Resonance, page 19
I let out a quiet, unintentional groan, and his hand went still on me as he gasped softly.
“Shit, don’t make that sound.”
“Wasn’t on purpose, trust me.” My lips hardly moved, unwilling to interrupt his caress. I peered at him through slitted eyes and then opened them fully, lured by the picture he made in front of me: the tousle of his hair, the ridiculous towels hanging over his waist and collar, the sliver of expectation in his eyes.
I don’t know who moved first, me or him—that seemed to be the way of things with us, instant ignition at the same critical point—but in a span of seconds, my chair scraped across the floor and toppled as I stood and yanked him against me, mouth searching out his, tongue plundering his taste. Far better than the chicken.
The spoon he’d been holding clattered to the floor, knocked free by my elbows as he wrapped his arms around me.
I kissed him hard, drawing a soft whimper from him that fueled the desire burning bright through my core. Owen clawed at my neck like a wild thing, and when I had him backed up against the table, I tore at the towels in my way asking, “What the hell is this anyway, some kind of makeshift apron?”
“Uh-huh.” His nod was quick and abbreviated as I tossed the towels aside and went for the bottom of his shirt.
“Dan?” He rasped the question against my throat and raked the skin with his teeth before tipping his head back.
“Yeah?” I froze where I was, and the heat caught up with me, slathered over the back of my neck with every beat of my heart.
“This… we’re gonna fuck this time, right? Because we’re not at the shop or in someone else’s house and I really need… I really want to feel you inside me. Fucking me. I’m kinda desperate for it, actually.”
Arousal roared through me as Owen peered at me, lips parted, eyes glossy and pupils shot, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. God Almighty. “Yeah,” I managed, and cleared my throat after a hard swallow. “That’s definitely happening this time.”
He wriggled as I struggled to get his shirt over his head, then caught the fabric and shoved it up his forearms. I stretched his arms above his head and bunched his shirt at his wrists, holding him bound while our chests heaved.
Guiding his wrists behind the nape of his neck, I held them clasped and answered the arch of his back with my lips. His nipples tightened beneath the scratch of my beard as I kissed them.
I licked up the side of his throat, tasted his shoulders in quick, savage nips, and rubbed my cheek against the spate of goose bumps that broke out over his pecs. He thrashed his head side to side as I moved around, raspy breaths spilling from his lips. I could feel the want rising from him like steam, clouding out everything else around me.
“Oh fuck,” he exhaled, lowering his chin as I flicked my gaze up to find his. I licked a slow circle around his tight nipple, taking the pebbled tip in my mouth and savoring the contrast of hard and soft. “Jesus this is hot.”
“Sure that’s not the burner you left on?” I mumbled, then pressed openmouthed kisses from his sternum to his armpit.
“Oh yeah.” His stomach rose and fell rapidly against my mouth as I moved down. “I should turn it off.”
“In a minute.” Or maybe more, because I straightened, hitched him up by his waist, and shoved a plate aside as I planted him on the table.
Owen’s eyes widened and he gasped so loud I startled. “Oh my god, this is perfect. I’m on your table and we’re about to… please, oh god, that’d be so hot.”
My brows pinched with confusion until he barked out, “Can you just sweep everything off the table like in the movies and throw me down on it?”
I regarded Owen for a long moment with laughter bubbling in my chest, but his eyes blazed with such intent that I knew I was going to do it.
Hauling him off the table, I crushed my mouth to his, forgetting for a few seconds what I was supposed to be doing because the way his tongue slid against mine was so warm and needy. He squirmed in my arms until my shirt rucked up, and then watched raptly as I reached behind my neck and pulled the thing off over my head. I slid my hands around his back, then lower, hitching him up by his ass until he locked his legs around me and I bumped us both into the table, fumbling behind him to sweep my arm across the surface.
