Page 63 of The Reality of Us
“Alice …” he breathed.
She laughed softly, tugging his head until he looked at her. “You act like you haven’t met the girls before.”
“Last time was such a rush. This time I want to see you. Make it special.”
She used her feet to try and push his jeans to the floor, but they ended up in a tangle of limbs and denim. He pulled away from her, her groan and outstretched hands pulling a grin from him as he stood and kicked off his pants. Any trace of disappointment on her face disappeared as she rose to her knees.
He sucked in a deep breath and reached for her, but she shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Owen’s hands fell to his side. If she wanted to take control, he was more than happy for her to.
He clenched his jaw when she pushed her jeans over her hips, down her strong legs. Her sheer panties matched her bra, a tiny little green velvet bow in line with her navel. He gripped himself when she hooked her fingers in the sides of her panties, dragging the flimsy material down so fucking slowly. After what felt like an eternity, she was gloriously naked. This was how someone lost in a desert must have felt when they finally found water. Owen had never seen anyone so perfect.
His hand moved up and down his shaft, the cotton of his underwear rubbing against him.
Alice picked up her panties, her whole body flushing as she sling-shotted them at him. “Your turn,” she said.
Owen caught them with his free hand and resisted the urge to smell them. Just. Christ. What was she doing to him?
Alice laughed, the light sound hitting him square in the chest. And he realised. She was unlocking him. Freeing him from all the stupid rules he’d made for himself. Showing him how it could be.
He had to have her. He’d waited long enough.
Apparently, so had she. She crooked her finger towards him and settled back against his pillows. Her hair spread out on his pillow like the flames of a dying fire. Her mouth dropped open into an ‘o’ as he stepped out of his boxer briefs.
“Ready?” he asked.
She licked her lips. Nodded slowly, dragging her eyes back to his face.
Owen prowled towards her, cataloguing the way she squeezed her thighs together before letting them fall open. He nestled his dick against her wetness. She looked up at him, blue eyes full of trust, short puffs of her breath skating all over his skin.
He took her mouth gently, pressed their chests together, tried to tell her how special she was without words. Trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, he squeezed her breasts. Her skin was so soft. It was criminal.
She tilted her hips. The head of his cock slipped low. She was right there. Offering herself to him.
“Condom,” she whispered. Her hands roamed across his shoulders.
“In the bedside table,” he said more gruffly than he meant to but shit, he was mere seconds away from plunging into her, claiming her before he embarrassed himself.
Alice twisted underneath him, stretching out as she rummaged through the drawer of his oak bedside table.
Desperate to taste her again and make her writhe against his face, Owen slipped down her body, arranging her legs so they were on his shoulders.
“Oh God,” she moaned when his tongue flattened against her. He circled her clit and she started to move against him, nonsensical babble falling from her lips. He pushed one finger inside her, then another, coaxing more of the sounds he wanted from her.
“Owen …” The desperation in her voice made him lift his gaze. She was smothering her face with one of his pillows.
“Cry out, honey,” he said, pumping his fingers faster. “Make as much noise as you want.”
“I can’t … I …”
He dropped his head. Found that hard little nub, sucked on it until she broke above him. Her legs clamped around his head, blocking out the rest of the world.
When she stopped trembling, he gently put her legs back on the bed and crawled up her body.
“That was …” She sounded a little orgasm drunk. Her eyes were glassy.
“Better than good?” he teased.
She covered her face with her hands. “Yes. So much yes.”
