by A. D. Ryan
“That’s not funny.” I want to mean it, but I fail at suppressing a smile.
“It is a little.” His eyes drift to my discarded bags, and I realize my new bra is half out of the bag. Owen picks it up and cocks a brow. “So, you had a successful shopping trip?”
My smile widens as I remember everything I got today, and the Stephen thing is momentarily on the back burner. “Actually, yeah. I found my dress—it’s perfect—and the mask is exquisite.” I snatch the bra from his grasp and pick up my other things from the floor. “I needed a new strapless bra for under the dress, so I made a quick stop before coming home.”
“Strapless?” Owen says, sounding a little dazed as his eyes light up with piqued interest. “Do I get to see it? The dress?”
Shaking my head, I step up onto my toes and kiss him lightly. Unlike the day Carla found out about Owen and me, I’m glad that my run-in with Stephen doesn’t seem to have affected us. Maybe it’s because, while somewhat surprised, he was more accepting than she was originally. Sure, she came around, but for the rest of that night, things between the three of us were more than just a little awkward.
Or maybe this is just getting easier, and by the time we tell Dad in a couple of days, we’ll have worried for nothing.
Okay, I’m not really that naïve.
Owen continues to stare down into my eyes, awaiting my answer. I give him a playful smirk and sling my garment bag over my shoulder “Not until tomorrow. But I think you’ll really like it.”
“Not even a little peek?” he tries again, using his thumb and index finger to indicate just how tiny a peek he’s asking for. He really is adorable right now, and I very briefly contemplate honoring his request.
But I choose not to, obviously. I’ll make him sweat it out a little. It’s more fun that way.
As I back toward the hall and head to the bedroom, he follows me, sitting on the bed while I hang my dress on the back of the door and turn to him with a shrug. “Sorry. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” I saunter toward him, pushing my way between his thighs as his hands find my hips. “Believe me when I say the wait will be worth it.”
With a sigh that’s so juvenile it’s hard to take too seriously, Owen admits defeat, his fingers dancing lightly across my ass and lower back as he pouts a little. “Fine.”
Leaning forward, I kiss his slightly protruding bottom lip. “How about I show you something else?” I suggest, allowing my voice to drop as I press my hands to his chest and push him down on his bed. He smirks, propping himself up on his elbows as I grip the hem of my shirt and begin to pull it up my body.
“Slowly,” he tells me, his own voice low and gravelly now as his eyes take in the bare skin of my belly. I love it when he sounds like this; the lust and desire he feels for me laces every note and seeps deep into my pores.
Always one to please, I comply, arching a brow questioningly and receiving an affirmative nod from him that tells me he’s happy with my set pace. His eyes gleam with longing as they devour every inch of newly exposed flesh. I pull the shirt over my head and drop it to the floor before I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, letting it fall down my arms as I move to unbutton my jeans next. Owen’s breathing deepens, his eyes darken, and I can see his arousal straining against his pants.
Once I’m fully disrobed, I beckon him by curling my index finger as I take two steps away from him, and he pushes himself up until he’s standing before me. I remove his shirt next while he makes quick work of his jeans. The desperation in his eyes mirrors my own, and when he makes a move to pull me back toward the bed, I stop him, shaking my head before dropping to my knees in front of him.
It’s not surprising to find him already standing at full attention, and I love how his body responds to mine—even if there’s very little touching involved.
Above me, Owen’s breath shudders when I wrap my hand around his length, stroking once before taking him in my mouth. His fingers thread through my hair in less than a second, and he groans, low and guttural, as his hips fight the urge to thrust forward too quickly.
I take my time, laving his length with my tongue, and when I look up at him through my lashes, I find him staring at me with a burning intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself torn; on one hand, I’m thoroughly enjoying watching him come apart at the seams from this angle, but I also have this deep need to have him inside me.
He must pick up what I’m feeling, because with a growl that excites me to my very core, he pulls me to my feet. There’s a momentary feeling of loss that I feel, but it disappears the minute he crushes his lips to mine. His tongue is insistent as it prods my lips open and slides against my own, and a second later, he grabs my wrist and roughly turns me around.
Now, we’ve done quick and dirty, up-against-the-wall sex before, but there’s something about this that excites me further.
Owen presses his chest to my back, lightly brushing my hair away from my neck as he peppers it with delicate kisses and several tingly nips of his teeth. I moan in response, goosebumps prickling all over my skin as his warm breath fans across it, and I press my thighs together in an effort to quell the delightfully increasing throb of arousal.
“Owen,” I pant as his hands move over my breasts and down my body, lightly grazing the sensitive flesh between my thighs.
The next thing I know, he’s bending me over the end of his bed, his hands and lips traveling up my spine and making my knees threaten to give out beneath me. I feel him brush against my ass as he continues to move behind me, and this drives me mad with lust. I’m only seconds away from begging him to take me…
Though, something tells me this is exactly what he wants.
I open my mouth to speak, but a shameless moan fills the room instead, and I press my ass back into him in hopes he’ll accept that as a silent plea. The pressure of his hand moving up my spine is both relaxing and sets my body on fire. When he reaches my neck, I yelp, and he wraps the length of my hair around his wrist, fisting it firmly. The tingle in my scalp rushes through my body, exciting me further, and this time I do beg.
