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Get a fuck buddy, they said. Keep it casual, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.
If that were true, why the fuck was Aelin staring down the back of Rowan Whitethorn’s head as if it had personally offended her? Why was she feeling nearly violent at the fact that Lyria was laughing so hard at everything he said? Since when was Rowan Whitethorn funny?
Maybe that was unfair— he made Aelin laugh all the time. But something about their laughter together felt special; sacred. She realized she had no true claim on the man, that their arrangement was meant to be casual. Sleeping together was convenient, if nothing else, considering they had mutual friends and often found themselves in the same place anyway. And maybe the sex was absolutely fantastic— maybe Rowan got her off at a level that seemed almost superhuman. Aelin wouldn’t be caught complaining about it.
The problem was that she’d grown to enjoy the stuff before and after sex as much, if not more, than the sex itself. Rowan was a genuinely good man at his center, and he never rushed anything between them. He was content to hangout for a bit, talk to her, engage her mentally a little before immediately trying to shove his hand down her pants. Once they finished, he always took his time to ground her, to comfort her back to earth. He was attentive and sweet.
And right now, she kind of hated him for it.
Aelin was sitting in a large, leather armchair, sipping her drink and trying to distract herself from watching Lyria and Rowan together. If anyone bothered to tell her she was failing, she would happily tell them to mind their own business. She was actually doing a pretty good job of allowing her rational side to talk her down and to keep her temper at bay. Jealousy wasn’t foreign to Aelin in the slightest, and she was fairly well-versed in how to tame it.
But then Lyria ran her fingers through his hair.
Aelin was on her feet before her rational mind had a chance to volunteer an opinion.
“Ro? You got a minute?” Aelin asked sweetly, her hand resting gently on his bicep.
“Oh. Yeah, Ae,” he responded quickly. Then, to Lyria, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
Rowan followed her up the stairs and into his bedroom. She knew his house like the back of her hand with how often she visited between time with Rowan and her cousin being his roommate. It was possible that she should have Rowan lead the way considering this wasn’t her place, but she was running a bit on autopilot.
“Aelin, are you okay?” Rowan asked, genuine concern laced through his features as he shut the door. He set his drink down on the dresser and crossed the room to her, running his hand through his hair out of nervous habit.
“I’m fine. Just wondered if you had a little time to spare this evening,” she countered.
“I always have time for you,” he murmured, twirling a lock of her golden hair around his finger.
“Does Lyria know that?”
She was too heated to be more artful with her words, and she cringed slightly at her bluntness.
“Wait— this is about Lyria? Aelin, are you jealous?” he teased, his full lips turning up at one corner.
“I mean, no. Not really.” Yes. “It’s not like you answer to me, I’m just spoiled to a certain amount of your time,” she argued.
“So you’re being selfish, then?” he purred, his body now close enough to make her head spin.
“Something like that,” she replied, placing her hands on his chest and running them up and over his shoulders. “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”
Rowan’s brows rose at that, shock clearly evident in his pine green eyes. “Ever?”
Aelin swallowed thickly at his loaded question. She realized she was entering delicate territory, but it was only the truth. She was tired of pretending she didn’t care for him, and she was tired of pretending she felt casually about their relations.
“Ever,” she breathed.
He nudged her chin upward with his nose so that he could place warm, wet kisses to her neck. Aelin bowed into him, his arms wrapping tightly around her to keep her flush to his body. His teeth nipped gently at her earlobe, earning a quiet whimper from Aelin.
“And do I get a say in who touches you?” he breathed into her ear, before pressing his lips to the sensitive skin behind it.
“If you want it,” she croaked, one of her hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair.
Rowan hummed against her cheek as he placed kisses all the way to her mouth.
“Are you sure, Ae? I’m very selfish,” he whispered against her lips.
Aelin tightened her grip in his hair, and Rowan’s approving groan had her entire body on fire. She pressed her lips hungrily to his; no longer able to resist.
“Rowan,” she moaned. “You’re the only one I want to touch me. So, touch me.”
At her words, Rowan wasn’t interested in their cheeky banter. He backed her roughly into his dresser, the large piece of furniture nearly rocking with the force of their bodies against it. He kissed her senseless, one of his hands finding purchase in her hair and the other holding tightly to her hip.
“Aelin. Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth.
He flexed his strong fingers in her hair, angling her head back just enough to claim her fully. She opened up for him eagerly, their kisses rough and almost desperate.
“Do you have any idea how bad I want you? How fucking crazy I drive myself thinking that someone else would touch you like this?” Rowan rasped.
His hips rolled into hers over and over, and Aelin thought she may combust between the friction and the way he talked to her. She backed him toward his bed, and he dragged her down on top of him once the back of his legs hit the mattress. Her legs straddled his waist almost on instinct, the two of them falling into a rhythm that was far too familiar.
