Owen trailed kisses down my neck, stopping here and there to bite me gently, then a little harder, then a little harder still. I dug my hands into his shoulders, kneading his muscles, urging him on. His head dipped lower, and his tongue swirled lazily around my nipple before he nipped it with his teeth. Pleasure spiked through me at the sensation.
“Do you like that?” he rasped.
“I love everything that you do to me,” I whispered back. “I love the way you make me feel.”
Owen smiled. “Good answer. Because things are about to get a whole lot better.”
He slipped a finger inside me, then another, pumping them back and forth, in and out, in and out, in a steady, furious rhythm. He leaned forward, his tongue flicking against first one nipple, then another, his faint, bristly stubble scraping against my skin, making me that much more sensitive to his touch.
“Hey now,” I said, panting, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t think that you’re going to have all the fun today.”
A wicked smile curved Owen’s lips, and he moved down my body and bent his head. His tongue flicked against my outer folds and then slid in deeper, then deeper, then deeper still, as if he could lick his way to the very center of me.
I arched and arched my back as if that would relieve the delicious pressure building and building inside me. But every time I was ready to go over the edge, Owen would bring me back down just a little, just enough to ratchet up my need that much more. His rich, wonderful smell filled my nose, the one that always made me think of metal, until I was dizzy with it—and dizzy with the sensation of being loved by him.
Just when I thought I was going to scream from the pleasure of it all, Owen raised his head and kissed his way back up my body. I reached up for his head, but he pinned my arms to the blanket and stared down at me.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a hoarse voice. “So strong and beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Then he leaned forward and captured my mouth with his again.
I squirmed against him and opened my legs, wet and aching for him. Owen braced his weight on his elbows and rested his hard cock against me. He surged his hips forward the tiniest bit, rubbing against me, but not sliding inside. Not yet. Teasing me instead. I groaned. Above me, Owen did the same, but he didn’t stop his game.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slid my hands out of his hold and rolled him over onto his back, my hand moving down to capture his stiff erection.
I did the same thing to him that he’d done to me. Licking, stroking, and caressing his thick length until his hands clenched the blanket. But Owen didn’t let me play for long. He reached for the condom and put it on, then pulled me up so that I was sitting on his lap. Every part of my body was aching for him, and my legs locked around his waist.
“Mine,” Owen whispered a final time before sliding deep inside me.
I moaned at the length of him finally filling me after so much teasing. Back and forth we moved together, thrusting against each other, our lips and hands building the pressure, the desire, the need, that much more.
I’d been right back at the restaurant—it was deliciously good and oh, so satisfying.
All around us in the cove, the water sprayed and frothed and foamed, but we were already lost in another sort of undertow, swept away until there was nothing left but the climax that drowned us both.
13
“Wow,” I whispered when we were through. “I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”
Owen grinned. “It does have its perks.”
I settled my head on his chest, and we lay on the blankets in silence, listening to the rush of the water in and out of the cove and watching the black shadows of the seagulls and terns streak across the sand like skittering spiders.
Owen and I lazed around for the better part of an hour before reluctantly pulling on our clothes and walking back to the beach house. I would have loved to spend the rest of the day with him, but Callie was still in trouble, and I had an appointment with Dekes that just wouldn’t wait.
Using his seemingly endless network of business connections, clients, spies, and snitches, Finn had managed to score himself, Bria, and Owen invites to Dekes’s press conference just like he said he would. The four of us regrouped in the living room that afternoon to go over some final details.
I looked at the laminated press card, the photo ID, and the other phony credentials that Finn had created for me. “So my name is Carmen Cole, and I write for some newspaper up in New York. Don’t you think that’s a little out there? A reporter coming all this way just to talk to Dekes about his casino?”
Finn shrugged. “Not really. According to the guest list, there are reporters from a variety of publications and states coming in for the party. I figured that was the easiest thing to do, since I have a subscription to the financial section of that newspaper and can give you some details about what it covers and how. Simpler is better, remember? That’s what Dad always used to say.”
That had been one of many pearls of wisdom Fletcher had given us over the years and one that I’d taken to heart today. The plan was straightforward. Using the fake credentials that Finn had created for me, I was going to pretend I was writing a business story on Dekes’s new casino and its potential economic impact on Blue Marsh. When the time was right, I’d approach Dekes and ask him for a private interview. Powerful or not, I imagined that he’d be happy to suck up to a lowly reporter if he thought it would get him some good press.
Once I was alone with Dekes, I’d make my move and strongly suggest that he leave Callie alone. Depending on what the vampire did then, I’d either walk out of his office and rejoin the press conference or sneak out the back covered with blood.
I was good with either option.
“Now, on to more important matters,” Finn said, striking a dramatic pose. “How do I look?”
Finn loved dressing up, and he had more high-end suits hanging in his closet than most people had white cotton socks stuffed into their chests of drawers. But he’d gone all out this afternoon. Finn sported a fitted white linen suit that showed off the muscular lines of his body. His shirt was black, and so were his shoes, which were so slick and glossy that I could see my reflection in them. A white Panama hat with a slim black ribbon around the brim perched on top of his carefully styled, walnut-colored locks. Finn had spent more time on his hair than Bria and I had—combined.
“A Panama hat? Really?” Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.
Finn grinned. “When in Rome.”
In contrast to Finn, Owen wore a simple navy suit with a sky blue shirt and tie and a pair of black wingtips. He looked every inch the strong, shrewd, powerful businessman that he was. To me, there was nothing sexier than a man in a well-tailored suit, and I found myself wanting to slip off Owen’s jacket and slide my fingers down his chest before undressing the rest of him. Mmm.
“Well, I don’t know about you three, but I feel ridiculous in this dress,” Bria muttered.
A long, slinky gown clung to my sister’s body, showing off her killer curves. Black and white orchids covered the dress, creating an interesting geometric pattern, and small black sequins gleamed on the garment’s spaghetti straps, bringing out the exquisite paleness of Bria’s skin. Her blond hair just brushed her shoulders, the ends curling around the primrose rune that rested in the hollow of her throat. Smoky black shadow and liner rimmed her blue eyes, adding to her beauty, while strappy black stiletto heels gave her an extra three inches of height.