27. Lyssa #2
He settles onto the bed next to me and fixes me with an intense look.
“Because I’m not sure I can control myself.
It’s been a long time for me, too, and you’re…
” His gaze drops to my body, completely bare to him, and he trails a finger from my shoulder down between my breasts, then over my hip.
I shiver, and his gaze darkens. “Well, you’re you.
God, just look at you. You’re fucking stunning. ”
His words make my heart swell, and I pull him into me, kissing him with a fervor I hope explains how much I want him, tasting what he’s already done to me. He groans, and his hands wrap around me, pulling me into his chest so that I’m straddling him.
I grind into him, and his grip tightens for a moment before he releases me. He settles back into the pillows, eyeing me as I stay seated above him, and murmurs, “There’s a condom in the nightstand.”
I immediately lean over to locate it. His gaze follows me the whole time, and when I go to remove his pants, my hands shaking slightly, he shifts me off of him, taking the condom from my hands as he does.
I can’t help but stare at his cock as he removes the rest of his clothes.
It’s beautiful but intimidating, the cumulation of all that corded muscle above.
He rolls the condom on with ease and leans back, head resting on the pillow as he slides his arms underneath.
I simply stare at him. What now?
As if he can read my mind, he swallows. “I told you…I can’t be the one in control here. You have to be. This all happens at your pace.”
“Okay.”
I can do this…right? This is what I wanted. And I see what he’s doing here. He doesn’t want to get too caught up and do something that’s too much for me. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting this. Wanting him.
I swing my leg over him, straddling him once more, and sigh as my clit touches the hard length of him.
His cock twitches in response, and he hisses through his teeth, but doesn’t move a muscle.
Instead, I’m left to rock against his erection at my pace.
I grind up and down on him, getting a feel for just how much will be inside of me.
Free to do what I want, I trail my fingers up and down his bare skin as I go, tracing his impressive expanse of muscles, the beautiful detailing in his tattoos, the trail of curled hair leading down to where my own desire is pooling.
The anticipation is making me halfway delirious, but there’s an insidious part of me that’s still afraid to let go, to potentially have everything change.
There’s power in sex, especially with emotions attached, and what if I give up too much of mine in this?
There’s no going back once it’s done. My hands go still on his chest and my movements slow.
“Little fighter. Look at me.”
I do, taking in his warm, sincere expression as he continues. “If you want me to talk you through this, I can do that. You’re with me. It’s you and me. Is this still what you want?”
He shifts his hips, rolling me over him once more, and desire sparks anew, turning my core liquid. “Yes,” I say around a moan. “Hell yes.”
“Then have me,” he says, his voice husky. “Use me. Take the pleasure you need. It’s all yours.”
His encouragement spurs me on, and I skim a hand over his broad, firm chest, lifting my hips and positioning him with my other hand. He inhales at my touch, then exhales sharply as his cock brushes against my entrance. When I sink down onto him, we groan in unison.
It takes a precious minute to get all the way seated as I adjust to him stretching me. Once I am, I’m so absorbed in the feeling of his size inside me that I almost don’t register the way his body trembles beneath me. “Benji?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is noticeably strained. “God, just look at you. You take me so fucking well.”
Confidence blooms in me at his words. I smile and, slowly, begin moving.
The pleasure is immediate, unfurling inside me with each rock of my hips, and I experiment with different ways to roll and move.
And fuck, the control is intoxicating. The way my movements cause Benji to curse or groan softly, the heated lust sparkling in his gaze as he stares up at me, encouraging me to take more.
I sink down on top of him, moving faster, chasing the pleasure burning and building inside me for the second time.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasps, his arms twitching as he fights the urge to remove them from behind his head. “Such a good girl. Use me to make yourself come.”
His words, paired with the fullness inside me and the brushing of my clit against him as I rock forward once more sends me straight off the deep end.
I arch my back and cry out, tightening around him.
His throat works and he squeezes his eyes shut, his hips lifting to meet me as I come all over him.
It’s euphoric, and it’s all I can do to hang on, my hands and thighs gripping him beneath me.
“Can I touch you?” he asks after a long moment.
It sounds like his throat has been coated in sandpaper.
My chest rises and falls as I nod, attempting to catch my breath.
With a throaty growl, Benji pushes up and pulls me flush against him, sliding a wet kiss across my mouth before transferring his hands to my hips, lifting me off him just slightly.
It’s then that I realize he is still rock hard.
“Wait – you didn’t –?” I ask, but my question transforms into a cry as he thrusts up into me. “Oh, god!”
“I didn’t, because I wanted one more from you,” he murmurs, slamming his cock back up into me. “And I told you, I wanted to hear you scream my name.”
Another thrust, and pleasure shoots through my body, rendering me limp, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s holding me up, driving himself upward and into me, over and over again.
I collapse forward, bracing myself on his chest, and when the new angle he’s hitting makes my nerves go from sizzling to full-on ablaze, I cry out the only words I have left. “Oh – god – please – Benji!”
I squeeze around him and this time he explodes with me, his breathing choppy in my ear as he holds me tightly. We ride it out together, nearly frozen in the moment, before collapsing next to each other.
We’re both too hot to remain fully joined, but we’re still touching with a hand here, a foot there. I focus on catching my breath, enjoying the aftershock of pleasure still coursing through me. When the ecstasy subsides, I roll to my side, taking stock of how Benji is faring.
He mirrors my movement, shifting so that we’re facing each other.
His eyes are gleaming with a sated expression and another, deeply affectionate one that I don’t try to analyze, because it’s a dangerous thing to put to much too thought into.
As we gaze at one another, his expression becomes tender, and he moves to cover me with the blanket.
His hand hovers at the top of the blanket and, seeing his indecision, I grab his hand first.
I fiddle with his fingers, taking note of how large and calloused his hands are. I’ve watched him use them for sport and for violence. Yet tonight, he waited until I felt completely in control and came not once, but twice, before using them to chase his own pleasure.
When I raise my gaze from his hands back to his face, I find an adorable shyness there. “Was that…was that okay?” he asks.
I huff a soft laugh, too exhausted to do much more. “It was more than okay, Benji. It was amazing. It was…”
It was perfect.
Shit.