Page 83 of Sweet Torment

“Yes, Princess?” The innocence in his voice is so fake it makes me want to laugh.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I missed you all day, Bianca,” he says, his dark eyes tracking the movement of the loofah between my thighs. His cock is rock hard against my hip. “You know how jealous I am, but fuck if I don’t love seeing you full of them too.”

His hand replaces the loofah, fingers sliding inside me. “I can’t wait until we fill you one after the other again,” he murmurs against my ear. “We’ll let you milk us all dry until it’s running down your sexy as fuck thighs, and we’re not going to let you clean up either.”

I love when he’s filthy and possessive, but I’m getting dangerously close to begging for his cock. And I’m putting my foot down.

Owen works a third finger inside and pushes them deeper, very slow and torturous about it. I let out a low whine. “So tight and hot. Is this how you were for Freddie? All soft and sweet for him?”

I moan and nod, unable to form words as his fingers curl inside me. The shower spray hits my breasts, adding another layer of sensation.

“Good girl,” he growls into my neck. “I like seeing you both happy.”

He rubs my clit, and I’m close. “Come for me,” Owen commands, his fingers working me to the brink. I cry out his name as he works me through it.

When I can stand on my own again, he removes his fingers and brings them to his lips.

“That’s cheating,” I gasp, watching as he licks them clean, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You need to be more specific with your rules,” he says with a wicked grin. “You didn’t say anything about tasting you.”

“You’re impossible.”

I bite my lip, thinking. Touching him wouldn’t break the rules, and I know he could probably use the release after a day of doing his father’s bidding. My fingers twitch to touch him.

“Speaking of Weller,” Owen says, his expression serious, “he’s pretty pissed about the cameras. At Freddie, mostly. But he’ll probably want to put you over his knee too.”

“Maybe he’ll let you watch.”

Owen chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “We’ll see. Weller is a possessive bastard when it comes to you. Trissy—“ he rolls his eyes “—is the one who will enjoy showing you off the most. And I’m excited to see what he comes up with.”

I shiver. I’m excited for that too. They all know exactly how to make my body sing.

Pulling his neck down with one hand, I give him a quick, dirty kiss. When I pull back, I tease, “I wish I could suck your cock to show you how much I missed you, but...” I shrug. “Don’t handcuff me without permission next time.” I emphasize the permission part because being restrained does appeal to me in certain situations.

Owen groans. “I love your filthy mouth, Princess.”

I move to the built-in bench in the shower and sit down, spreading my knees slightly. Owen’s brow furrows in confusion until I lean back and spread my legs wide, giving him an unobstructed view of everything. His cock jumps, thick and heavy between his legs. The power I have over him is a heady thing, and I feel drunk on it.

“Touch yourself for me,” I tell him, my voice husky with desire.

His good hand wraps around his cock without hesitation, and I’m mesmerized by the sight. Water cascades down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, droplets clinging to the dark hair that trails down his stomach. I glance at the bandaging, but it looks waterproof. We can check it later.

I push two fingers inside myself, matching his rhythm. “Owen...” He steps closer. I could reach out and touch him. But the space between us, filled with steam and tension, is so fucking hot.

“Spread yourself wider,” he commands, his eyes fixed on where my fingers disappear inside me. “I want to see all of you.”

I comply, using both my hands to open myself up for him. It feels vulgar and obscene, and I think I love it. The vulnerability of the position, combined with the raw hunger in his eyes, has me clenching around nothing.

“Goddamn,” he growls, his hand moving faster. “This feels like a fucking dream.” He steps closer, his cock aimed at my spread pussy, nearly brushing against me.

His control snaps. He lets out a harsh groan, his hips bucking forward just enough that his cock barely kisses my skin. The brief, slick contact sends him over the edge. He comes with a guttural shout, his release aimed right at my hole, obsessively trying to fill me even without being inside me.

The warmth of it coats me, and instead of washing it away, I rub it in, playing with it until he can’t stand it. He moves forward, his good hand gently collecting the mess of his come and my wetness, and then he pushes it all inside me, holding it there.

“Fuck,” Owen breathes, watching me with wide eyes. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”