"Always so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" I close my eyes. My legs start to tremble. "Hands up on the other end of the desk!"
He growls so forcefully, a slight whimper propels its way through my lips. It's so demanding, my arms fly up, gripping onto the other end for dear life. His finger starts to move quicker, causing me to jerk and moan—the sensation all too much.
And just as I'm about to come violently, he pulls his finger away and shoves his cock inside me with one rapid grunt.
"Fuck, Savannah! You feel so fucking tight."
As he starts to propel himself, my fingernails dig into the side of the desk, my breaths ragged and heart beating in rhythm of his thrusts.
"This is where you belong, with my cock inside your nice, wet, tight cunt. Don't ever fucking deny me like this again, Savannah. You belong to no one else but me. Got it?"
My only response is a moan, because the sensations are more powerful than words can say. Sex with Owen has always been electric, but this seems more real…more raw. I can't explain it. I don't want to. All I want to do is feel. Feel every thrust, every grip of my hips as he forces his way into my soul.
And he has it. I willingly gave it to him the moment he rescued me from that prick, Lee Sowser. The same prick whose secretary he’d been screwing decided to change the two hundred cars to twenty the moment she found out he had no intention of leaving his wife. How foolish he must have felt when he found out. Not that it changed anything. Owen made it abundantly clear never to cross paths with him again, or else he’d be sorry. So far, Lee Sowser has been well off the radar.
An almighty crack, followed by a biting sting on my ass, causes me to jolt up slightly from the desk. "I can't fucking hear you!"
"Yes!" I scream, wanting my release so badly, it hurts. As if reading my mind, Owen commences his circles around my clit again. It's not long before the sensation I lost comes back full force. I close my eyes, allowing myself to ride this glorious fucking wave he's put me on. With each thrust, it climbs higher and higher, until my legs start to tremble and my body becomes rigid.
"Yes, that's it. I know you're coming. Let me feel you coming around my cock. Give it to me!"
The sensations, coupled with his dirty talk, send me over the edge. I grip the end of the table, and cry out my release with such fury, it momentarily blinds me. Colors and dots dance in my eyes, my head dizzies, and my knees tremble.
"Fuck, Savannah! You're going to make me come. I can't get enough of you. I need more…always fucking more!"
He growls out, grunting and hissing his pleasure. It's so feral, so ferocious, it causes another unexpected orgasm.
"Jesus, fuck, Savannah!"
His movements propel faster, and his fingers dig into my skin. "Fuuuccckkk!"
As he comes, he forces himself so violently inside me, I almost shoot across the desk. I somehow manage to hang on, taking everything he has to offer. Instantly, a warmth spreads through me—something I’ve never felt before.
I keep my eyes closed, trying to calm from the most explosive sex. Our ragged breaths murmuring as we try to take stock of what's happened. I have no doubts this was just as climatic for Owen.
After a beat, I let one final breath out, calming a little. Owen slides out of me, and it's only through restoring my clarity something dawns on me.
My eyes fling open, my calming heart now racing again.
Pushing myself up from the desk, I turn to find Owen placing his semi-erect cock back inside his pants.
"Where's the condom?"
Tucking in his shirt, Owen smirks. "What condom?"
The widening of my eyes grows exponentially. "Owen, don't fucking play games with me. This is serious. Where's the fucking condom?" I pull my pants up, awaiting his answer.
Owen, keeping his smirk, leans forward and places a small kiss on my lips. "I'm not playing games, Savannah. I'm taking this very seriously. I did warn you, remember? Consequences."
Flinging my arm in the air, I get angry. "Consequences for what?"
"Consequences for hanging out with Ethan when I explicitly told you not to. I understand why you're doing it. You're angry with me and want to get me back for the things I've said. I read your message loud and clear, but I think you’ve tried punishing me enough. It ends. Now. I won't allow you to be alone with him. Over my dead body."