“Owen…” My voice strains through the desire, and I turn my head as much as I can beneath his hold. “Please.”
I feel the heat of his body as he leans over me, his back touching mine, the energy between us sizzling. His teeth graze the shell of my ear, and I clutch the blankets beneath me. “What do you want me to do?” he asks gruffly, thrusting his hips against my backside.
“F-fuck me,” I stammer. “I want you to fuck me—” the next words to leave my mouth are unexpected, but he responds as I expect any man would “—hard and fast.”
Keeping his hold on my hair, Owen straightens up slightly, his free hand grabbing my hip as he guides himself into me. Our simultaneous groan of contentment fills his bedroom, and then he does as I asked: he fucks me hard and fast, his hips moving furiously behind me until both our bodies are covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My climax doesn’t take long to build, having been slowly swelling inside me since before I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, so it doesn’t surprise me that after only a few short minutes, we’re simultaneously crying out with satisfaction as we hold each other close.
When his hips stop moving behind me, I let my knees finally give out and fall to the bed, breathing heavily and reveling in how fiercely my heart pounds against my chest. Owen relaxes on the bed next to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me softly, and I nuzzle into his side, inhaling deeply at the crook of his neck.
I bask in the way every square inch of my skin is still tingling in the wake of my orgasm. “That was incredible.”
“Yeah?” he inquires, seeming somewhat uneasy. “I wasn’t…too rough?”
Just thinking about how he’d turned me around and taken me makes my toes curl and my belly flip. “Oh god…not at all,” I assure him with a sigh, stretching my body beside him. “I’m all right with a little kink every once in a while. Scarves, handcuffs, blindfolds…you know, that sort of th
ing.”
He shifts next to me, and when I look up, I find his eyes on mine, a look of shock and awe obvious in them. “You just keep surprising me.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve never engaged in a little light bondage before?” Now I’m the one who’s surprised. I mean, I know Gretchen never really seemed the type to experiment in the bedroom—that stick up her ass didn’t really leave much room for anything else—but surely he’d been with women before who’d been into that sort of thing, right?
Owen chuckles, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink that travels to the tips of his ears. “I can’t say that I have, actually.”
I pull away from him and roll onto my stomach, propping myself up on my arms. “How is that possible?”
Owen shrugs, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I guess I just hadn’t been lucky enough to find someone as sexually liberated as you,” he confesses.
Before I can say anything else—not that I know how to even respond to hearing his confession—he smirks that devilish smirk of his and wraps his arm around me, pulling me close again. “Now, about these handcuffs…”
I laugh as his lips descend on the column of my throat, and soon we’re going for round two. Sadly, I don’t have my handcuffs with me, but one of Owen’s ties does the job in a pinch.
Owen’s given me free rein of his bedroom to get ready, taking his tux with him to the washroom. Earlier that morning, I had a “quick” shower—with Owen, of course—and then had a late brunch and watched a bit of TV before we had to start getting ready. Now, being a girl, I have quite a bit more primping to do than Owen, so he actually does some light house-cleaning and offers to go and pick up my shoes from my apartment while I start curling my hair and doing my makeup.
Of course, this means I had to tell him the color of my dress. I was sure to request a specific pair, though—my black four-inch, peep-toe sling-backs—not sure if I could trust his fashion sense enough to choose on his own.
The party is scheduled to start at seven that evening. I’m really looking forward to it, not only because it’s my first masquerade ball, but also because it’s the first public date that Owen and I will have. Sure, we won’t be coming right out in the open with our relationship, but that’s only a couple of days away.
It’s actually hard to believe that within the next couple of days, my father will know, and we’ll be able to tell everyone—well, everyone who doesn’t already know, that is.
While I style my hair, I take the low-cut back of my dress into consideration, sweeping my loosely curled hair over my left shoulder and securing it with several hairpins. When it comes to my makeup, I use dark plums and smoky blacks to enhance the color of my eyes. Normally, I keep my eye makeup pretty understated, but since I’ll be wearing a mask, I really want to accentuate them and make them pop.
And pop, they do.
By five o’clock, my hair and makeup are finished, and I remove my dress from its bag on the back of Owen’s door. Before I move away from the door, I hear shuffling from the other side and imagine Owen pacing about nervously. I can just picture him in his black tux, running his long fingers through his unruly coppery-blond hair, and I smile, turning away to start getting dressed.
I discard my shorts and tank top to the end of the bed and pull on the new underwear and bra I bought. Then I step into the dress and zip it up. Once my boobs are where they should be, I turn back to the full-length mirror that hangs on the inside of Owen’s closet door and smile so wide and genuinely, my eyes shine.
When I’d tried the dress on in the shop, I’d fallen in love with it, but I knew that having my hair and makeup done would complete the look…and I was right.
With my hair spilling over my shoulder, all loose curls and shine, and my smoky eyes and deep red lips, the dress looks even more incredible. It hugs my body better than anything I’d ever worn before, and I find myself even more excited to show Owen.
