Page 103 of ICED
I trail lower. Another kiss, then another. My hand slides beneath the waistband of his boxers, palming him gently. He’s already semi-hard. I grin.
“Morning, Owen,” I whisper, just as I lower my mouth onto him.
He groans, half-asleep, hips twitching beneath me. “Jesus...”
I hum around him, slow and deliberate, taking my time. My tongue swirls, teasing the tip, then I sink lower, letting him hit the back of my throat. His hand shoots down, fingers burying in my hair.
“Fuck, Maya...” he rasps, voice gravelly with sleep. “Are you…is this real?”
I pull off with a wicked smile. “Happy Sunday.”
He blinks at me, eyes heavy and stunned, like he’s not entirely sure he’s awake. I wrap my hand around him again and lower my mouth, picking up the pace. He groans louder this time, hips rolling up to meet my mouth.
“Gonna kill me, baby,” he mutters.
I glance up at him, deliberately letting my tongue drag along his length. “Then what a way to go.”
He swears, the word lost in a gasp as I take him deep again, working him until his thighs are trembling. I can feel how close he is. His breathing’s ragged, his grip on my hair tightening.
But before he tips over the edge, I pull away.
He groans like I’ve wounded him. “Maya...”
I crawl up his body, straddling his hips, and lean down to kiss him slow and filthy, letting him taste himself on my tongue.
“You want me?” I murmur against his mouth.
His hands grip my hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “Always.”
I sink down onto him in one slow, slick motion, gasping as he fills me. We both freeze for a moment, locked together, eyes on each other.
Then we move.
It starts slow, my hips rolling with lazy confidence, dragging pleasure out of both of us. Owen’s hands areeverywhere; my thighs, my waist, my breasts. He thrusts up to meet me, the rhythm building fast.
“Fuck, Maya,” he groans. “You’re so wet. So, fucking perfect.”
I throw my head back, moaning as I ride him harder, chasing the edge. The slap of skin on skin is loud in the quiet flat, and I’m only half-aware of the time. We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before Lila wakes up. Maybe less.
But I’m not stopping.
He sits up suddenly, arm wrapped around my waist, mouth on my chest, sucking hard at my nipple. I cry out, clenching around him. It’s dirty and frantic now, teeth and nails and sweat.
He flips us, slamming into me with a growl, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my thigh to hitch my leg higher.
“You’re gonna make me come so hard,” he growls against my throat.
“Then do it,” I pant.
That does it. He snarls my name as he drives into me, thrust after punishing thrust until I feel him stiffen, buried deep, coming with a groan so filthy it pushes me right over the edge with him.
We collapse in a heap, tangled in sheets and sweat and panting breath.
I press my face into his neck, grinning like a woman who just got exactly what she wanted.
“Well,” he murmurs, “that’s one way to wake up.”
“Mm. Breakfast duty’s all yours.”
