All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(28)

“More,” she cries, and I bite my lip to keep from biting her. “Please, Owen.”

Stormy eyes latch onto mine as she continues to ride my hand. I see it then, in the deep blue of her trusting eyes gazing at me, that I have her complete trust. Fuck. That does something to me. Twisting something hot low in my gut. I won’t let her down.

Moments later, Becca cries out, her body tightening. Uncontrollable shaking racks her slim frame, and I hold her even tighter against my chest as she falls apart.

It’s the sexiest thing in the world watching her lose control. My cock gives a painful twitch behind my zipper as I continue pleasuring her through wave after wave of her orgasm.

“Holy moly.” She gasps, her eyes opening to meet mine. “That was . . .”

Pride surges through me, and I feel like doing something cheesy, like a cheer, or a victory dance, or pushups. Instead, I settle for a cocky half grin.

Becca only laughs, pressing her palms over her eyes. “Oh my God. You’re so proud. You should see yourself right now. That’s embarrassing.”

I only chuckle. “Fuck yeah, I’m proud.”

But it’s not me I’m proud of. It’s her.





10




* * *





Batteries Included





Becca



I check the time on my laptop screen for the two thousandth time today. It’s 4:48, only two minutes since the last time I checked, but it feels like at least half an hour.

Ugh. Work has crawled past minute by minute today.

Normally, I love my job. Working in the wonderful world of professional hockey is a dream come true. But with the majority of this season’s away games already planned, there’s not much traveling for me to coordinate for my boss. And since I’m still waiting on a response from the university that’s trying to book him as a commencement speaker, today has been nothing but a slow march down a to-do list of administrative work.

Not to mention that I’ve been obsessively checking my phone for texts from Owen. Spoiler alert: there have been none. He’s been at practice all morning, and then the team is hopping on a flight to Colorado for tomorrow’s away game. There’s no way he’s had time to be on his phone. I don’t know why I’m so antsy about it.

What I do know is this—Saturday afternoon with Owen was a game changer.

I’ve had my share of orgasms, compliments of my own fingers and whatever fantasy my imagination can conjure up. But suddenly, whatever work I’ve put in myself looks like amateur hour compared to yesterday. I had no idea that it could feel like that. If masturbating to my own personal fantasies was a recreational hockey league team, last night was the damn professional championship. And we haven’t even had sex yet.

Consider my world officially rocked.

There’s a knock at my office door, and I look up to see a freshly showered, post-practice Owen standing in my doorway. One look at him, and my heart rate accelerates. A surprise visit from him beats a text message any day.

His eyes light up when he sees me, and don’t even get me started on his smile. His full lips part, revealing perfect white teeth, and the dimple in his left cheek pops.

God, that damn dimple. My stomach gives a little flutter.

“Hey, superstar. Don’t you have a flight to catch?” I do a quick scan of him, taking in the equal levels of cute and sexy radiating into my office. His wet hair is messy and unstyled, and the Hawks shirt he’s wearing under his jacket is clinging to his damp skin in a way that I like a little too much. The only adjective that comes to mind is yummy.

Owen glances at his watch. “Yeah, but I’ve got, like, twenty minutes. I wanted to see you before I skipped out to a different time zone.”

“Are you ready for Denver?”

He runs one hand through his hair. “I think the real question is whether Denver is ready for us,” he says with a chuckle. “We were crushing it this morning at practice. They don’t stand a chance.”

One shot of that thousand-watt smile sends a tingle dancing down my spine. God, his confidence is so sexy. The man is a boss on the ice, and he knows it. No wonder he’s such a magnet for female company.

“Well, if they caught any of the game against New York, I’m sure they’re all quaking in their skates.”

“Damn right,” he says with a firm nod. “But I didn’t come here to talk shop with you. I actually got you something.”

When Owen props his duffel on my desk and pulls out a small bubblegum-pink bag with sparkly white tissue paper spilling out, my heart does a happy dance. He got me a present?

“Hang on one sec.” He glances over his shoulder as he sets his duffel on the floor, then pushes the door to my office closed before snagging the seat across from my desk. “Okay. Go ahead. Open it.”

His eyes sparkle a brighter blue than usual, a sure sign that he’s more than a little excited about whatever this present is. But the smirk on his lips throws me off. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but there’s only one way to find out.

I carefully remove the tissue paper first, then pull from the bag a clear plastic box containing a weird oblong object. It takes me a second to realize what I’m holding.

Oh. My. Freaking. God. Owen Parrish has just gifted me a vibrator. A bright pink vibrator. And I can feel my cheeks turning the exact same shade. What the hell?