Seven by Claire Kent Page B

surprise when
Owen grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around. Before she had time
to react, he had heaved her up over his shoulder and was carrying her back to
the bedroom.
    “Hey!” she shouted, pummeling him on
the back with very little force. This was working out even better than she’d
imagined. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “You’ve had your fun,” he rasped, in
a voice she found absolutely thrilling. “Now it’s time for both of us to play.”
He had her legs trapped with one arm or else she would have flailed her legs in
a show of outrage.
    But she squirmed enthusiastically
until he gave her a swat on the bottom, the slapping sound of his palm on her
flesh startling and strangely erotic.
    As they approached the bedroom, she
grabbed his sides for leverage and twisted her body until she could see around
to the front of his body. She giggled in satisfaction as she saw his erection
bobbing as he walked.
    “You think that’s funny, do you?” he
inquired, in a soft, dangerous tone. He must have intuitively realized what she
was giggling at.
    “Hilarious,” she admitted.
Truthfully, it was more exhilarating than hilarious, but she wasn’t here to
stroke his ego. “Poor Owen. Are you ever going to get to do anything with that
thing?”
    They’d reached the bedroom again, and
he hauled her off of his shoulder and set her on her feet in front of him. She
had to clutch at his shoulders to get her balance. “Oh, yes. I’m definitely
going to do something with it. Exactly what you want me to do with it.” He
pinned her with his eyes. “Ask me.”
    She felt a deep jolt between her
legs. “You know what I want.”
    He turned her around until she was
facing the mirror over the dresser and his hands skated over her curves with
light, tantalizing stimulation. “Ask me anyway.” His fingers settled on her
nipples and played with them in a way that made her stifle a groan. She stared
at the mirror—mesmerized by the sight of his skillful fingers twirling her rosy
nipples.
    “Owen,” she said on an indrawn
breath. Watched in the mirror as his hand dipped down to nudge at her intimate
folds. Then they explored deeper. Found how hot and wet she still was. Despite
all her earlier orgasms, she still wanted him again. “Fuck me.”
    He grunted his approval, and she felt
his erection pushing into her from behind. Then his hand was pushing into her
back, folding her at the waist until she was bent over the dresser. “Like
this?” he asked hoarsely.
    “Yeah.” She felt pulsing desire vie
with something else inside her. She ignored that something else. This was
working. This was just hot sex. This was meaningless fucking. Nothing else.
“Fuck me like this.”
    Since he’d already ascertained her
readiness, Owen pulled the cheeks of her ass apart and found her pussy. Lifted
her hips slightly as he pushed his hard cock inside her, making her suck in a
breath at the familiar intrusion.
    Amy was grabbing at the back of the
dresser and holding her head up so she could watch them in the mirror. The
sharp edge of wood she bent over was poking her painfully in the belly but she
ignored it. Focused only on the feel of Owen’s cock inside her.
    Holding onto her hips, he pulled out
some and then plunged back inside—going deeper than he had all afternoon,
filling her completely. Shudders of pleasure radiated out from the penetration,
and she moaned deep in her throat. She felt his balls resting against her
bottom. She wiggled in response.
    He grunted and thrust again, once
more making her shudder and moan.
    She clung to the dresser desperately,
her eyes never leaving his face.
    He was acting like the caveman she
had teased him into—giving her what she’d asked for.
    It was what she wanted. He was hot
and primal and dominant, and he was fucking her like an animal. This was sex.
Only sex. And it felt amazing.
    Exquisite pressure started building
inside her as Owen’s thrusts become harder and faster.