He circles me like a lion, slow and greedy, pausing to push the chair closer to the mirror with one hand.
God, that’s sexy.
I’ve seen my body in the mirror thousands of times, always just in passing.
But never like this: not the spotlight of someone else's wanting.
I catalog my imperfections out of habit—the small pouch on my lower stomach, the curves of my hips, the visible scar on my left thigh—and wait for Owen to notice what I see. Instead, he keeps devouring me with his eyes, watching me as if I’m the most precious jewel in the world.
He draws the chair even closer, so close that the backs of my knees bump the cushion.
“Sit,” Owen demands, his voice wicked and delicious.
I hesitate at first—still so aware of every flaw—then I take a deep breath and sit, instinctively pushing my knees together as I straighten my back.
I almost pass out when Owen kneels down on the floor before me, his back to the mirror and his hands braced on my thighs as he spreads his fingers and kneads my skin in tender swirls.
"Open for me," he commands, his voice so soft it feels like a caress. "Let me see you, baby.”
Baby.
I’ll never get over him calling me that.
My skin burns everywhere, even my scalp beneath my thick hair. I tug my bottom lip between my teeth and nod, swallowing my pride and parting my legs for him.
Embarrassment creeps along my cheeks when I look down and see how exposed I am, my flesh slippery and soaking wet for him.
Owen's eyes move between my thighs with such fascination and wonder that my shame quickly begins to dissolve.
I still want to snap my knees shut, to hide away, but Owen’s powerful hands hold my legs in place. As he stares at my spread pussy—wide-eyed like I’m his next meal—I feel my veins flood with pure desire, not fear or insecurity.
My heart thunders as he leans in until his breath feathers over my throbbing core.
"Look at yourself," he groans, his voice so dark I barely recognize it. "Look at your pretty, pink cunt."
Oh, good God.
"This is mine," Owen mutters, almost to himself, as he strokes a thumb through my wetness before smearing it all over my clit. My entire body jolts as a needy cry catches in my throat. I stop breathing as Owen leans in, his lips less than an inch away from my slit.
My legs shake uncontrollably as he teases me and kisses my inner thigh, taking his time making his way higher and higher.
I watch the whole thing in the mirror, mesmerized by how my own body coils then relaxes with each kiss. My belly flutters as he runs the tip of his tongue along my thigh, my fingers clenching around the arms of the chair.
Owen's eyes flick up to meet mine before he flashes me a wolfish grin, not giving me a breath to prepare before he ducks between my legs.
I expect him to be gentle at first, to tease me until I’m squirming against the chair.
Instead, his tongue is feverish and demanding as he traces the seam of my pussy before circling my clit with painstaking deliberation. The shock of it all makes me gasp, my hips rocking up even as I try to hold still.
He doesn't hold back. He consumes me like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
The first long, insistent drag of his tongue has my hips jerking up off the cushion as the muscles in my thighs clench. I see it all—my knees splayed, the white-knuckled grip I have on the chair, the way my chest heaves with every breath—and it's so obscene, so fucking erotic, I have to fight the urge not to come on the spot.
Owen lets out a deep groan, the vibration of it making my core throb even harder.
"You taste like a fucking dream," he mutters against my pussy before sucking my swollen clit into his mouth, his tongue flickering so fast and filthy my vision goes white.
"Fuck, Meadow, look at you," he growls, his mouth slick and glistening from my juices. "See how damn sexy you are.”
