Mara's Self-Indulgent Fics

When Claire had first approached you and Owen about going back to Isla Nublar, you had both refused; it was a terrible idea! And it wasn’t like you wanted the dinosaurs to die, but bringing them to the mainland to shelter while Benjamin Lockwood, retired bazillionaire, built a new sanctuary wasn’t the best idea.

But time was running out. And soon both Islas Nublar and Sorna would be consumed by molten lava and volcanic ash. Experts had predicted the eruption would bury both islands, like Vesuvius burying Pompeii and Herculaneum.

Now you were sitting on a private jet supplied by Lockwood - all luxury and comfort with minifridges and waitstaff. The only issue was you hated flying. How the hell you’d managed to get to Isla Nublar to work was a damn miracle!

Even after the Indominus incident, Owen had bought a trailer and driven you both home through Central America. No flying involved. Your boyfriend could be a total dumbass, but at least he was a supportive dumbass. Not to mention he was your dumbass.

You leaned heavily against him as the plane took off, not even relaxing when he put an arm around you to comfort you.

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The hand you’d rested on his thigh tightened its grip without you even realizing as the plane shook a little while passing through the clouds. By the time it levelled out you were nothing but a ball of tense muscles and stress.

Almost the instant the seatbelt sign switched off, you made a beeline for the bathroom and bent over the sink, splashing cold water on your face. Logically, you knew the odds of the plane crashing or getting into any trouble were slim to none, but you couldn’t control yourself. Maybe you should’ve taken something to knock you out for the trip and had Owen wake you up when you landed.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts.

“Baby?”

Sighing, you opened the door and Owen stepped in. God, the rich were spoiled - the bathroom was huge. Hell, there was a bench just for hand towels. Real actual towels, not the shitty paper things you’d get on a commercial flight. Not only was there a mirror over the sink, the wall opposite also had a mirror so if you looked up, you could catch yourself in an infinite cycle of throwing up in the sink. 

There was even a vase in the corner with half a dozen roses. So there was more than enough room for the two of you to stand comfortably.

“You okay?” he murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Owen’s thumb caressed your cheek and he cupped your jaw.

You leaned into his touch, shaking your head. “I hate flying.”

His voice dropped to a whisper and he took a step closer, thumb pressing between your lips. “Let me help you.”

Without thinking, you started sucking and licking. You knew what he was up to and it was a welcome distraction.

“Colour?”

“Green,” you sighed around his thumb.

“‘Green’ what, baby?”

A soft moan escaped you as he pushed further into your mouth. “Green, Sir.”

“Good girl.” At the same time as his other hand slid around to the small of your back, he angled your face up and bent to capture your lips in a rough kiss. The hand at the small of your back pushed your shirt up as he moved to snap your bra open in one smooth motion. “Clothes off.”

“Yes, Sir,” you breathed as he stepped back. One by one you took off each article of clothing and placed it neatly on the towel bench while his eyes burned into you, his breathing hard and ragged.

“Such a good girl for me, baby.”

The last piece of your clothing, your bra, joined the rest and you stood straight, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at Owen through your lashes. 

Slowly, he removed his belt then ordered you to turn around and bound your hands with it as he nipped and kissed across your shoulders and back. “So pretty like this,” he murmured. When he was done he spun you back around and put his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing. “On your knees.”

For a minute, your brain shorted out, then you laughed as a completely inappropriate thought struck you. “What if we hit turbulence and I bite down?”

The corners of Owen’s lips twitched. “Good to see you’re starting to feel better,” he said. “Now get on your knees or I’ll spank that slutty ass until you can’t walk.”

The order shot straight through you, sending shivers along your spine and a flood of wetness between your legs. Owen could read you the phone book and you’d melt, but when he talked like that? You were absolutely lost. “Yes, Sir.” If he kept this up, you might not even need any damn lube.

You dropped to your knees as he pulled his cock out of his jeans and held it out for you with one hand. Even after three years together, you were still in awe of just how perfect his cock was - big, but not too big; thick, but not too thick; and shit the way he curved up against your g-spot! You couldn’t wait to have him inside you. 

Owen looked down at you, eyes nearly black with arousal as his other hand threaded in your hair, holding it away from your face. “Beg.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

His fingers tightened in your hair, reminding you who was in charge.