My ears can't quite believe what they're hearing. "Are you seriously telling me you didn't use a condom in order to teach me a lesson?"
He runs his fingers through his hair a few times, fixing his tie. "Call it what you want, but this shit ends. You talk about playing games, I'm getting pretty tired of yours."
"You fucking prick." My words go over his head as he walks toward his door. "You know I'm not on the pill, so why are you risking getting me pregnant?"
He stands before his door, then turns to face me. "Who said I'm risking it?"
Unable to fathom what he's saying, I blurt, "Are you suggesting you're trying to get me pregnant?"
He shrugs, and my heart skips a beat. "I need someone to take over this empire. It certainly isn’t going to be Ethan."
I shake my head, hoping what I heard is a figment of my imagination. No matter how hard I try to twist it that way, I can’t. I heard him loud and clear.
"You are un-fucking-believable."
"Thank you," he replies, practically taking a bow. "I've got to go. Your mother will be back shortly. I would suggest you go clean yourself up." He opens up his door, but before he shuts it, he says, "Oh, and you know where the tissues are."
"Motherfucker!”
For a moment, I stand, my mouth parted in shock. I've always known Owen to be possessive and domineering, but this is taking it to levels of insanity. He's actually willing to get me pregnant just to…what? Prove a point? Stop me from hanging out with his son?
As I'm thinking this over, a coating of liquid starts to leak out of me. I walk to his drawer, finding the tissues. I also see the condoms he normally has for us stacked in the corner—condoms he chose to ignore because of his stupid, juvenile jealousy.
Shaking my head, I pull out a few tissues and place them inside my panties for now. I need to shower, but until I can get upstairs, this will have to do. When I commence my journey toward the door, I remember I have to take Owen's planner in order to make copies. I open a couple drawers until I find what I'm looking for and place it under my arm. I make sure my hair is in place and clothes are in order before I walk out the door. When I close it, I turn my body, only to find my mother standing there, a big cat-like smirk on her face. Immediately, I place the planner behind my back.
"Don't think I don't know what you're getting up to, Savannah."
Nervously, I swallow. She must have noticed the planner and suspects I'm up to something. Does she know I've been meeting with Patricia on a regular basis since she came out of hospital almost four months ago? Does she know Patricia's been sending a PI to spy on her?
All this and more scrambled through my brain. Instead of acting guilty, I stand firm by the door and hold my head up high.
"I don't know what you mean."
She closes the distance between us, then picks up a lock of my hair, inspecting it before her evil blue eyes land on mine. "You're only here because Owen insists on us being a family, but let you not be mistaken, I could have you out of this house with a snap of my fingers." She clicks her thumb and forefinger together. "You think you can worm your way into my husband’s heart, but I'm the alpha in this house. If it came to a choice, Owen would choose me over you again and again." She leans forward a little to whisper. "Remember that next time you try to seduce him." She starts to walk away, but not before the word “bitch” graciously leaves her lips.
Her name calling would have hurt a few months ago, but I'm so used to it from her, I've hardened myself. It helps knowing I have Patricia as a mother figure. She's been more of a mother to me in four months than my mom has all my life. I swear she blames me for existing. She got pregnant young�
��unexpected, of course. And when the boyfriend found out, he left town and never came back. I've never met my father, nor do I want to. His name's Mark, and that alone is more than I need to know.
Heart beating rapidly, I take to the stairs. I'm itching to get to the library so I can make copies, but there are too many eyes around here for now.
Sliding the planner as far as I can under my bed, I'm about to get changed when a soft knock on the door halts me in my tracks. I wonder for a moment if it's my mother again and this time she caught me running up the stairs with the planner.
Geez, I really am paranoid.
However, when I open the door, I'm pleasantly surprised to find Ethan. Apart from looking a little harassed, he seems to be in good spirits. His hair is all tousled like he's been fighting with his comb, but it only seems to add to his charm. Upon opening the door, his face went from harried to joyous in a split-second. I must admit, it makes my heart skip a tiny beat.
