by Zoe Norman
“Ye-yess,” I whimper, squeezing me eyes closed tight as I concentrate on how he’s making me feel.
He brings his hand down my stomach and his fingers start to draw circles on my clit.
“Owen...I need more…” I place my hand over his, guiding him and setting the pace for what I know I need to get off. I’ve gotten bolder with time, more comfortable with time, verbalizing what I want and what feels good.
As we both focus on getting me to come, he starts to pick up his pace. I can tell he’s getting closer and closer as I squeeze him from inside and he pulses within me. Suddenly, I’m on the cusp of what I know will be a strong orgasm. I start to groan and shake.
“Owen... Oh Owen... Oh baby…”
I start to sink into his arms, but he holds me up the best he can as he continues to thrust into me from behind, his knees bent to pump up as deep as he can. He covers my mouth with one hand and grabs my hip with the other, thrusting up quicker and harder until he falls forward with his own release. My arms brace my fall and he leans his head on my back, kissing me between my shoulder blades.
“Fuck, baby! That was so hot. I love you so much. You know that?” he says, panting.
I can barely catch my breath. My God, that was unexpected—and...amazing.
“Baby, that was….wow.” He slowly pulls out of me and falls onto his back next to me.
I lie on top of his chest, smiling down at him.
“What?” he asks, smiling back.
I run a finger over his chest and he shivers. “That was nice. Did a lot for my nerves,” I say seriously. It really did do a great job of completely calming any remaining reservations I had about today.
He runs his hands up and down my back and reaches up to lightly kiss me on the lips. “Well, you helped me out with a little nookie when we visited your parents, so I thought I should return the favor. You know, christen both our parents’ houses with our ridiculous, sex-crazed ways.”
We both start to laugh, but eventually, his face turns serious.
“You have nothing to be nervous about. My mother loves you. Emily and Vince love you. I love you.”
I kiss him on the chest and start to sit up, leaning back on my heels. “I sure hope so.” I look out the large cutout in the wall that creates a window. “We should be going, no? Lunch is going to be ready and we probably don’t want anyone to come around looking for us.”
As I’m saying that, we hear, “Owen! Olivia! Lunch is ready! Where are you two?” It’s Emily, and she’s heading toward the treehouse.
Shit!
I scramble to my feet to clasp my bralette back on, slip my dress on over my head, and shimmy back into my panties. I’m sure the panicked look on my face is priceless.
“We’re on our way, Em!” Owen yells from the floor of the treehouse. He is still calmly laying on his back, naked as the day he was born.
“Okay,” Emily calls back. “Olivia? Do you want white or red wine?”
“White please!” I call out.
Owen is grinning up at me, his eyes sparkling.
“What?” I ask smiling back.
“Nothing. You’re just...perfect.”
“Okay. I’ll see you both in a bit then,” Emily says, unknowingly breaking a moment, her voice fading as she goes back from where she came.
“Thank you, baby. That’s very nice of you to say.” I smile at him, our eyes locked.
After a beat, our eyes break from each other and I resume getting dressed.
I put on my sandals as he gets up from the floor, grabs his shirt, and shakes it out before slipping it back on. His boxers and jeans are next, and I am a little sad that he is hiding his beautiful body. As he buckles his belt, I reach out to help him button his shirt.
“That was fun. Naughty, but fun. And in your childhood treehouse. Horny boy.”
“You’ve helped make the perfect memory for this treehouse,” he says, bending down to give me a quick kiss.
Owen starts down the tree first and waits for me at the bottom, watching, I think, to make sure I don’t fall. I take my steps cautiously as it is, after all, a tree house built for much smaller people. When I get to the ground, I brush my dress off, trying to smooth the wrinkles out. He takes my hand and we start to walk back up the lawn toward the house for lunch.
“Know what?” he asks me.
“What?”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him, and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I love that you’re filled with my come right now. It makes me hard just thinking about it.”
“Owen! You’re horrible! Good—oh, for God’s sake...” I cry, slapping at his chest.
