comments, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Every time you do, your cheeks flush with the most gorgeous shade of pink.” He stops, wetting his lips. I lean up and kiss him, my tongue dancing with his, as we both let out a soft moan.

“Sloane,” Owen murmurs, my name a song on his lips. “The flush on your cheeks makes me wonder…” He stops, not finishing, and I tilt my head to the side, a questioning look on my face.

“It makes you wonder what?” My words come out soft and seductive, begging for him to say something dirty, something to soak my panties.

And damn, does he fucking deliver.

“I want to know if it matches your sweet pink pussy and your fucking perfect rosy nipples that you have on display for me when you wear no bra. I see them straining against your shirt, your bikini top, begging for my mouth.”

My breathing grows labored at his words, ragged and desperate, my thighs clenching, needing more. I’ve never been this horny in my life, my clit throbbing between my legs, Owen’s words burying themselves in my mind, repeating them, dirty and erotic.

I fucking love it.

“Why don’t you find out?” I murmur, my words not my own anymore. Everything I have belongs to Owen Sinclair, and I want his mouth on my body. I need his touch like I need air.

Owen’s hand skates up my thigh, and I’m so wet it’s almost embarrassing, but he moves past, his hand now on my stomach.

His other hand toys with the hem of my dress, and when he doesn’t move, I pull my dress up, slipping it over my head and tossing it to the side, leaving myself in just my bra and underwear.

“Sloane,” Owen rasps, a question to my name, and I nod, telling him I want him too.

Crawling up my body, he covers me, the weight a sensation that sparks every nerve in me. His lips press featherlight kisses along my collarbone and to the swell of my breasts as they ache to spill from the cups of my bra.

Pulling at the cups, he frees my breasts and groans with appreciation when he sees what he’s been waiting for. My nipples painfully hard, begging for his mouth, for his tongue and his teeth.

His mouth is like a beacon to my nipple, his tongue circling the taut peak until I’m writhing underneath him. Raking his teeth over it, he sucks it into his mouth, sending a shiver down my spine, my panties drenched.

My pussy floods with arousal, nearly coating my thighs as Owen bites and sucks at my breasts, leaving small, red welts everywhere he touches. I’m aching with need and desire and want, my hips moving, trying to find friction.

“So pink. So perfect,” he murmurs, returning his mouth to my nipple, but this time biting roughly, and my hips thrust up, a pleasurable moan leaving my lips on a hard exhale.

I grind against his thigh, my legs falling open in invitation as Owen’s mouth trails down my body, leaving soft, wet kisses in its path.

With his thumbs hooked into the sides of my panties, he pulls them down in one swift movement. Tossing them aside, he settles between my thighs, taking me in.

“Fuck, you’re bare,” he moans, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. Wetting his lips, he smirks wolfishly, his green eyes bright in the moonlight, his pupils blown at the sight of me.

He’s eye level with my pussy, looking up my body at me. Again, he wets his lips, and my mouth falls open, letting out a soft moan.

I want to beg him to touch me. Everything about this moment is slow and deliberate, edging me closer to what I want, but not quite there.

“Owen,” I call out, desperation spilling from my lips.

“Spread yourself for me, Sloane. I want to see all of you,” Owen growls, his fingers digging into my thighs.

I swallow hard at his words, and I do what he asks, using my fingers to open myself to him. I can feel my body heat up, warmth blooming everywhere, and when Owen grins up at me, his tongue tracing his lips, I nearly come on the spot.

“There’s that flush I love,” he hisses, his eyes dropping to where I have myself spread for him. “The same color as your pretty little pink pussy.”

Dragging a finger through my wetness, we both moan out loud, my hips bucking off the daybed.

“Fuck me, Owen,” I demand, but he lets out a deep, throaty laugh, and my desperation seems to only make him crazier for me.

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