Shit, what is wrong with me? I just had sex with Owen and here I am thinking how gorgeous his son looks.
How bad does that make me?
It doesn't help matters when he leisurely peruses me, slowly moving down before meeting my face.
"Are you telling me I was paraded around shops, made to carry bags, and had my ass pinched more times than I can recall, when I could have had this view all day?"
My cheeks flush at his compliment. "I take it you had fun," I tease, opening the door so he can come in.
He takes the hint, then shuts the door behind him. "Your mother reminds me of a hungry Sparrow Hawk flying above a pigeon."
I throw my head back, laughing, and take a seat at the edge of my bed. "I'm thinking you're the pigeon in this scenario?"
He frowns, taking a seat beside me. "It's strange…their relationship. My dad doesn't seem to care that she flirts with pretty much every man with a pulse."
I laugh again. I guess living here for three weeks has taught him a thing or two.
"She's always been that way. I'm used to it."
His eyes sweep across my face like he's taking in every single feature. "It shouldn't be that way."
His gaze journeys down toward my lips before licking his own. My heart rate picks up a little, and for a moment, I'm suspended in whatever spell he has me under.
All too soon, I remember I have a pressing need to shower.
Shooting up from my seat, I cause Ethan to frown. "Errr, I need to get a shower. Do you still want to go for that horse ride?"
His frown disappearing, he nods his head in earnest. "Do I ever. It would be nice to get some alone time with you. For some reason, it feels like we're being watched everywhere we go."
That's probably because we are.
"Yeah, it'll be nice to have some quiet before the storm of tonight. Meet you at the stables at five?"
Getting up, he nods. "Sounds perfect."
I wait as he leaves my room before heading for the shower. I don't have a clue what Owen is up to, but if he thinks I will roll over for him just because he's somehow "marked" me, he has another thing coming. Me going out with Ethan isn't solely a choice, but a stance. I won't be pushed around.
First thing tomorrow, I will get an emergency appointment with the doctor.
My Hero
Paramore
Three months earlier
"Did you book a table for one at the Dorchester?"
I glance up, smiling sweetly at my boss. "I did. I also reconfirmed with Mr. Flores. Everything is set."
Owen practically sashays toward my desk, an impish grin making his face appear ten years younger. I've seen that grin before. It means he wants to get dirty with me.
When he's sitting by me on the edge of my desk, he takes his finger and lifts up my chin, holding it ever so gently in place. "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me?"
My heart does a merry dance inside my chest. I love Owen when he's domineering, but I equally love this sweet side of him too.
"If you want me there, I will be."
Owen leans forward, inches away from my lips. "Good." He's about to move in when my phone starts ringing. "Ugh," Owen utters in irritation.
I smirk at him, answering the phone.
"Hi, Savannah. It's Brandon. Please let Mr. Montgomery know his car is ready."
"Sure thing!" I chime back, placing the phone down.
"Your car is ready, Mr. Montgomery.” My words drip with desire.
He gets off my desk and heads toward his own office. "Carry on talking like that and we will never get to lunch."
I smile dizzily as he disappears, then re-appears a few seconds later. "Are you ready?"
I nod. "I'm famished, so yes."
He motions with his hand. "After you."
Ever so flirtatiously, I get up from my chair and march toward the door, purposefully swaying my hips. "Such a gentleman."
Before I open the door, a hand caresses my waist until it lands on my stomach, pulling me to his rigid body. My heart races, fire dances in my belly, and his raw, masculine smell invades my nostrils.
"Believe me," he begins, his hot breath on my ear, sending shivers through me. "What I want to do to you is very ungentlemanly."
My breath ragged, I find it hard to answer, but I do. "Believe me, I would love every single minute of it."
His hand slides up my stomach, cupping my breast. I moan when he squeezes a little, rubbing his finger over my hardened nipple. "Don't I fucking know it."
I close my eyes, savoring the moment, and Owen releases me. "Time to go."
