Sutton
W e hauled our bags and all of Ben's books and art supplies to my SUV in the camp parking lot, then drove it up to park by his cabin. I wondered if there was something I should do with it. It was paid for by my father, insured by my father, and perhaps I should simply give it back to him.
But how could I do that without starting the confrontation that could ruin everything?
We spent the rest of the morning shopping at the grocery store in town, which felt as domestic as anything I'd ever done with a guy. And when we got back to his place, Ben went into the kitchen to unpack the groceries and make me lunch, ordering me to unpack my things in the bedroom. I couldn't hold back the smile as I filled up a few drawers he'd emptied for me. Maybe one day, the whole left side of the dresser would be mine, and maybe the left side of the closet, too.
What a ridiculous thing to dream about, really. But it somehow felt more like home than anywhere I'd ever lived.
Only two weeks. The voice in my head sounded a hell of a lot like my father, and I swallowed back a wave of despair, determined to make the most of the time. Carefully, I made the bed, then pulled out my supplies and stepped into his shower, cleaning up and prepping for him.
There was something soothing about the ritual of making sure I was ready to take him inside me. Something that made me truly feel like I was his. My body was at his disposal, and I loved the idea of being prepared for him to fuck me when he wanted to. I pulled on my sexiest jockstrap, excited to watch him ogle my body.
He looked up when I walked into the kitchen, his eyes honing in on my skimpy underwear. His expression turned ravenous as he abandoned the salad ingredients he was chopping on the counter and walked my way. I went to him automatically, and he tugged me close, kissing me wildly.
"I prepped in the shower."
His eyes widened, his pupils dilating, and he said nothing, running his hands over my nearly bare body. I was just as eager, ripping his fly down and palming his thick cock, desperate to stuff it inside me.
"Do you need to be fucked that badly, little slut?" he asked, manhandling me to where he needed me, shoving me against the counter, and spreading my cheeks. He left me in the jockstrap, and my cock hardened against the fabric as Ben licked my crack, then tongued my hole, making me whimper. The cool marble was delicious against my heated skin, a physical reminder that I was in his house, that I'd asked him to fuck me constantly over the next two weeks.
He was, apparently, committed to that plan, and he got started right away, backing off and smearing lube over my hole. With a swift motion, Ben slid his cock deep into my ass. I was used to his size by now, but still gasped at the intrusion.
"Fuck, ," he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He planted one hand on my hip and the other wrapped around my throat, controlling but not choking as he rolled his hips, burying himself deeper. "You feel so good. Is this what you needed, my love?"
"Ben," I breathed, my voice strained with pleasure. The anxiety that had been gnawing at me all day began to fade as I focused on the sensation of Ben filling me completely. This was where I belonged; with him, connected in the most intimate way possible.
"Tell me you need me," Ben urged, his voice low and intense. My heart swelled at the vulnerability in his words.
"I need you. I love you. Fuck me, please," I whispered back, gripping the edge of the counter. Our connection went beyond the physical—it was raw and real, a love that made us both feel seen and understood for who we truly were.
"Just me." He thrust again, his hand tightening around my throat. "You're not a slut for anyone else, are you?"
"Only for you, Ben," I whimpered, pressing back against each thrust with an eagerness that I couldn't contain. I wanted to convince him that he was different, that he was the only one who'd ever made me feel this way, but it was difficult to find words with him wildly using my body like this.
As Ben's thrusts became more powerful, his body grounded me in the present moment, chasing the last of my worries away. All that mattered was us, here and now, lost in our base physical need for each other's bodies.
"I can't get enough of you," Ben murmured, his breathing ragged, his hands roaming roughly over my body as he found the perfect place to grip my hips and thrust deeper. "Two weeks alone together might be the death of me."
I laughed roughly and peeked over my shoulder at him. "No, it won't."
He captured my chin in his hand, twisting me around for the best kiss we could manage in this position as he slowly thrust into me from behind. "No, it won't. It won't even be enough. I won't ever get enough."
Our whispered confessions melded with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as he drove me toward the brink of ecstasy. Soon, desperate need took over and he shoved me down, drilling into me harder than I thought possible. I reached for my cock, stroking myself through the jockstrap as he fucked me. The kitchen counter pressed against my chest, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body.
