Rescue Breathing (12 page)

"To special skills like stalking and zipper
repair."

He laughs a throaty, sexy laugh and we
clink glasses. I take a sip of the wine. It's soooo good, and I
lick my lip to catch a drop that has escaped my mouth. Now he's the
one staring at me. His eyes are fixated on my lips. I smile and I
look down, suddenly feeling shy. Oh my god. He's hard—really
hard—and big. My eyes flicker back up to his as he gives me a very
wicked grin. Feeling a little awkward, I take another long sip of
my wine. He watches my face, my mouth, even my throat as I swallow.
It amazes me how the very simplest of tasks can be so erotic if the
situation and the company are right. He fingers the stem of his own
wine glass, and it's like being a voyeur of a very sexy, very dirty
act. It makes me damp. He puts his glass down on the side table and
reaches out for mine.

“
How does it taste?” he asks placing my
glass beside his own.

“
It's good. It has—”

I don
't get the rest of my sentence out before he is on me. He
grabs the nape of my neck and pulls me in, tilting my head in the
process. His lips are so soft, velvety, and moist from the wine.
His lips press against mine first in a chaste kiss, and then it
becomes stronger as he slips his tongue between my lips, coaxing
them open. I respond with a slight moan, which gives him greater
access and allows me to start licking back with my own tongue. The
kiss is brief and he pulls away, breathing heavily but staying
close.

He whispers, “Mmmm...you're right. It's
delicious. Tastes even better on you.”

His free hand slips around my waist and
pulls me closer so I can feel him against my lower stomach.
Involuntary spasms are taking over most of the important parts of
my body. He is such a good kisser, and I am in no way interested in
stopping what's happening here.

I lift my hand, sliding my fingers up his
arm, over his shoulder, and around his neck. We are both slightly
wobbly, and as he leans into me, I find myself against the wall
again.
He pushes forward
and kisses me once more. This time, I am prepared, and I open to
him immediately. His kiss deepens and he pulls me even closer. His
mouth slides across my jaw, down my neck, licking and nipping a
cool, wet trail. He starts to kiss the swell of my breasts at the
neckline of my dress. I let go of his hair and reach to my side to
undo the zipper. Fuck! I forgot that it's stuck. I break our kiss
and look down at the offending zipper. I glance back up at him,
dismay written on my face.

“
It's stuck…” I whine.

Owen seems confused at first. Then he
looks to my side where I'm tugging at the errant garment. “I guess
you weren't kidding about the zipper,” he muses. “And here I
thought it was just a sexy text to get me to come up to your room.”
He rests his head against my shoulder as he steadies himself to
examine my dress more closely. “May I?” he asks, offering
help.

“
Please,” I groan, frustrated. God, this is
such a mood killer.

He looks back up at me with a salacious
grin. “I like it when you say 'please,' Olivia.”

What does he mean by that?

Before I can ask, he grabs ahold of the
zipper and makes an attempt to slide it down.
It doesn't budge. He tries again. Nothing.
He furrows his brow with determination. It's endearing. He looks
like a little kid figuring out a complicated Lego sculpture, biting
his lip and twisting his face. He turns me to my side and falls to
his knees.

“
Your dress is stuck in the zipper. This is
going to be a problem. How much do you love this dress?”

At the moment, I hate the fucking
thing.
I give him a half
smile and shrug.
Have at it, big guy.

“
Okay, let me try something else,” he
suggests as if fixing zipper malfunctions is his career.

As he inspects closer, I feel his hand
slide up the back of my leg and stop just under the hem of my
dress.
I smile down at
him. His touch is always perfect, always amazing. I bite my lip as
I think of how that same hand would feel sliding up
farther.

He starts to pull at the fabric,
alternately tugging the zipper and the material in an effort to
work them apart.
He
groans a bit, even lets out a curse or two here or there. I swear I
can see sweat beading on his forehead.

“
Ha!”

I glance down at him, eyes wide.
“Ha?”

“
I did it. I beat the zipper.” He stares up
at me as if he has conquered Mt. Everest, and I smile down at him.
So cute.

Cool air hits my bare skin on the side
where the zipper has been opened. He looks up at me, eyes hooded,
asking for permission, it seems, to finish the job. I run my hands
through his silky hair, nodding. I push him back a bit so he's
sitting back on his heels, encouraging him to watch me.
Confidently, I slide the dress over my shoulders and let it drop so
that it pools at my feet. I am instantly glad and a little pleased
with myself that I wore matching black lace panties and bra—and
better yet, matching thigh-high stockings. My fuck-me heels are
still on, and while I'm rarely one to toot my own horn, I know I
look hot. Toot. Toot.

He sighs loudly and eyes me up and down
while I kick my dress to the side.
His face is at eye level with my panties, and
everything in me wants to grab the back of his head and push his
face between my legs. I really am classy in my drunk head. After
giving me a head-to-toe appraisal, he locks eyes with me.
Tentatively, he reaches a hand out and I give a slight nod of my
head, allowing him permission to do whatever it is he wants to do
with that hand—
anything
he
wants to do with that hand. He places it on my ankle and runs it up
my calf, behind my knee, and up my thigh. While his fingers trace
the lace tops of my stockings, I shiver.

“
Fucking beautiful,” he whispers as his
finger slips just under the band of my stockings. Owen slides his
hands around to the backs of my thighs and up to cup my ass. As he
pulls me toward him, he grabs the edge of my black panties with his
teeth, briefly pulling them away from my body and snapping them
back into place. In my drunken state, this cracks me up, and I
can't help but giggle. He looks up at me with an inquisitive
smile.

"Something amusing you, Olivia?" he asks,
arching an eyebrow and smirking.

I feign seriousness. "No, no. Please,
continue."

His eyes close and he gets right back to
business.

