God, I want to sink my fingers into her wet heat so badly, but instead I focus on the swollen bud of her clit. First, I’m not sure how she’d feel about penetration, and second, my goal is to make her come, not to indulge in my own fantasies about getting inside her.
“More,” she cries, and I bite my lip to keep from biting her. “Please, Owen.”
Stormy eyes latch onto mine as she continues to ride my hand. I see it then, in the deep blue of her trusting eyes gazing at me, that I have her complete trust. Fuck. That does something to me. Twisting something hot low in my gut. I won’t let her down.
Moments later, Becca cries out, her body tightening. Uncontrollable shaking racks her slim frame, and I hold her even tighter against my chest as she falls apart.
It’s the sexiest thing in the world watching her lose control. My cock gives a painful twitch behind my zipper as I continue pleasuring her through wave after wave of her orgasm.
“Holy moly.” She gasps, her eyes opening to meet mine. “That was . . .”
Pride surges through me, and I feel like doing something cheesy, like a cheer, or a victory dance, or pushups. Instead, I settle for a cocky half grin.
Becca only laughs, pressing her palms over her eyes. “Oh my God. You’re so proud. You should see yourself right now. That’s embarrassing.”
I only chuckle. “Fuck yeah, I’m proud.”
But it’s not me I’m proud of. It’s her.
10
* * *
Batteries Included
Becca
I check the time on my laptop screen for the two thousandth time today. It’s 4:48, only two minutes since the last time I checked, but it feels like at least half an hour.
Ugh. Work has crawled past minute by minute today.
Normally, I love my job. Working in the wonderful world of professional hockey is a dream come true. But with the majority of this season’s away games already planned, there’s not much traveling for me to coordinate for my boss. And since I’m still waiting on a response from the university that’s trying to book him as a commencement speaker, today has been nothing but a slow march down a to-do list of administrative work.
Not to mention that I’ve been obsessively checking my phone for texts from Owen. Spoiler alert: there have been none. He’s been at practice all morning, and then the team is hopping on a flight to Colorado for tomorrow’s away game. There’s no way he’s had time to be on his phone. I don’t know why I’m so antsy about it.
What I do know is this—Saturday afternoon with Owen was a game changer.
I’ve had my share of orgasms, compliments of my own fingers and whatever fantasy my imagination can conjure up. But suddenly, whatever work I’ve put in myself looks like amateur hour compared to yesterday. I had no idea that it could feel like that. If masturbating to my own personal fantasies was a recreational hockey league team, last night was the damn professional championship. And we haven’t even had sex yet.
Consider my world officially rocked.
There’s a knock at my office door, and I look up to see a freshly showered, post-practice Owen standing in my doorway. One look at him, and my heart rate accelerates. A surprise visit from him beats a text message any day.
His eyes light up when he sees me, and don’t even get me started on his smile. His full lips part, revealing perfect white teeth, and the dimple in his left cheek pops.
God, that damn dimple. My stomach gives a little flutter.
“Hey, superstar. Don’t you have a flight to catch?” I do a quick scan of him, taking in the equal levels of cute and sexy radiating into my office. His wet hair is messy and unstyled, and the Hawks shirt he’s wearing under his jacket is clinging to his damp skin in a way that I like a little too much. The only adjective that comes to mind is yummy.
Owen glances at his watch. “Yeah, but I’ve got, like, twenty minutes. I wanted to see you before I skipped out to a different time zone.”
“Are you ready for Denver?”
He runs one hand through his hair. “I think the real question is whether Denver is ready for us,” he says with a chuckle. “We were crushing it this morning at practice. They don’t stand a chance.”
One shot of that thousand-watt smile sends a tingle dancing down my spine. God, his confidence is so sexy. The man is a boss on the ice, and he knows it. No wonder he’s such a magnet for female company.
“Well, if they caught any of the game against New York, I’m sure they’re all quaking in their skates.”
“Damn right,” he says with a firm nod. “But I didn’t come here to talk shop with you. I actually got you something.”
When Owen props his duffel on my desk and pulls out a small bubblegum-pink bag with sparkly white tissue paper spilling out, my heart does a happy dance. He got me a present?
“Hang on one sec.” He glances over his shoulder as he sets his duffel on the floor, then pushes the door to my office closed before snagging the seat across from my desk. “Okay. Go ahead. Open it.”
His eyes sparkle a brighter blue than usual, a sure sign that he’s more than a little excited about whatever this present is. But the smirk on his lips throws me off. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but there’s only one way to find out.
I carefully remove the tissue paper first, then pull from the bag a clear plastic box containing a weird oblong object. It takes me a second to realize what I’m holding.
Oh. My. Freaking. God. Owen Parrish has just gifted me a vibrator. A bright pink vibrator. And I can feel my cheeks turning the exact same shade. What the hell?
As quickly as possible, I stuff it back in the bag. Not like there’s anyone around to see it other than Owen, but still. The thought of having a vibrator in my hands while I’m sitting at my desk feels beyond wrong.
