I thought he’d go straight for my breasts, which had garnered so much of his attention the peaks were straining for his touch. But Owen glided his hands up along the back of my legs until he reached my thighs. Then, in a flash, he lifted one over his shoulder.
Before I could take my next breath, he settled back onto his ankles and ran his nose along my wet, hot slit.
“Oh my gosh,” I cried out, nearly falling backward the moment his tongue ran across my center, but he immediately reached up and gripped my ass in one hand to steady me. He used the other to slide a finger back and forth over my clit.
Moaning out his name, I reached up and cupped my breasts with my hands, rolling my nipples between my fingers before I even realized what I was doing.
“Mmm. You taste so good. Like spun sugar.” He pulled back slightly, his finger still swiping along my folds.
“What does that mean?”
Suddenly, I was lifted into the air and tossed onto the bed. As I bounced, Owen crouched between my legs, bending them at the knees as he spread me wide.
“That I have a sweet tooth, and I plan to spend a lot of time devouring your pussy.”
I didn’t know it was possible to grow wetter than I already was, but I was mistaken as my inner walls compressed, and I released more.
“Show me how you get off, baby. I need to see it.” He sounded like a crazed junkie waiting for his next hit. I’d never been big on masturbation, only doing so when my body was too tight to ignore and I had no choice but to give myself a release.
“I thought I was in charge,” I joked.
“Oh, you definitely are. You drive me wild, cricket. I want to make this good for you. Show me how.”
Slowly, I slid one hand down my stomach, running my middle finger in circles around my sensitive clit, while my other hand caressed one of my breasts, tugging and pinching the sensitive peak.
My hips started grinding against my hand to increase the friction. I crept a finger inside my channel, coating it in my slickness, then drew it back over my clit, repeating the process until my knees shook.
“Yeah, baby. Make yourself come. You’re fucking beautiful.” I was surprised to find he wasn’t looking at my hand between my legs, nor the hand on my breast. Instead, his eyes were trained on my face, darkening with each heavy, quick breath I took as I reached the edge.
“Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
He crawled up the bed and laid beside me. Forcefully, his mouth descended on mine. There was no sweet or gentle pecking, only the hungriness of longing and desire.
The hand on my breast reached for Owen’s head, and I held him steady against me as our tongues dueled.
Without warning, my body exploded, and I pulled my lips away to gasp for air.
“That’s it. Ride it out,” he commanded as I gyrated my apex against my hand.
Just as quickly as it rose, my orgasm came down, and I was left feeling unfulfilled. Usually, I was good for weeks before I needed another release.
But this time, I wanted… more.
“That was,” I mumbled, unable to tell Owen what I needed, because I wasn’t sure what to ask for.
“Hot as fuck,” he supplied for me as he rolled his body over mine. His very large, very hard cock settled between my legs, and without a second thought, I rocked myself against him.
“Oh, hell,” he said, clenching his eyes shut. “Steady, baby.”
“I need more, Owen.”
His lips brushed against mine in the sweetest way, like the caress of a flower petal.
“I know you do. I won’t fuck you tonight, cricket, but I’ll make you come as many times as you need. My hand, my tongue, my leg. You can ride every part of me but my cock.”
“Geez. I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Say, ‘Yes, Owen, I want you to make me see stars.’”
“Yes, Owen, make me see stars.”
“Your wish is my command,” he replied as he dove between my legs again and showed me exactly how magical he could be.
His mouth did things I never imagined, and it felt like heaven. I couldn’t get enough of it. My hips rocked and swirled against his face as he fucked me with his tongue and fingers. By the time he added a second digit to my tight sheath and sucked on my clit, my second orgasm made itself known.
I cried out Owen’s name and arched my back, reaching down to grip his hair with one hand while the other fisted the bed covers.
“Oh my gosh, I feel like a limp noodle,” I told him after he went to the bathroom to clean his face, which glistened with my wetness, and to retrieve a warm washcloth to clean between my legs. Owen was surprisingly tender in his care. “I’m not sure how I’ll get dressed,” I cried as I tried to lift my body off the bed and failed.
Owen fell upon the bed with a flourish and tugged me against his semi-naked body. His erection was still hard and thick inside his boxer briefs, and it throbbed against my hip.
“Stay,” he told me against my hair as he draped one strong arm across me.
“Owen,” I scolded. “You know I need to—”
