Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

EVEREST

I’m like ninety-five percent sure Owen feels the same way I do. He wouldn’t have reacted the way he did at the zoo today if he didn’t. He wouldn’t be scared right now either.

I’m scared too. I mean, it’s not like we can really turn back the clock or put the genie back in the bottle or anything. But like, saying the things out loud and putting labels on our feelings, that’s fucking terrifying. That’s serious stuff. And I’ve never been a very serious person.

I turn to gaze into Owen’s eyes. Light from the pool reflects off their amber color, making his eyes dance and shimmer. They’re mesmerizing.

“I love you.” The words kind of slip out without me thinking about them too much. They hang in the air between us while my heart lodges itself in my throat.

Owen’s response is a short, aborted inhale that I notice only because I’m pressed right up against his chest. We stare at each other, not breathing, not moving, just waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Pressure builds in me, pressing against my insides, my ribs, my skin. I know he wants to say it back to me. I can see it in his eyes, the longing battling against the fear. Disbelief that we—of all the people in the world—could find ourselves here.

Silence stretches on, interrupted only by the sound of chirping crickets and the occasional car driving past in the distance. Owen’s throat works as he swallows and his tongue slips out to wet his lips.

Still, he doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t say anything.

Motherfucker. I can’t take the waiting anymore. Frustration bursts from me and I fling off the blanket we’ve been sharing. “Just say it back to me, goddamn it! I know you want to.”

Owen blinks once and a thin, hard barrier slams into place. He narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. “Who says I want to say anything?”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the fucking times for him to shove that stick back up his ass. He’s being difficult and stubborn for the hell of it. He doesn’t like being told what to do—especially by me. But news flash, buddy, I know him better than he knows himself.

“You are such a fucking asshole, you know that?” I say right before grabbing his face with both hands and hauling him toward me. I smash my lips onto his hard enough that our teeth bang together.

He makes a sound of protest, trying to push me off. But he doesn’t try very hard, and after a couple seconds, he’s pulling me toward him instead.

I slide my hands down his back and drag him into my lap, his knees going to either side of my hips. He stabs his fingers into my hair and tugs hard enough that I gasp at the spike of pain. Owen shoves his tongue between my parted lips and the invasion goes straight to my cock.

He fucks my mouth with his tongue, angling me exactly how he wants me with sharp tugs on my hair. He’s attacking me, devouring me, and my head spins from the onslaught.

Fuck, I love it when he gets like this. Aggressive. Controlling. Taking exactly what he wants and bossing me around while he’s at it. I never used to be submissive in bed, and Owen’s habit of power-tripping always drives me up the fucking wall. But there’s just something about that combo when he’s got his tongue down my throat that triggers every single pleasure switch in my brain.

I’m helpless in the face of his demands. I’m defenseless, powerless, weak.

“Fuck,” Owen murmurs against my lips when he finally comes up for air. “The things you do to me.”

That I do to him ? Jesus. If it’s even a fraction of what he does to me, then we’re both doomed.

I whimper as my body hums with the need to fuck. My cock strains painfully against the zipper of my jeans. My balls ache and my skin tingles and I dig my fingers forcefully into Owen’s hips to keep myself from throwing him onto the ground and fucking him into it.

A shiver rushes through me.

Owen leans back enough to scowl down at me. “Are you cold?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before climbing off my lap and dragging me to my feet. He grabs the blanket and wraps it around me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

He shuffles me toward the sliding glass doors that take us straight into the basement. I roll my eyes at how overbearing he is, but I don’t say anything. This is his way of showing he cares. This is his way of saying he loves me.

Owen manhandles me into the media room and deposits me on our makeshift bed. I grab his wrist to pull him down next to me before he can dart off again.

“Come here.” I draw him close, turning so I’m facing him. With his face bracketed between my hands, I stare into his eyes. “Owen.”

He cocks one eyebrow. “Yes?”

