Page 19 of Owen North

I am here for all of it.

He drags his mouth from mine and trails kisses down to my throat. He spends time there, driving me wild with how achingly slow he’s taking this. I both love how unhurried he is—because, hello, can I get an Amen for a man who knows how to turn a woman all the way on—and just wish he’d get to his destination already.

I grip his hair and arch my body into him.

A moan escapes my lips, which earns me a deeply male sound that only turns me on more.

Owen’s hands move to the back of my dress, and he unzips it. He lifts his head so he can take in my body while he peels the dress from me.

I wiggle my ass from side to side to help him remove it and enjoy the look in his eyes when I’m sitting almost naked in front of him.

He places the dress on one of the chairs before moving between my legs again. Eyeing my red bra, he traces a finger over the skin just above it. “Red is my favorite color on a woman.”

“And here I was thinking the next thing you were going to share with me was the age you lost your virginity,” I murmur, lost in the way he’s looking at me.

He undoes my bra and I’m almost certain we both skip a breath as it falls away from my body.

Silence fills the room while Owen devotes time to looking at my breasts. It only lasts for mere seconds before he does that growly thing of his that I wish all men did and drops his mouth to them.

I wrap my legs around him and clutch a handful of his hair again.

I thought kissing Owen was next level.

I change my mind.

Owen kissing my breasts is next level.

I mean, I’m beginning to think the levels I’d set for myself in life were all wrong.

I’m beginning to think I have no idea how many levels there actually are.

Owen spends an exorbitant amount of time with my breasts.

He also spends time kissing the welts that god-awful bra caused.

I’m taking it he’s a breast man.

It’s a little sad for him that I don’t have much in that department.

“Those veins in your hands are doing so many good things to me right now.” My words trip over themselves in their haste to leave my mouth, and it has to be said that Owen’s gotten me to the point where I don’t even care. I no longer require tape for my mouth. I’ll happily share all my random thoughts with him and not worry that he’ll judge me.

He slowly lifts his head, almost like he’s more than regretful to be dragging his attention from my breasts. I expect him to say something about what I just said, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his lips to mine and bruises me with a scorching kiss I don’t ever want to end. Well, except I kinda do because I really want that mouth somewhere else.

When he finally ends the kiss, he says, “I fucking like the way you just say whatever’s on your mind.”

This inspires me to attempt gaining control of our situation.

I reach for his trousers.

I want that zip down and these pants off.

Owen’s eyes heat more than they already were.

His hand wraps around mine, halting my progress. “We’ve got all night, and there’s no fucking way I’m rushing even a second of it.” He kisses me again while keeping hold of my hand. He then moves his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to teach you some patience, Charlize. You’re going to be a good girl and lie back on this table, and you’re going to stop trying to distract me from what I want.”

Holy. Fuck.

I’ve never been called a good girl during sex.

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