Owen leans forward and pushes his nose
into my panties, inhaling deeply. My head falls back before I
glance back down at him. He looks drugged, and from here, I can see
his arousal growing larger and larger as he runs his nose up and
down my panties. He plants a soft, wet kiss along the upper edge of
my thong, just where my belly meets the elastic. He stands
gracefully—actually terribly gracefully considering that I know
he's at least a little drunk.

He towers over me and looks down at me,
eyes hooded as he traces just the tips of his fingers up my arm and
over my bra strap. I imagine he's going to pull them down, but
instead, he slides his hand over my collarbone, down my sternum,
and farther down to cup my breast. I fit him as if I were made just
for his hand size. He squeezes gently and groans from the back of
his throat. I love that sound. Owen bends down, lining his eyes
with mine, seeking something. Permission? My hands reach behind me
and I unhook my bra, letting the straps slip down my arms. He takes
a step back to let it fall to the floor but quickly returns to
where he was.

Oh my God. Every nerve in my body is
thrumming, humming, screaming, and cheering. He smells so good, and
his hands seem to know exactly where to touch me. It's as if he'd
studied a road map of my erogenous zones before coming to my room.
Owen wants me to say yes to this, to finish what we started in the
plane. I want to say yes to this. Fuck it, I AM saying yes to
this.

I look him in the eyes and nod my head, a
move that has recently become my only mode of communication.
Reaching forward, I push his
suit jacket off his shoulders and it drops to his feet. His hands
lightly squeeze my breasts before one travels back down my side and
around to squeeze my ass. My eyes flutter shut for just a moment,
and then I get back to the task at hand.

One by one, I start to undo the buttons on
his dress shirt.
When it
is halfway open, I lean forward and place wet kisses down his
chest. The light smattering of hair tickles my face. Slowly, my
hands slide down the open seams before I untuck his shirt from his
pants, pushing it open farther. I plant more kisses cross his broad
chest, and when I get to his nipple, I take it between my teeth and
nibble lightly, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from him. Mmmm, he
likes that.

I continue to lick and nibble his nipples
while I undo his belt.
I
am really,
really
anxious
to see this enormous beast in his pants. I unbutton and unzip his
jeans, and after sliding my hands into the back of his trousers, I
push them over his ass and hips. He is wearing those tight boxer
briefs, and the head of his penis is peeking just over the top
band.

A nervous laugh escapes my lips.
"Um, it looks like it wants
out."

He lets out a sexy, guttural
chuckle.
“You have no
idea,” he groans hoarsely.

I lock my gaze with his as Owen takes my
wrist and guides my hand over his significant size.
My fingers trace the outline of
his penis over his briefs, memorizing the lines, the ridge of the
head. He groans and instinctively pushes slightly into my touch. I
wrap my fingers around him as much as possible through his briefs,
the other hand starting to trace his balls. When I gently squeeze,
he groans louder.

“
Fuck,” he growls through a breath. “Grab
my dick just like that, Olivia. I love it.”

As I continue to stroke him, he leans down
to nibble my ear and kiss down my neck. He grabs both of my breasts
in his large hands, pushing them together. Resting his forehead on
mine, he studies what is going on between us. In a bold move, I
slip my fingers into the band of his underwear and start to push
down.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands
suddenly leave my breasts, grasping my wrists.

“
Wait,” he breathes. “Not yet.”

He takes my hands, and holding just my
wrists, he wraps them around my back, pinning them behind me. I'm
restrained. Oh my—that's hot. He kisses my neck as he starts
walking me back toward the bed. When I reach it, my knees hit the
mattress, and with a little push from Owen, I gently fall back on
the super soft bedding. I can't help but let out a soft laugh as I
get a lightheaded feeling from the wine and the sheer silliness of
falling back on the bed.

I prop myself up on my elbows to watch
him.
Owen is standing in
front of me, just gazing at me. His eyes are filled with lust. I
crook my finger at him, beckoning him closer.

“
You want something, Olivia?” Even drunk,
he has this whole seduction scene down.

“
Yes, I do” I hiss at him, unable to tear
my eyes away from his penis, which, at the moment, is trying
desperately to free itself from the confines of his
briefs.

He crawls up the bed and over me,
straddling my thighs.
He
takes my hands with his before sliding to my wrists, holding them
over my head, trapping them easily in one of his hands. This
position arches my back and forces my breasts up and towards him.
He seems to particularly like my breasts, I think, as he eyes them
like they're his last meal. He buries his head in my cleavage,
sucking and nibbling along the tops of them, licking and soothing
intermittently.

I continue to arch my back, seeking out
his mouth as I feel his erection pressing against me, just there,
between my legs. He gently grinds against me, only our underwear
separating us. Mine are conspicuously wet and ready to come off. I
can't help but moan as he slides against me.

“
Feel that, Olivia?” he asks seductively,
quietly. “Feel what you're
doing
to me?” he groans as he kisses up my breasts toward my
neck.

I have never been restrained during sex,
or even during foreplay, so I had no idea what a turn-on it would
be. He's such a strong, virile man, every inch the fireman fantasy,
and his holding me down as he teases me and turns me on makes me
feel more feminine somehow.

At some point, he has gone from straddling
me to lying between my legs, and as he grinds against me, licking
my breasts.
I lift my
hips tentatively to match his motion. Since I can't wrap my arms
around him, I go with the next best thing and secure my legs around
his thighs. He moans a little and gives my nipple a little
bite.

“
Ouch!” I protest. He circles his tongue
around the sensitive flesh to soothe the sting, but not before
giving me a very, very naughty grin.

At some point with all the grinding, the
band of his briefs starts to scoot down, and I feel the velvety
soft head of his penis rub my lower belly.
I know I'm right about what I feel because
as soon as I feel it, he groans—loudly.