Wine splashed across the table, the glass rolling to the floor and splintering as plates and silverware crashed after them in an unholy racket. He was right, though; the urgency in the action beat through me like a rain of fire, ratcheting up my arousal as Owen stretched back onto the surface, hips and back canting toward me when I splayed my hand across his chest.
“Stay,” I told him, urging him back down.
“Fuck.” He bit his lip. “Okay.”
My hands skidded through a puddle of wine as I bent over him and kissed his chest. Goosebumps covered his skin, and I kept kissing down his ribs and his side, licked into his belly button to see how far I could make them spread.
His whimpers made the throbbing erection trapped in my jeans ache. I reached down and unzipped, giving it some breathing room as I smeared a wine-wet hand over his chest and chased the aubergine blooms with my tongue.
The next time I painted his lips.
“Take my pants off,” he hissed, then softened his tone to a desperately sweet plea. “Please. Please, please, please take my pants off and put your mouth on me. I can’t fucking stand it.”
That made two of us.
Unbuttoning him, I dragged his pants and boxers down to his ankles and then stepped back, surveying him as he watched me from beneath his lashes, disheveled and glaze-eyed. The harsh rise and fall of his chest deepened the arch of his back. The discomfort of the position was obvious, though he didn’t complain.
Stepping forward again, I hitched his thighs near my waist to mitigate the severe angle and positioned myself between them. His cock gave a few wet jerks against his stomach. It was an overwhelming sight. He was overwhelming.
After gently setting his heels to the edge of the table, I left him there, moving in a lust-drunk sway toward the stove burner to flip it off. I nudged some shards of glass out of the way with the toe of my boot and surveyed the length of his body from this new vantage point.
“What are you doing?” Owen tipped his head back over the edge of the table to find me.
“Slowing down. Looking at you.”
His gaze dipped to my open fly and the subtle movement of my hand on my shaft. He wriggled his arms from behind his head until his wrists were free and the T-shirt fell to the floor. Then he reached for me.
“Thought I told you to stay,” I teased.
“I’m not good at minding. Wanna touch you.” He grasped my hips, pulled me close, and reached for my cock, guiding it into his mouth.
I let out a soft curse as his lips closed around me. Different, his tongue sliding over the top of my shaft, the passage eased by the angle so that I was in deep before I knew it, fucking his mouth and spreading a palm over his naked chest to steady myself. I slid my hand lower to fist his leaking cock and he jolted, spluttering around me before he composed himself and licked around my head.
“Gonna keep taking it?” I asked on another thrust, gazing down at my slick length as it moved past his swollen lips. My fingers strayed from Owen’s cock to his throat, and he deepened the curve in it, humming his assent.
“Good boy.” It slipped out and before I could overthink it, and a lusty moan racked his chest. “Like that?”
He nodded gently as I rocked in and out of his mouth, stroking his chest, lifting his other hand to my lips and kissing his palm, his wrist. I sucked his fingers until his hips thrust wantonly and he bucked against the air as he cried out.
The sounds and movements of his body shredded my reserves, ramping my arousal to heights I’d honestly thought I wasn’t capable of anymore. But goddamn, there was just something about him, how naked his desire was and how he didn’t hide any of it from me or try to be subtle about it.
Everything about him made me ache in ways both physical and beyond. Deeper than anything I’d felt in years.
When I stopped moving, he grazed my hip with his fingertips and whispered, “What?”
“I…” I lost my words and held a finger up at him. It’d been a damn while since I moved as fast as I did to the bedroom to dig out a condom and some lube. When I returned, he hadn’t moved an inch, was still lying spread over my kitchen table like some beautifully filthy feast.
I helped him off it as he kicked free of his pants. Then I spun him in my arms, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck as I wet my fingers and slid them inside him. Owen rested back against me, eyes closed, each exhale trembling at the corners of his mouth, and that ache in my heart split wide open.
CHAPTER 21
I might have told Dan I wasn’t a stutterer, but when he ran a hand up my spine, urging me gently down over the table as his cock glided along my entrance and then pressed inside in a white-hot blast of stinging pressure, I fucking stuttered. A lot.