“It’s okay.” Owen reassures me, holding his hands out in front of him. “Don’t freak out. The door’s closed. No one’s going to see it.” He chuckles to himself, then adds, “Although if they did, they’d probably just congratulate you on the phenomenal night you’re going to have with that thing.”
Dumbfounded, I stare at him. “When did you buy . . . this?” I gesture at the bag, unable to bring myself to say it out loud.
“Before practice today,” he says with a shrug, like it was the most casual, everyday thing to be giving me a sex toy while I’m at work. “I figured it could keep you entertained while I’m gone. And then we could talk about what you liked . . . and what you didn’t. I thought it might be good to, I don’t know, communicate about what makes you feel good.”
Oh my God, I kind of want to melt right now, even though I’m still a bit horrified, because Owen—every ounce a beefy, muscular jock—is talking about communicating, about learning my sexual preferences and what makes me feel good.
“Have you ever used one?” he asks, his voice low and earnest.
I nod as I slowly remove the clear plastic box from the bag again, turning it over in my hand to test the weight of it.
“You can take it out,” Owen says, a twinge of excitement in his voice. “It won’t bite, I promise.”
Smiling, I break into the plastic and slide out my new toy. It’s softer than I imagined, kind of silky feeling, and the end is split into two sections, one of which looks like a set of rabbit ears. I’m surprised by how much I like holding it. I feel weirdly powerful and extremely sexy. Maybe it’s not such a weird present after all.
“There are batteries in there too,” he says, tipping his chin toward the bag. “You just unscrew the back end and put them in. Then it should turn right on when you hit that button. It has a few speeds.”
I blink up at him, a knowing smile spreading across my face. “Oh, so you’re familiar with this thing, are you?”
He pockets his hands and gives me another shrug. “I might have done a little bit of research. But this is brand new, so please don’t read too much into that statement.”
“I wasn’t worried.” I giggle. “But thanks for the extra reassurance.”
While I unscrew the end, Owen pops open the package of batteries, handing me three before I have a chance to tell him how many it needs. Maybe familiar is an understatement for him and these things. If this is what he means by not having vanilla taste, I think I can get on board with that.
“So, here’s the deal. I’m more than okay with being as patient as long you need, and yesterday was a lot of fun. I just didn’t like to see you stress, and since we both still need to get more familiar with your body and what you like . . . I thought this might help.”
He gives me a hopeful smile, and I shoot him one right back.
“Yeah. I think this will be a good thing.” Right now, the nerves dancing through me have a lot less to do with being embarrassed and a whole lot to do with being excited.
Who knew that a sex toy could be such a thoughtful present?
Plunking the last battery into my new toy, I screw the end back on and press the button on the handle. My tiny pink bunny rabbit buzzes to life faster than I can say, Is this the lowest speed? My eyes widen in surprise, and Owen doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says with a chuckle. “Just give it a chance.”
After clicking through the four other speeds, I press my thumb against the button until my new pink bestie comes to a halt. I feel all tingly. Whether it’s from the buzz of the vibrator or my urge to hand it over and let Owen use it on me here and now, I’m not sure.
Instead, I go for a bit more of an office-friendly version of a thank-you. Without overthinking it, I lean across my desk and press a light, grateful kiss against Owen’s lips.
“Thank you,” I whisper, planting another kiss on his cheek. “It’s a little weird, but I’m excited about this. Really.”
And that’s the honest truth. If you told me just a few weeks ago that I’d be genuinely pumped about receiving a sex toy from my best friend, I would have never believed you. But now, as I slip my little pink friend into my purse, I’m not the least bit embarrassed. In fact, I feel sort of like a sex goddess. And wasn’t that the entire point? I am woman, hear me roar, and all that?
I definitely feel powerful and in control right now, like someone who prioritizes her own pleasure. Maybe that was Owen’s entire point, or maybe he’s just a kinky bastard, I have no idea—but at this moment, I really don’t care.
A quick glance at the time on my laptop screen tells me it’s time for Owen to get a move on. And he clearly knows it too. With a quick zip of his duffel, he’s on his feet. Come to think of it, I should probably get out of here too.
“I wish I could stick around longer,” he says as he adjusts the strap on his bag.
“Don’t worry about it. I have dinner plans with Elise anyway.”
A lump grows in my throat as I pull on my leather jacket. Dinner plans with his sister. I make a mental note not to let her anywhere near my purse. Or more specifically, the item inside it.
As we head for the door, Owen loops one muscular arm around my waist and pulls me in for a quick good-bye kiss to my forehead. “Have fun with that thing,” he whispers coyly, giving my butt a quick squeeze.
I shoot him a squinty-eyed smile. “I don’t think I’ll have to try too hard.”
Owen chuckles again and finally releases me. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
I watch his bulky frame disappear down the corridor until he’s out of sight, my heart knocking steadily against my rib cage the entire time.
• • •
It’s a quick drive from the office to the sushi place where Elise and I agreed to meet. I spot her bright blue Toyota across the street while I’m parallel parking.
It’s no surprise that she beat me here. Preschool gets out a bit earlier than the rest of corporate America, probably to give teachers a few extra hours to scrounge up some patience. Elise, like the saint that she is, runs her classroom of mini humans like a pro. I could never do what she does.