“Please, Sir,” you corrected yourself.

Owen tugged your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Use all your words, bad girl.”

“Sorry, Sir! Please,” you begged, breathing becoming more ragged. “Please let me suck your cock, Sir. Please!”

“Open, baby,” he said. “Tongue out.”

You immediately obeyed, tongue lolling over your bottom lip as you stared up at him, waiting for his next move.

“Look at you,” he panted. His fingers left your hair and trailed across your cheek, then he hooked his thumb over your tongue, holding your mouth open. “So fucking sexy on your knees for me. Such a good girl for me.”

A soft whine left your lips as he slid his cock inside your mouth slowly.

“So desperate,” he breathed. “You desperate for my cock, good girl?”

A little drool slipped out of your mouth as you nodded.

“Making me so hard,” he murmured as he slowly started rocking his hips. Both hands tangled in your hair, keeping any loose strands away from your face - away from his view. “Go ahead.”

You hummed with pleasure as you closed your lips around his cock, teasing him with your tongue as he fucked your face with increasing intensity. 

Everything you’d been so worried about only minutes earlier was gone. All you knew was Owen, all you could think about was how good it felt being used by him and how much you loved those sounds he made as he took his pleasure. Those were your sounds. He was yours, as much as you were his.

The plane jostled a little, but you barely noticed, so wrapped up in your task.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Such a talented fucking mouth.”

You moaned softly at his praise, loving the deep groan it pulled from him.

Owen’s hips sped up and his cock nudged your throat, pushing in just a little further than he’d done last time. You gagged, but kept up with your task - you trusted Owen not to take it too far.

“You love it like this, don’t you, baby?” he panted.

“Mmm-hmm.”

His pace stuttered a little and you smirked as much as you could with your mouth full, knowing you were the reason.

“My dirty girl. Fuck!” he hissed as you swirled your tongue over the tip as he pulled back. His cock slid out of your mouth and you tried to follow, but he held you back. “So pretty on your knees, desperate for my cock.”

“Yes, Sir,” you whined.

One of his hands slid out of your hair and he offered it to you to help you off the floor. The second you were upright, the hand still tangled in your hair pulled you in for a rough kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, taking, not asking. And you melted in his arms.

Owen pulled back, running a thumb softly over your kiss-bitten lips. “Colour?”

“Green,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said, caressing your cheek. His smile warmed you. “Turn around, baby. Bend over the sink. I want you to watch me fuck you.”

“Yes, Sir.” You turned around and caught him in the mirror as he pulled a condom out of his pocket and slid it on. Of course he had a condom. Smiling, you bent over the sink.

Owen grinned at you and slid his hand up along your back into your hair, pushing your head down against the sink as his fingers drew patterns between your legs. “So wet for me already.”

“Only for you, Sir,” you cried. “Please!”

Two fingers pressed against you, then agonizingly slowly pushed inside, teasing as he searched out your g-spot. “So fucking wet. So ready for my cock.”

Every touch had you melting in his hands. You were on fire for him! “Please,” you begged.

His fingers grazed your g-spot, making you cry out softly. You weren’t sure just how much more teasing you could take. 

“You want my cock, dirty girl?”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, Sir.”

He pulled his fingers out and slapped your ass - a gentle reminder that drew a soft moan from you. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please give me your cock, Sir,” you pleaded. “Please, Sir!” You were desperate for his touch, desperate for him to fuck you, to make you cum and call you his good girl.

Almost as though he was reading your mind, he bent and kissed from the top of your spine to your ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Spread those legs for me, baby.”

Instantly, you obeyed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, nipping your ear before standing back up. Owen tugged your hair and made you watch as he slid his cock slowly inside you.

A soft cry escaped your lips as your face pinched with pleasure; behind you, Owen sighed and gripped your hip tightly. The sight of your ruined face and his barely restrained arousal turned you on like nothing else - maybe you would have to get a mirror installed in the trailer when you got home.

“Baby,” he breathed as you squeezed your walls around him. “Fuck. Keep watching, dirty girl.”

You nodded. As though you’d be able to tear yourself away from the sight of him fucking you! “Yes, Sir.”

Owen slowly slid out, then back in, both hands gripping your hips hard enough you knew there would be bruises.

