Page 4 of Protected by the Loner (The Men of Ghost Security #2)

VIVIAN

I set my glass on the table, breathing slower to try to calm my racing heartbeat.

Owen looks like a man trying very, very hard to be good, despite all the openings I’ve been giving him.

He sits next to me, stiff as a board. The movie is playing, but he’s watching me, sending me hot glances that make my skin burn with desire.

“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen Casablanca,” I say, trying to distract myself from the wild lust raging through my soul.

Another lingering glance at my lips. Why won’t he just kiss me? Then it hits me: he’s not going to make the first move. It’s obvious he’s interested, but he’s holding back like a man hell-bent on torturing himself.

“Owen,” I whisper, my heartbeat back to racing uncontrollably. “I’m going to kiss you.”

His breath catches. “Vivian—”

I straddle his lap before he can finish the warning, relishing the hardness of his body under me. I cup his jaw in both hands, the scruff of his beard tickling my palms, and I press my mouth to his.

Owen goes statue-still for one electric beat, then his hands find my hips and pull me tight against his body.

My core explodes when I feel the thick, solid ridge in his jeans below me.

He opens his mouth, and his tongue finds mine like he’s been starving.

The kiss is deep and consuming. He groans into my mouth as I grind against him, and my body vibrates with a deep lust.

“You have no idea,” he mutters against my lips, voice uneven and thick, “how long I’ve wanted this. You.”

My skin prickles tight. “Me too.”

His kiss demands that I give myself over to him.

His grip on my hips turns possessive; he guides me over him until the pressure hits just right and fireworks explode in my core.

Heat gathers quick and slick between my legs, dampening the cotton of my panties.

I gasp into his mouth because it’s too much and not enough.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, voice rough, breath warm at the corner of my mouth.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to be careful?” he murmurs, a dark glint in his eyes.

I realize I’d say yes to anything Owen asked. Anything he wanted, I would gladly give to him.

A breathless laugh escapes my lips as I grind against his thick cock. “I want what you want.”

His eyes flash, and a beautiful smile curves his lips.

He grabs the hem of my sweater and peels it up and over my head. The air hits my stomach and the tops of my breasts, and then my bra is gone. The way he stares at my breasts takes my breath away.

“God, Vivian. I’ve thought about your tits more times than I should admit.”

I gasp as his mouth closes around my nipple and the world goes white. He flicks his tongue across the peak in a tease that borders on mean, then seals his mouth around it again and sucks harder, making me moan loudly. I hold his head there like I’ll die if he stops.

“Do you like it when I bite?” he asks, breath ghosting over my wet skin.

“Yes.”

His nip is a quick sting, and my body clenches low and deep.

He soothes the nip with his tongue, his slow licking driving me to the brink.

His other hand cups my left breast, thumb rolling the nipple until it aches.

When he pinches, my whole body answers. The tug echoes in my core.

I grind on him wildly, chasing the friction he’s giving me and the friction I need.

“Take your shirt off,” I manage.

He does, ripping it over his head. I place my palms on his hot, smooth skin stretched over taut muscle, smiling when his stomach clenches as my fingers slide lower and then lower. He inhales sharply and throws his head back.

“Vivian,” he groans, reaching up and running his fingers through my hair.

He takes my lower lip between his teeth before kissing me again.

“What do you want?” he asks, sliding one hand down my belly, curling his fingertips inside the elastic of my panties but no further, moving slow enough to make me crazy.

“Yes,” I moan. “I want your fingers inside me, I want your hands on me, I want—”

“You want to be fucked,” he finishes for me, voice a low rasp. “Do you want me to finger-fuck you until you soak my hand?”

Oh, God. This stoic man being a dirty talker is a delicious gift. “Yes. Please.”

He slips his hand inside my panties, and when his fingers slide through my slick folds, my whole body jolts.

He hums like he’s satisfied with the state he’s put me in.

His thumb finds my clit and circles with enough pressure to make sparks jump along my nerves.

He doesn’t rush. He teases until my thighs quiver.

“Tell me what you like,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth while his fingers move slow and steady. “How do you want me to fuck you? Slow or fast?”

“Harder,” I breathe, hips jerking. “Press harder. Please.”