How in the hell does he do that? I'm a wanton pile of goo all over the office floor and he's as cool as a cucumber.
Quickly snapping myself out of it, I open the door and we take the elevator down to the ground floor. The moment we're outside, Brandon opens the door, a big smile on his face.
As we walk toward him, I can't help but marvel at the soaring buildings surrounding us. With the busy streets of the Financial District, New York never fails to amaze me. I've lived and worked here so long, but I still love the buzz of the place.
"Ms. Savannah," Brandon says, tipping his hat with a smile.
"Good afternoon, Brandon. How are you today?"
"Very well."
"Good," I purr, sliding into the car.
Owen follows, and Brandon quickly shuts the door behind us. "Thank you for inviting me."
Unbuttoning his jacket, Owen settles in for the short drive ahead. He places a strand of hair behind my ear, offering a knee-trembling smile. "It's totally my pleasure."
"There's a bit of traffic, but I know a detour. I should have you there right on schedule."
Reluctantly pulling his gaze from me, Owen drops his hand, attention on Brandon. "Thank you."
"So," I begin, "Martin Flores…anything I need to know about him?"
Owen takes in a breath. "He's older than me, has a family ran car servicing business all over the country. He loves classic cars, and whenever he wants one, he comes to me. He's built quite the collection in his twenty-car garage."
My eyes widen. "His garage takes twenty cars?"
Owen chuckles. "Yep. And the way he's spending money on cars, he's going to need to get another one soon."
"Wow," I breathe.
"Indeed. Some would say he’s mad to have such a collection that depreciates with age, but Martin is careful with his purchases. Most have actually added value. If you keep them in the right condition and look after them, they will reward you tenfold."
"Is he married?"
"Yes. Happily for thirty years. He's very much a family man, and I know he's eager on meeting my stepdaughter, who I talk about often with him."
My face lights up with a silly grin. "You do?"
Owen chuckles at my reaction. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?" I shrug, my cheeks flaming. "Judging by your blush, it would suggest you're surprised by the knowledge."
I glance away, heat continuing to flush my cheeks. "I don't know. It's just…"
"Une
xpected of me?"
"I guess."
"Savannah, you may not realize it yet, but you have made an impact on my life—in a good way. I just know I can't make promises to you." He flits his eyes to Brandon, so I know he can't elaborate.
"I've never asked you to."
Owen smiles, grabbing my hand. "I know, and I appreciate that."
"We're here, Mr. Montgomery." Brandon pulls up to the sidewalk and parks.
"Thank you."
Getting out, Brandon immediately opens the door to let us out. We say our farewells, and he promises to pick us back up when we're ready.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Montgomery," the maître d' says as we stroll in. "Your usual table?"
"Yes, but I have a Martin Flores dining with us today too."
The maître d' offers a knowing smile. "Ah, yes. He's already waiting for you, sir. Come with me. I will get you settled."
We start to move, and I take that small moment to whisper behind him. "You have your own table?"
Owen glances back, smirking. "Why should that surprise you?"
We arrive at a table by the window, overlooking the bustling New York street. Sitting down, I spot a man I assume is Martin Flores with silver hair, impeccably dressed in a gray suit. When he sees Owen, he rises from his seat with a bright smile. "Owen, lovely to see you."
They shake hands, and when Owen moves away slightly and I come into view, Mr. Flores’s eyes find mine. "And who is this lovely young lady?"
Owen gently pushes me in front of him. "This is Savannah. My stepdaughter." Immediately, he’s groping my ass, and it takes every single effort not to react to it.
I reach my hand out to shake his. "Nice to meet you."
“It's certainly a pleasure."
"What would you like to drink?" a waiter asks, appearing at our table.
"I will have a Scotch," Owen says as we take our seats. "And the lovely lady here will have a glass of your finest Chardonnay."
"Very well, sir," the waiter replies, handing out our menus before scurrying away.
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