Page 167 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
She lets out a watery chuckle, a small sound that breaks the tension.
“And you?” she whispers, searching my face. “What about you, Owen?”
Gazing down at her, I move my hands from her face, sliding them down her neck, over her shoulders, down to her waist. And then, gently, reverently, I place my large hand over her stomach.
The heat of her skin burns through the thin cotton of her tank top. There’s nothing there yet—no bump, no movement—but knowing it’s there changes everything. It grounds me.
“Me?” I whisper, watching my hand resting on her body. “I’m the one who’s going to make sure you remember that you aren’t just an incubator for a crisis. You’re Tessa. You’re the woman we love. You’re mine.”
Her breath hitches. The fear in her eyes begins to dissolve, replaced by something else. Something darker, warmer. Need.
“Owen,” she breathes.
“I missed you,” I groan, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I inhale her scent. It intoxicates me. “God, Tess. Being shut out by you felt like three years. Don’t ever do it again.”
“I was scared,” she admits, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
“I know,” I murmur, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear. “But you’re safe now. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you.”
My lips travel down her throat, finding her pulse. It’s fluttering like a trapped bird. I want to calm it. I want to possess it.
“Make me feel it,” she whispers, her voice husky. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me flush. “Make me feel like I didn’t just ruin everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I growl, my hands sliding under her shirt to touch bare skin. “You just made everything real.”
I capture her lips in a desperate kiss, claiming her. It’s an answer to the heavy silence and terror of the last few days, kissing her like I need to breathe her air to survive.
Her tongue meets mine, and the sorrow shifts into heat. She moans into my mouth, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I pull back, breathless, my eyes locked on hers.
“Bedroom.”
“No,” she says, breathy and wild. “Here. Now. I need you now.”
I don’t argue. I can’t. The primitive part of my brain, the part that’s been pacing the cage all week, completely takes over.
I grip the waistband of her sweatpants and drag them down. She lifts her hips, kicking them off, leaving her in just a pair of cotton panties. I rip those down too, my patience completely evaporating.
“Beautiful,” I say, staring at her dripping pussy. The harsh bathroom light should be unflattering, but on her, it just highlights the flush rising on her chest, the softness of her thighs, and the wetness already gathering for me.
I kneel on the tile floor between her legs.
“Owen,” she gasps, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she realizes what I’m doing.
“Let me taste you,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “Let me show you how much I want this. All of it. The mess. The secret. The baby. You.”
I bury my face between her spread thighs, pressing my mouth directly against her slick folds.
She cries out, her head falling back, hitting the mirror with a soft thud. “Oh god… Owen…”
I drag my tongue in a broad stroke right up her slick center, finding her swollen clit and sucking it hard into my mouth. I use my tongue to relentlessly work her, unraveling the knot of anxiety that’s been tight in her chest for days by replacing it with pure friction. I push two fingers deep inside her tight opening, stretching her open while I eat her.
Her hips buck against my face, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling, gripping.
“Please,” she begs, her voice high and broken. “Please, I need… I need you inside me.”
I stand up, my own body screaming for release. I unbuckle my belt, the sound echoing loudly in the small room. I shove my jeans and boxers down to my knees, freeing my heavy, aching dick.
