Oh fuck, now I’d thought about his tongue. Bathroom time.
I soaped up and then shampooed, taking my time. Why rush? I had no plans. Just a leisurely night of self-screwing and horror movies.
God knows I’d been dealing with a trunk load of tension named Owen Blackpenis all day.
Blackwell. Not penis. Though I liked his penis a lot, at least the shape of it.
I braced my foot against the side of the combo shower/tub and leaned against the tile wall. Without pretending to be coy, I reached for my slim wand vibrator. No reason to keep my fun bits waiting. They’d been on standby far too often over the past half-decade or so.
The warm water wasn’t a problem with this shower like it was with mine at my apartment, so I could do this slow way. Long, teasing build-up before retreat. Do that a few times and it’d be like Fourth of July and Halloween all mixed up with some halle-freaking-lujah down south.
After a few minutes, I was squirming against the pressure I applied directly to my clit. Only in a few second bursts though. I rarely had the patience—or the inspiration—for that kind of stimulation, but tonight I was reaching for new heights. I’d read this spam email about vaginal orgasms while Wyatt had been off playing Mr. Famous at the restaurant, and I was intrigued. Not by the spam promises to help me have one, but that such a thing as a G-spot orgasm existed. The way I was feeling right now, it might just happen.
Sufficiently juiced up for party play, I slipped the tip of the wand inside my quivering entrance. Let the search begin.
I slid it in and out a few times, which was all well and good but no spot felt any better than the others. They all felt pretty damn fantastic, as evidenced by the fact I was panting like I was on the verge of a cardiac event. I was also extremely lubricated. Like embarrassingly so, if I hadn’t been alone. Which was why I decided to set aside the vibrator on the shower shelf and use my fingers. With the toy, I couldn’t really get an accurate feel of the situation.
In retrospect, I probably should’ve laid on the bed while hunting for my elusive G-spot, but I had all night.
Nothing but time. And O’s. All the O’s.
Which is how I ended up with three fingers inside myself, flexing them hard, stampeding for home like a frigging racehorse—and no, I hadn’t found my G-spot, but to be honest, I hadn’t looked too much because hello, three fingers and six minutes of vibrator play and I was ready to go now—when the pounding sounded on the door.
It matched the pounding in my clit. God, right there.
There.
There.
“Calliope Templeton, you open this door and you open it right now or I’m coming in.”
Owen.
My eyes popped wide. My hearing shorted out after the “or I’m coming” part. Hell, if the man wanted to come, who was I to stop him? He could do the hard work while I just absorbed every punishing cock blow.
Cock-punched. Yeah, that sounded absolutely delicious.
I jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, prepared to make a flight for the door still naked. Hmm. That was probably sending the wrong signal.
The right signal. I did want to get fucked, by him. Now.
Still, one had appearances to keep up. And my non-vaginal parts were probably still annoyed at him for ditching me the night before. I had to get dressed.
Dammit.
I tugged on a tank top and soft pants that were gentle on my still needy underpinnings. Eh, fuck it. Pussy. My needy pussy. I’d start being polite again with what I called my nether regions after they got the massage they so desperately deserved from a worthy male member.
Owen was still slamming away on the door. Was he on his way to trashing the suite? Maybe he’d growl and throw my pillows around.
I pressed a hand against my mound. My clit was still pulsing.
Settle down, down there.
Normally, I hated violence in all forms. Even the threat of it. But put the phrase cock-punched in a girl’s head when she was on the verge of climax and evidently all kinds of heretofore unknown urges sprung to forefront.
I opened the door and pointed at him. “Owen Blackwell, you better calm yourself down before you enter my space.”
His jet black eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’m going to enter your space. I’m going to enter it so hard and so thoroughly you’ll still be screaming after I’ve gone home to sleep off the afterglow.”
Frowning, I clutched the doorknob. Was that a threat? Why did it sound so good? “Okay. Go on.”
“Go on?” He nudged me backward into my suite. “Love, you don’t want to tempt the bear. He has claws and fangs.”