He presses hard, and my clit throbs under his thumb, sensitive and swelling with each circle. My body answers instinctively, pelvis rocking into his hand because it needs this friction like oxygen.

“Inside,” I whisper, already gone. “Owen, please—inside.”

He curses softly and slides a finger inside me.

Curling it, he presses that ache-sweet spot that makes me see stars.

He pulls almost all the way out and pushes in again, a slow stroke that makes me buck against him.

When he adds a second finger and swipes his thumb over my clit, I grind down on his hand, desperate for more.

A high, keening moan erupts from me and echoes through my apartment.

“Can you take a third finger?” he asks, voice deep and thick.

“I want—” The sentence disintegrates as he crooks his fingers, and my body clamps down hard. “Owen, God—stay right there—right there—”

“Here?” His fingers work my G-spot with a precision that makes me scared of my building orgasm.

I don’t know the last time I had a powerful orgasm like the one building inside me now.

Every cell in my body is electrified, ready to explode into a million stars.

“You like it when I fuck you like this? When I make you shake?”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, yes—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. He watches me, eyes dark and intent, and works me with ruthless patience until the coil inside me snaps. My orgasm slams through me, hot and sharp and total; I seize around his fingers, clenching, pulsing, moaning his name like it’s the only word I know.

“That’s it,” he says, low and rough, kissing me while I tremble. “Come for me, Vivian. You are so fucking sexy when you come for me.”

He doesn’t rush me back down. His fingers slow into soft strokes that milk every aftershock until I’m molten, draped over him, panting into his neck. I feel the slick mess I’ve made of his hand, of myself. I can’t believe Owen did this; that I’ve just come more powerfully than I ever have before.

He draws his fingers out, coated in my slick juices. He lifts his hand and shows me, then brings his fingers to my mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.”

My tongue curls around my juices, and his eyes flare. He curses as he watches me, the muscle in his jaw flexing.

I slide off his lap onto my knees before his self-control can reappear. My hands go to his belt, and he catches my wrist.

“Vivian,” he warns, watching intensely.

“I can stop,” I tease. I know he doesn’t want me to, but I want to hear him admit it.

He swallows, his eyes wild as they hold mine. “No.”

“Shall I take you in my mouth?” I say the words slowly, watching as he gives himself over to me.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely. He scoots his hips closer to the edge of the couch and spreads his legs wider. “Christ, yes.”

I free him with a slow zip. His cock springs heavy and thick into my hand, hot against my palm, and his breath hitches as I wrap my fingers around him.

He’s big, the head of his cock already slick with pre-cum.

I stroke once, twice, watching how he responds to me.

Then I bend and lick a long, slow line from base to tip, tasting salt and skin and him.

He curses quietly, the sound going straight to my hot core.

I flick the head of his cock with my tongue.

He puts one hand in my hair, gentle but shaking. “Vivian. You’re going to kill me. I love your mouth on me.”

I take him between my lips and watch his expression flicker into something filthy and helpless. I hollow my cheeks and slide down, taking as much as I can without forcing it, then back up with a slow, tight pull. He groans as I work my mouth over him.

He gathers my hair and keeps it off my face while I sink down again, relaxing my throat, breathing through my nose.

I gag lightly when he bumps the back. He jerks and curses, trying to pull me back, but I hold his hips and hum.

The humming makes him buck under me, and his fingers tighten in my hair.

“Fuck—Vivian—your mouth—you’re going to make me lose control...”

I nod with him deep in my mouth, answering with my throat and the wet slide of my lips. I move faster, gagging as I take him deeper.

Owen’s thighs tighten under my hand. His breath stutters. “Stop,” he commands, yanking me up. “Not like this.”

I blink up at him, confused, my lips swollen and coated in his pre-cum. “No?”

“I need to be inside you,” he says, eyes wild, voice thick with need.

He pulls me up and onto his lap, grabs my ass, and grinds me down on the hard length of his cock. I circle my hips, needy and panting into his mouth.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” he asks, breath ghosting my ear.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper desperately. “I want your cock inside me. I want you to fill me up.”

“Good girl.” The praise hits a deep, hidden place inside me.

