Rootbound

Chapter Twenty-Seven— “Family Ties”

Keeley’s house smelled like vanilla candles and cheap wine.

The second Owen stepped inside, she was on him.

No words.

No hesitation.

Just nails dragging down his chest, teeth nipping at his jaw, breath hot and ragged against his throat.

She slammed the door with one wild, clumsy shove, and the lock clicked shut behind them.

---

Owen grabbed her face in both hands, kissed her hard — brutal — crushing her lips against his.

Keeley whimpered, arching into him, hands already fumbling at his belt like she’d been practicing for this moment in her sleep.

The kiss was messy.

Desperate.

Not romance —

hunger.

Keeley dragged him backwards toward the couch, her fingers frantic on his jeans.

By the time they crashed onto the cushions, she had his c**k in her hand, stroking him with frantic, clumsy eagerness.

Owen growled low in his throat, fisting her hair.

"On your knees," he said, voice rough.

Keeley dropped without question.

Without shame.

Without anything resembling guilt.

---

She stared up at him, eyes wide and wild, mouth already open, tongue flicking out to taste the tip of him.

Owen groaned, tightening his grip in her hair, guiding her down slow — making her feel every brutal inch.

Keeley gagged when he hit the back of her throat.

Perfect.

He held her there, savoring the wet, sloppy noises, the desperate claw of her nails at his thighs.

---

"You’re a f*****g w***e," Owen muttered, thrusting slow and deep into her mouth.

Keeley moaned around him, the sound vibrating up his spine.

He chuckled darkly, yanking her hair harder.

"Cheating on your brand new fiancé," he said, voice dripping with venom. "Bet you weren’t thinking about him when you sent me those pictures, huh?"

Keeley whimpered again, throat convulsing.

She didn’t pull away.

Didn’t flinch.

If anything, she sucked harder, desperate to please.

---

Owen f****d her mouth with slow, merciless thrusts, savoring the wet pop every time he pulled back, the helpless little gags every time he forced deeper.

He watched tears slip down her cheeks.

Watched the drool spill out around her stretched lips, soaking her chin.

Watched her eyes flutter, dazed and pleading.

And he f*****g loved it.

---

When he finally yanked her off by the hair, Keeley gasped for air, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his c**k.

"Bedroom," Owen said roughly.

Keeley stumbled to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning like the filthy little traitor she was.

She led him down the hall, hips swaying shamelessly, panties already sliding down her thighs.

---

The bedroom was a mess of half-packed boxes and open suitcases.

Keeley didn’t care.

She shoved them aside, crawling onto the bed like a dog in heat.

"Please," she whispered, spreading her legs wide, fingers already sliding through the wet mess between them.

Owen stripped without ceremony.

Tossed his clothes aside.

Climbed over her with a low growl.

---

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t warm her up.

Didn’t pretend this was anything but what it was.

Owen grabbed her hips and slammed into her in one brutal, punishing thrust.

Keeley screamed — not from pain, but from pure, filthy pleasure.

Owen set a vicious rhythm immediately.

Hard.

Fast.

Deep.

The bed slammed against the wall with every brutal drive of his hips.

Keeley clawed at his back, his arms, trying to pull him deeper.

"God, Owen — f**k — f**k me — harder —"

He grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes roll back slightly.

"Shut up," he snarled.

Keeley whimpered, nodding frantically, her nails digging bloody crescents into his shoulders.

---

He pounded into her with ruthless, selfish abandon.

---

Keeley came first, sobbing against his chest, her whole body spasming.

Owen didn’t slow down.

Didn’t let up.

He f****d her right through it, using her twitching body like a toy.

When he came, it was deep, brutal, grinding into her until she screamed again, scratching down his back like a desperate, drowning thing.

He collapsed onto her for a moment, panting against her neck, the smell of sweat and s*x thick and raw between them.

Neither of them spoke.

There was nothing left to say.