Then, with my whole chest, with all the feelings springing from the deepest parts of my soul, I say those three little words to him again. “I love you.”

Owen blinks, his eyes growing wide and a little watery. His breath hitches and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Now you say it back to me. I love you. You can do it. I believe in you.”

His brow furrows but his bottom lip quivers. “Fuck you,” he murmurs with way more affection than the actual words let on.

“Close! You got one of the three! Let’s try again! I. Love. You.” I give his cheeks a squeeze for encouragement.

He growls, low and rumbly, a split second before he launches himself at me. I tumble backward and Owen scrambles on top of me. He slips his hands into mine, fingers intertwined, and pulls them up above my head, pinning my arms to the bed.

“I love you, you fucker. Is that what you want to hear? I fucking love you and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

He peppers frantic kisses and not-so-gentle love bites all over my face and neck and shoulders. I tilt my head away to give him better access and he latches onto my collarbone. When he licks along its length, it feels like he’s licking my cock.

“I love you beyond reason, beyond understanding. I love you when it makes no goddamn sense.”

He kisses me, hungrily and desperately, then teasing and playful. My cock strains against the front of my jeans and Owen rotates his ass on top of my groin.

I groan as arousal ripples through me, turbocharged by the love and affection I have for this man. I tug on my hands. I want to touch him. I want to fill my palms with his ass. I want to feel the smooth heat of his skin. But Owen’s grip doesn’t budge, not even an inch.

I whimper into his mouth, begging, pleading. My hips come off the bed, unable to stay still. Owen growls and drags his cheek against mine. The rough scrape of his beard has my cock pulsing and my body twitching. My vision blurs and my ears ring. A strangled sound escapes my throat.

“Owen,” I gasp.

He lifts his head and glares into my eyes. With a squeeze of my hands, he says, “Don’t fucking move.”

I jerk as his order sends a spike of pleasure through me. My stomach clenches at the pressure building in my groin. Fuck, I need him. I need him so goddamn much it rocks me to the core. How is it possible to want someone so much, to feel like my whole life is wrapped up in him? Like I’ll die if he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t kiss me. Like I can’t breathe unless he’s looking at me like he hates me and loves me at the same time.

Owen’s glare doesn’t waver as he cautiously removes his hands. The second mine are free, I flip them around to grip the sheets under me. The grunt of approval he makes sends my heart soaring and a helpless whimper escapes me in response.

He grabs the hem of my shirt and rucks it up to reveal my stomach and chest. But then he doesn’t do anything. He just sits his ass on my cock, hands pinning me by the shoulders, and stares at me.

Seconds tick by. Fucking minutes. And still, he just stares like he’s trying to memorize every inch of my body.

“Owen, please,” I sob. I can’t take it anymore. I need him to do something—anything!

Owen’s gaze flicks up to mine and he holds it as he leans down. He licks my left nipple, bathing it with his tongue. Then he blows a stream of air right over it, making it pebble so hard it fucking hurts.

“Fuck.” I slam my head back and yank on the fabric in my hands.

He does the same with my right nipple and when the cold air hits my wet skin, I nearly buck Owen all the way off. He slams his ass back down, the impact on my jeans-covered cock both painful and delicious. He’s killing me. I’m literally going to die and it’s going to be Owen’s fault.

He draws patterns across my chest with his tongue before sealing his lips around the dip on my sternum. When he sucks, it feels like he’s siphoning my soul out of me and drinking it down so I can become a part of him.

Yes. Yes. I want that. All of it. I want to merge with Owen until I don’t know where I end and he begins. I want to fuse with him until we become one person. I want to lose myself in him until I don’t exist anymore and it’s just Owen, Owen, Owen.

Owen charts a path down my stomach, sucking hickeys into my skin until I’m all pockmarked. He gets to my jeans and makes quick work of the buttons and zipper. When he curls his fingers under the waistband of my underwear, I lift my hips so he can tug all of it down at once.