He feigns being wounded. “I am, but you still love me.”
“I do.”
When we walk into the house, everyone is settling into their seats around the table.
Owen takes a deep breath in as he closes the door behind us. “Everything smells amazing, Mom!” He pulls a chair out for me, and after tucking me in to the table, he takes his seat beside me.
“Thank you!” his mother says, smiling as she returns to the table with more food. “It’s just a roast and some—Owen?” Her smile fades as she tilts her head to the side. Her brows furrow. “You have something in your hair, son. Is that...a...a leaf?”
His eyes flash wide and he quickly runs a hand over the top of his head. I turn away as he pulls a large dried leaf that I somehow didn’t notice was there from the back of his head. I can’t look at him.
“Guess so,” he replies confidently, like it’s nothing at all.
My cheeks blush bright red as I work hard not to laugh. Emily lifts her eyebrow. Vince smirks at Owen and looks like he wants to give him a high five, and his mom just dismisses the leaf altogether. I take my napkin and quickly place it over my lap as if it will somehow protect me from people knowing we just had sex.
Well, this is a bit awkward.
Owen puts his hand on my knee as Mimi places a basket of warm, homemade rolls on the table. When I start to giggle, he looks down at me, a playful grin on his lips.
“You okay baby?”
I regain my composure, “Yes, I’m fine. Mimi, this looks delicious. Thank you so much for having me for lunch today,” I say to his mother, trying to get my mind off of Owen’s hand squeezing and rubbing my knee.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, love,” she replies with a grin. She sits at the head of the table as everyone passes the food around. “So, tell us something about yourself, Olivia. Owen has filled us in a bit, but I’m sure you’ll have something a little more detailed to tell?” She smiles sweetly at her son.
“Oh, well...there isn’t much to say, I guess. I’m a psychologist. I do research at NYU on the effects of trauma stress on men in service. So policemen, firemen…” I nod toward Owen. “That kind of thing. I actually was presenting my research at a conference when I met Owen.”
His mother raises an eyebrow and Emily is suddenly looking pointedly at Owen.
“Owen, you never mentioned that was what she was working on,” Emily states flatly.
“I… It just never came up.” Owen looks uncomfortable.
Why does this make him uncomfortable?
“Anyway, I’m in the middle of wading through grant applications, trying to figure out what I’ll focus on next. It’s a tedious process, but it’s kind of fun to pick what I’m going to delve into next.” I take a helping of fresh green beans and pass the bowl over to Owen.
His sister is still staring at him with a look that leads me to believe she has something she wants to say. His hand goes slack on my knee.
Owen’s mom seems to pick up on the vibe and changes tack. “Well, Olivia, it’s lovely that you’re looking into such a needed area. I’m sure whatever you pick next will be equally as important.”
The rest of the meal goes the same. Questions about my family, where I live, where I grew up, what sports I like (which is the briefest of topics). Before we know it, nearly two hours have passed and we�
�ve long since finished our lunch. Mimi stands to bring the table coffee, and I offer to help her clear the table.
“I can help her. Sit here,” Owen says.
I put my hand on his as I stand from the table, carrying our plates to the kitchen. “No, you stay and catch up with your sister. I’m going to help her with the dishes. I don’t mind. Really.”
Owen looks uncomfortable with this, but I give him a peck on the top of his head and follow Mimi into the kitchen, ready to tackle the dishes.
Owen stays at the table with his sister, and right away, they start a quiet conversation clearly meant to be heard by them and them alone. Emily had a few moments where she looked at him pointedly during lunch, so I can’t help but feel like there’s something I don’t know there.
“So, Olivia, do you like living in the city?” Mimi asks as she starts to empty plates into the garbage.
“Oh, I love Manhattan. It’s going to be a change living in Brooklyn—the commute for one—but I really love Owen’s neighborhood too.” I smile, thinking of good memories of us walking the streets of his neighborhood and genuinely looking forward to that becoming my home.
