Chapter 17 Bella #2
“Processors,” he said, tapping the plastic devices behind each ear. “I have to take them off so they don’t get wet.”
He unhooked the first processor and set it carefully on the bench outside the spray.
“I’ll be reading your lips, but if you want me to stop or slow down, just tap my shoulder twice. Like this.” He gave two quick, firm taps to my left shoulder. “Okay?”
“Two taps,” I echoed. “What if I want more?”
His grin flashed, crooked and warm. “I’ll figure it out.”
He took care of the second processor and then joined me under the spray once more.
The water was almost too hot, but it felt perfect against the chill that had settled into my skin. Bennett reached for the body wash on the shelf—something plain and citrusy that smelled like the clubhouse—and poured a generous amount into his palms. He rubbed them together and waited.
I nodded.
Turn around, he mouthed.
I did, bracing my hands against the tile as his soapy fingers massaged my shoulders and worked their way down my back. He took his time, carefully mapping every inch, from the curve of my spine, down the slope of each hip, until finally, he reached my ass.
From there, he moved lower, down the backs of my thighs, tracing the birthmark behind my knee. I let my head fall forward. A soft sigh escaped me as every ounce of tension melted away. Bennett’s touch was reverent, but there was heat beneath it, too, a promise of more.
He turned me gently to face him again and added more soap to his palms, skimming them down my collarbone before landing on my breasts. His thumbs circled my nipples, tightening them into aching points.
His eyes flicked up to mine, a silent question in them, and I nodded for him to continue.
When his hands slipped between my thighs, parting them just enough, I gasped. He washed me there carefully, thoroughly, fingers gliding through the slickness between my folds but never pushing inside, where I wanted him.
I reached for him, wanting to return the favor, but he shook his head and guided my hands back to his shoulders.
Then he sank to his knees.
The tile had to be hard and cold, but he didn’t seem to care. He looked up at me then, water streaming down his face, curls plastered to his forehead, and waited.
I nodded, frantic.
The first swipe of his tongue was like a lightening bolt to the clit.
Every nerve ending lit up at once, a bright, overwhelming flare that made my toes curl against the slick floor.
He licked me open with slow and steady strokes, parting my folds with the flat of his tongue. He circled my clit with the tip, gently teasing at first, and then, he sucked.
“Holy fuck,” I cried out, the sound ricocheting off the tiled walls. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain.
My hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, not to guide him but to anchor myself as the world tilted beneath my feet.
Bennett answered with a low growl, the vibration shooting straight to my core, and then sucked again.
Fucking hell, I felt that one in my teeth.
He kept his mouth on me as he slid first one finger inside me, and then another, stretching me open. His fingers glided in without resistance—I was so wet the shower spray barely registered.
But it was his eyes that undid me. He never looked away.
Not once.
Even on his knees with water pounding down his broad back and his face buried between my thighs, he kept his gaze locked on mine.
Dark, intense, unwavering.
Like he was reading every expression that flickered across my face, every parted lip and flutter of lashes, and adjusting in real time—slowing when my breath hitched too sharp, pressing deeper when my hips rocked forward greedily.
Bennett King was on his knees for me, licking me, loving me, sucking on my clit like it was his after-dinner mint.
The thought alone sent a fresh rush of heat through me.
He pulled back just enough to deliver a slow and devastating grin—his lips glistening, eyes crinkling at the corners even as they burned with hunger. It was a smile that said he was exactly where he wanted to be, reveling in every shudder he drew from me.
Then he dove back in, tongue swirling, fingers curling harder, and I realized with a dizzying jolt that I wasn’t the one in control at all. Not really.
He was.
Even on his knees, he held all the power. Because he got off on this, on giving me pleasure, on watching me unravel under his mouth and hands. Every moan I fed him only made him hungrier, more determined to wreck me in the sweetest way possible.
And Lord help me, I fucking loved it.
The pressure coiled tighter, hotter, until finally, it snapped.
When I came, it was with his name on my lips and my pussy clenching around his fingers, the pleasure so intense I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a second.
I felt myself gush against his tongue, a hot rush that made him groan in approval. The vibration prolonged the waves until I was sobbing with it, thighs clamped around his head, fingers pulling his hair hard enough to hurt.
Only then did he ease his fingers out, press a final kiss to my oversensitive clit that made me jerk, and rise to his feet.
Mm, my turn.
Water streamed down his chest, over the sharp cut of his hips, to where his cock jutted heavy and flushed between us.
I reached for him, both hands wrapping around his length. He was scorching hot, the skin satin-smooth over rigid steel, slick from the shower, and a bead of precum was already pearling at the tip.
I glided my palms over every inch, gently easing the foreskin down and back up again, fascinated by the way it moved so fluidly over the swollen crown. When I circled my thumb over the exposed tip, spreading the precum, he shuddered hard, hips bucking into my grip.
His eyes widened when I sank to my knees.