Digging my nails into the woodgrain surface on either side of me, I arched, trying to tempt him deeper, make him let go of the thin thread of cautiousness I detected in the way he palmed my ass cheek. I could take it. I wanted to take it. All of it. All of him. Right now. But he held firm when I protested with a whimper, skimming his fingertips along my rib cage as he eased in farther.
I might’ve looked like an idiot with my eyes squeezed tight and all openmouthed, but I couldn’t manage to shut it, like the arousal lashing my insides in crushing wavelengths of heat needed that gaping exit point.
Everything was foggy and erotic, and each thrust of Dan’s cock pierced the veil with blinding pleasure. Overwhelmed, I forgot my own throbbing erection and lost myself to the incredible sensations radiating from the base of my spine. Dan moved inside me, gradually gathering momentum, and when he finally slammed home on a deep groan, I bowed up with a cry.
I protested again when Dan pulled out and guided me around by my shoulders, searching my face. I wasn’t sure for what, but whatever he found there had a half smile edging over his mouth as he prompted me up on the table and hooked my legs around his waist. “Wanted more of you,” he said in vague explanation.
I braced on the palms of my hands as he cradled the back of my neck and thrust into me again. His lips seared over my jaw, found mine, and he kissed me deep and hard. With each thrust, he dipped a little so the tight planes of his stomach rubbed against my cock, and I started to really fucking lose it.
“I can’t… you’re gonna… holy fuck…”
Planting one hand on the table, Dan pulled me closer with the other as he murmured into my ear. “You’re driving me out of my goddamn head squeezing that tight little ass around me.”
Shit. I let go of the table, a momentary free fall before I laced my fingers behind his neck and just held the fuck on like a wind-tossed sailor caught in the perfect storm. “Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod.”
Dan groaned into my mouth, and I tore away from the kiss, burying my face in his neck as I tightened my arms around him, the friction against my shaft and his deep gliding thrusts crashing over me in tandem.
I lost it in seconds, crying out as I shattered and slicked our torsos with my release. Dan clamped his hands around my ass cheeks and slammed home so forcefully the table skidded across the floor, something else crashing as he let out a roar and emptied himself inside me.
We held fast to each other until the strong pulse of his cock within me faded and our panting breaths slowed.
Gently, he lowered me back on the table and flailed an arm out to brace himself when I didn’t let go of his neck, carrying him right down with me so that he folded over me.
I loosened my grip, and he drew back an inch. For a second we just stared at each other. His eyes were glossy and bright and alive, and I could’ve stayed like that all night probably.
“Are you afraid to look?” I whispered after a moment, breaking the spell.
Dan raked his teeth over his lower lip and chuckled. “Little bit.”
I dared a peek to one side, his gaze slower to follow. But once we caught sight of the mass chaos of crockery, glass, and silverware on the floor, we both started laughing.
“Guess it was about time to replace some of that stuff, anyway.” He seemed amused as he straightened. “Hang there a sec,” he directed, and then with a caress that trailed from my throat to my stomach, stepped away, crunching through glass to retrieve a towel. He held it under the tap, then returned.
His brows flicked together in concentration as he cleaned me off, and something about his slow, careful strokes made my breath hitch and my heart flutter in my chest. After he tossed the spent condom and wiped himself down, he threw the rag on top of the table and reached a hand out to ease me upright as he tucked himself away.
I rested my forehead against his chest and felt his hand stroke up my back. I let out a contented breath and was about to suggest we eat when he doubled over with a curse, knocking his head against my shoulder.
“Foot cramp,” he explained for my alarmed expression as he stumbled a few steps backward and slid to the ground in front of the stove, out of the way of the shattered dishes. “It’ll go in a second. Usually just happens after I’ve been running or on my feet a long time.”
“Guess I made your toes curl too hard, huh, old man?”
