Owen stands in front of me, running his hands up from my calves to the hem of my skirt. “I can’t be certain, but let’s just say him pushing us together like this,” his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, “is a coincidence I’m more than happy to deal with.” His fingers flirt with the edge of my stockings and his voice comes out in a low growl. “Fuck, I knew it.”
Without any warning, his mouth crushes mine. Hiking my skirt up just a touch further allows him to step in between my legs. He pulls me forward so that my ass nearly slides off the desk. Hooking my legs around his hips, I pull him closer to me. His rock-hard length pushes against his jeans and it’s impossible not to grind up against him.
Moving his mouth from mine, he rains kisses down my neck. His moans vibrate against my neck, making my nipples pull into tight peaks. “Tell me to stop, Elle.” His fingers dive into my hair as he angles my head to attack the other side of my neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“No,” I mutter breathlessly. “I want this. Now.” Pushing myself against his hard body, I emphasize just how much I want him.
In one fell swoop, he’s got me locked in his arms. With my legs wrapped around his hips, he grips my ass and carries me over to the door. Balancing my weight against the door, he moves his hand from my ass to lock it. Completely lacking any grace whatsoever, my head bangs against the door, causing Rosie to ask, “Everything okay in there?”
As my feet slide to the floor, Owen presses a finger against my lips. “We’re just fine, Rosie. Thanks for checking, but you can head home now.” The calm control of Owen’s voice completely belies the raging hard-on outlined in his jeans. He’s anything but in control. We hear her snicker through the door as her footsteps slowly retreat.
Ridding him of his jacket, I toss it on the floor. His arms bulge under the strain of his tight T-shirt. His chest looks like it was carved from a slab of stone. Everything about Owen looks chiseled and defined. Running my hands up his shirt, across his six-pack abs, and across the light dusting of hair on his chest causes a hiss of pleasure to pass his lips.
In a movement so smooth, he pulls off his shirt in that sexy-as-hell one-hand-from-behind way that all guys do. This time, it’s my turn to attack his mouth. Reaching up on my toes, I kiss him with all the pent up frustration of the last few weeks, with all the built up lust I’ve tried to deny.
Fumbling fingers tug at his pants and he steadies them with his hand. Within seconds, I’ve got his jeans and boxer briefs pushed down to his hips. His cock is hard and hot in my hand. Tracing over each vein and ridge with my fingertip makes him groan even more. “Shit, Elle. Your hand feels so fucking good.”
“Well then,” I say, looking at him slyly, “you’re going to love this.” I smile up at him seductively as I lower myself to my knees.
Letting each inch of his cock slide past my lips feels like tasting more and more of heaven. He pulls my hair to the side, looking down at me with hooded and lust-filled eyes. “Fuck. That. Looks. Amazing.” His words are perfectly timed with his thrusts.
Holding the base of his cock in my hand, I let it slide out of my mouth almost, but not all the way. Around his engorged head, I mumble, “What’s amazing, Owen?”
“My dick. Your mouth,” his words fall out between shallow breaths. He only lets my lips pass over his cock a few more times before he lifts me from my knees and walks us over to the couch.
With painstaking slowness, he lets my body slide down his. Just as my feet hit the ground, his mouth fuses over mine in a searing kiss. He breaks our mouths apart as he moves his fingers to the buttons on my top. Without breaking eye contact, he unbuttons each one slowly. Every snap and pull on the fabric sends a jolt of electricity racing over my entire body, all settling in my aching, wet core. When the top of my breasts are exposed, he plants seductive kisses right along the lace of my bra. “Oh, God, Owen,” I mutter against his hair, my fingers knotting at his nape, holding him close to my skin. The lingering scent of his shampoo and after-shave heighten my desire, throwing my need into overdrive.
“Tell me what you want, Elle. You can have it. Just ask.” A wolfish and smug-ass grin plays on his beautiful face. The bastard wants me to beg.
Two can play at that game. Rather than answering him, I shove my lace-covered breasts up into his face. Simply nodding his head, he snickers, laughing at my non-verbal demands. “This,” he asks impishly, “is this what you want?” Through the cream lace of my bra, he pulls my hardened nipple deep into his mouth, forcing my hips to lurch forward and press against him.
