Page 14 of Owning His Girl

Wes laughs, sending shivers down my spine. Every time he looks at me like this, like I'm the only girl in the world, it still catches me off guard.

Ever since our whirlwind retreat together, he's been relentless - texts, calls, and nights spent tangled up in each other. It's moving fast, maybe too fast, but I can't deny how special he makes me feel.

And here we are on a Saturday night, getting ready for my dad's retirement party.

I'm still mad at my Dad for...well, everything, really. We haven't even spoken since the retreat. But somehow, Wes convinced me to come tonight. He has a way of making me believe that everything will turn out okay.

"Hey gorgeous," Wes’s deep voice breaks through my thoughts. "What's on your mind?"

I force a smile and meet his gaze in the mirror. "Just nervous about seeing my dad at the party," I admit, twirling a strand of hair nervously.

“In that case,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "I've got just the thing to calm you down.”

He takes my hand, and we leave the chaotic bathroom behind and make our way down the hallway into the kitchen.

Once we step inside, Wes lets go of my hand and sits down at the kitchen table. Then he looks up at me expectantly.

“Lay down on the table, baby.”

I laugh nervously. “Why?”

He gives me a devious smirk. “I want a snack before we leave.”

My eyes pop wide as I realize what he’s about to do. “A-are you sure?”

He chuckles. “Get on the table, Fiona.”

It's the look in his eyes—the raw, undisguised desire—that has me obeying.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined Wes could make me feel this way—desired, cherished, and a little bit reckless.

Slowly, I lay back on the cool surface of the table with my knees bent.

“Good girl. Now lift your dress and spread the beautiful legs for me.”

I lift the hem of my silky blue dress, the fabric sliding up over my thighs as I spread them slowly.

“Like this?” I whisper.

“Wider.”

I watch him through half-lidded eyes as I spread my legs wider.

Wes grabs me by the thighs and yanks me to the edge of the table until my pussy is right in front of his face.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

And then his mouth is on me.

I gasp, my fingers gripping the edges of the table as his tongue finds my clit, circling with a precision that sends sparks of pleasure coursing through my veins.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is a rough whisper between my thighs. “Soak my tongue. Show me how good it feels.”

"Please..." I whimper, unable to form any coherent words under the onslaught of pleasure.

Wes's tongue ventures lower, teasing over the tight ring of muscle at my back entrance.

“Fuck, I’ve always wanted to taste you here," he purrs, before flicking his tongue against the sensitive flesh again.

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