Page 23 of Midnight Lessons

My eyelids flutter. “I need more. Will you help me?”

He pulls back to look at me, and cool air strokes over my heated flesh. He stares, drinking me in like I’m his first sunrise.

“How?” he croaks, his gaze returning to my pussy.

“Touch me.” I curve my hand around my breast. “Here.”

Owen leans in and cups my breast, supporting the weight in his big palm. His lips find my nipple, gently licking, sucking. I cradle himto me, arching upward. Oh, God, yes. There…there’s the pleasure I crave.

I let out a little moan. “More. Harder.”

He gently bites my nipple, causing my core to clench. His hands are curious now, exploring my body with a thoroughness that steals my breath. He touches me everywhere—my arms, my neck, my breasts, stroking my nipples to needy points. The pleasure spreads and builds with each caress, echoing between my legs in warm pulses.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Please. Just like that.”

His hand covers mine on my pussy. I was moist when he entered me earlier, but now I’m wildly slick. Slick and glorious. My fingers move faster, harder, while his play alongside them.

“You were right. It was my first kiss too,” Owen mutters, his eyes on mine. “And I came so fucking hard that night, jacking off to images of you on your knees, wrapping these pink lips around my cock.”

The erotic image sends me over the edge, and I come with a fevered cry, my body shuddering with waves of pleasure as I moan his name.

I barely have time to recover before Owen is spreading my legs wider and pressing inside me. This time, he sinks into my depths with one solid thrust of his hips.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Feels different this time, Low. You’re so wet. Your cunt is gripping my cock so tight.” He presses my hand against my pussy again, his voice hoarse as he says, “Don’t stop. Keep doing that.”

My hips rise to meet his as my fingers slide over my clit, the base of his cock an added stimulation. Pleasure ebbs and flows as he plunges into me. My first orgasm was only a prelude to my second as it thunders through me, a scalding hot release of pure lust that has my inner walls clamping down on him.

“Can’t… get… enough of you,” Owen pants, pounding into me again and again.

Each thrust is better than the last, building to yet another crescendo that washes over me in fierce waves. It’s almost painful, this pleasure. Messy and slippery and so damned right.

Owen comes with a guttural groan, his eyes burning into mine as he spills inside me. “So good. God, so good.”

I can’t help but agree after our first time. I try to tell him as much, but my mouth isn’t working properly, so all that comes out is, “Um-hmm-mmm.”

Owen rolls onto his back and pulls me close, his chuckle rumbling against my ear. “Did we do it right that time?”

I snuggle against him. “Oh, yes,” I say dreamily. “Very right.”

Chapter 9

Owen

I wake up to Willow’s body curled against mine, her breathing soft and rhythmic. The early morning sun filters through the semi-closed blinds, casting a warm glow across her red hair sprawled on the pillow. It feels like I’m waking from the best kind of dream, but it’s all real.

Last night may have started clumsily, but it ended incredibly. Sex with Low was warm and messy and wonderful. More than that, it was a revelation. I want it again and again with a ferocity I can’t quite comprehend.

As I watch her sleep, emotion hits me hard. I’ve been in love with Willow for as long as I can remember. And now she’s mine.

I ease out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb her peace. She mumbles something unintelligible and turns, hugging a pillow to her chest. A smile tugs at my lips. I pull on my jeans from last night and pad barefoot into the kitchen.

The kitchen space is small but filled with Willow’s personality. Cute colored magnets adorn her fridge. A teal, modern mixing stand with an antique look sits on the counter by the coffee maker with the same design and color. She likes to make everything fun, my Low. But then, I’ve always known that about her.

While Willow sleeps, I pull out my phone and call Mark.

“Any news on who set up the betting pool?” I ask, getting straight to the point as soon as he picks up.

“Hey, buddy. Good morning to you, too,” Mark replies dryly. “And yes, I’ve been working on it. But I don’t have a name yet.”

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