"Fuck, ," Ben gripped one of my legs and lifted my knee onto the counter, twisting my body to gain deeper access. "You're so fucking perfect. You belong to me, baby."
His whispered words sent shivers down my spine, further propelling me into a state of bliss. I was limp in his arms, but this time I wasn't just a hole to be used—I was owned, needed, wanted. And that was so much better. I could hardly form coherent thoughts, let alone respond verbally. All I could do was moan in agreement, reveling in the knowledge that I belonged to him in every sense of the word.
"Every inch of your gorgeous body is mine. No one else gets to have this, understand?"
"Y-yes," I stammered, my voice strained from pleasure. This connection we shared went beyond anything I had ever experienced before, filling my heart with a joy I didn't know was possible. I couldn't imagine being happier than I was right there with Ben, our bodies entwined and our souls connected.
Ben's strong hand pushed mine out of the way and slipped beneath my underwear to wrap around my cock, drawing me close to orgasm with a few skilled touches. My heart raced as he stroked me in rhythm with his thrusts, the combination of sensations overwhelming my senses.
"I'm close. Can I come?"
"Not yet." Holding off until he allowed me to have what I craved was one of my favorite things, and I fought back the overwhelming pressure of my orgasm, shaking with the effort as he took my body closer and closer to the brink. He tipped his head down and bit my neck, holding me pinned as he worked my body over in the most delicious way possible. And I waited for his permission, and he waited until I'd begged for it.
"Please." The word was a mantra, slipping from my lips with every thrust, with every touch, and I felt him getting closer, felt his own movements grow frantic with his need.
"Let go, baby," Ben finally urged, his breath hot against my neck. "Come for me. I want to feel you lose control. I want to fill you up while you're coming."
My body tightened at his words, and as if on cue, I felt a wave of pleasure crash over me. My orgasm tore through me, leaving me breathless and shaking as I spilled myself onto Ben's hand.
"Shit, ," Ben grunted, his thrusts growing more erratic. With a final, desperate push, I felt him release inside me, filling me with his warmth as we both clung to each other, our bodies slick with sweat and spent passion.
As our breathing slowly returned to normal, Ben pressed sweet kisses to my shoulder and pulled out carefully, making sure I was okay. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a warm cloth to clean us both up.
"Are you alright?" Ben asked softly, concern etched across his handsome features while he gently wiped away the mess. He shoved his shorts back into place and pulled me into a warm hug.
"More than alright," I smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with sex. "Being with you like this… it really helps clear my mind."
"Sex therapy, huh?" Ben chuckled, tossing the cloth aside and pulling me into his strong arms. "If it helps, I'm more than happy to provide that service."
"Good," I grinned, nuzzling against his chest. "Because I'll be needing a lot of therapy. Constant therapy."
Ben grinned, kissing my forehead. "Being with you has helped my social anxiety, too. Something about focusing on you and what you need makes me forget to freak out."
"Really?" I asked, feeling warmth spread through me at his admission.
"Well, it's not a miracle cure. If you take me to a party, I'll still be in the corner with my book," he said, his eyes filled with laughter. "But when I'm with you, all the chaos in my mind fades away. You make me feel grounded and present, like nothing else matters as long as we're together."
"So we kind of fix each other," I replied shyly, a flush creeping up my cheeks. It felt like a bold statement, but somehow, in that moment, it felt true.
Ben smiled and leaned down to capture my lips in a gentle kiss. "Maybe we do," he murmured against my mouth. "Though I suspect you need some intense therapy, too."
I laughed. "With a father like mine, probably years of it."
"What does your mom have to say about everything he does?"
"My mom isn't like yours. She has never really been present," I said, sighing. "She's the minister's wife and spends all of her time with him, making public appearances on his show or shopping. She wrote a book about raising children as a traditional Christian wife and doesn't even see the irony. I'd love to one day connect with the nanny I had when I was younger, though. She was lovely."
Ben groaned. "Fuck, baby. Never again will I bitch about the sperm donor… that's what my mom calls my biological dad."
