Page 63 of Something Like Shelter

The universe faded inward until only he remained.

My hand slapped down on the back of his head, holding him against me. But he had no intention of trying to pull away as his tongue circled with perfect pressure.

His hand slid between us, his fingers pulsing at the entrance of my body for a long moment before pressing inside.

My back arched as a moan escaped from somewhere deep. Owen groaned against me as my walls tightened around his fingers and my legs clamped the sides of his head.

My free hand grabbed his, and he turned his hand to twine our fingers as he drove me up, up, up with his tongue and thrusts.

My hips rocked against him, chasing that release until control unraveled in hot, reckless waves that had me choking out his name, body shaking, breath catching.

Owen groaned against me but kept working me until my body went lax as I gasped for breath to try to bring calm back to my chaotic body.

But he still wasn’t done; his fingers curling and stroking against my top wall created a new sensation that had my hands fisting the sheets and a loud groan escaping me.

Seeming to sense my clit was still too sensitive, he moved away, tracing his tongue and pressing kisses around the triangle above my sex, then over my hip, up my belly, but stopping and lifting up when he reached my breasts.

My hips rocked restlessly.

“Owen,” I whimpered, reaching to pull him up. “Please.”

That rumble moved through him again as his hand moved from between my thighs, his arms bracing his weight as he came over me instead.

His lips were on mine as he slotted between my legs. The movement finally made his towel tuck give, and I felt his hard length glide against my cleft, making both of us shiver.

My legs bracketed his hips, my feet pressing into his ass to make him press more firmly against me.

The kiss deepened as our hips rocked, driving us both up until Owen hooked an arm under me and rolled until he was flat and I was on top.

I shifted up on my knees as he reached toward the nightstand, flipping open his wallet and pulling out protection.

I lifted my hips, allowing him to reach down to protect us.

Finished with that, his hands went to my hips as he looked up at me with heavy-lidded, molten eyes.

Watching him, I lifted up.

For a second, everything felt suspended. Time itself warped and slowed. A million words seemed to pass between us in the space between breaths.

But it wasn’t long before the need swelled, and I started to lower down.

Our breaths caught as he slid slowly inside me, inch by inch, until my hips met his pelvis.

I paused, feeling the stretch of him, the pressure in me, the way every nerve ending begged for movement.

He was equally on the edge.

And when his hips started to rock up into me, there was nothing else to do but find my own rhythm and ride it, let it carry me away.

My breath came too fast, got too thin as want clawed through me—demanding, unapologetic.

As my body begged to move faster, he moved with me, hips rolling fast.

A strangled sound escaped me, making Owen’s eyes slit half closed.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands on my hips, guiding my movements as my body tightened. “Let go.”

Then I did.