My frown grew. Did bears have fangs? Kinda like a big cat? I was no expert on the dental structure of large mammals. “I’ve never been bitten or scratched during sex. Well, other than the occasional nip. I wonder if I’d find it arousing.”
Right on cue, he growled and nudged me even farther into the room before shutting the door behind him. “Are you drunk? You’re slurring your words a little, and you sound downright…not you.”
“Why?” I challenged. “Because I’m admitting I like sex? I’m a woman, aren’t I?” I was tempted to grab my breasts to emphasize my point, but he’d mentioned bears and his eyes looked downright feral.
I watched too many horror movies to do crazy things when I was drunk. If he somehow was a shape-shifter, I should probably speak in a modulated voice.
“I am a female. I enjoy intimate acts.” There, much better. But the gleam in his gaze didn’t fade. Far from it.
“Glad to hear it. As a male, I enjoy them too.” He backed me farther into the room and I went, entranced. Maybe he’d two step me right to the bed. Finally. “I’m glad you’re feeling so amenable to talk of fucking, considering what I have in mind.”
I might be able to say pussy in my own head, but saying fucking out loud was still difficult. I hadn’t consumed quite enough apparently. “Let’s hear what you have in mind regarding…” I swallowed. “Forking.”
Again, that eyebrow thing. So damn hot. “Forking?”
“Yes. Do continue.”
“You were out all day with Wyatt. Laughing, having fun.” He rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “Did he touch you?”
“Just my knee.” The snarl made me widen my eyes. “I was clothed.”
“Good thing. Tell him paws off what’s mine. Or I’ll tell him myself.”
“That’s just the thing. I’m not yours. You haven’t even given me a single orgasm.”
“Oh sure, like that’s my bloody fault.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying in lieu of cards and flowers and candy on holidays, climaxes go a long way.”
“Okay, you’re drunk. Just a little bit. Lucid enough for this conversation, but some of those rigid barriers of yours are down.” He dipped his head and nosed my wet hair away from my cheek. “How much did you have to drink with my mate, bunny?”
My breathing sped up. How could it not? He was so close, and I’d been so close, and yeah, stuff was happening between my thighs again. Chances were high I’d just erupt like a firecracker if he whispered bunny one more time.
“We shared a pitcher of margaritas. He drank most of it. He’s a hog. He ate two of my tacos too.”
“I’ll kill the bastard.” But now Owen was smiling, his expression positively sunny as he wound a handful of my hair around his fist. Odd how his smile didn’t reassure me.
The man was a predator, plain and simple, and I wanted him to possess me. For a night or an hour, I wasn’t choosy.
I just wanted him, and I was tired of waiting. And yes, I was a little bit buzzy from my margaritas and my very good day and my almost O, but that didn’t change the fact that I was in my right mind. I was more than ready for something physical to occur between us. We weren’t going to get married, just fuck.
Look at that. I was curing my sexual hangups already, one mental dirty word at a time.
“You don’t need to kill him. I ate most of his nacho
s in retribution. Though crap, now I owe him dinner.”
Shocker, Owen’s expression cooled. A veil of ice might as well have dropped down over his gaze. “Is that right?”
“Yes, he bet me you’d be jealous today. I said no. I lost, so I owe him dinner.”
“That wanker. He enjoys fucking with me. Fucking, bunny,” he repeated, staring into my eyes until I had to tremble or die. Maybe tremble then die. “What we’re going to be doing very soon, if you agree.”
“Agree?” I repeated. “Has any part of me said no tonight?”
He tugged back my head and stroked the thumb of his other hand down my throat. My pulse was skipping so fast he had to feel it. “Words are important, especially at moments like this. And if you think I’m asking for one-and-done, you’re quite mistaken.” He leaned in again and bit my earlobe. I swayed, more than a little weak-kneed, but his grip on my hair kept me upright. “I want more than one night with you. More than one fuck.”