“Something like that. Careful of the glass,” he warned as I slid off the table to join him. I touched a toe down gingerly, but most of the wreckage was off the far left side of the table. Dropping into a crouch near his feet, I yanked off his boots and socks.
“Which one?”
“Right.”
I slid between Dan’s legs, pulling his foot into my lap and pressing my thumb into his arch until he hissed.
“Too fucking hard.”
“I know the feeling,” I teased.
“You mean that?” His mouth drew tight with concern, and I laughed.
“No. I think you were holding back.”
“I just laid you across a table and fucked your throat before sitting you on top of it and pounding your ass.”
“Mmm, yeah ya did. God that was sexy.”
“Owen.” He reached down, tenderly prying my fingers from the foot I’d been rubbing, and pulled me back against his chest.
I tipped my head to one side so I could see his face. “Mm-hmm?” God, I felt good right then. Limbs heavy, tongue thick, mind numb.
“You’re not just a… a convenience.”
My smile faded and the flutter in my chest turned into an angry buzz. “It sounds like you’re implying I should be ashamed over what I enjoy.”
“Nope, that’s not what that statement meant. Easy there. I meant you’re not just some sexual outlet for me, and I don’t want you to think that.”
“I don’t think that.” I didn’t know what I thought exactly, but I didn’t feel like I was being used by a long shot. What I knew was that Dan would be leaving for tour soon. And, possibly less urgently, but still notable, that I was still his employee. Honestly, I kind of wished he hadn’t said anything at all, because even if I had been just a convenience, I might’ve been more okay with that than the opposite. “Also, I’m starving,” I said, trying to inject some lightness into my tone.
Dan was quiet for a long moment, then smoothed a hand over the crown of my head. “Reckon we can clean up and eat.”
When he started to rise, I yanked him back down. “Eat, then clean.”
There was another pause before he said, “Okay,” and I curled forward, giving him room as he stood, sidestepping me to stretch toward the cabinet and grab a couple of plates. The silverware drawer beside me opened and closed, and he sank back down next to me, setting a plate of lukewarm chicken piccata between us. He reached up again for the open wine bottle, which he plunked down between his knees. “Like heathens, huh?”
“Civilization is boring anyway.”
CHAPTER 22
I was deep into the snooping when Dan got home the next day. I’d resisted for so long I figured giving in was warranted. Jezebel was curled on the bed beside me and lifted her head toward the doorway a second before I heard the key in the lock. I didn’t even try for a quick cover-up, and Dan wandered in a second later, eyeing the record sleeves and photo albums surrounding me.
“Figured you’d have scratched that itch already.”
“I held out as long as I could. If you didn’t want me to snoop, you should’ve hidden this cache of kryptonite somewhere else.”
“Basement? Under the porch?”
I considered. “Yeah, or a Ross store.”
He cocked a brow, coming around to the edge of the bed and dropping onto it. Jezebel sniffed him, then butted her head against his thigh. I sympathized strongly with the gesture; I kinda wanted to do the same.
“A Ross seems like it’d be nothing but kryptonite for you, given your love of thrift stores.”
“Nope, I shut down in them. I’ve only been twice and never again; the bargains aren’t worth it. Everything all over the place, out of order. Clothes sagging off the racks, on the floors. It’s like this depressing microcosm of humanity. I feel sympathy for the clothes in there, like all these big department store remainders that nobody wanted, now just stuffed inside an overly fluorescent-lit bargain shop, hoping someone will want them.”
“You make it sound like a pound.”
“It is. It’s a clothes pound.”
“But what about thrift stores? How is that different?”
I nudged a crate with my foot and then arched my arms over my head in a stretch. “Because those clothes at thrift are usually preworn, so they’ve already been loved. The clothes in Ross have never been pulled over someone’s head or been wiggled up someone’s thighs. Or worn to a prom or a movie.”
“If we go with that logic, isn’t a thrift store sadder, though? Because they were loved and then given away when they were no longer loved.”
