Page 67 of Unplanned Target

A concerned expression tightens his face as he looks me over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” That’s not exactly true, but I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong right now. I want to focus on what’s right.

And being with him is as right as I think my life has ever been.

Marching straight up to him, I plant both hands against his chest, shoving him back until he tips into the chair angled in the corner. Owen lands with a surprised grunt, the worry pinching his brow intensifying. “Something’s wrong, Mir. I can tell.”

“Nope.” I drop to my knees, fully focused on what I’m doing. “Now quit asking me that.” I grab the tuck of his towel and tug it loose, rubbing my lips together at the sight of his dick lying casually against one thigh.

Poor guy genuinely did think something was wrong.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s actually happening, because before I can even lift a finger in its direction, his length begins expanding, the relaxed line of his cock hardening right in front of my eyes.

Best magic trick ever.

I swore I would never serve a man again, and I’m not going to. This isn’t something I’m doing for Owen. This is just as much for me as it is for him. I want to please him. I want him to be happy. I want him to know I appreciate and desire him as much as he appreciates and desires me. I want to get him off just as much as he gets me off.

It probably has something to do with my competitive nature.

But Owen isn’t complaining about it, so I’m not going to feel bad about it. I’m pretty sure it’s going to work out in his benefit anyway.

Gripping the base of his now fully erect dick, I lift my eyes to his face as I lean forward and drag my tongue up the underside, stopping to swirl it around the satiny smooth head.

“Fuck.” Owen’s hand comes to my hair, keeping it out of my face without urging or pressure. “You look so goddamned pretty doing that.”

Looking good while sucking a cock has never been one of my life goals, but maybe it should have been. Because Owen’s unexpected praise sends heat rushing through me. Makes me want to do better. Both in practice and in presentation.

Again, probably due to my competitive nature.

So I focus on every move I make as I wrap my lips around him and swallow down as much as I can. The groan he lets out spurs me on and has me pursing my lips tighter as I hollow my cheeks, adding a little suction to the process.

“Just like that.” Owen’s other hand comes to my face, his thumb tracing the stretch of my mouth. “So fucking perfect.”

It’s what I’ve always wanted to be. Have always tried to be. Every time I fell short. As a daughter. In my marriage. As a mother. In my career.

But not this time. This time I don’t feel like I’m failing. Not because I’m perfect in general, but because I think I can be perfect for Owen. I can be what he needs. What he wants. What he deserves.

And right now he deserves to have his dick sucked until his soul leaves his body.

So that’s what I do. I pay attention to every grunt. Every groan. Every flex of his fingers and every twitch of his cock. I use all of the information I collect against him, until his chest is heaving and his balls are pulling tight.

Then I lift my eyes to his face and watch as he comes, each muscle in his body straining as I swallow down every bit of what he gives me, claiming it for myself.

Claiming him for myself.

Because that’s what I want. I want Owen to be mine. I want to be his. I want to take care of him the way he takes care of me. I want to give him the home he was too afraid to build. The life he was worried he’d never have.

I can give that to him. Better than anyone.

I’m feeling pretty smug about it as I swipe away the saliva circling my mouth. If that didn’t scramble his brains and convince Owen I’m the woman for the job, I don’t know what⁠—

I squeak in surprise as his strong hands grip me by the waist, hauling my weight into the air before launching me across the bed. I bounce a couple times, arms and legs sprawled out as I try to stop the momentum. “What are you doing?”

Owen smirks as he crawls over me. “Taking my turn.”

TWENTY-FOUR

OWEN