I swallowed. “But we both know this is temporary.”
“Temporary isn’t the same thing as one occurrence. One simply will not do when it comes to you and me, Calliope.”
God, my full name in that voice was lethal. If I’d had any panties on, they’d have sizzled right through my pants. “Temporary fuc—forking.” Sexual hangups still in play. Yay. “How temporary?”
“That’s up to our mutual discussion and decision. The games are afoot as long as it works for both of us.”
My throat was starting to ache from all the questions I had. But I was trying to not kill this moment before we’d even had it. “Just for pleasure. Not a relationship.”
On that part, I needed absolute clarity. My marriage and divorce was too fresh. It had taken time for me to accept us being lovers. Anything more—
I couldn’t go there. Not that he’d want to go there with me anyway. I mean, come on. The guy was idolized by women everywhere. Why would he want anything serious with a chick who couldn’t even say fuck without blushing, let alone ask for the same?
“We won’t put labels on it if you prefer. But there is one point I won’t concede.” He swiped his tongue over the sting he’d created in my earlobe. “No one else while I’m getting inside you. And while we’re doing this thing, you and me, I’m going to be inside you as much as humanly possible.”
“No!” At his surprised look, I hastily backtracked. “I mean, of course, there will be no one else while we’re temporarily—”
“If we’re going to fuck, you’re going to learn to say the word. Preferably when I have you on your back with your legs in the air or when you’re on the ground, begging for my cock in your mouth.” My lips must’ve parted in shock, because he traced them with a fingertip while his gaze roamed my face. “Beg, bunny. You’re going to beg for me, just like I’ll be begging for you.”
“You can’t either.” Words. I still had them. I still had a brain cell left in my head. I hoped. “No lovers but me for you either. While we’re together, it’s just us. Just you and me. And then when either of us gets tired of it or bored,” my throat tightened, “then that’s it. We tell the other one and call it off, no hard feelings. It can’t affect my work, Owen. This job is too important to me, and I’m sorry, I can’t risk it. I hope you understand.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I think that’s one of the first times you’ve called me by my given name, if not the very first.”
I inhaled deeply and waited. I honestly didn’t know. Teasing was so much a part of our rapport, and we both called each other so many different things.
Said so much as well, and so little of it was actually important.
“No hard feelings. No one else. Now tell me.” He moved in closer until his fully hard cock bumped my belly. There was no holding back my moan. “When do I get to have you?”
10
Owen
She didn’t say a damn thing. Her eyes told me most of what I needed to know.
The possessiveness was new. I saw traces of it in my father. The way he looked at my mother always left me a little uncomfortable. Especially since he was so standoffish in all other ways.
Was it a Blackwell trait? I refused to entertain any other thought.
This woman left me so damn unsettled in my own skin. I wasn’t that guy. The one who lived to be combative and persnickety. Some sly sarcasm, yeah, that was me.
“Look, love. We want each other. I’m not going to piss about and pretend it isn’t there like a living, breathing thing between us. And if you’re smart you won’t either.” I moved in closer until her sweet scent softened my argumentative side. “You don’t want anything serious, and I don’t have the capacity at the moment.” I tucked her hair behind her shoulder as I circled around her back, drawing her against the part of me that I could believe. The one that was hard for her as soon as she walked in the room—as soon as I heard her name.
“What if I leave the tour in a few days?”
“Then we have a few days.” I ran my finger along the nape of her neck. “Won’t be long enough, but we’ll make do.”
“Why me?”
I turned her around to face me. “Pardon?” She averted her eyes, but that wasn’t working for me. I lifted her chin and turned her head toward me. “Ask me that again?”
“Why me?” The uncertainty was still there, but a bit of that wild was coming alive within her vivid summer blue eyes.
I stepped closer until our thighs bumped and her perfect breasts buzzed across the cotton of my shirt. “It’s a rare find, this thing between us. Attraction is easy enough. I’ve plenty of lovely women who have come into my life and left just as quickly.” She started to pull away, so I hooked my arm around her waist. “So touchy.” Her eyes heated and her nostrils flared. Contrary man that I am, my cock only got harder. “But it’s been months and still I crave those bow-shaped lips and,” I gripped her hips, “this lush ass.”
