Page 38 of Filthy Sweet

It’s ridiculous, but I honestly believe I could spend the rest of my life fucking that sweet little cum freak and never get tired of it.

Or of his laugh. Of listening to him talk and losing myself in his deep wells of knowledge.

But that doesn’t mean I should be with him. I’ve had a fucked-up life, and I might have acquired a fancy condo, but that doesn’t mean I’m stable enough for a committed relationship.

Especially a relationship with Owen, considering how much I stand to lose. If things go wrong, I wouldn’t just be risking him, I could be risking my friendship with Reggie, too.

“Hey,” Owen says, his voice yanking me from my thoughts. “Morning.”

He gives me a soft smile. He’s still in my baggy sweatpants, and his hair is messily pushed back.

Fuck, I really want to kiss him.

“Morning.” I return his smile, then turn to the coffee. “Half milk. Coming right up.” When I glance back, though, the smile has fallen from Owen’s face.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He shakes his head and slides onto a stool, sitting across the floating counter from me. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s great.” He sniffs the air lightly. “And it smells amazing. What are you making?”

I frown as I slide him a mug. “Huevos rancheros. But really, what’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking of Reggie.” He lifts the coffee, made the way his brother likes it, too. “You know.”

“Right.” I grab a plate and start piling up the ingredients. “Reggie.”

Usually, I know exactly what clever thing I need to say to smooth out a situation, but once again, Owen’s got me on unfamiliar ground.

“You know, your brother—”

“Can we not tell him?” Owen interrupts me. He looks down at his coffee. “At least not right away? I don’t want to lie to Reggie, I swear. But even if you never want to hook up again, I think I’d rather just have a little time to process everything before I have to share it with my brother.” He winces. “Like, even just a week?”

I hand him a plate, my pulse pounding. That is a totally reasonable request, and I once again find it impossible to tell him no. “Whatever you need.”

“Oh.” Owen sounds surprised. “Thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m in a rush to tell Reggie that I fed you your cum last night,” I point out.

Owen laughs, the musical sound rewarding to my ears. “Fox! Please don’t ever tell him that part.”

I smile, pleased to see him a little flustered and eager to stop thinking about the stupid, stupid promise I just made, which deeply complicates my relationship with Reggie. “I won’t. But it was pretty fucking hot.”

Owen’s cheeks pink. “Thanks. I probably would have felt too embarrassed to do that with anyone else.” He laughs to himself. “I’m not sure why I felt comfortable doing it with you, but…” He trails off, then takes a big forkful of breakfast.

I watch pleasure melt over his face. Owen chews the cheesy, saucy eggs and beans and, after he swallows, quickly shovels another forkful in his mouth. “This is so fucking good.”

“You’re hungover.” I cut up some of the food on my plate. “Eat up.”

Owen looks up and shakes his head. “Sorry. What was I saying?”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable with me,” I tell him.

“Right.” Owen smiles. Then the hesitancy returns to his voice. “I don’t want you to think I’m confused. I don’t think that you’re, like, into me or anything. But if you ever want to have a hookup again, just sex,” he licks his lips, “I’d be into that.”

I frown, not liking the way he’s falling back into his insecurities. “Why can’t I be into you?”

Owen shakes his head. “I mean, you can. But… are you?”

I realize I’m making this confusing again, when the whole point of having him over to talk in the morning was to clarify a few things. “Sorry. Like I told you, relationships don’t work for me. But that’s me, not you. You’re great, Owen.”

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