Mimi looks over at me with a big grin on her face. “Oh, you’re moving to Brooklyn! Well how nice! You’ll be able to spend more time together then, won’t you?”
I freeze. She doesn't know that I’m moving in with him. Why doesn’t she know that? I look over at Owen, who is still embroiled in what seems to be a slightly more heated conversation with his sister. I glance back at her and then quickly avert my gaze to my hands, feeling self-conscious.
“Actually, I’m moving in with Owen when we get back from the wedding.” My response is quiet and I haven’t met her gaze again.
“What?” she shrieks. Owen turns around abruptly in his chair and Emily lifts her head, looking concerned at her mother. “You’re moving in with him?”
Owen puts his head down, shaking it side to side.
“She’s moving in with you, Owen? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Emily questions. She’s glaring at him.
I could not possibly feel more awkward. What the fuck? He didn’t tell them? We decided this a while ago now. Owen lifts his head and looks apologetically at me. I turn away.
“Just, both of you, calm the fuck down,” he says loudly.
“Owen! Language!” his mother chastises.
He huffs. “I’m sorry, Mom, but you’re kind of freaking out, which in turn, appears to be freaking Olivia out.”
My head jerks up. At least he looks remorseful that he is throwing me under the bus. “I’m not freaking out, Owen. Surprised no one knows I’m moving in with you, but no, not freaking out.” I’m seething.
Owen rolls his eyes. “Mom, Emily, I haven’t told you yet because I had planned on announcing it today. Like a surprise. I thought you would like that, being that, as you have both made very clear, this is somewhat out of the norm for me.” He looks me directly in the eyes. “So, Olivia, empty your pretty little head of all the thoughts I know are running through it. I was not avoiding telling them, I was trying to make it special.”
Owen stands and comes over to me, pulling me to him and planting a kiss on my temple. He pulls back and looks down at me. “I love you. I was excited to tell them in person. You...distracted me in the treehouse.” He looks at me like the cat that ate the canary.
I grin and shake my head at him. “You’re a pain in my ass. You know that?” I whisper so his mother doesn’t hear me.
“I know. And what a fine ass it is,” he retorts, laughing.
Mimi interrupts our moment. “Well, I’ll be! That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages! Oh, I’m just so happy for you both!” She comes over to us and wraps her arms around Owen and I, squeezing the life out of us.
Emily and Vince get in on the action and hug us too, congratulating us on the good news. Owen and Emily exchange knowing glances, which I catch but try not to think too hard about.
Owen and I finish cleaning up the kitchen while the coffee maker finishes brewing its last drop. Meanwhile, Mimi pulls out an old china plate decorated with painted yellow roses and green ivy and fills it with homemade almond croissants and freshly baked cookies.
She explains that the plate once belonged to her grandmother and has been in the family for decades. “I only bring it out on special occasions, and this, Olivia, is most definitely a special occasion.” She smiles at me and then Owen.
My cheeks flush at the sentiment as I gather coffee mugs from the cupboard and bring them to the table followed by Owen with the carafe of hot coffee and Mimi with the treats. Although I’m stuffed from such an extravagant lunch, I cannot help but sample the goodies. It would be rude of me not to, right?
We all sit around the kitchen table and talk about the when and hows of my impending move-in with Owen. We talk more about my career, which Owen’s family has taken a high interest in, and Mimi asks more about my family. Their genuine interest in me doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all—in fact, it’s quite the opposite. I feel at home and a part of the Maxwell family, and I hope that, one day, I will be.
After a rousing game of Phase 10—where Owen loses badly, he announces that we should be leaving. Mimi encourages us to stay for dinner, but he declines, explaining that we still have a drive ahead of us. He gives his mother a big bear hug and she squeals.
“Thanks for having us, Mom. Anything you need me to get done for you before we go?”
She pushes back from him but pats his cheek. “No, dear. I’m all set. Em and Vince are staying over tonight and Vince is going to help with a few things in the morning. You’re off the hook this weekend.”
