11. Savannah
Iwrapped my legs around Ben’s hips and reveled in his thick, hard dick stroking my clit. This was either the worst idea in the history of breakups or the best way ever to get closure.
He slid his hands under my tank top and up my sides. I shivered under his touch. He kissed me slowly and deeply. The way he touched me in so many ways at once had me on the edge of exploding in ecstasy. He pulled off my top and kissed his way down my neck, to one shoulder, as he stroked my nipples with his thumbs.
He pushed himself up long enough to slide my pajama shorts and my lacy panties down my legs and off my body, and then he settled between my legs again. He kissed one breast and sucked my nipple between his teeth, tracing his fingertips down my rib cage, over my belly, and across one hip.
I parted my legs farther, silently inviting his touch. He made a noise between a sigh and a moan, then gave me what I needed. He stroked his finger over my clit, and I sucked in my breath as I pulsed with pleasure. He stilled his hand. I arched toward him, begging for more.
“Not yet, Sav,” he whispered. “I want to savor making you come.”
His words alone nearly sent me over the edge. I panted restlessly as he stroked and kissed his way over my belly, then my thighs. When he flicked his tongue across my clit, I jerked my hips off the bed and whimpered. He licked and sucked and devoured me while making appreciative noises, like I was the most sumptuous meal he’d ever eaten.
I threw my head back and mmmed and ahhhed and damn near purred. I should worry about the thinness of the walls, whether anyone was in the room next to ours, or what he thought of the sounds I couldn’t hold back.
But this was Ben. Ben.
He loved the noises I made. And he knew exactly how to draw them out of me. The exact pressure of his tongue on my clit. The gentle slide of one finger, then two inside me. The steady rhythm that didn’t change because I needed it to stay the same as the tension built in my toes, the base of my spine, my nipples. So tight, so wet, so hot where he touched me, stroked me, drove me into a mindless frenzy.
My body tensed. Sparked, then ignited. Exploded in a dazzling flash of fire, chased by crashing waves of release.
“Nnnnggg,” I managed to murmur as I came back to myself.
Ben kissed my inner thigh, then worked his way higher and kissed the sensitive spot above my collarbone. He still knew my body so well. And I knew his. I knew how much he wanted me to touch him, and I knew when I did, he would hold back and draw out his own release as long as he could. He loved the tease, and I loved to give it to him.
I tugged at his T-shirt, and he peeled it off, over his head. He nibbled his way up my neck and kissed my mouth softly. I deepened the kiss and sank my teeth gently into his lower lip. I skimmed my fingers over one of his nipples, then moved slowly downward over his chiseled torso.
His breath quickened, and he moved his lips over mine, plying open my mouth and invading me slowly and thoroughly. I slipped my hand under the waistband of his shorts and caressed the hard plane of his lower abs and stroked my fingertips over his treasure trail.
He wriggled out of his shorts. His erection pressed into my hip. I rolled until he was on his back, and now I was above him. I grinned down at him, leaning close enough so he could see me lick my lips.
“Anngghh,” he groaned.
I began my descent down his body, inch after slow inch, caressing him with my fingers and lips, drawing out sighs and moans and little “oh, yeahs” of appreciation. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and stroked the smooth skin. I flicked my tongue across his tip. He gripped the sheets and sucked in ragged breaths. I drew him into my mouth and swirled my tongue around his head. His entire body tensed, and he tried to pull away.
He didn’t want to come too fast. He wanted this slow and long and at his direction.
I had other ideas.
Still gripping his shaft, I slid his head into my wet seam, teasing us both with the promise of more, but only allowing an inch, then another, and another. I moved my hand and took him all the way inside me. We both froze and held our breath, now fully joined. I moved slowly, pulling almost completely away from him before sliding back down his length. I did it again. And again.
“Mmm, tease,” he whispered.
“The way you like it.”
He grinned. “I’m not the only one.”
He slid his hand down between us and rubbed my clit, unspooling every last bit of control I’d had until I realized I hadn’t been in charge after all. He’d been the one mastering me the entire time. His hand tightened in my hair, and his mouth ravaged mine. He pumped harder inside me while stroking me outside. When I teetered on the edge of my orgasm, he slowed his pace and softened the kiss.
I moaned. Spoke in nonsensical words. Arched and tried to take the release that was just outside my reach. But he was in command now. He wanted me to beg. He slowly built the pressure and tempo again, this time pushing me even closer before pulling me back from the brink again. When I tried to arch again, he caught my hips and both my hands to still me.
“Ben, please. Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” His voice was raspy and tight.
He thrust up into me fast and hard. I gasped, arched, and rode him as he bucked. Took him deep, so deep. Every cell in my body was alive, filled with light, ready to burst. I hovered at the edge of a high cliff. This time, he didn’t stop. Deep, hard, steady. Pushing me. Pulling me. Tumbling with me.
Our bodies tensed. Our cries mingled until I didn’t know where mine ended and his began. My release rushed through me as he tightened and let go inside me.
I collapsed onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and twined his fingers in my hair. We struggled to catch our breath, unable to speak, unable to move. Our heartbeats and breathing fell into sync.
I closed my eyes. I remembered the promise I’d made to myself when I’d seen him yesterday that I wouldn’t fall into his bed again. And I supposed I hadn’t. I’d pulled him into my bed instead. We’d needed closure. One last time together. A chance to part on good terms, maybe even as friends.
There was a small part of me that wondered if the amazing sex we’d just shared would make our inevitable goodbye harder. I silenced it and curled into the warm, strong body beneath me. Tonight, I would enjoy him. Tomorrow, I would move on. Je ne regretterais rien.
He’d been right about friendly fire being dangerous. But how did the old song go?
What a lovely way to burn.