Thrill Me

  Owen snorted. Because watching two hot chicks get it on while you fucked one of them was such a heavy load to bear.

  “I’d rather know what you’d like to do now,” she said. “You should have your needs met as well.”

  “My needs have been more than met,” he said. Well, his sexual needs had. But unlike Caitlyn, he’d like to enjoy more than sex during their time together. Maybe she’d be open to going out in public with him without having to disguise themselves with masks and refer to each other by initials—like an actual date or something.

  “Do you want to go back to my place?” she asked. “We can cozy up on the sofa and relax.”

  In other words, not be seen together in public.

  “I was thinking we could go out to dinner.”

  The farther they walked down the corridor, the louder the club music got, so she had to shout. “I’d rather stay in for pizza.”

  It seemed she really didn’t want to go out with him, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Are there any good shows playing at the theater?” he asked, remembering that she’d said she liked musicals and her ex-husband never took her. Owen’s goal was to be the opposite of that dolt.

  “Probably,” she said, “but we’ll never get tickets.”

  “If I can get tickets, will you go?”

  “I’d love to, but you’ll never get tickets.”

  “Have a little faith.” He grinned and dropped off their key with the attendant before leading Caitlyn toward the dressing room exit.

  He located their shared locker and punched in the code to unlock it. He’d used Chad’s birthday, so had no trouble remembering the four-digit combination. He slipped into his pants and pulled out his phone while Caitlyn dressed. He knew exactly who to call for tickets.

  ~~~

  Owen was still chuckling when he escorted Caitlyn out of the theater a few hours later. He’d never realized he liked musicals, but in his attempt to find some common ground with Caitlyn, he’d actually enjoyed The Book of Mormon. Maybe because it had been written by the same hilarious dudes who wrote the TV show South Park or maybe because his date—who refused to call their time together dating—was so charming. At first he’d expected her to be offended by the script’s over the top hijinks and crude language, but she’d laughed along with the rest of the audience. And Owen had laughed so hard he’d had to dab tears from his eyes.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Caitlyn asked as they walked hand in hand to her car.

  “Surprisingly, yes.” He leaned in to claim her lips, and she allowed his kiss. Even though she said she didn’t want to start a serious relationship, she’d agreed to their second real date. It gave him hope that that they could forge a relationship that was more than just one amazing sexual encounter after another. “Kelly would have loved it. I’ll have to take him to see it.”

  Caitlyn stumbled over a step. “Kellen,” she said. “What’s he up to this weekend?”

  “Oh.” A cold, heavy lump settled in the pit of Owen’s stomach. “He met a woman when he went to Galveston. I guess they hit it off; he’s spending the weekend with her.” And completely ignoring Owen. Owen understood that Kelly was upset about losing his cuff, but Owen couldn’t stand Kelly to be cross with him, and though he should be happy about Kelly being so lost in a chick that he didn’t have three seconds for his best friend, he wasn’t. Owen figured after the newness of Dawn and of having sex again wore off, Kelly might find a few moments to spare for the guy who stood by him through every disaster thrown his direction. Kelly had been the same way when he’d been with Sara too, so caught up in her that he seemed to forget that Owen existed.

  “A woman?” Caitlyn smiled and unlocked her doors with her key fob. “That’s great news.”

  “Yeah,” Owen said, so why did he feel so miserable when he thought about Kelly with Dawn? Kelly deserved someone to love. He deserved happiness. Owen decided he was just missing him. They’d been inseparable for years. Had it not been for Caitlyn and Dawn, the two guys would have undoubtedly spent the weekend together like they usually did. He’d probably be scoping out some unknown rock band in a bar in Austin right now if his and Kelly’s lives hadn’t suddenly detoured into female territory. Not that he minded. He was having a great time with Caitlyn. He’d just have been even more content if Kelly were serving as their third wheel.

  Owen opened the passenger door and climbed in, only remembering he should have opened Caitlyn’s door for her after she slid into the driver’s seat next to him.

  “You don’t sound happy.” Caitlyn started the Camaro, her attention shifting from the backup cam’s screen to the rearview mirror as she waited for traffic to clear behind the car.

  “I am happy for him. God knows the dude needed to get laid.”

  “He had sex with her?”

  Owen laughed. “I know, right? About damned time he got over Sara.” And Owen meant that. He just wasn’t sure that going from completely celibate and single for five years to being adhered to Dawn was best for Kelly. The dumbass was probably in over his head, and Owen couldn’t even talk to him about it because the woman had been standing right beside him every time Owen tried to approach him.

  Caitlyn shrugged, and when she finally found her opening to back out of the parking spot, she gunned the engine. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “I thought he was waiting for you to come around.”

  The muscle car seemed to shrink and evacuate itself of air. Owen grabbed the handle above the window to steady himself. “Waiting for me?” he squeaked. He cleared his throat before chuckling uncomfortably. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Something about the way he looks at you and touches you. Not to mention that you called his name when I was ass-fucking you with a dildo. I thought maybe there was something more than friendship between you.”