Inside, I spot Elise at the far end of the sushi bar, munching on an order of edamame. She waves me over, shifting her purse off the seat she saved for me. It’s surprisingly packed for a weeknight. We’re not only ones in Seattle who are suckers for half-priced sushi happy hours.
As I slip into the seat, I say a silent thank-you to the restaurant owners for keeping the lighting in here so dim. Less of a chance of Elise spotting the bright pink present in my purse.
“Hey, hey,” she says, smiling at me as she bites into a bright green edamame pod. “How was work?”
“Super slow. I spent the entire time fantasizing about spicy tuna rolls.” It’s not a total lie. Work was slow, and I did spend the whole time fantasizing. It’s just that my fantasies had nothing to do with raw fish.
Once we’ve placed our orders, I ask Elise about Justin. She immediately launches into a story of a date he planned for the two of them at Pier 66. I nod along as she gives me all the cute details, oohing at the appropriate places and throwing in the occasional “he’s so sweet!” All the while, my brain is wandering to what a date night with Owen would be like.
Would we do something weird and spontaneous, like going to that crazy massage place? Or would he be more of a stay-home-and-cook-together guy? I’ve never once in our whole friendship heard about him going on a date with a girl. Unless you count one-night stands in the media room as a date. Which I definitely do not.
“What about you?”
I zap out of my daydream and back to reality, where Elise is blinking at me expectantly.
“Wh-what about me?” I stutter.
“Your love life,” she says gently, leaning forward with interest. “Have you thought about getting back in the dating game? I just wondered if you’re starting to feel ready?”
Before I have a chance to respond, our waiter slides two beautiful plates of colorful sushi rolls in front of us. I thank him out loud for the food, and silently for the much-needed interruption.
I love Elise, and I don’t want to lie to her. But I don’t want to know how she’d respond to the truth about my current love life.
Especially not if she knew I have a sex toy in my purse, courtesy of none other than her older brother. I stuff a piece of sushi into my mouth to buy myself some time.
11
* * *
Patience Was Never My Jam
Owen
“When you toast, you have to look straight into the person’s eyes. Otherwise, it’s seven years of bad sex,” Teddy says as we all raise our beer bottles over the poker table.
Teddy has a mouth like a wind chime in a tornado, and you never know what’s going to come flying out of it. But when my gaze strays toward Becca, I see that she’s laughing and shaking her head.
We’ve been home from Denver for two days, and while Becca and I have talked on the phone and texted, I haven’t seen her in person until now. And she looks damn good, dressed casually in a pair of formfitting dark jeans, a cozy gray sweater, and brown boots on her feet that make her legs look long and tempting.
Everyone is here tonight, hanging out at Teddy’s place for a poker tournament. Normally, I’d be into the hockey smack talk and strong beverages, but instead I find myself wishing it was just me and Becca someplace quiet. The idea of undressing her slowly and worshipping every inch of her sexy curves is so much more appealing than playing Texas Hold ’em right now. Even if I am up fifty bucks.
I release a sigh and scrub one hand over my face.
“Your move, Parrish,” Teddy says, eyeing me from across the table.
I chew on my lip and lay a queen on the felt-topped table. Then I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly type a text to Becca.
Have you used your toy yet?
Her eyes widen as she reads my text from across the room while standing beside my sister. The game I’m playing is a dangerous one, but fuck it, I can’t find it in me to care. I’m desperate for her answer.
Her reply comes in a second later, and when I look down at my phone, I smirk.
> Behave.
Rolling my eyes, I fire off another quick message.
I want to make out with you.
I love being able to watch her reactions when she reads my messages. It’s almost like I’m flirting with her, even though we haven’t spoken more than a few words all night. If she doesn’t want our friends to know there’s something going on between us, I’ll have to respect that.
Becca laughs, smiling down at her phone.
That could be fun . . .
My fingers skate across the keys.
Fake a stomachache. I’ll drive you home.
She shakes her head, meeting my eyes briefly before typing a reply.
Everyone will know.
“Dude, get off your phone and play,” Teddy says.
I stuff my phone into my pocket, realizing it’s somehow my turn again.
I focus on the game for a few minutes, but I can’t keep my gaze from straying to Becca every few seconds. There’s a rosy blush on her cheeks, and I wonder if it’s because she’s imagining what might happen later like I am. Hell, maybe she doesn’t want anything to happen later and I need to back off, which would suck, but of course I would respect her wishes.
Becca excuses herself from the girl talk and heads to the kitchen. I slap my hand down on the table, folding, and follow her.
“Hey,” I say, pausing at the threshold to the kitchen.
Becca stands by the sink and slowly turns to face me. We’re alone for the first time all night, although someone could come around the corner at any minute and find us.
“Are you having fun?” she asks, smiling at me.
I stalk closer and bring one hand to her waist. “I think you’re enjoying teasing me,” I murmur, dipping my face close to hers.
“I would never do that,” she whispers back, her mouth now only a breath from mine.
I close the distance between us, taking her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss. She tastes like frosting from the cupcake she ate earlier. I want to devour her, but I make myself pull back.
All the Way Page 9