"Owen! What the hell?" I yelled as I sat up in bed, covering myself with the sheet while Rachel covered her body, despite both of us being dressed, with her eyes just barely poking above the sheets.
"I'm, I'm sorry. I tried to text you and call you, but you didn't answer," Owen explained, staring at me as I lay in my bed.
"That still doesn't give you the right to just walk into my apartment!" I said to the man that I wanted to call yesterday but called Rachel instead.
"I know. And I shouldn't have. It was a stupid mistake. But, when I got here, I knocked and didn't answer and thought that I would maybe surprise you," he said.
"Well, you certainly did that," I said.
We stared at each other for what felt like forever until Rachel coughed and sat up in bed next to me. Owen looked over at her and said, "You are the dance instructor! What the hell?"
"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "Kourtney and I have known each other before you two even came to the dance class."
"And you didn't say anything!" Owen said. "And now I find you two in bed together. This is unbelievable."
Owen turned out of the bedroom door. I heard him sit the flowers and chocolate down before leaving the apartment.
I turned to look at Rachel, who said, "Kourtney, as much as I like you, I really think that if you want to be happy, you should go after him."
I thought about it for a minute before I jumped out of bed, grabbed some leggings, and pulled them on. I turned back to look at Rachel laying in my bed, who waved at me, before exiting my apartment, closing the door behind me.
I was up on the third floor and knew that I couldn't catch him if I took an elevator, so I ran towards the stairs, jumping them two at a time. As I opened the door to the lobby, I just caught a glimpse of Owen walking out of the building. I yelled his name, but he didn't hear me, so I continued to run after him.
I caught up to him half a block down from my apartment building, grabbing his elbow as I called his name. "What do you want, Kourtney?" He said it angrily as he turned around.
"A chance to explain myself. Please," I begged him. "And to apologize to you."
Owen looked around at the sidewalk before finally turning his gaze to me. Being a few inches taller than me, he looked down at me through the glasses on his face. He took a deep breath in before saying, "I don't know why I should, but fine. Explain yourself."
"Not here," I said, grabbing his hand and walking back to my apartment. "Let's go back to my apartment."
He reluctantly followed behind him, not saying a word or looking at me as we went back to my apartment building, up the elevator, and to my apartment. Once there, Rachel was just coming out of the bathroom after getting redressed in her clothes. She made eye contact with me and said, "I'll go." She went walking past me, giving me a little hug as Owen went to the living room, and whispered in my ear, "Call me later."
I heard her open and close the door as I watched Owen sit down on the couch and finally look at me. "Explain yourself," he said.
I took a deep breath before walking over and sitting across from him. "I'm not even sure where to begin. I'm not a good person, and you don't deserve me. I've tried to be better, and I keep promising myself that I will be, but then I go and fucked it all up."
"What does that mean?" He asked me.
"It means that whenever I'm with you or talking to you, I want to be better, to be loyal, and to get my life on track. But the second you're gone and somebody else comes around, I lose control of myself," I said.
"So, unless I'm around, you turn into a total slut?" Owen said bluntly.
"Yeah, pretty much. That sums it up nicely," I agreed with him. "Like I said, you don't deserve me, and you should probably just go. I just wanted a chance to explain myself."
Owen looked around at the apartment before he stood up. I put my hands on my face and leaned down as he walked past me. I could hear him walking around, but I didn't want to look up to see what he was doing, so I kept my head in my hands.
Until I heard him say, "Here," and I looked up to see him holding a glass of water. "Take a drink," he said. He sat back down on the couch as I drank the water and said, "Let's go get some breakfast."
"You don't hate me?" I asked him, confused.
"No, I don't. Not yet, at least. Let's go get some food, and you can tell me all about you losing control when I'm not around," he said, taking the glass of water from me and helping me to stand up. I quickly got ready before we left the apartment, and we walked to a small, local café close to my apartment.
As we ate, I told Owen everything. My last few years in Utah, my reasons for moving to Chicago, hooking up with the first few guys, meeting Rachel and our blowup, Danny and Jessica visiting, meeting Vance and fucking him, and all the times I vowed to myself that I just wanted to be with Owen. Owen mostly stayed silent, eating his food and closely paying attention to what I was telling him.
When I was done, Owen just said, "Wow."
"Wow what?" I asked him, a little confused.
"Just everything you've been through. I'm kind of surprised you're not pregnant," he said.
"Me too," I said with a bit of a laugh. "Are you ready to leave yet?"