Before I exit the bedroom, I grab my mask from the box on the bed and hold it up to my face. I don’t tie it in place just yet, because I’m waiting until we get to the party, but I love the finished look, and the smoky black and purple eye makeup only enhances the mask.
More than happy with the finished result, I pull open Owen’s door to find him just a few feet away, pacing as I’d suspected. He looks even better than I’d imagined, all dressed up in a sleek black tux, and it’s obvious that he’s put a little more effort into taming his hair, but it still has a mind of its own. I prefer it this way, though.
He must catch a glimpse of me in his periphery, because he stops the minute I step into the hall, and his eyes sweep over me from head to toe before they meet mine. I fidget with my mask nervously as I await his reaction. He’s not giving much away, but he’s speechless…
That must be a good sign. Right?
20. Masquerade
I’m uncertain how I refrain from rushing down the hall and pulling Amelia into my arms, but I do. Never in a million years would I have imagined the dress she’d picked out to be as exquisite as it is. It fits her body perfectly, hugging every single curve down to her knees where it flares out. Its strapless neckline shows off her collarbones, and I find myself licking my lips as the desire to trail my tongue along them grows by the second.
My eyes continue to scan the length of her body, taking in how ample her cleavage looks and recalling with perfect clarity what her tits feel like in my hands. My cock begins to thicken in my pants, and I take a small step toward her, my hunger for her suddenly much more important to me than my appearance at this party.
“You like?” she asks softly, standing up on her tiptoes and doing a little twirl.
My knees fail me, and I stumble slightly when I see how low the back dips, exposing the lean length of her spine. I reach out, the backs of my fingers brushing the smooth skin of her shoulder blade before moving up her neck. A few curly wisps of her hair tickle my fingers, and I watch as goosebumps arise on her neck and shoulders.
She shudders, turning around with a bright smile on her face, and I cup her face in my hand. “You look absolutely stunning, Amelia.”
Her cheeks deepen in hue as she drops her eyes between us and grips my tie firmly in one hand. “Well, you clean up pretty well, yourself, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
My hands move up and down her bare arms as she lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes are bright and full of desire as I continue trailing my fingers over every inch of bare skin. Naturally, this evokes a similar feeling in me, and it seems to be growing exponentially. I suddenly find myself not wanting to go to the party in favor of staying home and having my way with her.
This seems to be the direction my brain takes a lot lately. Not that I’m complaining.
Amelia’s bright red lips turn up into a coy smile, her right eyebrow arching mischievously, and I lean in to kiss her, making peace with the fact that we’ll be a little late for the party. Her breath shudders as my lips brush hers, and just as I’m about to close the infinitesimal gap between us, my phone rings. It’s not just any ring tone, though, it’s the one that signals that someone is down at the front door.
Slightly frustrated that we’ve been interrupted, I release a breathy laugh and shake my head. “The car’s here,” I announce, my voice low and raspy.
Amelia pops up on her toes and kisses me chastely. “Well, that’s probably for the best. I’d hate to have to redo my hair and all,” she whispers, foreseeing how the next hour or two probably would have played out. “Besides, there’ll be plenty of time after the party to…play.”
Smiling, I take a step back and hold out my hand. “Shall we, then?”
Her eyebrows pull together and her lips purse to the right as she glances down at the floor. When my eyes follow, I notice that she’s lifting her skirt slightly to show off her bare feet. It’s then that I remember she asked me to go and pick up her shoes.
“Oh, right,” I respond, feeling like a bit of a tool for having forgotten to give them to her. I turn to the hall
closet, grab one of the boxes that are in there, and hand it to her after taking her intricately designed metal masquerade mask and setting it next to mine on the front door table.
She looks confused, glancing down at the big red bow I placed on the top of the pristine white box. This look only deepens when she takes the top off, bringing her gaze back to mine. “Owen, these aren’t the shoes I asked for,” she says, picking up one of the bright red shoes.
“I know,” I respond quickly. “And I know I probably shouldn’t have done this without asking, but I couldn’t find the ones you requested where you said they’d be. My search of your apartment also came up empty.”
A look of realization flashes in her eyes and she shakes her head. “That’s right! I loaned them to Liz a couple months ago.” She hands me the box, and I hold it while she balances on her left foot to put the right shoe on, then the other. She seems elated as she takes her first steps in them, and then looks at me again. “How did you know these would go with my dress?” she inquires. “You didn’t peek before you left, did you?”
Chuckling, I take her hands in mine and bring them to my lips, kissing them both lightly. “I assure you I did nothing of the sort. Confession time?” She nods, and I step back, reaching out and opening the closet door.
There, on the floor are three other white boxes, dressed with varying colors of bows in black, blue, and ivory.
Amelia’s laughter fills the apartment, and she slaps her hands to her mouth. “You bought me four pairs of shoes?”
I shrug. “Well, yeah. I had to have a backup plan…or several, I suppose.”
“So, why didn’t you give me the black ones?”
“I, um, sort of fancied the red when I saw them, and when I saw the color you chose for your lips, I knew they’d be perfect.”