Lost and Found (Masters & Mercenaries: The Forgotten #2)(77)

She forced herself to breath as his fingers brushed against her pussy. It was a light thing, so much less than she needed. And yet she found herself arching against him. “I love it. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“And I know you like this. Hold still or I’ll stop what I’m doing.” His fingers pressed against her pussy, sliding in because she was so damn wet. “I love how hot you get for me.”

She’d never been this hot for anyone before. It took everything she had to remain still as he fucked her with his fingers. His thumb came up and rubbed against her clit.

“I want you to come for me. I want you to come all around my fingers and then it’s going to be my time. You’ll do anything I ask tonight, won’t you, my sweet sex toy?”

She would do anything at all for him tonight as long as he kept doing this to her. “Yes, Owen.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” He picked up the pace, fucking his fingers deep inside her pussy and rotating them as he pressed down on her clitoris.

It wasn’t more than a few moments before she was clutching his jeans and calling out his name as the orgasm pierced through her.

She was still shaking, coming down from the high when he pulled his fingers out.

“I bet you’ve never felt this either.” There was a deep chuckle to his words and she gasped as he parted the cheeks of her ass. “Hold on, love. It’s just a little lube.”

And it was cold. She whimpered at the sensation. She’d never played this way before, never even thought she would want to, but she couldn’t deny him. Her whole body felt boneless in the wake of her orgasm.

“I love the sounds you make,” he said as he started to work the lube in.

She was back to shuddering. The sensation was odd, jangled. It wasn’t painful, but she certainly wasn’t sure it was pleasure. Pressure hit her when she felt him place the plastic tip to the tight ring of her ass.

“Hold on to me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She did as he asked and realized how relaxed she was. It would be okay. She didn’t need to tense up. Becca took a deep breath and let herself feel. She cataloged every sensation, from the cool air on her flesh to how her backside ached in the sweetest way. The plug was opening her up little by little and his cock was rock hard under her belly. One hand held her in place, giving her balance.

“Tell me where you are,” he said, the plug rimming her. He pressed in and then pulled out, gently gaining ground.

She was with him. That was all that mattered. “I’m good, Owen. It’s not painful. It’s a little weird, but I can handle it.”

“Good because now that I’ve seen how pretty it is, I have to have it. I can’t wait until it’s my cock fucking this pretty hole.” His accent had gone deep again.

She’d certainly never thought of an asshole as being pretty, but she was glad he liked hers. He was an outrageous man. From what she could tell the man had no shame when it came to sex, and that was one of the sexiest things about him. And she’d helped him tonight because he obviously did feel shame about other things. She’d hated the guilt in his voice as he’d talked about screwing up at work.

He wasn’t thinking about that now. He was here with her. While she found a safe place with him, he was doing the same thing with her. It felt good to be necessary to someone in a personal way. Being with Owen pointed out all her problems with men before. Not a one of them compared to her research. Not a single one, even the man she’d married, had been able to take her out of her head and let her be a woman.

His woman.

He slid the plug in. “That’s it. Relax for me. It’s not so bad.”

It wasn’t bad at all. Now that he’d managed to coax it inside her, she wasn’t sure what she’d been afraid of. She felt full. “I don’t hate it.”

“I’m glad to hear that because you’re going to wear it for a while. Clench it, love. You need to concentrate to keep it inside. I’ve got to clean up. I want you to lie on the bed and wait for me. I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

She wasn’t close to being done either.





Owen washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror.

Fuck, he didn’t recognize himself, and it had nothing to do with what had happened to his memory. He’d looked at himself in the bloody mirror every day. He saw an attractive man who couldn’t quite connect to anyone around him.

Not tonight. Tonight, all he could see was a man who hungered. The man in the mirror hungered for something and it wasn’t his next glass of Scotch.

It felt good. It felt fucking perfect. She was everything he could want in a woman.

He was lying to her at every single turn.

He dried his hands. It didn’t matter. She never had to know. He could handle this and handle her. He didn’t have to give her up.

He wouldn’t give her up. She was the one good thing that had come out of his pain. He wasn’t about to let her go now no matter what Ezra said.

It was okay. He still had time with her.

Time to steal more of her privacy. Time to lie to her.

She didn’t deserve any of this.

He opened the door and every single bit of guilt fled because she was lying on the bed, her head tilted off the edge, her gorgeous body draped over the comforter. He had to smile because she was in an awkward position. Sexy, but awkward. It was like she’d tried to center herself on the bed and gotten it wrong. She lay across the bed, but not like she would to sleep. She was parallel to the headboard and her head was slightly off the mattress.