Owen tips an imaginary hat at Vince, who does the same. “Well, then my work here is done,” he says, straightening and acting like a strong man, flexing his muscles.
We all give a laugh.
Then we say goodbyes to his mother, sister, and brother-in-law with promises of getting together again before the summer is over and confirm that Mimi’s coming to stay with us the night before we leave for Seattle for Travis and Lucy’s wedding.
When we get to the car, Owen opens the door to the SUV for me and I hop in. He jogs around the front of the car and climbs in on his side. Mimi, Emily, and Vince are standing on the front porch, watching us leave and waving as we pull out of the drive to make our way back to Brooklyn.
“They adore you,” he says simply as he reaches over the console and takes ahold of my hand. He pulls it to his lips and kisses my knuckles but doesn’t let go of my hand as we drive out of his old childhood neighborhood. “What did you think of my family? My mom didn’t bore you too much with all of her garden talk, did she?”
I mesh my fingers with his, watching our fingers intertwine. “No, no. Not at all. She is so sweet. I actually found what she was saying interesting. And she’s going to bring me some veggies when she comes over before we all head to Seattle.” I look over at him, wanting to ask what was up with Emily but almost afraid to. Oh well, that hasn’t stopped me before. “So, what were you and Emily talking about after lunch? It looked pretty intense.”
He drops my hand and places his on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. I know this breath. It’s the ‘humor Olivia but don’t say anything at the same time’ breath.
“We were just talking about the house and stuff that needs to get done. Nothing big.”
I don’t believe him. Not at all. But what I know is that he obviously doesn’t want to tell me what they were discussing and we’ve had such a nice day that I don’t want to push it.
“Oh, okay.”
We sit in the car in silence for the next many miles. Before I know it, I’m drifting off as I watch the Connecticut countryside fly by my window.
OLIVIA PUTS HER HAND on mine and stands from the table to carry our plates to the kitchen. I move to help, but she stops me. “No, you stay and catch up with your sister. I’m going to help your mom with the dishes. I don’t mind. Really.”
I nod, smile
weakly, and take a seat. While Olivia leaves to help my mom with the dishes, I’m left at the table with Vince and a somewhat put-off Emily.
“Sooo, she hasn’t put two and two together about your nightmares, huh, Owen? No offense, but what kind of psychologist is she that she hasn’t noticed?” Emily says flippantly.
“Watch your mouth.” I growl. “You don’t know anything about her, and for you to insinuate that she’s not brilliant at her job pisses me off.” I ball my hands into fists in frustration, my jaw set tight. “Listen,” I sigh heavily, “she’s witnessed her fair share of my episodes. Olivia has asked me about them repeatedly. My first response was to slam the bathroom door in her face and close her off. Granted, it wasn’t the classiest of moves, but when the dust settled, she just offered to listen when I was ready. When I was ready, Emily,” I stress. “It’s just not something we talk about.”
Emily grabs my forearm that is resting on the table. “Think this one through, Owen. She’s a psychologist…specializing in PTSD…in servicemen. You’ve been given a gift, O. Olivia can help you if you just give—”
“No, Em,” I bite out. “I don’t want to burden Olivia with my shit. I need to be strong…be a man. I just need to get over this fucking thing. My nightmares make me weak and I don’t want her to see me like that.”
“If there’s any one person you should be talking to about this, it’s Olivia,” Vince chimes in. “I’m going to get all sappy on you here for a minute, but for a multitude of reasons, she should be the person you confide in about this stuff. You keep pushing her away and not letting her in, she’s going to walk. She’s too smart to put up with your shit.”
Leave it to Vince to tell it like it is.
“You need to let her in, Owen. You need to talk to her about this,” Emily reiterates.
I tilt my head toward the ceiling and close my eyes in frustration. Then I look back at Emily. “It’s my problem to deal with. I’m handling it.”
“Of course you are!” Emily sits back abruptly in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because that’s been going so well for you over the past three years, hasn’t it?”
