Then he used his lips and tongue to tease and stimulate—alternating between her entrance and her clit and occasionally making detours into the surrounding areas—until Amy was gasping and grinding her pelvis into his face.
She held his head firmly in place. The coiling pressure of an approaching orgasm was gathering slowly, despite all the times she’d already come. “You know this doesn’t count. It’s a freebie.”
He chuckled, making her groan as the vibrations shook her and traveled in shudders up her spine. He shifted a hand so he could sink a finger into her wet pussy.
She arched dramatically on the bed, clutching at his head and pushing it harder into her now throbbing arousal. “Fuck, Owen,” she gasped. “How are you doing this?”
It seemed like she should get to the point where her body would stop responding to him.
Another finger had joined the first, and he was pumping them quickly in and out, matching the rhythm his tongue had established as it fluttered over her clit. One of her legs jerked up suddenly and hooked itself over his shoulder. She couldn’t help but clench her thighs together, squeezing his head in between them.
He made a strangled sound and used his free hand and his opposite shoulder to force her legs apart. Then he closed his lips around her clit and started to suck hard—in retaliation, she supposed.
She cried out, as jolts of sensation overwhelmed her. Her arms flew up to grab at the headboard, and she clung to it desperately as her body started to quake.
He was giving her such pleasure, playing her body like an instrument. And he was Owen—the man who was so much more to her than the pleasure he could give her.
She felt his teeth chafe very gently against her hot flesh. “Owen,” she choked out. “God, Owen, I…”
She was so close. So close to coming. So close to speaking the words that had always been so unspeakable.
She loved him. Loved him. There was no way to deny it was true. And now she desperately wanted to say it out loud.
Swallowed over the words as her climax started to crest because—pleasure or not—her feelings just weren’t returned.
He hummed against her pulsing flesh. The hum sounded almost like a question.
She pressed her lips tightly together and released an urgent, helpless moan in lieu of the words she couldn’t say. Thrashed beneath his mouth and fingers, frantically trying to reach another peak.
Then the stimulation was gone. Owen had lifted his head, his body. Removed his fingers from her pussy. Was kneeling over her, naked and gorgeous.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she would scream or cry. She’d been so close. So close to everything. And he had stopped again, working her back up to the anguished frustration she’d experienced before.
Her eyes darted down his body and saw why he’d stopped. He still had a challenge to fulfill, after all.
And now his cock was once more very much in play.
“Damn it, Owen,” she snarled, trying to think clearly enough to decide what her strategy should be. No matter how much she loved him and wanted to be loved in return, she wasn’t going to let him win so easily. “You have no idea how much I hate you.”
He raised his eyebrows. Gave his hard, bobbing cock a few quick tugs.
Didn’t appear to believe her.
Six
Amy should really be more upset that Owen was so close to winning this game.
It was the principle of the thing, after all. He was far too arrogant and presumptuous for his own good—actually thought he was invincible. And Amy had always believed it was her job to take the smug bastard down a notch or two.
Plus, she really hated losing. Owen had already produced five orgasms out of the seven required.
And he still had thirty-five minutes left.
All of this meant that Amy couldn’t just let Owen have his way. She was throbbingly aware that her body was just waiting for Owen to do his thing. Oh, she could come twice more. No doubt about that. It wouldn’t even take much work on his part.
So she had to do something drastic to keep it from happening.
Owen would stop her if she tried to go down on him, and he’d recognize any obvious attempt on her part to make him come prematurely.
She’d have to be more creative than that now. Even though she didn’t really feel like being creative. Even though what she really wanted was for Owen to take her in his arms, find his home in her body, and never let her go.
But that was irrelevant at the moment. The only relevant issue was which one of them was going to win. So all of Amy’s sappy feelings for Owen—that had risen unbidden in her heart—would just have to be ignored so she could concentrate on essentials.
Owen was the one who had made this about winning. He was the one who’d always turned to banter whenever things had gotten too intimate between them. And he was the one who was leaving in twenty-eight days.