Page 54 of Stud

Part of me still worried he wasn’t as good as he seemed, but I was past the point of no return. “Owen…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t hurt me, okay?”

Protectiveness surged in his fierce gaze. “You’re about to become mine, and I take care of what’s mine.”

God, this man. Coiled tight as a spring, I pushed up and undid his belt buckle, tugging at it and shoving his jeans down. He stood and toed off his boots. His Levi’s hit the floor next. Racing him, I lost my sandals, tossed my jeans beside his. His shirt joined the pile, mine following. We were both in our underwear, him in socks too, the sight almost funny if his body wasn’t sapping my IQ. Every chiseled inch of him fogged my brain with lust.

“You’re even hot in your socks,” I said. Okay, it was funny.

“I could leave them on.”

I shook my head. “Off.”

He removed them deftly.

He stood at the side of the bed, eyes hooded as he stared down at me. He gripped himself over his briefs and dragged his palm along his erection, legs wide, body strung taut. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Steamed up, I flicked my bra clasp and tossed the purple lace at his head. He batted it away with his large paw, his eyelids sinking heavier. I slipped off my panties, twirled them in the air, and launched them at his lampshade. His answering groan was beyond erotic, deep and rugged and all kinds of wicked.

I’d never felt so exposed, or desired.

He shucked his Hugo Boss briefs, joining my birthday-suit party, and his erection sprang free. Whoa. That was a lot of man.

His cock was thick and hard, the head engorged. All for me.

He skulked closer, hunger burning bright. But he didn’t ravage me. As though I might break, he caged me, lowering himself down in a tortuous descent. The edges of our bodies brushed—knees, thighs, hips, the flats of our stomachs, our chests. Miles of bare skin connecting. We both exhaled for an eternity.

Nothing had ever felt this sensuous. This right.

We lay still for a beat, then our pace surged. We couldn’t explore enough, fast enough, rough enough. He rocked his length against my thigh as he squeezed one breast, sucking my nipple into his hot mouth and palming my ass. I writhed. One second I was tugging his thick hair, then I was pulling at his neck, his shoulders, his tattooed behind. Greedily fusing us closer.

It wasn’t close enough. “I might die. I need you inside me.”

“God, Ainsley. I’ve never wanted a woman this much.”

Pausing, he pushed onto his forearms. The distance allowed me to trail my fingers through his scratch-soft chest hairs. I loved the feel of it against my palm, the hard lines of his pecs and corrugated abs. His cock stirred and slipped off my thigh, lining up with my entrance.

Hypnotized, I swayed my hips, not allowing him access, just loving the tease of all that power and rigid heat, knowing what was to come. Mainly us. “You’re so hot.”

My vocabulary had lost its mental thesaurus.

His cock twitched, making contact. He released a pained growl. “Fuck. Babe, I can’t take it. I wanted to lick and taste you, and I will. But I need to be inside you.”

Breathing hard, he nearly fell over as he fumbled with his end-table drawer, returning with a condom. My body turned hot and swollen as he tore the wrapper and rolled the latex down his hard length. Gripping the base of his shaft and squeezing as if to curb his arousal, he pushed one then two fingers inside me. I gasped at the sensation, clamping down on him while canting my hips up, needing him, needing more.

“You’re soaked.” His low voice sounded like it came from the abyss, a bottomless sea of lust. His gaze flickered then, as though hesitant, hinting to the sensitive boy behind the man. As though he was vulnerable, too, risking a nasty fall.

Maybe I wasn’t alone in this leap of faith.

His fingers kept exploring me, his other hand clenched around himself. I could barely handle the sting behind my eyes. I bit my lip and pulled him down, his weight on me, his thudding heart next to mine. Hands tangled in my hair, he eased his hips forward, an undulating roll as he slid inside me, slow and gentle. He stretched me wide, while our lips met and tongues danced, my world reducing to the points where our bodies met.

Hips. Fire exploded between my thighs.

Calves. Bristly hairs caressed my legs.

Foreheads. Silent promises offered.