Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2)

by Zoe Norman

  I pull out one I bought recently but haven’t worn yet. It’s black with a soft cupped bralette and flowing sheer lace coming down. It’s meant to be worn with a matching, very bare, black thong. I hold it up in front of me, studying it, thinking of when I could wear it. Tonight maybe?

  I hear a distinctive click behind me and turn around. Owen is standing against the door, leaning with his arms across his gorgeous chest and his ankles hooked in front of him. He has a smirk on his face and he looks cool, collected, and sexy as all hell, like the cat who got the cream.

  “Can I help you?” I say, smirking back.

  “Oh, I think you can—in so, so many ways.” He is still smirking, but his eyes are turning molten. I can feel his stare from my head to my toes, every nerve ending responding. “What’s that you have there?” he asks.

  “Oh this old thing?” I wave it around in the air in front of me. “It’s just a little something I picked up one day. Thought you might like it. I don’t know... It’s not really me,” I say, feigning indifference.

  “Not you?” He tsks and shakes his head. “You may not think it’s your style, Olivia, but it definitely gets my vote of approval.” The smirk is back. “Put it on.” This is a command. Not a question with options.

  “Owen…your friends are moving things into the house. I can’t try this on now. I’ll try it for—”

  He holds a hand up. “Olivia, the boys are outside taking a break, having a smoke and a beer. And I also wasn’t asking. Put. It. On.” His face is more serious, the smirk having left his mouth but the smoldering passion remains in his eyes.

  I take a deep breath. His hard gaze makes it difficult for me to breathe at all. Turning, I stride into the bathroom with the baby-doll in hand. I shut the door most of the way and quickly take my clothes off, replacing them with the baby-doll nightie and matching panties. After quickly giving myself an once-over in the mirror, I pull out my hair-tie and let my brunette locks fall over my shoulders.

  I step out of the bathroom and pause at the door. Owen is still standing where I left him only moments ago. When he sees me, he groans. It makes me giggle because it was completely involuntary. I’ll bet that, if I had been able to watch his dick at the same time, that probably twitched simultaneously. I drop my eyes for just a moment, feeling somewhat exposed thanks to that searing gaze he’s giving me.

  “Holy fuck, Olivia,” he says softly, his voice gravelly and rough.

  Sex, for men, is highly visual. They like to see fucking. Owen is always losing himself while watching us fuck, make love, whatever. The mechanics of it are a turn-on for him. For me? It’s his voice. The words he says. Owen is very vocal when we make love, and it’s an incredible turn-on for me. Dirty or sweet, it drives me crazy, and many times, just what he says can get me to come. Just like that. Boom.

  “You like?” I say as I twirl in the doorway.

  “Do I like?” he repeats, shock in his voice. “I fucking worship.”

  I giggle and blush a little. “Well....now you’ve seen it so...I should go change.” I start to turn, but he’s in front of me in seconds flat, grabbing my arm.

  “Oh no no no. You’re not going anywhere.” He turns me toward him and runs his hands over my hips, around my waist, pulling me to him.

  Leaning down, he brushes his lips over mine, his tongue licking between the crease, coaxing them open. Coaxing may be a misnomer since it takes very little for me to open for him. My hands slide up his beautiful, strong arms and over his shoulders until they come around his neck. His hands glide down to my ass, squeezing, kneading, molding them. They slip up under the edge of the baby-doll, searching for the edges of my thong and then pulling it down. When my thong hits my ankles, I quickly step out of them while Owen’s hands roam across my body with his fingers occasionally flirting between my legs.

  I kiss down his cheek and along his jaw until he lifts his head. With his neck exposed, I kiss, lick, and nip his sensitive skin until he begins to moan.

  “Oh my fuck, Olivia… You… Oh God, you…”

  He bends down and scoops me in his arms, bringing me to the bed. After he lays me down, Owen crawls up on the bed beside me. He props himself on his elbow and runs his hand from my knee, up the inside of my thigh, and back down again. He is teasing me but watching his own every move, teasing himself too. I raise my hand and pull his lips back down to mine, kissing him deeply.

