Just a Number(80)

He groans, and I laugh at his irritation, the sound dying in my throat and transforming into a low whimper of pleasure as he’s able to get one hand up between my thighs and grazes the pulsing, lace-covered flesh that’s begging for more.

I thrust my fingers into his hair as he rests his head on my stomach. He’s unable to align his body with mine due to his limited access, but I find it hard to be upset by this as his fingers slip the lace aside and glide back and forth between my legs with ease. My breathing deepens, and he slips a finger inside of me, making my hands close, pulling his hair. As usual, I’m so lost in the sensation of his touch that I’m completely unaware of how often the car turns a corner, stops at a light, or continues on its course, and am surprised when there’s a knock on the window, alerting us that we’ve arrived.

Looking up at me, Owen smirks, his face still half-hidden behind his gold masquerade mask, and he pulls his arm from beneath my dress and…fuuuuck me…licks his fingers clean. I swallow thickly, my intake of breath shuddering as I go to run my hands through my still immaculately-styled hair.

It’s clear to me that the driver knows what we’re up to back here, because he hasn’t even made a move to open our door…that, and the fact that we rolled up the privacy window was probably his key indicator.

Still smiling like the cat who just ate the canary, Owen helps me sit up and then opens the door, stepping out and then helping me do the same. The driver avoids all eye contact with me—okay, so it’s me who avoids it with him—and Owen shakes his hand, giving me only the briefest of glimpses of a cash exchange between the two of them before quickly ushering me inside.

We’ve barely made it to the stairs when Owen lifts me into his arms and rushes up them. It’s probably a good thing he’s so fit, because most men at his age would probably get winded after the first flight—especially at the pace he is going. I swear, we make it to my door in record time, and I’m laughing as he tries to hold me and dig his keys out of his pocket. I slip out of his arms and allow him to let us inside.

The second the lock is disengaged and the door pushed open, Owen pulls me inside, closing the door and pressing me against it, his lips instantly attacking my neck and his hands groping my breasts. I twist my hands into Owen’s hair, my fingers slipping beneath the elastic of his mask and pulling it off, letting it fall to the floor as he locks the door behind me and pulls me farther into my apartment.

Our lips crash together in a heated frenzy as we stumble down the short hallway, past the kitchen area, the small living room, and over to my bed. All the while, Owen’s slowly working the zipper of my dress down while I tug at his tie and toss it behind me. Then I set to work on the buttons of his shirt as he pulls his jacket off, his lips still frantically pressed to mine and his tongue caressing mine sensually. As our kiss deepens, I push his shirt open, displaying his chest and exploring it with my hands—even though I’m pretty sure I’ve got every bit of his body committed to memory.

When we reach the bed, I push him onto it, watching his body fall back before he props himself up onto his elbows. He watches as I push my dress down my body, slowly letting him glimpse the lacy, black bra and panties I’d chosen for the night. His blue eyes are dark and locked on my body as I step out of the gown and go to remove my shoes, until suddenly, they snap to mine and he shakes his head once.

“Leave them on,” he instructs, and I shiver as the gravelly sound of his voice vibrates beneath every inch of my skin.

Obeying his request, I walk toward him, lifting my arms and pulling the ribbons of my mask free and setting it on the bedside table before straddling his hips. I can feel his erection through his pants, and I shamelessly rub myself against him, closing my eyes as the sensation of it makes my pulse race and my body quiver.

Beneath me, Owen groans, reaching between my legs and undoing his pants as quickly as possible. I move to slip off his lap, but he’s quick to flip me onto my back, yank off his pants and shirt, and then press his naked body back between my legs, thrusting his hips and driving me wild with anticipation.

He drops his face to my neck, nipping and kissing the skin there as he sets a trail down over my collarbone and the swell of my breasts that spill over my bra. I arch my back into him when his teeth graze my nipple over the lacy fabric, and he takes that opportunity to slip his hand beneath me and unfasten my bra faster than I ever dreamed possible. It falls into the black hole surrounding my bed, and his hand moves quickly to my hips. Goosebumps cover my body when he loops his thumb into the side of my thong and gives it a tug, the lacy fabric tearing a little and surprising me.