A sexy seductive grin lazily spreads across his face, His fingers move from my waist, slide down past my hips, and push my skirt up, exposing my lace panties. Keeping his eyes glued to mine, he slowly drifts the pad of his thumb over the fabric-covered seam of my sex. Cocking his head to the side, he yet again responds to my non-verbal demand. “Oh, this” his voice arches coyly, “this is what you want. I see.” Adding a touch more pressure, Owen’s fingers make me forget this silly game I’m trying to play.
“Yes,” I hiss. “Yes, Owen. That’s what I want. You. Your hands. Your mouth.” I reach down and ghost my fingers over his hard cock, spreading the moisture at the tip around. Just as he did moments earlier, I lock my eyes on his as I demand, “Your cock.”
A low, possessive growl falls out of his mouth. “They’re yours,” is all he can manage before his lips crash into mine. The velvety, sweet slide of his tongue against mine makes it impossible not to imagine it sliding against other places. One arm loops around my waist and the other slides down under my butt as Owen effortlessly lifts and tosses me back on the couch.
Laying there with all of my clothes on, while Owen openly stares at me, makes my heart accelerate like nothing else ever has. He stands there, in all his naked glory and my eyes just don’t know where to focus. His face is gorgeously rugged. His chest is chiseled and defined, while his abs are rock fucking hard. His cock is thick and solid, and oh, so ready for action. “Like what you see,” his smug voice cuts through the silence of my dazed stare.
A prickly heat creeps across my face, settling on my cheeks. He sees it and smiles appreciatively at me. “It’s okay, Elle. I like what I see, too.” His voice goes from amused to gravelly in the span of that sentence as his eyes travel over my body. He groans, “Very much,” before stripping me of the rest of my clothes. “These are staying, though,” he whispers against my legs as he runs his tongue along the lacy tops of my stockings.
With his beautiful mouth only inches from my cleft, I can’t do anything other than simply nod at him. Using just the tip of his tongue, he traces slow, torturous circles around my inner thighs, his fingers lightly grazing my slick folds. Arching my hips into his face, he smiles at me and hooks my leg over his shoulder. His finger dips inside of me just as his tongue sweeps slowly over my clit. “Oh, God.” My voice sounds foreign even to me, a low, long groan of need mingled with satisfaction at finally feeling him in this way.
After a few licks, he moves my leg from his shoulder. “I need you open. I want to see everything,” he explains as he puts one of my legs along the low back of the couch. With my other foot propped on the edge of the coffee table, I’m wide open, exposed, and completely vulnerable. Owen kneels between my legs, stroking himself as he just stares at me.
“Owen, please,” I beg.
This time, instead of making me ask for what I want, he dives right in. His tongue probes deeply inside of me as his thumb alternates between slow and fast circles over the hardened nub of my clit. When his fingers and tongue reverse roles, I lose it. The wet slide of his hot tongue sweeping over my clit, his fingers fucking me, curling into my g-spot, all of it sends me over the edge. Shattering into a million pieces under him, I don’t even feel him lean over to pick up his jeans.
By the time I have enough sense to look up at him, it’s just in time to see him roll a condom over his about-to-explode cock. His movements are slow and steady, completely the opposite of what I would h
ave expected given the heated look on his face. Sliding his arm under my shoulders, he glides his body along mine, his cock nudging at my still-fluttering entrance.
One inch at a time, he slides into me, but never all the way. Even when I grind my hips up against him, he pulls away, leaving only the tip inside of me. Teasing, torturing, his pace remains slow and measured.
As he fills me more, his arm glides down my back until it rests right at the upper swell of my ass. Growing impatient with his slowness, I moan against his lips. “Please…” I whimper.
Angling my hips just right with his arm, he looks down at me, a beautiful promise of pure pleasure dances in his eyes. When he slams into me, filling me completely, it’s the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. “Owen…” his name tumbles from my lips as my entire body vibrates beneath him.