Then out. 

Back in.

Was his plan to break you with the slowest damn sex ever? Fuck! “Owen!” you begged without thinking. God, you just wanted him to drill you into the damn sink and make you scream!

He pinched your hip, then slapped your ass almost hard enough to echo in the bathroom.

“Sir,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry, Sir! Please, Sir! Fuck me!”

“Better,” he said. “Tell me how you want it, dirty girl.”

Desperate didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. “Hard and fast, Sir,” you whimpered. “Please!”

“And what do you say if it’s too much?” he prompted.

You bit back on a smile; he was always looking out for you. “Red, Sir,” you said. “Or Yellow if I just need a minute.”

Owen bent and kissed your back. “My good girl,” he murmured.

“Thank you, Sir.”

With a brief nip at your skin, he pushed back upright. “Ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Owen started fucking you slowly, but each thrust of his hips was more intense and faster, allowing you to adjust. And giving you time to stop him if you needed to.

But holy shit did you not want him to stop! You cried out softly with every push of his hips, the sound becoming louder and louder as he fucked you harder and harder. The way he panted and moaned as he fucked you….

A long moan rumbled in your throat and you dropped your head with a gasp, only to be pulled back up.

“Keep watching,” he panted. “Want you to watch me make you cum, dirty girl!”

“Yes, Sir,” you cried. “Fuck!” His hand slid around your waist and his fingers pressed hard against your clit. The frantic pace of his hips and hard grip in your hair had tears streaming down your face from the intense pleasure.

In the mirror, Owen’s eyes blazed with arousal, his lips pursed in concentration as he pounded into you. “Tell me when you’re close, babe.”

“Sir!” You were dizzy with arousal as you white-knuckled the sink, drooling into it. “I’m close!”

“Cum for me, good girl!” he rasped. “Cum, baby!”

Waves of fire rolled over you as your orgasm took hold, every muscle tensing and releasing in an instant. Your eyes fluttered closed as you lost yourself to the pleasure.

“Keep them open, dirty girl,” Owen growled, tugging on your hair.

Your eyes peeled open as you tried to fix your gaze on the image of you falling to pieces for him, but everything was hazy and unfocussed. You could sure as hell feel his hips snapping hard against you, though. And the groans and curses coming from his lips!

A slap on your ass refocussed your eyes as he ordered you to cum again!

White noise pounded in your ears, darkness pinched the edges of your vision, and you fell over the edge again for him as he slammed into you!

By the time you regained your faculties, you were a limp puddle resting against the sink for support. If Owen hadn’t been holding your hips, you were sure your knees would’ve given out under you.

“You okay, baby?” A gentle kiss on your neck made you realize he was bent over you, nipping softly along your shoulders and jaw.

“Uh huh,” you breathed.

“Stay there,” he said. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

“Uh uh.” Still a little overstimulated, You barely even heard the faucet next to your head start to run. And the sudden the feeling of a wet cloth between your legs made you jump.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

But you didn’t reply, just kept trying to regulate your breathing.

The cloth left you and Owen picked you up to sit you on the sink as he helped you get dressed again.

“How’re you feeling now?” he teased, fastening your bra behind your back as he kissed you.

“Good,” you breathed.”Thirsty.”

Owen laughed. “I’ll get you some water.” As soon as you were dressed, he lifted you off the sink and put you back on your feet. “Good?”

You nodded, then leaned into him, arms around his middle, and just breathed as he hummed. The soft vibrations made you smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For drilling you into the sink?” he chuckled.

“For distracting me,” you shot back, smiling. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.” He pulled back and slid his hand into yours. “Come on. I’ll sit in the window seat this time.” Owen threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing your hand before leading you back out into the main cabin.

Claire was beet red, staring at the tablet in her hands. 

Zia, on the other hand, arched an eyebrow.

You were certain the colour in your face matched Claire’s. “I…I’m afraid of flying,” you muttered, dropping into the seat opposite her.

Owen winked and passed you a water bottle as he sat down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“Not anymore, by the sounds of it,” Zia muttered.

While you were embarrassed to have been caught, Owen was beaming. He grinned at Zia and dropped a kiss on the top of your head. “What can I say? I’m helpful.”