Page 70 of Caught in the Axe
“Look at me, Lila. I need to see you when you take my cock.”
His words sent a shock straight to my clit, urging me to arch my back and grind against him. My God, this felt incredible.
Not one to sit back, Owen slid a hand down to my breast, teasing one nipple, then the other.
I worked myself over his length, throwing my head back and letting my body take over.
His hands went to my ass, gripping me hard as I found a rhythm. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take what you need.”
The muscles in his neck and shoulders went taut as he tilted his head back. He was close, but he was holding back.
I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t sure I could get there. Not twice. Even so, this felt so good, and I was beginning to think it may be possible.
“Don’t overthink. Just feel.” He trailed his fingers around my hip and put pressure on my clit.
Instantly, a jolt shot through my body.
“Let go. Just let it all go.”
I rolled my head back as I let the sensations caused by his cock, fingers, and words wash over me.
I increased the pace, feeling all my nerve endings light up as I got closer.
And then I let go.
Of my self-consciousness.
My doubts.
My anxiety about what this all meant.
And I soared, crying out as the wave broke over me, freeing me from all the baggage I’d been carrying.
Chapter 23
Owen
What the hell had just happened?
I squeezed my eyes shut, certain this had been a really good, exquisitely detailed dream. Except the woman snuggled into my chest proved that it was real fucking life.
I didn’t want to move or speak for fear of ruining the moment. Lila had walked into my goddamn bedroom and stripped off her clothes.
Begged me to fuck her.
And then it finally happened.
My life had been changed. The moment I got up from this bed—and I really needed to deal with this condom—I would be changed.
I’d been lusting after her for weeks, thinking my need unbearable. But the joke was on me, because now that I’d had a taste of Lila, my desire had been fully unleashed.
The post-orgasmic haze was dampened by my racing thoughts. Thoughts of how badly I wanted her again. Visionsof all the filthy, delicious things I wanted to do to her. The way I could make her scream my name again and again.
But first, practicality. I needed to deal with this.
So I gently rolled off the side of the bed and sprinted for the bathroom.
Hands washed, condom disposed of, and cold water splashed on my face, I returned to the bed.