  Owen shook his head, because for some lame reason, the word no got stuck in his throat and never materialized.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Caitlyn said. “I probably imagined an attraction between you when I was fantasizing about the two of you kissing.”

  If Owen had been driving, he would have slammed on the brakes. “You fantasize about us kissing?”

  “I saw him stroke your cock just days ago, Owen. My little fantasy about you sucking face is tame by comparison.”

  At her words, Owen’s thoughts immediately shifted to the memory of being tied to a pommel and unable to move while Kelly’s hand rubbed him. Kelly had been showing Caitlyn how to touch Owen to give him the most pleasure. At least that was what Kelly had used as his excuse. And then after he’d boned Dawn, he’d decided he needed to awkwardly apologize for touching Owen, which had made Owen incredibly uncomfortable. His apology had made something substantial out of what Owen had thought they both considered nothing. Owen had put it out of his mind because he still didn’t understand why Kelly had said he was sorry.

  “Do you really think he might want me?” Owen asked, confused as to why talking about Kelly’s possible attraction gave him a boner on par with the one he’d gotten while watching Caitlyn and M sixty-nine. Lord, what the fuck was wrong with him? Watching hot chicks eating each other out was definitely boner-worthy. Talking about his best friend platonically stroking his cock in demonstration shouldn’t be.

  “I do,” Caitlyn said, “but I don’t think he’s prepared to admit it. Not even to himself. The question I have is: do you want him?”

  Owen scoffed. “Uh, no. Of course not.” But the stiffy in his pants declared him a fucking liar.

  Caitlyn drove through the city of Houston like she was trying to deliver a bomb before it exploded. Owen shoved all thoughts of Kelly aside to focus on not shrieking like a little girl every time Caitlyn got a bit too close to another driver’s bumper. His imaginary passenger-side brake was getting quite a workout.

  “So what do you like to eat?” she asked. “I’m starved.”

  “Pa—”

  “
If you say pastrami on rye, I’m going to vomit.”

  Owen chuckled. He had been going to say that. “Pasta?”

  “Awesome. I know a great place that serves dinner late.”

  He gripped the handle above the window tighter as she did a U-turn at the next intersection and gunned the engine again. He’d have never taken her for the kind of woman who drove a muscle car—he’d have placed her in something a bit more practical, like a Volvo—but he had to admit that she looked hot behind the wheel of her brand new yellow Camaro. She’d called it her divorcee ego-recovery car when she’d insisted on driving to the sex club.

  The small Italian restaurant they went to was not one he’d expect her to frequent. After seeing her house—he could have fit four or five of his little cottage inside her giant McMansion—he assumed she dined at five-star restaurants and had been ashamed that he’d taken her to some greasy-spoon diner on their first date. This little hole in the wall didn’t even have a lit sign out front, and they’d had to park on the street. The tables were crammed into the small space so close that their hippy hostess had to walk sideways to seat them.

  “I haven’t been here in years,” Caitlyn said, scouring her menu.

  Ah, so she didn’t frequent this place.

  “Charles says it’s too claustrophobic.”

  Owen could see the man’s point as he accidentally elbowed a perfect stranger at the next table. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the woman’s arm to undo any damage.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a friendly smile.

  Owen liked the place already.

  “You have to try the portabella tortellini,” Caitlyn said. “Do you like mushrooms?”

  “They’re okay. I prefer pastrami.”

  Caitlyn laughed and smacked at him with her menu. “Is prosciutto a good enough substitute?”

  “I suppose.” He actually loved prosciutto and was surprised she understood his tastes enough to suggest it.

  They ordered and after finishing their tangy Caesar salads, they munched on chewy slices of warm bread with creamy butter while they waited for their entrees. Owen was already in food heaven.

  “So what else do you like to do that ol’ Charlie hates?” Owen asked, happy to be a part of Caitlyn finding herself again.

  She laughed and buttered the last piece of bread, tearing it in half and offering him a section. “First and foremost, he loathes being called Charlie.”

  Then that was exactly what Owen would call him from now on.

  “Let’s see. Backgammon. He hates to lose, and I always win.”

  “Unless you’re playing Gabe,” Owen reminded her. She and the band’s drummer had engaged in several serious battles, and Caitlyn had managed to claim only one victory against the master.

  “Oh jeez, I’d forgotten Gabe had skunked me.” She bit into her bread. “Charles also hates science museums.”

  Owen didn’t think any museum would be much fun, but he’d thought the same about musical theater until Caitlyn had shown him otherwise.

  “He could spend all day in the library, though. We both enjoy reading. Different tastes in books, but we often sat quietly and read for hours.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t married to Gabe?” Owen said, seeing many parallels between his friend and her ex.

  “I think I would have remembered that. Especially the crimson-red Mohawk and scalp tattoos.”

  He laughed, and she reached over to squeeze his hand. “And what do you like to do in your spare time?” she asked.

  Was she trying to get to know him more personally? Score! “Besides music?”

  “Do you attend a lot of concerts when you aren’t performing?”