Completely at his mercy, he pounds into me, releasing the last few weeks of pent up angst and frustration. Like a rag doll, he pulls my limp legs up against his chest, my heels resting on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck…Elle…oh, God…” his words match his rhythm. Changing the angle sends shivers across my entire body. My nipples pucker. A heated fullness settles low in my belly. Sparks of fire shoot through my sex. In mere seconds, I’m ready to explode again.
After a few thrusts, what was once a measured and in-control pace grows frantic and frenzied. My orgasm tears through me, clamping down on his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to offer me. “Shit…I’m coming, Elle…oh, fuck…Elle…” My name is one long, drawn out groan as his hips thrust more erratically.
In a mangled heap of sweaty limbs, we lay next to one another on the small couch. Our breathing steadies and our eyes meet. “Wow,” I mutter breathlessly.
“Fucking yeah! ‘Wow’ is an understatement,” Owen chuckles, planting a sweet kiss to my cheek.
Before we even have a minute to discuss anything, a knock at the door makes us jump to get dressed.
“One minute,” Owen calls out, handing me my skirt.
He quickly removes the condom, wraps it in some tissues and tosses it in the garbage pail beside my desk. Watching him pull his jeans over his firm ass makes my mouth water all over again. Owen catches me staring and pulls me close to him. Cupping my jaw, he angles my face up to his. “Later. We can do that,” he tips his head to the couch, “again and again all you want. But for now, we have to get this presentation together so you can nail the shit out of this deal. Okay?” He softly presses his lips against mine as he adds, “Then I’ll nail the shit out of you all you want.”
“You know I can hear you two?” A male voice jokes from the other side of the door.
“Who is that?” I ask, straightening my shirt.
“You’ll see,” is the only answer I get before Owen opens the door. “Hey man,” Owen shakes our visitor’s hand, ushering him into the room. It’s obvious they know each other and suddenly I feel like an invader in my own office. An office in which I just had crazy monkey sex.
“Elle,” Owen puts his hand on my lower back, pulling me to his side. “This is my friend Nick. Nick, this is Elle.” On the mention of my name, Owen shoots Nick a stern look.
“You mean–?” Nick begins to ask, before Owen cuts him off.
Nodding, Owen answers, “Yes, this is Elle. The business associate I’ve told you about.” His tone is suddenly too formal, putting me on alert.
“Business associate?” I eye him suspiciously.
Barely able to contain his laughter, Nick extends his hand to me. “Believe me business associate is better than what he usually calls you.” That remark earns Nick an elbow to the ribs while it earns Owen a nasty side-eye from me.
“All right, now that we have introductions out of the way....” Owen shoots daggers at his friend and I can’t help but laugh at their boyish banter. Truth be told, if Owen heard half of the things I called him to my friends, he’d be shooting daggers my way, too.
“Oh, yeah,” Nick suddenly remembers why he’s here. Walking over to the coffee table, Nick unrolls a blueprint and smiles up at both Owen and me expectantly.
“Now, we can’t use this plan exactly, but I thought with a few tweaks and changes, we might be able to pull something off in time for your meeting.” Nick points out a few details on his plan he thinks we can keep, noting the most attention-grabbing aspects as he talks me through the whole thing. With a stupid grin on my face, I listen intently, letting the vision Vincent had for the place come to life.
“Oh, crap,” Nick stops in the middle of explaining how the atrium would come together. “I left a few things in my truck. I’ll be right back,” he explains as he walks out of the office.
The whole time Nick was going over his plans, Owen was at the desk scouring through business reports and bank statements. That’s where he still is, completely oblivious to the fact that Nick is no longer in the room.
“Hey,” I say against his cheek, pressing a kiss there. He peels his eyes away from the computer as if he’s just realized I’m in the room. “Thanks for this, for calling in help.”
Owen pulls me on his lap, brushing back my hair and tucking it behind me ear. “Anytime, besides, this is a great plan for the vineyard. We’ve got a great company here already. A wedding venue is the perfect addition.”
There’s a youthful enthusiasm in his voice, suggesting that my original impressions of Owen, a poor, uneducated, bastard farmer-boy, were so far misplaced, they’re almost comical now.
