Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(98)
He begins to kiss lower, hooking his thumbs at the waist of my leggings, dragging them down a few inches before stopping to let his kiss tease along my abdomen, kissing my bare hips as he slides the material further down my body, his fingers tugging at the small lace panties I wore with the hope he might see them.
Owen moves to his knees, pulling the rest of my clothing away completely before running his hands up my legs. He slides lower on the bed, kissing the inside of my knee, and I let my legs fall open, reaching for the pillow above my head to hide the redness building on my cheeks. Owen stops me, though, pulling on the corner of the pillow and moving it to the floor.
“Uh uh,” he says, his tongue flicking against my thigh, dangerously close to my center. “I get to watch you. I want to see your face.”
“But I’m embarrassed,” I admit, squeezing my eyes shut, then letting one slip open. Owen slides up to my neck, kissing my ear.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “And I want to watch you come apart for the very first time because of me.”
“But you…I’ve…you made me, last time,” I say, stretching my arm over my face, hiding. Owen lifts it and holds it over my head, kissing me lightly, his lips speaking against mine.
“Not like this I haven’t,” he says, brushing his lips down my body until he stops at my very center, his tongue taking long strokes against me, my legs spreading farther, wanting more with every pass of his mouth.
I grip the sheets and tug at the blankets, wanting to hide my face, but more because I feel like every touch of his tongue against my most sensitive parts is bringing me closer to losing control. Everything feels swollen, as if one more touch anywhere will send me over the edge, then Owen slides a finger into me, and the first wave crashes over me. My body shudders against his hand, and he holds on strong, pushing against me, his movements unrelenting until I feel every sensation stop, every pulse slow within me.
I. Am. Numb.
“That,” he says, his mouth grazing against my ear, “was just the beginning.”
Warmth rushes down my body, and a small whimper escapes my lips as Owen pulls away, standing in front of me. He removes his pants, and my eyes look, but quickly. There’s so much of him—I don’t know how it could possibly work. But I want it; my body is yearning for him to be inside of me.
Owen reaches for his dresser, taking a small packet from the top drawer, tearing the package with his teeth. I glance again as he holds himself, sliding the condom on with his other hand, and as nervous as I am about the pain, I’m more hungry to move past it, to feel him.
He kneels between my knees, his finger moving up and down my center, sliding in and out, relaxing me and exciting me all over again.
“I want you, Kensi. Please, I have to have you,” he says, and I reach down, gripping his forearm, nodding at him, begging him.
“I want you too. Just…go slow,” I say, my heart firing a billion beats per minute in my chest, my body clenching in anticipation of everything.
Owen positions himself between my legs, his forearms holding him above me, then he sweeps my hair to the side and kisses the corner of my mouth softly, letting me feel his smile against me. His hand drops lower so he can guide himself into me, and as the pressure of him pushes into me, his lips find my ear.
“Relax, Kens. I’ve got you,” he says, coaxing my body to obey. He moves beyond the tip, pushing farther inside me, my muscles adjusting, my body stretching to take him—all of him—until Owen gives one final thrust, taking me from innocent to his in the flash of a second.
A single tear falls down my cheek, the pain stinging inside, and Owen notices quickly, sliding his thumb up to catch the drop as it falls toward his pillow.
“I’ve got you, Kens. I love you, and I’ve got you,” he says, sliding back out from me almost completely, pausing to let my body relax again before moving into me slowly. The second time is easier—the stretching less, the sensation more—and soon, my body begins wanting Owen there, wanting to feel full from him, to take more of him, deeper.
“What feels good? Tell, me Kens. What do you want?” he asks, his voice sexier than it’s ever been, the darkness there, but also a new kind of hunger. Owen may have the experience, but I have the control.
“Touch me,” I pant, my eyes barely able to stay open as he moves slowly in and out from me. I feel his hand glide from my side, his thumb grazing my breast and traveling the length of my stomach until his fingers find my center and begin putting pressure on the rest of me, leaving nothing left untouched. Every bit of me is raw and open and on the verge, every push and stroke nearly ending me, until finally, I’m no longer able to hold on.
“Owen, I’m…I’m…” I say, arching my back and pushing my hips into him, feeling more of him against me with every pulse.
“You’re so f*cking beautiful,” he growls, every push of his body harder, his eyes shutting, his breath stopping and his face growing tighter. Owen pushes into me two more times, his breath leaving his chest in one powerful burst before he pulls out from me and lies flat on his bed next to me, our bodies sweaty and tangled and happy.
We lie there for minutes, our hands linking, and our fingers teasing one another until finally Owen breaks our silence.
“That was easily the very best moment of my whole entire life,” he says, his head falling to the side on his pillow, his hair tousled, and his eyes simply sweet.