My cock slaps against my stomach. Hard. Aching. Leaking. The head is so engorged it’s red and angry. The veins along the length are so full they look like they might burst.

“This massive fucking cock,” he mutters as he gives me long, slow licks along the underside. He trails his lips up and down, concentrating on that super-sensitive spot right under the head before meandering back toward the base. He fucking tortures me. “God, I love this fucking thing.”

I’m leaking so much pre-cum it pools on my stomach, in my belly button, runs down my sides. Owen swipes his fingers through it, covering them in the sticky fluid, then shoves them into my mouth.

The taste of my own pre-cum bursts on my tongue, and at the same time, Owen dives down on my cock, swallowing me whole. My cry is muffled by Owen’s fingers and I have to concentrate on sucking them so I don’t immediately explode down Owen’s throat.

That feels so good. So goddamn good. Hot. Tight. His tongue wiggling against the underside. His throat contracting around my sensitive head. His free hand cradles my balls, squeezing just hard enough to create that heady mix of pleasure and pain.

I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. But just as I’m about to dive head-first into the world’s best orgasm, Owen abandons me.

I convulse, trapped in this strange place between coming and not coming. The pressure in my groin is beyond intense. My lungs seize and I can’t breathe. But there’s no accompanying wash of pleasure, no release, no ecstasy. Like all the side effects of a hard workout with none of the high that’s supposed to come with it.

Motherfucker. Holy fucking Christ on a stick. How is this even possible? To like, come, but not come. I hate it. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I want Owen to do it again.

“I want to sit on this fucking thing.” Owen’s voice filters in past the ringing in my ears, actually sounding disappointed and sad.

I grunt, trying to speak, but my tongue doesn’t work anymore. I grunt again and blink to clear the haziness in my vision. “D-duffel.”

Owen glances over at my bag sitting on the floor. “Your bag?”

“L-lube.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You brought lube to a family weekend at my parents’ house?”

I clear my throat. “Not on purpose. There’s always a stash in there. I grab them from the giant fishbowls in the locker room at Mars.”

Owen stares at me in disbelief. “Your workplace has giant fishbowls filled with lube?”

“Yeah. Condoms too. We take safe sex very seriously. What’s wrong with that?”

Owen rolls his eyes as he scrambles off the bed to dig through my duffel. “Your work is weird.”

“ Your work is weird,” I shoot back.

Owen turns back to the bed, tossing the packet of lube next to me, but then he stops and stares at the condom still in his hand. He doesn’t say anything, but I can read the look in his eyes.

He doesn’t want to use it.

The realization slams into me and I almost come just from the thought.

“I got tested last week,” I say softly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Beau and Gavin make us do it every six months. Everything came back negative. And I’m on PrEP.”

I hold my breath, my whole body taut, waiting for his response.

Owen’s head snaps up and his gaze burrows into me. His chest rises and falls. His jaw works back and forth. “I’m not. And I haven’t been tested in a while. I keep meaning to, especially after we…” He waves his hand vaguely in my direction and clears his throat. “But things have been so busy with work, I haven’t gotten around to it,” he says with a note of dejection.

Every cell in my body rejects his reply. “But you haven’t fucked anyone in a while either, right?”

His lips flatten. “No.”

“And you always use condoms when you do.”

“Yes.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.” Not that I would have worried either way. I can’t imagine anyone being more careful than Owen. And after everything we’ve been through, I trust him. With my body, with my heart, with my soul.

I sit up and grab the collar of my shirt to pull it over my head. I toss it to the floor. My jeans and underwear, socks and shoes follow. With the lube in hand, I scoot backward until I’m in the middle of the bed.

Owen’s still standing in the same spot, unmoving. His lips are parted and he’s watching my every movement like a hawk.

I lay back, pillowing my head in one arm and grabbing hold of my cock with my other hand. With a smirk, I say, “Come on, asshole, what are you waiting for?”