  He murmurs against my lips, “I love you”.

  “I love you too.”

  Owen moves to lie on top of me, my legs opening to him so he can settle comfortably. He moves as if he’s making love to me, the crotch of his pants rubbing seductively at my already wet sex. It’s delicious. But I want more. And there is something very naughty, very exciting, about having sex when it’s the ‘wrong time.’ You know, when someone is watching or there is a person in the next room.

  There’s a little more to this here though—for me, anyway. Yes, of course it’s sexy and hot to have sex with the boys downstairs, able to come up at any time. But this is our first real day of living together. This is it. I don’t go back to my apartment anymore. And there is something so special about that.

  While Owen is kissing me tenderly, he runs his hand between us and undoes his button fly, pushing his jeans and his boxers down just far enough for his cock to spring free. We stay silent but never lose eye contact. I raise my legs slightly to allow him easier access while he lifts the hem of my baby-doll. Effortlessly, he slides into me. No preamble, no foreplay—no need, really. I was ready for him, have been all day while watching him stretch and flex as he moved boxes. I had this idea in mind for later tonight, but I’m not complaining that he helped me change my plans.

  He moves slowly and his eyes squeeze shut. “Mmmm,” he moans. He’s trying to stay quiet, but it’s not easy for him. We’re both too worked up.

  My breathing is staggered, heavy and desperate as he continues to work himself in me, over and over. He pulls the cup of the bralette down, exposing my breast. Then leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, and I mewl from the sheer exquisite torture he brings me.

  He starts to get closer, and I feel him growing thicker inside me, the friction more obvious. He starts to grunt as he pumps into me, my soft cries turn into moans and pleas. His head is down and focused on his movements. Suddenly, he looks up at me, locking eyes with me in an intensity that steals my breath. He takes my hands in his and, interlacing our fingers, holds them up over my head.

  “I love you so fucking much, Olivia.” He continues to pump into me faster and faster.

  “I... Me...too… Oh, Owen… Like that!” I pant. I’m incoherent.

  “Tell me you’re ready, Olivia. I need you to give it to me. In our bed…here… This is our bed. I’m going to fuck you in this bed every night. Goddamn!”

  And with that, we both explode. I knew he was coming, but again, the words did it for me.

  We didn’t let our hands go during all of this, and as we come down from our highs, Owen lowers my hands to his mouth and kisses each of my fingers in turn. I smile at him and his sweet gesture.

  We suddenly are torn from our moment by the sound of Tanner yelling in the living room. “If you two are fucking in there, that’s pretty messed up. We didn’t come here to move shit while you fuck!” Ah, Tanner—only he would scream that at the top of his lungs with no hint of humor whatsoever.

  Owen starts laughing and slowly pulls out of me. He winces as he falls free, and I make a sound of displeasure. Owen stands and zips up his jeans, looking down at me. With eyes full of love, he leans forward to softly kiss me.

  “I love you, baby. Welcome home.”

  “I love you too, baby. Let’s go feed your friends.” I go into the bathroom to change back into my moving clothes while Owen returns to the living room.

  When I enter the kitchen, the guys are all standing around the counter, drinking beer, and laughing, Tanner smacking Owen on his back. Owen catches me out of the corner of his eye and has th
e good sense to look at least a little nervous. Tanner...does not.

  “Feeling better, Liv?” he says with a mocking lilt to his voice.

  “Jealous, Tanner?” I give back to him, eliciting a roar from the other men.

  “Hey, my girl is bringing me dessert any minute now!” he retorts.

  “Well, Owen got his dessert early. Don’t hate!”

  The guys all laugh as I move to stand next to Owen. He wraps an arm around me proudly and kisses me on the forehead.

  Changing the conversation, Saul gives me a wink and says, “That’s all of it, Olivia. I think that trailer is empty now. All that’s left is for you to feed us.” He grins broadly.

