He kissed his way up my body. I felt his breath on my face, and when he kissed me this time, I didn’t let go. It was long, lingering—no longer just about the physical need clawing at me or the wish to lose my virginity. It was more. So much more. And even in the haze of it all, I knew it.
At some point, my hand slid between us, brushing over his chest before traveling lower. Owen caught it, holding it in his for a moment before letting go. Then his own hand traced a slow path down my body, slipping beneath the open waistband of my jeans.
When his fingers skimmed over the lace and lower still, I whimpered into his mouth.
“I want to touch you, too,” I managed between kisses, my voice breathless and desperate. If I didn’t, if I didn’t feel him inside his jeans, I was going to come from just this—and I didn’t want to miss everything else there was to discover.
Somewhere in the swirl of my thoughts, I was sure this was my one chance. My only one. I had to take it, take all of it, before it disappeared.
“You will,” Owen whispered.
He pulled his hand from my jeans, found my palm, and guided it into the front of his own. The waistband was loose enough to fit us both.
I ran my hand along the hard length over the fabric of his boxer briefs—my fingertips discovering their texture before my mind registered what he was wearing. Curious, I slipped my handinside.
He was warm. Hard. A slight throb beneath my touch. A bead of dampness at the tip. I pushed my hand lower, wanting to know how far he went. Owen groaned against my neck as I reached the base, my fingers circling him, wondering what it meant that it was more than twice longer than what I could hold.
I stroked my hand over him again, slow, tentative—until he yanked my wrist away.
His mouth claimed mine, hot and deep, before he pulled back and met my gaze.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” It came out as a whisper.
“It might hurt. It probably will.”
“I know. But I want to.” I want it to be withyou, I nearly added, but something told me he already knew.
“Since you probably won’t enjoy it as much the first time, we’ll make sure you do first. Okay?”
I nodded, swallowing against the anticipation twisting through me. My body tingled, pulsed, burned like a slow-building flame.
Owen smiled. “Good girl.”
He pushed us both farther up the bed, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, dragging them down until I could kick them off completely.
We were already barefoot.
His mouth found mine first, then trailed lower. Kissing, tasting, moving further down my body. My fingers wove into his hair, gentle at first, but tightening the lower he went.
Until he was level with my hips.
I nearly bounced off the bed when he traced a single finger down my core, the lace of my panties the only barrier. That was how wired I was. Then his mouth followed, and I stifled the whimper clawing up my throat.
My eyes fluttered shut. One hand fisted the bedsheet, the other tangled, unthinking, in Owen’s hair as he peeled my panties away—slowly, agonizingly, revealing my bare skin to his gaze, his hands, his mouth.
The moment I was fully exposed, he gently nudged my thighs apart. He kissed his way along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, moving with deliberate patience. It felt like forever before I finally felt his lips close over me, right where I was so wet, that I was sure I was leaving marks on the bed.
He kissed. Lapped. Licked. Sucked. Pace slow and long at first, then fast and unforgiving.
He teased my entrance with the tip of his tongue, flexed and wicked, and I ground against his mouth, my head spinning from breathlessness. The sensation was too sharp, too intense, building higher and faster and stronger until I was sure my heart and body wouldn’t survive it.
My head rolled from side to side, helpless against the pleasure. I had never imagined one person could unravel another like this. I had never managed to get myself off in a way that even came close to this.
Pleasure coiled, tight and electric—he slowed when I was about to explode, then amplified the pace until I shattered against him, turning my head to the side, biting my fist to stifle the loud moans threatening to rip free. Still, gasps, hushed cries, and broken whimpers escaped as Owen let me ride my release,his mouth guiding me through every wave, every ripple, until my body slowly stopped trembling, pulsating.
I didn’t know how much time passed—maybe a minute, maybe more—before I finally unclenched the sheets, feeling my hand resting on Owen’s head, his cheek pressed to my hipbone.