“I just bet you didn’t remember me so clearly when I came into the meeting room, Blackbeard.”
“The first time we met, you were a brunette and glammed up like Bettie Page.”
She gripped my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. “No excuse.” She mumbled something under her breath. “At least it shouldn’t be. I should be strong.”
“Strength is overrated.” I lowered my head until our lips lined up. “I don’t seem to be the only one on edge here.”
“Hormones, pheromones, lack of sex in my life. Take your pick. Somehow I don’t think there’s lack of any of the above in yours.”
“I’m no saint.” Her breath held a touch of the margarita she’d mentioned, and only added to her tropical allure. “But the moment I realized who you were, there was no room for the memories crowding my head.” I brushed the dip at the top of her lip, then her lower lip. “The cave wall. Your cool, wet mouth fresh from the pool. The way you opened for me. The slick heat of your pussy. It all made an impression, bunny.” She jerked at the nickname, but it was followed quickly by a hiccup of breath as she swayed closer. “That’s not how I react to a nameless beautiful woman who warms my bed for a night, that’s how I react to someone who is so much more.”
“You said no strings.”
There was that. I wish I had a better argument, but I didn’t. So, I went with truth. “People come into your life for a purpose. What if we’re just the perfect moment in between? The dreamy time between wake and sleep, or the sigh between bites of rich chocolate?”
“Indulgence isn’t reality.”
“Who the hell needs reality? I know I’ve experienced far too much of it lately. Play with me, Calliope. Be my muse for as long as you’ll allow.”
“Are you really this Irish or is it just genetic disposition?”
I smiled. “I’m off the boat Irish, love. However, you do bring it out of me more than most.”
“Unlikely.”
I tangled my fingers in her hair. “Tipping an extra dose of Irish into my voice a little to make a girl smile is one t
hing, but you make me want to have a care. To take things slow, then go so fast the world spins a little. I like that feeling. I want to drown in it for a while. Don’t you?”
She nibbled on her lower lip as she twisted my shirt into her fisted hand. Her gaze bounced from my mouth to my eyes, then lower to my throat. I swallowed hard, but I wasn’t going to lay the charm on any thicker. The last thing I wanted was for to think it sounded like scripted lines.
Even if there was no script for the response that barreled through me with her in front of me again. The visceral reaction of my body couldn’t be ignored. I wasn’t one to question it, not when it was the first time I’d felt alive in a damn long time.
She rose onto her toes and our lips clashed.
Finally.
I’d had a plan when I knocked on her door. Lure her out and show her the city. Austin was one of those tour stops that came around again and again. A cool place for the young and stupid, as well as the not-so-young.
I wanted to take her away from her room. Show her some fun and relax her.
Now we were tied in a lip-lock with no end in sight. She was fresh from the shower, her hair a little damp, and I wanted to find out if she was wearing panties under her loose gray pants. I molded my hand over her ass, but there was no outline from what I could tell. Just firm flesh that made my teeth ache to bite it.
Didn’t mean there wasn’t a G-string under it, but that just didn’t seem like Callie’s style.
I tore my mouth away from hers and cruised my way down her neck to her shoulder. I pushed at the slinky little tank she was wearing—God, the woman did love to make me crazy with her simple sleepwear—to get my lips on more of her flesh. “Keep this up, and I’ll toss you on that big bed and show you a few more of my oral skills.”
“Well, that would be the definition of no strings.”
I tugged at the bow at the front of her pants. “And these strings are in the way.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we would not.” I hoisted her up and she squeaked, but fuck yeah, she wrapped those delicious legs around my waist. I was pretty sure I was going to have my zipper imprinted on my dick. Lucky for me, my pants shouldn’t be on much longer.
Manipulated: a Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 3) Page 12