  I laugh and make my way farther into the kitchen. “I think that’s only fair. Thank you, guys, for doing all this. I really appreciate it.”

  They all mumble, “Thank you,” and Owen playfully slaps my ass as I walk past him toward the oven.

  “Glad we could help while Owen got a little new-roommate nookie. Shit,” Tanner grumbles.

  Owen looks like he’s about to say something when Laney walks in.

  “Tanner! What the hell? Could you be more inappropriate?!” Laney appears through the apartment door, hands full of food. I can see that she has baskets of goodies—cookies, brownies, pies, cake. This chick likes to bake. Between the two of us, we put out a good spread. “Now come over here and take some of this from my arms instead of being jealous of Owen and Olivia.”

  Tanner’s eyes go wide at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice and he quickly rushes to her side, taking food from her arms. He bends over and gives her a kiss. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t see you coming in!”

  “Pussy!” Owen and Saul fake cough together, and we all laugh.

  As Laney makes her way into the kitchen with arms loaded with enough baked goods to make a bakery jealous, I pull out the ziti and garlic bread, placing it on the counter along with the salad. The guys line up and start filling their plates, eventually making themselves comfortable in the living room and kitchen.

  I pour glasses of wine for Laney and me and we clink glasses. “To sexy and strong firemen,” I say.

  “To sexy and strong firemen,” she concurs with the touch of her glass.

  TODAY IS THE ANNUAL firehouse beach party. Every year, Owen’s firehouse along with a couple of the other local houses throw a big beach barbecue. During the day, there is swim and surf, volleyball games, and more. At night, a big barbecue and bonfire on the beach replace the games. Various people set up tents to camp out on the beach overnight. Since everyone is drinking, it’s safer than trying to leave. Owen is supremely excited that I’m going. I’m a little less excited.

  He has forewarned me that some of the firehouse groupies come along, keeping the younger, single guys company, so I should be prepared for some obvious flirting and shenanigans. My translation of this is that I should expect heavy flirting on their part—specifically with Owen. Of the ones I have had the pleasure of interacting with so far, many of them have either not figured out or chosen to ignore that Owen is now taken. Call me cynical...but I think it’s the latter.

  The party starts around noon, but I’m spending the morning with my brother’s fiancé, Reese. She needs help picking out a pair of shoes for the rehearsal dinner. I love shopping…and Reese…and shoes, so of course I agreed to go with her. I promised Owen that I would meet him at the beach as soon as I’m done.

  After a long morning of shoe shopping, I stop at the apartment to change into beachwear. I put on a little, black bikini—one I don’t take out very often given how little of me it covers. I’m generally a little more self-conscious about my beachwear, but I want Owen to have his eyes on me. I also put on a little sundress that I know he likes. How do I know this? Well, he’s fucked me several times while I’ve been wearing it. Suffice it to say, it has some good memories attached to it.

  I take the long drive to the Long Island shore, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs to the music coming through my iPod. When I get to the spot I told Owen I’d meet them, I park my car and grab my bag before making my way onto the beach. It’s not hard to spot the group. There, in the middle of the beach, is a huge crowd of thirty to forty people. On one side, there is a group of guys playing football in the sand and gaggles of women around them in chairs and on blankets, cheering them on. A little farther down the beach, there is a volleyball net set up with a few women just bouncing a ball over it, back and forth.

  As I get closer to the group, I scan the area, looking for Owen. I finally spot him. He’s standing on the sidelines of the football game and talking with a woman. She is talking animatedly and then rests a hand on his bicep. He is laughing with her, but I notice him move so her hand is forced to come off his arm. I can’t help but smile. That’s my boy.

  I drop my bags down at the edge of the make-shift football field and kick off my shoes. I start to walk to them when Owen raises his head and notices me. A smile that could make the angels weep comes across his face. It’s so infectious that I have to smile back. Then I see him telling the woman that he’ll be right back without looking at her before he runs up the beach toward me. His skin is glowing and tan, and I can see his defined muscles tense and pull as he runs toward me. It’s almost like it’s happening in slow motion and it could qualify as an opening credit for some kind of beach rescue show on TV.

