Page 44 of Stud

His muffled laugh was hot and hoarse. “You’re my first. Now take that bunny of yours and press it to the top of your inner thigh. Beside your pussy. Don’t get greedy on me. Tease yourself the way I’ll be teasing you in a couple days.”

Forget a class. He could earn a doctorate.

Following his rasped orders, I touched the edge of my vibrator to the juncture of my thigh. The buzz sent a spark to my center. “Oh. That’s nice.” So close yet so far from where I throbbed.

“I bet it is. Imagine how nice it’ll feel when my face is buried in your pussy. I’m gonna plant wet kisses everywhere.” His panting grew shallow. “Give you nice long licks and quick flicks and suck you until you scream. Now move your toy to the other side. Next to all that wet heat. Picture me between your thighs.”

Molten lava dripped through me, his erotic words making me bubble and steam. I upped the speed but did as he asked—teased, tormented, and tortured myself. I pictured his dirty-blond hair tangled in my hands, could practically feel the scratch of his scruff on my sensitive skin. “More,” I begged, the needy girl I was. “What are you doing?”

“I’m picturing your lips wrapped around my cock. Your tongue swirling and head bobbing. I’m stroking faster. Getting harder. So hard, baby. Because of you. Now”—a rough grunt sounded—“now press your blue bunny exactly where you need him. Christ, Ainsley, I’m close.”

I was about to fly apart. The second I touched the buzzing tip to my nub of bundled nerves, I cried out. My hips shot up, my knees slamming together as I pressed down. “Owen.” All breath trapped in my chest. “I wish you were here. I want you so badly.” So much pleasure concentrated in one exhilarating spot.

“I’m going to spend hours exploring you. Fucking hours. Now move your hips. Close your eyes and let go, because I’m…fuck…Ainsley, baby, I’m…” He roared from across freeways and cities and farmland. He called my name and growled, somehow closing the distance between us. His heavy breathing slipped through the phone, down my sizzling skin, urging my hips faster, and I burst open. Everything clenched as pleasure shot through me, currents of snapping heat. “Oh, Owen. God. Yes.”

My high crested, endless shockwaves knocking me senseless, until I was too sensitive for Blue Bunny. I was too sensitive for a light breeze.

Blissful, I turned off my bunny and pulled the lacy quilt from the end of my bed up to my chest. “I’m paralyzed.”

Owen released a satisfied chuckle. “I’m sticky.”

That was quite the visual, unbelievably hot. I was languid and loose, heading into a pleasure coma. “I wasn’t kidding, you know, at the site yesterday. I want you to come on me. I’ve never wanted something like that before. Is it weird?” Although I often lacked a filter, my blunt honesty with him surprised even me.

“You trying to get me hard again?”

“Maybe?”

“Doing that to you, seeing it? It might ruin me.”

Letting my heart go with him could obliterate me. My anxiety returned, a sudden rush of nerves churning the alcohol in my stomach. His breathing evened out, but mine sped up. I could hang up and never see him again. Quit volunteering—avoid him and Anton all the things that scared me. Return to a life that, although unfulfilling, didn’t turn me into a panicked mess. That wasn’t what I wanted, though. I wanted this. Him. Our lunchtime talks and easy ways. To learn everything I could about this man. Which meant I needed to be honest with him. I had to share my past so I didn’t freak out and screw this up.

A familiar sting of humiliation closed my throat, an allergic reaction to memories of Brandon and heartache and my stupidity. Swallowing hard, I pulled my quilt higher. “My last boyfriend cheated on me.”

“Oh, doll. No.”

“Yeah. It was two years ago. I thought we were in love. Until I surprised him one evening. He was in bed with his coffee barista.” I squeezed my eyes shut, a flash of his bare ass pumping between her legs almost making me heave. “We’d been talking about moving in together, and I wanted to surprise him and tell him yes. I’d already given up my apartment, and had to crash on Gwen’s floor for a month. The man was a lying prick, but I’ve never felt so stupid in my life.”

“I’d like to meet this prick in a dark alley.”

His protectiveness curled around me, soothed me, as Owen’s sweet understanding always did. “I’d like to watch that, but it’s in the past.” Still, I pictured Sally’s shock when faced with her husband’s betrayal the other day. Remembered my own tragic fall. Could I really risk experiencing that again?

My silence must have hinted at my worry, because he whispered, “I won’t hurt you, Ainsley.”

Again, exactly what I needed to hear. His promise had me happy and nervous and overwhelmed. Regardless, I wanted to try. Force myself to open up and let this sweet man more fully into my life. I twirled the corner of my quilt in anxious circles. “Are you my boyfriend?”

Not knowing if we were exclusive, or if he’d visit the D.C. habitat build and lay pipe with other hardhat-wearing do-gooders, was messing with me. My heart raced faster than Blue Bunny.

“Do you want me to be?” His Southern lilt pushed into his tired voice.

Sneaky bugger, answering a question with a question. “Yes.” I relaxed deeper into my mattress. “I do.” The simple truth of it.

“Good thing, because I got your name tattooed on my chest.”

Contentment filled me. “You wouldn’t be the first man.” My father had my portrait inked on his forearm, mine and my brother’s names branded over his heart.

“I don’t like hearing about other men, Ainsley.” His possessiveness was adorable.

A sleepy smile spilled across my face. “I’d like details about this ink, though. Do you have tattoos?”