Chapter 8

Mira

The door practically busts off of its hinges as I fly into Owen’s house. I can’t seem to land my focus on anything. Every detail of this house, significant or minor, speaks ‘fucking loaded.’

From the crown molding throughout the rooms, to the marble countertops and the ivory sculptures, there’s no mistaking Owen’s wealth. And with that being so abundantly clear, I no longer want to fuck the daylights out of him; I want to get to know him.

I want to know what makes him tick and what lifts him up. And I’m dying to know what his upbringing was like.

God. He must have been born into all of this. He and Carl are siblings, of course, so that would make the most sense.

I’m so fascinated as I start fixating on various pieces of decor. There’s custom storage pieces, portraits, personal photos—woah. Personal photos.

Like pictures of Owen on vacation in what I can only assume to be the tropics. I grab the picture and bring it close to my face, scanning down that tight six pack and focusing hard on that sexy ‘V’ his hips cut into.

Motherfucker, why does this guy have to be so hot?

“Mira?” I hear him call out from behind me.

I gulp down the saliva that’s been pooling in my mouth. I turn to him as he studies what’s in my hands.

“What do you have there?”

“Oh, nothing,” I reply, setting the picture back down. “I was just wandering a bit, admiring your gorgeous house. I saw this photo and was trying to figure out where you were. Bahamas?”

“Hawaii, actually,” he corrects me. “Have you ever been?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” I answer shortly. “My free time since I’ve launched my lingerie line has been non-existent.”

“Well, that’s not good,” he says lightly. “You have to remember to take care of yourself. I can respect the commitment to your work, but you really have to ease up once in a while.”

Ease up, huh? You have no fucking idea how easy I want to be.

“Y-yeah,” I agree quietly while tucking hair behind my ear, my nerves getting the better of me. “Maybe I need to see an example of what that’s like.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Well, you. Judging by your home and your pictures, you lead a pretty exciting life. Tell me about it. What do you do for fun? How do you balance it with your work life?” I prod.

I’m so genuinely curious about him. I could listen to him talk for hours, especially face to gorgeous fucking face.

“I love to travel,” he starts.

Of course, he does. He’s got pictures and souvenirs—and not the shitty kind from gift shops—literally everywhere.

“My most recent trip was to Japan, and it was honestly so breathtaking that it was hard to come back to the US.”

“Did you manage to bring anything home? You seem like an avid collector of foreign trinkets, at least from what I gather around here.”

Owen seems so happy to entertain.

“As a matter of fact, I did. It was the only thing that made it home with me. My luggage was lost at the airport, so I never managed to get the rest all the way back here. Hold on one moment,” he says as he walks out of the room.

I watch him stride away from me, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip hard and anticipatorily. He walks like a man who knows what a woman wants—how to touch and please her expertly. I want so badly for him to just storm back into the room and take me right here against this marble table, showing me all of his skills.

I want to feel my bare tits pressed against the cool stone as I’m getting rammed from behind by his cock. Just imagining it sends goosebumps all over my body. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

As I exhale, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I gasp and open my eyes abruptly to find Owen has returned with his single tangible Japanese collectible.

“Did I startle you?” he asks. “Apologies. I just was making sure you’re alright.”

“Oh, no. No problem. I’m absolutely fine,” I assure him.

“Well, good. Let me know if I’m ever overstepping any boundaries here. I would hate to lay my hands on you while you’re uncomfortable.”

“You are absolutely fine. Trust me,” I reply, slightly more aggressively.

Cool your jets, Mira.

I look away from him, hoping it’ll calm me down.

He’s being such a gentleman. It’s impressive how he can go from being so dirty one moment to this attentive man the next. I didn’t think it was possible, but it makes him even more attractive.

“Alright then. Now, you’ll have to promise not to laugh. This is pretty out there, and you’re not allowed to judge me for this,” Owen says.

“How bad could it be?” I say, an eyebrow raised to him, and a smirk stretched across my face.

“Promise.”

“I promise,” I respond, rolling my eyes playfully at him.

And now he’s being cute and coy. Damn him!

He smiles and pulls a pair of wrinkled, wadded up women’s underwear from behind his back.

“Underwear?” I ask. “That’s your big, crazy souvenir?”

“Well, they were from a vending machine. I felt like I had to get them for the novelty, you know?’ he explains.

“I think I can understand the temptation. If there was a vending machine with boxers in front of me, I just might buy them,” I say, now staring his physique up and down.

He falls silent, studying me. He watches my eyes travel, my lips twitch slightly, my cheeks tense and relax, and every other little movement my face can do. He’s searching for something.

He wants to know how much bark I have versus bite. I can sense it on him. He wants me just as badly as I want him, but he can’t admit it to me.

“I think it’s best we head off to bed, Mira. It’s getting awfully late, don’t you think?” he says, yawning and stretching.

“I am getting a little tired, I think,” I admit. “Where’s the bed?”

“Well, I don’t have a guest bedroom that’s really available right now, so you can actually just take the c—”

“Right side? Great. That’s where I sleep in my own bed, too. I’ll be perfectly comfortable,” I say, cutting him off.

“In bed? With me? You’re sleeping in my room?” Owen asks, a little caught off-guard.

“Yeah, why not? Is it really necessary to force someone onto the couch when it’s clearly not as comfortable? And besides, it’s one night.”

“I-I suppose,” he answers again, nervously. “Well, follow me.”

I walk with him through the house and to his room. He sleeps on a king-size bed, with a very soft, deep red comforter and metal bedposts that look like a really fun bondage tool.

As I walk over to my side, I start tugging at my dress, getting ready to pull it down. Owen stops me.

“What are you doing?” he says, alarmed.

“Getting ready for bed?” I respond. “I sleep naked.”

I can practically see his boner trying to escape his pants right now. But he’s fighting me. And he’s fighting hard.

“I’d be a lot more comfortable if you kept your clothes on,” he says.

“But it’s warm,” I argue. I think for just a moment while giving him a chance to change his mind. “Here, I’ll compromise. I’ll keep my panties on.”

“Sure,” he replies, happy to negotiate.

He goes into his closet and grabs one of his white undershirts and throws it over to me. I catch it and pull it over my head as lady-like as possible and slither out of my dress with the shirt covering me.

I keep my promise, dressing in a shirt with panties still on. But I feel a little sense of victory knowing that this white fabric barely hides the effect he has on my nipples.

But to my disappointment, his eyes avoid me, and he stays fully clothed in a pair of sweats and a similar white shirt.

We crawl into bed, and I slither under the blankets.

Let’s see if he can avoid me now.