  “Kelly and I like to scope out unknown talent in Austin. There’s an amazing music scene there, so that’s always fun. We spend a lot of time at the gym so I can still eat the foods I love. Especially carbs.” He licked his finger to pick up a stray crumb off the empty bread plate and put it on his tongue. He hoped their pasta arrived soon. “And he makes me go kayaking.” Which wasn’t his favorite activity—he’d much rather take an exciting ride in Gabe’s speedboat followed by some relaxing fishing on the lake—but if Kelly was happy paddling around with his legs jammed inside a claustrophobic boat, then Owen was happy to follow him around.

  “And you make Kellen go to sex clubs.”

  When she put it that way, it sounded pretty douche-y. “Yeah.”

  Their food arrived, and Owen was in taste-bud bliss as he devoured his prosciutto, peas, and cream sauce over perfectly al dente fettuccini. Caitlyn offered him a bite of her portabella tortellini, and it was equally delicious. As they ate, he made her laugh with stories about touring with his band. He couldn’t get enough of the delightful sound and was glad he could bring her joy. After finishing their entrees, they fed each other bites of the most incredible tiramisu he’d ever tasted. He was going to have to hit the gym extra hard for the next few days, but, damn, was the meal worth it.

  “Do you think you have one more fantasy in you tonight?” she asked as she insisted on paying the check.

  “You should have asked before I gorged myself on carbs.” He produced a large yawn for effect.

  “I’ve always wanted to make love beneath the stars,” she said. “I set up a spot in my backyard if you’re game. If not—”

  He caught her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. He stared deeply into her eyes and used his most seductive voice as he said, “My pants are already around my knees.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Caitlyn took Owen’s hand and led him out to the backyard. The gentle lap of the bay water against the bulkhead hidden by the inky darkness provided a rhythmic backdrop to the chorus of squalling cicadas and chirping crickets. She’d had a great time with Owen that night, first at the sex club, then at the theater, and finally at dinner, and though making love under the stars really was on her list of fantasies, she wanted this encounter to be more about him than it was about her.

  She pushed aside the mosquito netting that kept biting critters from entering the glass gazebo while allowing a cool onshore breeze to blow through. She didn’t light the torches, but there was enough moonlight to make out the creamy white sheet draped over the pillows she’d pulled from the dark wicker sofa, loveseat, and various lounge chairs. They wouldn’t exactly be roughing it, but they’d be able to see the stars through the glass ceiling and almost feel one with nature without having to deal with the bugs.

  “Someone has been planning again,” Owen commented as he stepped onto the low deck inside the gazebo.

  “Expect the best, plan for the better,” she said, kicking off her shoes and pulling her blouse over her head.

  “I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes,” he said, reaching for the hem of his shirt. She caught his hands.

  “Allow me,” she murmured, bending forward so she could kiss his belly and chest as she removed his shirt.

  He helped her pull off the rest of her clothes, and then she grabbed a pillow for her knees before she knelt at his feet. She planned to be there for a while. He stared down at her as she unfastened his pants and slowly slid them over the tight curve of his perfect ass. “Now your pants are at your knees,” she murmured before licking his cock until it danced to life.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His hand lightly stroked her hair from her face.

  “Do you know any constellations?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Look up at the stars, Owen.” She kissed the head of his now fully erect cock. “Let me take you to them.”

  He tilted his head back, and she licked and sucked at his tip, loving the way the metal balls in his piercing felt against her lips and tongue.

  “Don’t close your eyes.” She sucked him into her mouth and, after taking a deep breath through her nose, drew him into her throat.

  He shuddered and released a breathy moan. She caressed his smooth ass with both palms as she slowly pulled back and then took him deep again. r />
  “So beautiful,” he whispered to the sky, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking of her or the sea of sparkling stars above.

  His breath quickened, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, meeting her movement with gentle thrusts of his hips. With a tormented groan, he pulled out and urged her to her feet. She blinked at him, wondering if he wasn’t enjoying something as ordinary as oral pleasure after spending an evening in a sex club. Fingers tangled in her hair, he moved his hands forward to cup her face.

  “I want this to last,” he said and leaned in to claim her lips.

  Make what last? His erection? This perfect night? Their potential forever? She wasn’t sure what he expected from their time together—hell, she wasn’t sure what she expected anymore—but she didn’t resist when he lifted her and carried her to the nest of cushions. Instead, she cupped his face as he held her and kissed him back with an unguarded heart as he gently laid her down.

  His touch, his kisses, his tender nibbles were unhurried as he explored her body. When she remembered to open her eyes, she stared up at the stars, but mostly she let her eyes drift shut and just felt him. Owen. She felt him everywhere, not only against her skin. And when he claimed her at last, she felt him even deeper. Not just where their bodies were joined but inside her heart, her soul, the parts of her she kept carefully hidden. She felt him. Owen.