Max gasped with relief as it came free. The room was rather cold, and the whisper of chill air tried to shrivel it. But there was no chance, not with Owen so close, warming it with his breath and his lips as he kissed and licked, worshiping it. He reached up and held the base of it, stroked the underside where it throbbed and pulsed.
Max almost lost control. He’d started to stroke Owen’s hair, but the sensation was so intense, he gripped and pulled until Owen spoke softly.
“Easy now.” He raised his free hand to touch one of Max’s. He stroked the back of it. “Ease off there, love.”
“Sorry.” Max let go, going back to stroking. “But I can’t hold on any—ah!”