“I want to suck your dick,” I said, mouthing the words clearly. “I’ve been doing a lot of research.”
His mouth parted like he wasn’t sure he’d read my lips right. Research?
“Videos, articles, erotica.” I smiled, nerves and excitement twisting together in my belly.
This might very well have been my first up-close-and-personal experience with a penis, but I was an eager student. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Bennett would be one hell of a teacher.
“Tell me what you like,” I mouthed.
His eyes darkened, a shaky breath leaving him. He nodded, one hand moving to cup my jaw gently, thumb tracing my lower lip. He guided his tip to my waiting mouth, jerking forward when my tongue darted out to taste him.
Not too fast, he signed. Take your time.
I laughed softly, the vibration humming against the head, and he twitched again.
Feeling encouraged, I licked a slow stripe down the side, all the way to where his cock ended in a flush of warm skin and dark hair.
I started kissing my way back up, this time tracing the prominent vein along the underside as I went.
His fingers tightened in my hair when I swirled my tongue around the smooth crown. My eyes jumped up to meet his.
Do that again. Please.
I did, tracing the ridge and exploring the smooth foreskin before sliding his cock into my mouth.
My lips stretched around his thickness, and I sank down inch by inch, gagging slightly when he hit the back of my throat. I pulled off him with a wet pop.
“The videos don’t mention that part,” I confessed, face burning with embarrassment.
Baby, I don’t care if you gag, he signed shakily. But I also don’t expect you to deepthroat me your first time. You should enjoy it, too.
His blunt honesty made me clench between my thighs. I dove back in, hollowing my cheeks. My hand wrapped around the base, stroking what I couldn’t take, twisting gently on every move up.
This time, when his cock reached my throat, Bennett held me there.
Breathe, he mouthed.
I focused on my breathing, relaxing my throat to let him continue in another inch. And then another, taking him farther until my nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base.
Tears pricked my eyes, but the way he groaned silently, head thumping back against the tile before snapping forward again to watch me more than made up for it.
Goddamn, Bella. Your mouth is heaven.
The praise sent heat rushing through me.
His breathing grew ragged, hips rolling in shallow, careful thrusts he clearly fought to keep gentle. Every few seconds, he checked my eyes, reading my comfort in my expression, adjusting when I nodded or pulled back for air.
“Look at me,” he ordered, using his voice and hands. His face was all sharp lines and hunger. “God, you set me on fucking fire, Bella. My perfect girl, on her knees for me.”
I hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense under my palms. He rewarded me with another low groan, fingers flexing in my hair, holding me steady like he needed the anchor.
And in that moment, watching careful restraint ripple through every muscle in his body, I wondered what it looked like when he really let go.
Completely.
No gentleness or slow, measured rolls of his hips. Just raw, unrestrained need.
Bennett taking what he wanted, fucking my throat until his control shattered, until the man who always asked, watched, cared, turned into something primal and desperate.
I could almost see it now—his hand fisting my hair tighter, hips snapping forward without apology, the tile wall taking the brunt of his palm as he braced himself and used my mouth like he’d been starving for it.
The image hit me so hard, my core clenched, slick heat pooling between my thighs even as I knelt on the cold bathroom floor.
He must have felt the shift in me because his control slipped a fraction. His hips snapped forward sharply, making me gag again, and he immediately caught himself, exhaling a shaky curse.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” A long groan poured from his mouth. “You’re too good at this”
I hummed around him again, on purpose this time, and felt him throb hard against my tongue. “I’m gonna come. Pull back if—”
I shook my head and sucked him deeper, wanting it all.
His eyes squeezed shut when he came, hot pulses spilling across my tongue, his body shuddering as he poured himself into me.
I swallowed eagerly, coughing only a little at the end, but thankfully, Bennett didn’t seem to notice.
He hauled me up his body like I weighed nothing, lifting me clear off the floor until my legs wrapped around his waist and my back met the tile. Water cascaded over us, rinsing away the evidence, but not the taste—salty and intimate—lingering on my tongue.
He kissed me deep, tongue sliding against mine, chasing the flavor of himself like he couldn’t get enough. I kissed him back just as hard, arms locked around his neck, tasting both of us in the slick heat of his mouth.
It was messy and delicious, a combination I never thought I’d enjoy, and yet I was already aching for more.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, he signed against my skin with a lazy, satisfied grin, Good first date?
I laughed softly, nipping at his bottom lip. Not bad, I answered. I might be coming around on this whole Valentine’s Day thing after all.
His eyes crinkled, that crooked smile flashing before he leaned in and kissed me again, slow and sure.
We stayed under the spray until the water turned icy, neither of us quite willing to be the first to call it. Only then did I let myself acknowledge the truth I’d been skirting all day.
If this was what Bennett considered an “unromantic non-date,” then I was in serious trouble when he decided to plan a real one.
And I wasn’t sure my heart—or vagina—could survive it.