Page 27 of Overachiever
“Mmm?”
“I really want to take you to our room and lick you into screaming my name.”
A sharp ache cuts through me, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. “Let’s go.”
Owen is as good as his word. I didn’t go into this with a lot of expectations of how he’d be in bed but if I had, he’d have blown them away. Attentive and sweet, with the ability to be rougher when it suits us, we just seem to fit together in a way I haven’t experienced with anyone else. I’ve had more sex since I got here than I’ve ever had before.
Every night we’re all over each other with no sign of that dying off. We work, hang out with some of the crew he’s made friends with, go to the beach, and fuck our brains out every night. It’s the best summer of my life.
I’m doing my best to shove away the seed of worry starting to grow in the back of my mind. I’m getting too close. I’ve always known that a relationship was not for me. Not until I’m well established in my career and can spare the time and energy to foster a healthy one. I can’t get wrapped up in a guy and lose my way. I can’t end up like my sister.
When the worries creep in, I consider putting an end to it, but then I think of him sleeping in the next bed, and how much I’ll want to crawl in with him. Or how I’ll feel if he hooks up with someone else. He’d have every right to. And I just can’t call it off.
We’re halfway through our summer job. Once it’s over, we won’t see each other every day and it’ll feel more natural to move on.
Owen’s actual birthday falls on the next Friday, and I’m reading in bed when he asks, “Why aren’t you naked? It’s time for hours of dirty, kinky birthday fun.”
“Birthday sex? We do that every day anyway.”
“All day long, kinky birthday sex,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
The word kinky draws my attention away from the book I’m reading. “Define kinky. Is this another attempt at anal?” He’s asked a few times, but I’m nervous about it. I’ll admit, it feels good when he rubs his fingertip there, but there’s a big difference between that and what he’d like to do.
“Anal sounds so crass. I’m just trying to get some posterior intimacy here. It’ll be totally romantic. I’ll buy you a pretty butt plug. You know pink and glittery, maybe it could play a little song.”
“There are no musical butt plugs. What kind of song would it play?” My attempt to sound exasperated is ruined by the smile that keeps fighting to appear on my face.
“A butt plug song.”
“No such thing.”
By now, I should really know better. If anyone could produce a song about butt plugs on the spot, it’s Owen. My book gets bounced onto the floor as he leaps onto the bed and stands over me. He sticks his ass out and shakes it while singing to the tune of Billie Eilish’sBad Guy.
“You know I’m an ass guy. But I’m not a crass guy.” Pretending to grab invisible hips, he humps the air. “Not a do you dry guy. Make you scream or cry guy.” His arms reach out toward me, and I can’t hold back the laughter anymore as he finishes. “Come on now don’t be shy. I want your brown eyeeee.” A pelvic thrust ends it with an emphatic “Uh.”
It’s hard to get words out through my laughter as he drops to the bed beside me, nearly bouncing me off the side. “I’d suggest therapy but your psychiatrist would need a psychiatrist.”
A smile blooms along with his shrug. “I should get to stick stuff in your butt on my birthday, Rem. It’s only fair, but I have other ideas.” Before I can respond, he rolls on top of me, and pins my hands above my head. His next words make my breath catch. “Can I tie you to the bed?”
Oh wow, he’s serious. “We could do that.” His eyes widen at my reply, and I’m caught in a heated stare. He was as surprised by my answer as I am.
Chapter Nine
Owen
Wait. She’s going for this? “Really?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and she pulls her gaze away. “Yeah. There’s some stuff I’d like to try. I haven’t been with anyone I…trust enough before, but if you wanted to.”
Her shoulders lift and fall as if it’s no big deal, but her words sink into me. “Look at me, Rem.” Reluctant eyes are drawn back to mine. The vulnerability in her expression sparks something in me. It’s not just her body she’s trusting me with, but her fantasies, stuff she hasn’t wanted to admit to anyone else.
She shivers when I lean in and kiss the soft spot under her ear. My lips brush over her jaw then hover over her mouth. “You trust me?”
A slow nod is her response.
“There’s so much I’d love to do with you.”
“Would you let me tie you up?”
