All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(33)

I nod up at him, my mouth curling into the slightest smile.

“Good. Because I would never want to hurt you,” he says, and I think what he’s saying is that he assumed I wouldn’t be ready for sex yet. He traces my right hip with the tips of his fingers. “Do you still want to keep going?”

“Yes,” I say with full confidence. “God, yes.”

He presses his thumb against my lower lip, and I watch his eyes shift as a devilish idea dances through his head. “Good girl. Why don’t you tell me where your toy is?”

I direct Owen to my bedside drawer as my anticipation grows. I wait for him to press down on the button and let the pink silicone buzz to life, but he doesn’t right away. Instead, he pushes my panties to the side, then lightly strokes the toy against my damp flesh in teasing touches, making me shudder in need.

“Tell me how you used it.” His voice is a low, sexy growl, and he shifts the toy along my silky heat, up and down over my clit. “Was it like this?”

“Mmm.” I hum out a moan while biting hard on my lower lip. The anticipation building beneath every inch of my skin is almost unbearable.

Owen rocks the toy slightly, giving it a bit more pressure. He hasn’t even turned it on yet, and I can already tell he’s going to be really good at this. Too good, maybe.

“So you had it like this, and you thought of me?” As he finishes the question, he pushes the toy forward, allowing it to just barely enter me, sliding perfectly into my wetness.

His touch is authoritative, knowing, and I have no idea why that buzzes through me like an electrical snap, but it does. It’s as if he knows my body and what it wants even before I do. It certainly feels that way.

“God, Owen, yes.” As I moan, my hips rock, searching for more contact.

And with that, he hits the button, sending a buzz jolting through me quicker than a shot of tequila. Even on the lowest setting, pleasure pulses through my core, and I tremble as Owen slides another inch of the toy into me.

The look in his eyes is pure heat—burning-hot desire—and knowing that he’s as into this as I am is electric.

A few more seconds, and that’s all it takes. My muscles bunch and twitch until I come undone for him, a long moan pouring from my lips as the release crashes over me. Owen kisses me once more and turns off the toy as I pant, trying desperately to catch my breath.

“Wow.” I sigh. “That was . . .”

Once again, my vocabulary escapes me. I don’t know what to say to correctly describe how mind-blowing that orgasm was. But instead of racking my brain for an adjective I’ll never come up with, I reach up and pop open the button of his jeans.

Actions speak louder than words, right?

Owen smiles down at me but lifts one eyebrow, looking for my final approval. “You sure?”

“Super sure.”

While I still can hardly believe that I manhandled Owen on the night of the Great Tequila Incident, it’s even harder to accept that I don’t remember anything about my best friend’s favorite organ. And the curiosity has been killing me. Pair that with the post-orgasmic high I’m riding right now, and I’m all about getting a look at whatever he has behind his zipper. I assume it’s at least moderately impressive, what with all the puck bunnies constantly chasing after it. But I don’t want to be kept guessing anymore.

Owen climbs off of my bed, and I sit up so my lips are eye level with his zipper. I reach out and tug it down slowly, expecting the nervousness to hit me at any moment.

But it never does. Only more and more excitement as my heart pounds while I pull Owen’s jeans down, revealing the full length of his erection.

Good God in heaven, he is perfect.

He inhales sharply as I run my fingers along his steely shaft, then slowly begin working him over with my hand, testing how he feels in my palm. A few strokes, and he grows even harder and longer.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He lets out a throaty groan as he tangles his fingers in my hair. “Fuck, Becca. That feels . . .”

His voice is so deep, it sends little trembles down my spine. He rocks his hips in time to my quickening strokes. With my other hand, I cup his generous balls, lightly massaging them in my palm as I stroke him. He makes a needy sound in the back of his throat, and my body clenches.

I love having my hands on him. He’s so big—everywhere—and so masculine. His bulk, his impressive size, and his thickly formed muscles give him a kind of power I’ll never experience.

But in this moment, I decide that isn’t quite right. I have all the power here. He’s handed me the reins, and I’m the one in control.

He touches my shoulders, his fingers gripping lightly, and a shaky breath shudders out of his lungs. When I feel him getting closer, I lean forward and take him between my lips, sliding my tongue over the wide crown of him. It’s enough for him to completely lose control, groaning deeply and tangling his hands in my hair.

When he curses under his breath, I gaze up at him, only to find him watching me in wonder. He touches my cheek and rocks forward, careful not to give me too much.

A few more moments, and another shaky breath shudders out of his lungs.

“Gonna come now, angel,” he says, warning me, but I don’t move away.

Owen groans again, pumping into my mouth until he comes totally undone, shooting his heat into me as my name falls desperately from his lips.