“So do you just happen to keep random architects on retainer in case of emergencies like this one?” I joke.
“Nick’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He just happens to own a construction company. So no, I don’t keep him on retainer,” Owen explains, giving me a playful look as he does so. “Well, his father owns the company, but Nick’s always been better at the design end. I knew he’d be a help.”
“His plan is perfect,” I smile, letting some of the stress fall away. “But what about the numbers?”
“We’re more than fine, Elle,” Owen answers as Nick reenters. “Now go finish up the plans. Make it the place you’ve always dreamed it could be and I’ll crunch some more figures. With any luck, we’ll have a fail-safe, kick-ass presentation by the time morning rolls around.” He kisses the tip of my nose, shooing me off his lap.
All three of us work through the night, dozing off sometime around two. When the sun rises, I find myself nuzzled against Owen on the same couch we defiled. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I find Nick passed out on the table where his plans lay.
Warmth unfurls in my belly thinking about how beautiful it was being with Owen last night.
Taking a deep breath and scanning the mess that has become my office, I smile knowing Owen was right. We came up with one hell of a business proposition.
Knowing that we’ll have to present in five hours, I rouse Owen from sleep, running my fingers through his hair. “Morning, sunshine,” I greet him with a sweet kiss.
“Hey,” he yawns and then panics. “What time is it?” He shoots up from the couch, knocking into the coffee table as he does. The loud bang wakes Nick up, too.
“Relax,” I try to calm him. “It’s only six. We still have plenty of time to get ready.”
Nick rolls up his plans and hands them to me. “Here you go.” He smiles triumphantly before saying, “Good luck this morning.”
“Oh, shit!” Owen calls out as he sinks back into the couch. “A suit. I need a suit.”
“Hey, we’ve got time,” I explain, having no idea where this inner sense of calmness is coming from. “Go home. Shower. Put on your best suit and a killer game face. I’m going to do the same and we’ll meet back here at ten. The meeting isn’t until eleven. We got this,” I reassure him.
He smiles and nods at me before we all walk out to the parking lot. As we all pull away in our own cars, I have a feeling that changes, big changes, are on the horizon – and I don’t mean just where the vineyard is concerned.
Chapter 9
&n
bsp; Owen
“These plans,” Beverly Elliot, our new potential investor, scours through my reports, “they’re very thorough.” She looks over at me appraisingly.
“But these,” she says in a much more appreciative voice. Pulling the blue prints Nick and Elle worked on all night in front of her, it’s impossible not to notice how her face lights up. “These, Ms. Blackwell, are stunning. The seamless integration of the vineyard in every little detail is just breathtaking. I’m really impressed.” Elle’s face beams with pride, a foreign and not completely unwelcome feeling blooms in my chest.
Watching Elle in action over the last hour has been eye opening. The thought that she could fail at anything is one she needs to throw out the window. She’s been nothing but articulate, in control, intelligent, and above all, passionate. I can feel it in my veins. Even if Beverly chooses not to invest with us, we will get someone on-board.
But as I listen to Elle walk Beverly through what a wedding package would include, I know she’s with us, hook, line, and sinker. Clutching a hand to her chest, Beverly sighs, “This place will be so romantic. It reminds me of my wedding, all those years ago. It was on a vineyard just like this one. Tuscany is beautiful. Have you ever been there?” She eyes me and Elle, a dreamy look in her eyes.
“No, I’ve never been. But to hear you talk about it with such fondness, I know I’ll have to get there soon,” Elle answers with poise and charm. A pregnant bubble of silence falls over us in the small meeting room. We’ve gone over every aspect, explained our detailed five-year plan, and shown her everything she’s asked for. The only thing left is whether Ms. Elliot and her investors will join us in becoming one of the largest wedding reception vineyards on Long Island.
“So, Ms. Elliot,” Elle cuts through the silence, “is there anything else we can show you? Or any other questions you might have?”
With one last loving touch of the blueprints she fell in love with, Beverly stands from her seat and extends her hand to Elle. On a firm shake, she says, “I love it. Where do I sign?”
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