He hooks his fingers into the sides of my jeans and panties and drags them down. I lift my knees and help, kicking them away. I’m bare in his lap, and he’s hot and heavy under me. Emotion fills my chest, soft yet feral.

Owen fists his cock and drags the head through my slick core, bumping my clit in passes that make me jolt. He doesn’t rush; he teases until I’m shaking, until the head catches at my entrance and my body tries to take him instinctively.

“You feel that?” he asks softly, eyes on my face. “Do you want me all the way?”

“Yes.” My voice breaks on the word. “Please, Owen. Please.”

He pushes. The head breaches, and the burn is sweet and savage. I gasp, and his hand tightens on my hip. He pauses, breathing hard.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Open for me.”

I exhale and melt around him. He eases deeper, inch after thick inch, and the stretch is exquisite.

“Fuck,” he groans, jaw tight. “You’re so tight.”

He buries himself the rest of the way, and the fullness is blinding. I can feel him everywhere, the press of him low and deep.

He cups my face gently and kisses me slowly, rocking his hips.

The strokes drag against my walls in a way that makes me whimper.

Gripping my hips, he fills me, guiding me up and down on him, finding the angle that makes me moan.

The base of him presses perfectly against my clit each time I slide down, and a white-hot line of pleasure sparks through me at the collision.

“Like that?” he pants. “Do you like riding my thick cock?”

“Uh-huh—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

“Eyes on me,” he says, and the command electrifies me.

I meet his stare, and the world disappears to a tunnel where it’s only his face and the rhythm he makes me keep and the slick sounds of us and the wet heat of us and the way my body is already climbing again, ready to explode another time even though I don’t know how he does this to me.

His dirty talk slides in between all of it, pushing me further and further, tapping a need in me I never knew existed, but now need desperately.

“You’re a good girl for taking me so deep. You going to come for me like this? You going to moan my name while you do it?”

“Yes,” I gasp, because I can feel it detonating in the distance, rushing in. “Owen—oh God—Owen—”

“That’s it,” he says, almost a growl, hands bruising now as he slams me down and thrusts up to meet me, deeper, faster, relentless. “Ride my cock and make yourself come.”

My orgasm tears through me. My core clamps around his cock as my body pulses in hard, intense waves, and I’m blinded by overwhelming pleasure.

Owen holds me down on his cock and thrusts up into me.

He doesn’t let me collapse. He gathers me in and rearranges us with a rough gentleness that steals my breath.

Lying me back along the couch, he spreads my thighs wide and sinks into me again, deeper.

He hooks one of my knees over his forearm, and the penetration changes from perfect to mind-blowing.

Owen pounds into me with a blinding power, each stroke a heavy, wet slide that hits my G-spot over and over again, making me see stars.

Sweat slides from his hairline down his cheek; I catch it with my thumb, and he kisses my palm mid-thrust like I’ve just offered up my heart.

My breasts bounce; he palms one, thumb circling my nipple, and the little tug rockets straight down.

I don’t know if my body can take another orgasm, but I’m addicted to how he’s making me feel, and I can’t say no. “Please—please—”

His thumb circles my clit, and he watches my face as he snaps his hips and rubs my clit and says terrible, wonderful things that turn my bones to sugar.

“That’s my girl. Take it. Take all of it.

You’re so wet, Vivian—hear how wet you are?

You’re taking me so fucking deep. Do you want me deeper? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” I cry, the word breaking into a moan. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Owen, please, don’t—”

“I’m not stopping,” he says, jaw clenched with the promise. “I’m not stopping until you come again.”

Right now, there is only Owen and the most powerful orgasm of my life. I clench around him hard as electrifying pleasure pulses through me. I gasp his name, and the world goes starry at the edges.

“Fuck—Vivian—” His voice is shredded. “You’re—God—”

Owen’s body bucks against mine as he comes, moaning my name. He collapses on me, smiling and stroking my hair.

Exhaling, he wraps his arms around me, strong and sure, gathering me in. We breathe together. His heartbeat steadies under my ear, steady and heavy, and mine matches without trying.

This isn’t just sex. It’s deeper, terrifyingly so. Something unfurls in my chest, raw and real. I’ve never experienced anything remotely like this.

I think I’ve fallen in love.