"Yeah, let me get the check," he said, patting his lips with a napkin and calling for a waitress.
"We can do that too, but I more meant if you're ready to leave me and never come back," I said as the waitress handed him the check.
"Oh. I haven't decided yet," he said as he handed the waitress his debit card.
"Well, I guess that's good," I told him.
Owen surprised me even more by spending the rest of the day with me. We mostly hung out at my apartment, watching random movies and talking. In the late afternoon, Rachel texted me to make sure I was OK, and I quickly explained to her what had happened. She said she was happy for me and that she hoped we could be friends.
As I made dinner for us that night, Owen sat at my kitchen counter and said that he had a question for me. I asked what it was, and he asked, "Short of making you move in with me and keeping an eye on you all the time, how do I know that you won't just go back to calling Rachel or Vance again? Or what will you do if Danny comes to visit again?"
I stayed silent as I thought about his question. Feeling his eyes on me as he waited for me to answer, I said, "Owen, I don't know how you expect me to answer that."
"I don't either, honestly," he said. "Because I think I already know the answer."
I turned to look at him, raising my eyebrows as I waited.
"I've been thinking about it all day. What do they have that I do? I've given you gifts, taken you on dates, been an ear for you to talk to, and have never gotten mad at you. So, it's got to be the sex, right? I know that I enjoy it with you, and you act like you're enjoying it and say you do. So, what is it? What do they have that I don't?"
I started to cry, going back to making the food. Owen saw the tears falling and got up to come stand next to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Kourtney, I'm sorry. I didn't bring it up to make you cry."
"I know," I said, wiping the tears off my face. "It's just hard to explain. I like you. A lot. But I like Rachel a lot, too. And Vance, well, honestly, I would be OK to never see him again."
"What about Danny?" He asked me, rubbing my back.
I continued to think about it before I finally turned to him and said, "Owen, you want to know the difference between you, Vance, and Danny? They love to fuck me. Do you? We've spent all day together; you haven't kissed me, you haven't grabbed my butt, you haven't even touched me, besides giving me a hug. You've barely shown me that you want me. That's what I look for in a guy. I like you. A lot. I want to be with you. But I also crave sex. I want a guy to initiate it. Like now, as I'm making dinner, I can guarantee that Danny would have had me give him a blowjob. And we barely would have fucked at least once already. And Vance can't keep his hands off me. I'm glad we spent the day together. It has been a good day, and I appreciate it. But, seriously, if you don't want me to go back to Rachel, Danny, or Vance, all you need to do is make it so I won't. And you're damn good enough in bed to do it."
Owen took a step back, like he was surprised by what I said. I thought for a second that he was going to turn and walk away, but he wrapped his arms around my body and leaned down to kiss me. I melted into his body as we kissed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pushing my groin into his.
As we made out, I moved my arm between us and started to rub his groin through the pants he had on. When he was fully hard, I ended the kiss, turned around to turn off the stove, then turned back and squatted on the floor in front of him. I quickly undid his pants and pulled them down, freeing his thick, six-inch-long cock.
I made eye contact with him as I wrapped my hand around his shaft and swirled my tongue around his tip. I rubbed his shaft up and down a few times before wrapping my lips around his head and slid my mouth down his shaft. I started to bob my head up and down, with my hand following it.
I closed my eyes as I deep throated him over and over, continuing to work his shaft as I reached up with my other hand and squeezed his balls. I massaged them over and over as he started to moan, and I could feel his orgasm building up.
"Oh fuck," I heard him moan as he pushed his hips forward. I felt the back of my head hit against the oven, but I kept pumping his shaft with my hand. I moved my mouth to just his tip, swirling my tongue around it, until he started to orgasm. Owen pushed his hips forward and buried his cock in my throat as his cum shot out, and I swallowed it all up.
When he was done, he took a step back, his cock popping out of my mouth. I licked off my lips as he looked down at me, and I said, "That's better." He helped me to stand back up before he pulled his pants up, and I finished dinner for us.
As we ate, I could tell that something was bothering Owen, and I finally asked him what was wrong.
He took a deep breath before saying, "I just don't feel like this is going to work out. As much as we say we like each other, I just feel like you're always going to want something that I'm not. Like, I know that you liked it, but I feel like I was forcing you to give me a blowjob, and I don't like feeling that way."
"Oh," was all I could muster to say.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to go. Thanks for dinner," Owen said, getting up from the table. He grabbed his plate and put it in the sink before turning and walking to the door. He took one more look at me before he opened it up and left.