"Hey," I said, kissing him. "My insane childhood doesn't make the difficult things in your life any less valid."
He grinned. "Sounds like something I'd say."
"Maybe my boyfriend is wearing off on me. There's only one problem. My dad wants to talk to Matt about my responsibilities."
"Ah," Ben said, widening his eyes. "Well, I suppose we'll have to talk to Matt then. We can prep him for the conversation. Also, my stepbrother never answers his phone, and we all know how your father feels about that."
I laughed, remembering the time Ben had yelled at my dad. "Good point. Better warn Matt before everything goes horribly wrong."
We quickly finished lunch, pulled on our clothes, and raced across the property towards a tiny home nestled among the trees. The crisp air nipped at our faces as we sprinted through the forest, but there was something about racing through the forest, jumping over roots and fallen logs. Ben grabbed my hand, and breathless laughter bubbled between us, making the anxiety fade away.
"Why is his house so small?" I asked as we approached an efficient glass and wood structure that blended seamlessly into the surrounding forest.
"Matt believes in leaving as small a footprint as possible—this is off the grid, eco-friendly, and kind of cool, if we're being honest. Wait until you see the inside," Ben said.
Matt appeared from around the side of the building, carrying a pile of logs. "! Just the man I was looking for. Anyway, Stanford would let me have you for the fall semester? People keep sending me spreadsheets, and I don't know what to do with them."
Ben laughed, elbowing me. "He hates computers. Spreadsheets probably made him break out in hives."
"There were no hives, only a brutal headache," Matt said.
But my mind was already whirring with the possibility of a semester-long internship. Could I swing it? Would my father allow it? "How would that work? If I stayed for the fall semester?"
"Presumably you'd live with your boyfriend and work at camp?" Matt said. "Does your school do internships for credit, or whatever?"
I blinked, glancing at Ben, wondering if I had enough time. My brain was already five steps ahead, coming up with the pitch I'd send to my advisor. Independent study? Internship? Something that would convince her that I could get a solid educational experience out of working on this. I pulled out my phone and started typing notes.
"I want to try," I said, and Matt beamed at me. "And my dad is going to call you. I'll tell you what to say to him. I think it'll work, as long as there's no way for him to find out what's happening."
Matt shook his head. "Registration for next summer opens in January, and we have to figure out how to get the word out to the parents before then, and how to market to parents who might be looking for a camp solution that works for their kid. But we won't be telling anyone until closer to then."
"What about some kind of grand reveal? A party, streamed on social media. We could feed it out as a top-secret announcement in the weeks before the reveal, maybe drop some clues?"
"You're a genius!" Matt said. "You can help me make sure there's some good buzz?"
I ducked my chin, my cheeks a little hot. "It's basic social media marketing. I learned it in my classes."
"Don't downplay it," Matt said. "I don't have that kind of smarts."
"He doesn't even know how to use Instagram," Ben whispered. "He keeps calling it 'Instant Pot.'"
"I don't see any difference between the two."
"One is a kitchen appliance, Matt!" Ben said, cackling.
"No shit?" Matt tilted his head to the side, then shrugged. "Well, , as you can see. Having you on board would make a huge difference. You can plan the whole launch… and look at the spreadsheets for me. Though, to be clear, I do think you should be open about it with your father."
"You haven't met my father," I muttered. "This is easier. For now. Anyway, I need to start composing this email right now. Matt, don't answer any calls from my dad until I send you some talking points. And thank you!"
Matt laughed. "Well, it's not like I want to do all this work myself. And Benny here has college classes starting, and he'll be abandoning me."
Ben rolled his eyes. "I'm not abandoning you. I don't know anything about any of this."
Just then, the back door creaked open, and a vaguely familiar figure stepped into Matt's tiny home. My heart leaped into my throat as memories from high school flooded my brain. It couldn't be…
"Hey, Matt, I found some extra—" The man's words trailed off as his eyes locked onto mine, and I could see recognition flicker across his face.
"Elliot?" I whispered, feeling as though time had stopped. My stomach lurched as I wondered what he'd say. He must hate me. I'd ruined his life after all.
But, to my surprise, Elliot grinned and tugged me into a warm hug. "Holy shit, Holm?"