Page 82 of Puck Princess

“Owen!” I start to argue, but then he peels my underwear away and drops to his hands and knees. He kisses my thighs apart, tasting his way to my center.

My legs and apprehension melt, falling apart, ready for him.

But even with the need throbbing inside of me, Owen takes his time. He kisses my lower stomach and then the softest part of my inner thighs, zigzagging his way over where I want him most. Then he hovers over me, simply breathing.

“Owen,” I beg, tilting my hips upward.

“I want to take my time with you, baby.”

“But I need it.”

“And you’ll get it… when I say you’ll get it.” His mouth quirks into a smile that makes the ache in my core all the more painful. “But until then, I’m going to tease you until you soak the floor.”

And he does just that.

He gives me the barest brushes of his lips and his fingers—between my legs, across my nipples, along my hips. I moan, and I feel him smile.

He could end me like this, torturing an orgasm out of me, but he plays me softly, never quite letting me get close to the edge. I’m literally gushing on the floor, and I haven’t even come.

“God, baby, you’re so wet for me. I want to taste you.”

I expect to feel his mouth—his tongue against everything that is throbbing for him. Instead, he shoves two fingers inside of me.

I gasp, gripping a fistful of his hair so he can’t escape.

“Does that feel good?” he growls.

All I can do is nod. “Good” isn’t the right word. I don’t know what this man is better with, his dick or his hands. I’ll take them both. though.

Owen fingers me, slowly at first, but picking up speed. Just as I start to fall apart, he slows down again. He’s not letting me come and he knows it.

“Owen,” I whine. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want…”

“Your mouth.”

He pulls his fingers from inside me, licking them clean. Then he lowers himself back down and runs his tongue along me in a slow, soft swoop.

“More,” I demand.

He does it again with more pressure.

“More…”

Owen grabs me—finally—by the hips and lifts me up to his mouth. His tongue finds my clit, flicking and circling and teasing until I think I might fall apart. I’m crying out with every shift when he stops.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” I gasp.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours, Owen Sharpe. I’m all yours.”

Owen presses his open mouth to me again, sucking and licking until I finally—Lord have mercy—break. I cry out my release. If my neighbors can’t see us, they can definitely hear us, and I can’t even bring myself to care.

I’m still coming down from heaven when Owen grips my chin. “I want you.”

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