Page 101 of Pumped

We needed the animosity. We needed the intense loathing. It’s the only way we would’ve clashed so explosively. It forced us to confront who we were and what we could be—for ourselves, for Ivy, and for each other.

After kayaking, we make our way to the whiskey tasting. As we’re waiting for the tour to start, I quietly slip my hand into Owen’s. He glances down at our clasped hands, then up at me. For a second, I think he’s going to shake me off, but then he adjusts his grip, sliding his fingers between mine. I step in a little closer, pressing my arm against his and my heart does a pitter-patter when he shifts his weight to press back.

During the tour, Owen’s at the front of our little group, pestering the tour guide with a million questions, most of which I don’t understand. Something about pH balances and types of wood and enzymes and shit. But through it all, his thumb rubs little circles across the back of my hand. It’s just a small caress, almost unnoticeable, but it sends tingles of awareness through my whole body. My dick perks up in my jeans, not enough to be obscene, but definitely enough to keep me on my toes and has me counting down the hours until we can be alone again.

The restaurant is across the street from the distillery and they have a partnership where each dish is paired with a different whiskey. Owen scours the menu, consulting his phone for… I don’t even know what. I let him order for us while I do my best to distract him under our table. I trap his feet between mine, rubbing our ankles together and running my toe up the hem of his pants. The only sign he’s bothered by it is his half-hearted attempts to pull his feet out of my clutches.

He hands our menus back to the waiter with a word of thanks then turns to me, eyes half-lidded and dark.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Resting my elbow on the table and propping my chin in my hand, I give him my most innocent look. “What do you mean?”

He smirks and turns the tables on me. His foot slides up my calf to the inside of my knee. I gasp, my breath trapped in my lungs as it travels up my thigh. Thank fucking god the tablecloth goes all the way to the floor.

Owen presses the ball of his foot against my crotch and my dick roars to life, hardening so fast it’s almost painful. I grip the edge of the table and grunt softly as Owen slowly increases the pressure.

His smirk widens into a sultry, evil smile, and his eyes stay locked on mine, unblinking. I don’t dare look away. I couldn’t even if I wanted. I’m caught in his snare, his amber eyes drawing me in and holding me tight. My pulse races as the world narrows to just me and him around this table. The music flowing through the restaurant speakers, the conversations of the diners around us, all of it fades to silence. My whole body is taut, waiting for something, waiting for him.

“You’ve been a bad boy today, Everest.”

I gulp. Fuck. Jesus. My head spins as all the blood in my body rushes to my cock.

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

I make a desperate sound at the back of my throat. Helpless. Pleading. I’ll do anything to make it up to him. Anything. Everything.

“I asked you a question, Everest. It’s not polite to keep me waiting.” Owen’s voice is no more than a rumble that penetrates into my core.

“I— I?—”

“Speechless, are we?” He covers my hand with his own, then pries my fingers from around the table edge.

My hand trembles—hell, my whole body trembles—as he lifts it to his mouth. He plants a kiss in the middle of my palm then, then flattens my hand against his cheek. The prickly hairs of his beard send shivers up my spine.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he murmurs, his lips moving against the heel of my palm. “Fill me up with your giant cock and shoot your cum deep into me?” His foot rotates against my throbbing dick.

I nod. It’s the only response I can manage without making a complete fool of myself in the middle of the public restaurant.

“How are you going to take me?” Owen’s eyes drift shut and his breathing becomes ragged. “Up against a wall? On top of a table? Over the back of a couch?” When he opens his eyes again, they are nowhere near as focused as they were a second ago.

I’m not the only one affected by this. He feels it too. Desire and want. Building slowly but unrelentingly.

“Here we are…”

I snatch my hand back from Owen’s grasp and he drops his foot from between my legs. We both busy ourselves with napkins and cutlery as the waiter sets our plates down in front of us.

When we’re alone again, Owen sneaks a glance across to me and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment.

“Eat fast?” I suggest, no longer interested in a drawn-out meal, even as romantic as this is.

Owen tilts his head in thought before answering. “Take it to go.”

He’s already flagged the waiter down and given him some excuse about some fake emergency before I even realize what we’re doing. Then suddenly we’re in a car, heading toward the hotel room our parents booked for us.

The second the door beeps to unlock and I turn the handle to push it open, Owen crowds up behind me, bundling me inside. I barely have time to drop our takeout containers on the table before Owen shoves me up against a wall.

His body molds to mine like we were made for each other. Our mouths fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. I fill my palms with the rounded globes of his ass, and when I squeeze, pulling him up and into me, he grunts, grinding his erection into mine.

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