Page 32 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

Owen’s breath hitched. His gaze dragged over my bare skin, lingering on the lace of my bra, the curve of my waist. Jaw flexed, his hands twitched like he was fighting every instinct to grab me, to claim me.

I didn’t want him to hold back.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us until the heat of his body seeped into mine. Until my fingers traced the firm ridges of his stomach through his shirt.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Aurora.”

I tipped my head up, brushing my lips over his jaw, his pulse hammering beneath my touch. “What?”

His control snapped.

With a growl, his hands finally found me, rough and sure as he gripped my waist and lifted me effortlessly onto the counter. My legs spread, and he stepped between them, his body pressing against mine, his heat sinking into every inch of me.

Then his mouth was on mine again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

His lips were demanding, his tongue sweeping inside, taking, exploring, owning. His hands roamed my body, sliding up my back, fisting in my hair, tilting my head so he could deepen the kiss until I was dizzy from it.

I moaned into his mouth, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking, desperate to feel his skin.

He tore it over his head, tossing it aside, and my breath hitched at the sight of him—lean muscle, firm chest, scars I wanted to trace with my tongue.

I bit my lip, my hands trailing over his skin, his body trembling under my touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick, raw. “You're driving me crazy.”

“Good,” I whispered, dragging my nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath me.

His hands moved to my thighs, his grip firm as he spread them wider, pulling me flush against him. I gasped when I felt him, hard and straining through his jeans, pressing right where I needed him.

Owen’s lips found my throat, sucking, biting, dragging down to my collarbone, my shoulder, the tops of my breasts. Each touch sent a spark of electricity through me, coiling low in my belly, setting every nerve on fire.

I arched against him, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, Aurora,” he rasped against my skin, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans, teasing. “Tell me.”

I whimpered, rolling my hips against him, chasing friction. “You. I want you.”

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, he unbuttoned my jeans, dragging them down my legs before his hands found my thighs again, spreading me open for him. His breath hitched as he took me in, his fingers ghosting over the lace between my legs, teasing, torturing.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, eyes dark with hunger.

Then he was on his knees.

A sharp gasp escaped me as his mouth found the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his tongue tracing lazy circles, teasing me with what was coming.

“Owen,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging.

His smirk was wicked, full of promise. “Patience.”

And then his mouth was on me.

I cried out, my back arching, my legs trembling as he licked, sucked, devoured me like he was starving. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me still, his tongue flicking, teasing, until I was panting, writhing, desperate.

He worked me with ruthless precision, bringing me higher, closer, until pleasure coiled tight in my core, ready to snap.

“Owen,” My voice broke, my whole body tightening.

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