  When he gets close to me, I stop walking. He slides one arm around me, the other going to the nape of my neck, his smile still firmly in place. Without missing a beat or making a sound, he bends down, tilts his head, and kisses me. Not just a ‘hey, baby, glad you made it’ kiss. This is a ‘if there were less people around, I’d fuck you in the sand’ kiss. It’s hot and intense. He stops his kiss but doesn’t stand, instead kissing down my face and then nuzzling in my neck as he tightly squeezes me to him.

  “I missed you so much,” he whispers into my neck.

  I giggle. “Mmm, I missed you too. Although I saw you about four hours ago.”

  He grunts. “Still too fucking long. I’m addicted to you. I may make you quit your job just so you can be by my side all day and night.”

  “Hmmmm…that sounds like a pretty good idea.” I run my hands up and down his back.

  He straightens and his blue eyes scan me up and down. “I recognize that dress, Olivia Burke. I think I’ve done some very, very naughty things to you in that dress, haven’t I?”

  I grin wickedly at him. “Mmmhmm. You certainly have.” I crook a finger at him, urging him to bend down to me. I move my lips to his ear and whisper, “I have something you may like more underneath it.”

  Owen groans loudly. “You are going to be the fucking death of me, baby. What’s under there?” He hooks a finger into the front of my dress trying to pull it from me and sneak a peek.

  I take his face in my hands and pull him in for a chaste kiss. When I let him go, I instruct him to stay put and walk toward my blanket. When I reach my things, I grab the bottom hem of my dress and pull it over my head. Then I slide a finger into the elastic on the back side of my bikini and turn around to face Owen

  The reaction I’m getting is even more priceless than the one I wanted. Owen is standing...and staring. His jaw is slack, his breathing visibly labored, even from this far away. And his cargo shorts—tenting. As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks down at himself and adjusts his obvious interest with his hand.

  He starts to stalk toward me and stops when he is about half a foot away. He looks me up and down. “You, um... That’s...um... Yeah…”

  I giggle. “Yes, Owen? Did you have something you wanted to say?”

  The bikini is small. The top is two very little triangles that make my breasts look larger and more ample than they are. It’s quite flattering. The bottom portion is a version of boy shorts that is more like a thong in the back, creeping up my ass.

  Owen takes the last step, closing the gap between us. His one hand slides over my waist and then to one ass cheek, resting there and knea
ding softly. His other wraps around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. But he doesn’t make it to my lips. He kisses the hollow at the base of my neck and pulls me against his body. Then he shivers. I have completely forgotten where we are...who is around us.

  “You look so...so...so...fucking sexy right now. I really want to take you someplace and molest your body. Can I do that? Please let’s do that. I feel like I need to be all over you right now. I want to mark you like an animal for Christ’s sake.” His hand continues to knead my ass as he licks down my shoulder.

  My eyes have been closed, but I open them now and notice that there is a small group of women next to the football game staring at us. In fact, there are small groups of women staring from several locations on the beach. Eat your hearts out, ladies. He’s mine, I think and grin.

  “I don’t know if that would be such a good idea, sweetheart. Don’t you want to introduce me to your friends?”

  Owen grunts. “My friends? My friends can’t see you in this bikini, Liv. My friends are just as bad, if not worse than I am. Every one of them will be thinking very inappropriate, ‘make me punch you in the face’ type thoughts.”

  He pulls back from me, looking me over once again. Placing his hands on my shoulder, he turns me around, groaning when he catches a repeat view of my backside. Then he brings me back to look at him.

  “Yeah...uh uh. Not happening. Put your dress on.”

  He must be kidding. It’s a beach.

  “Um...uh uh. I am at the beach. I’m getting a tan.”

  “Olivia, please don’t argue with me.” Owen scans the crowd and furrows his brow. “They’re already all looking at you.”