With one hand, Rowan popped the button of her jeans open, slipping his fingers to where she needed him. He muttered a low curse when he felt her arousal, his hips snapping up of their own accord.
“Please,” she begged, sitting up fully on her knees to allow him adequate space.
Before she had to ask again, he was moving her underwear to the side and slipping a long finger into her. Aelin’s hips bucked at the sensation, the urge to ride his hand almost unbearable. He massaged her thigh tightly with his other hand as he pulled back and inserted another.
“You’re soaked, Aelin.” His voice was lower now, almost pained. “That’s it, my girl. Move on me— take what you need.”
Her hips were rolling in earnest now, her hands gripping each of his forearms roughly. Rowan matched her timing, making sure to brush against that mythical spot right as she snapped her hips forward.
“Gods, you’re fucking perfect,” he marveled. “Take your shirt off for me, baby.”
Aelin needed no additional prompts. Her shirt was gone immediately, leaving her in a bralette. It was then that Rowan pressed his thumb to her clit, causing her to cry out at the overload of sensations.
“Ro, I’m gonna—“ she trailed off.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Come for me, Aelin.”
She exploded around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as she rode out her high. The tension left her body all at once, and she collapsed into his chest for support. She kissed him hungrily, fully aware of how he could make her blood sing yet again. Her hands pulled roughly at his shirt before moving to his jeans, unfastening his belt and the buttons. Rowan groaned once his length was free and hurried to help Aelin pull his jeans off the rest of the way.
He flipped them on the bed so that Aelin was sprawled below him, taking his time to remove her jeans and her lingerie. Rowan took his time taking her in, his hands wandering down her sides and over her thighs as if trying to prove to himself she was real. Suddenly, he gripped her thighs, pulling her toward his hips and angling himself at her entrance. Aelin’s eyes rolled as he entered her, the feeling as sublime as it had been the first time.
Both of them let out a long, almost synchronized moan at their joining. Rowan leaned forward to brace himself on his hand and his other hand lifted her hips to his, suspending hers slightly over the bed as he worked her. His hips snapped into hers at a brisk pace, driven by pure need.
Before long, a thin layer of sweat covered both of their bodies. Aelin’s soft cries and moans were punctuated by grunts and moans from Rowan, the only other sound being that of their hips coming together repeatedly. Rowan threw his head back as he neared his release, the only thing in his world being the perfect woman beneath him.
“Rowan,” she pleaded, snapping his attention back to her. “Talk to me, baby. I want to hear your voice.”
His responding groan was enough to send a jolt through her on its own. “Gods. You’ve ruined me. You feel so fucking perfect around my cock, you know that?”
Aelin could only whimper as she barreled toward her orgasm, his voice sending tingles all over her body.
“Just knowing that you’re mine— fuck, Aelin. I’m close.”
His hips snapped even deeper into hers somehow, and she cried out. She didn’t care that there was a party downstairs and that they could very well have an audience outside the door. There was only Rowan.
“Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop,” she begged, her voice higher pitched the closer she got to release.
Rowan let out a low growl as he neared that edge with her, his entire body tense. All of his focus seemed to be going to their pleasure, the idea of using his words suddenly forgotten. Aelin decided to push the envelope, nearly weak with the need to hear one more thing roll off his tongue.
“Say you’re mine, Ro,” she said as she clenched even tighter around him. “You know I’m all yours— tell me you’re mine.”
“Ah, shit. Shit,” he muttered, trying to master himself enough to give her what she wanted.
“I’m yours, Aelin,” he ground out. “Always been.”
She threw her head back at that, no longer capable of uttering anything except chopped curses and short words of praise. With only a couple more thrusts she was coming again, and Rowan followed almost immediately after, falling to his elbows above her. Aelin gripped his face in a searing kiss, wrapping her legs around the back of his thighs to keep him close.
Rowan tucked his face into her neck as they recovered, the only sound in the room their rough breathing. Several minutes passed before he leaned back to look at her and placed a soft kiss to her lips.
“We should have been selfish a long time ago,” he mused, the comforting rhythm of his laugh making her heart clench.
Aelin let out a small laugh of her own. “I was serious, you know,” she whispered, suddenly serious. “I’m yours, Ro.”
He pressed another soft kiss to her lips but lingered a bit longer than before. “Good,” he whispered back. “I’ve been yours since our first night together, whether you knew it or not.”
Rowan shifted back only slightly so that he could lay his head on her chest. Aelin brought both of her hands to his hair, running her fingers through his strands to relax him.
“So,” she started, mirth laced through her voice. “You think Lyria knows you won’t be right back?”
Aelin erupted into giggles when Rowan’s teeth bit gently at her collarbone. She was incredibly ticklish given their previous activity.
“Don’t be a jerk, Ae,” he pouted playfully as he rested his head back into its original position.
Neither rejoined the party, the two of them too content to stay wrapped around each other through the night. If being selfish is what brought her this happiness with Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin thought she may have to do it more often.