Page 43 of Pumped

Gently, so I don’t headbutt his chin, I lift my face from where it’s been cradled against his chest. I only go far enough to beable to look him in the eye. The amber irises are swirling with emotion. Sadness and grief. Exhaustion. Fear and longing. I feel all those same things.

“Owen?”

He swallows and his Adam’s apple works in his throat. His tongue sneaks out to wet his lips and my gaze drops to watch. It would only take a tilt of my chin to bring my mouth to his. Then I could taste his tongue again. I could suck on it again. My dick roars to life at the thought.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Owen whispers, though he doesn’t sound very confident.

I huff in disagreement. “Why not?”

“Ivy needs to come first,” he says.

“She still does.”

A few beats pass in silence.

“It’s complicated enough.”

“So a little more complication won’t hurt.”

“We don’t even like each other.”

My lips curl into a smirk. “That’s what makes it even better.”

He growls and I’m ready for him when he fits his lips against mine. It’s hungry. Our teeth bang together, tongues fighting for dominance. He bites on my lower lip and I can’t help the whimper that escapes me. The pain shoots straight to my dick and my hips thrust forward, looking for friction.

I roll Owen onto his back and wedge my thigh between his. His hands go to my ass, gripping hard as we grind our cocks together. Fuck, that’s good. Like, unreasonably good. It’s just humping, and yet my entire body tingles, my nipples ache, and my balls are drawn up tight.

Owen hikes up a knee and uses his foot to push off the floor, rolling us over again so he’s on top. My fingers thread through his thick hair. The strands are shorter on the sides and back, butthe top is just long enough for me to get a good grip. He moans when I tug and shoves his tongue deeper into my mouth.

I welcome it, suck on it, pet it with my own. When he pulls back, I chase his tongue into his mouth and we do it all over again. The kiss is messy, desperate, driven by all the shit we’ve said and done to each other in the past, fueled by the emotional rollercoaster of the last month.

I want to strip back every layer of protection he’s wrapped around himself. I want to lay him bare and see the real man underneath the shield he’s hiding behind.

I want to bury my cock deep into his body and fuck him until we’re both coming apart at the seams.

His hands slip under the hem of my shirt and his palms are hot irons on my waist. I suck in a gasp and arch up into him. My head falls back and he trails his lips across my jaw, down my neck. His stubble scrapes against my skin, making me shiver and squirm under him.

He drags his hands up my stomach to my chest. His fingers find my nipples, and when he pinches them, I swear I almost come in my pants.

“Fuck, Owen,” I breathe, and he reacts by sinking his teeth into the tendons of my neck. Jesus Christ, that’s hot. I have to fight back my orgasm with every ounce of self-control I have left. Which, honest to god, isn’t much. I’mthis closeto ripping our clothes off and reacquainting my dick with his.

“Uncle Oooweeen! I’m huungrryy!”

We fly apart faster than a speeding bullet, both spinning toward the doorway. But Ivy isn’t there. She hasn’t seen us—thank fucking god. She was only yelling up the stairs.

I glance at Owen who looks like he’s about to die of mortification.

“Coming, Ivy-poo! Give us a minute!” I shout back at her.

Owen shifts, moving farther away from me. He won’t meet my gaze. “O?—”

“Don’t.” He cuts me off.

“But—”

“I said, don’t.” His hands curl into fists like he might swing out and punch me—or like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me. He’s still panting like he can’t catch his breath. His lips are red and swollen. His hair looks like someone’s been pulling on it. His clothes are wrinkled and out of place.

I’ve never seen him this disheveled before and something shifts inside me. He looks so vulnerable, so fragile—so human.

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