Chapter 15
Ben gathers me up in his arms, one hand cupping my pussy and the other banded around my waist as he hauls me to stand up. Except, I can’t.
“You took fuck me stupid to heart, my legs are like Jell-O.” I sigh, leaning back into the warmth of his chest as he holds me up. Not to mention I’m so tired, I would love nothing more than to crawl into his bed and fall asleep, which is insane.
He nuzzles into the side of my neck, and I can feel the warmth of his breath all the way down my spine as I shudder. He holds me strong, and I cling to his forearm where the abstract shapes and lines color his skin, so starkly vivid pressed against mine.
“Do you want to take a bath or a shower?”
Looking up over my shoulder at him, I purse my lips because there’s a protest on my tongue at the idea of staying over longer. But he glides his hand up from holding my pussy, rucking up the front of my skirt and stroking the soft curve of my belly. His touch is electric—he lights up my still heated skin as he paints me with the cum on his fingers.
“A shower.” Even though I would love to sink into the jacuzzi tub, I’m afraid I’d never leave.
“All right, hold on.”
He shifts his hold around me until he can sweep an arm under my legs, picking me up bridal style. It feels inherently good to be cradled in his arms as I loop my wrists behind his neck and tilt my head back until I can place a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, letting the sentiment speak for a lot of things.
Ben holds me even closer, dipping his chin to press a kiss to my lips before walking us through the hallway toward the bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind us and I let my eyes droop, leaning into the crook of his neck while he takes us to the bathroom. When I open them again, he’s stepping us toward the double sinks and sets me on the counter between them.
It’s fucking cold.
I shiver, crossing my arms over my chest as my nipples tighten up all over again, feeling the jewelry in them so sharply.
Ben says something. I can vaguely hear the baritone of his voice as it flows over me. Unfortunately, I’m distracted.
Ben pulled his sweater up over his head along with the white undershirt in one smooth motion.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said”—he gives a shake of his head, running a hand through his hair and pushing the strands further off his forehead—“do you like your water warm, hot, or hot, hot?”
“Oh, hot, hot for sure. Burn my skin off hot.”
“Well, that sounds super inviting.” He opens the frosted glass door to the shower and presses the black square on the wall to turn the water on.
With my eyes rolled up to the ceiling, I huff, “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen—er, shower.”
But what’s actually hotter than hell is when he tugs his pants and boxers the rest of the way down his legs. I eye his thighs as he kicks out of his clothes and peels off his socks. The only thing I can think about is wrapping myself around him like a koala.
He steps forward toward where my knees are locked together and pulls them apart before sliding his fingers underneath the top of my thigh-high. I lift my foot up toward his shoulder, and my entire body shakes with exhaustion.
“Jesus,” I groan and clamp my hands down against the edge of the counter.
Ben presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, and I frown because I can’t feel it through the fabric.
“Maybe you should have chosen the bath,” he says off-handedly, dragging the thick material down my leg so he can pull it the rest of the way off. He does the same with my other leg before tugging on the waist of my skirt. I slide forward off the counter for him to drop it to the floor. “Still sure about the shower?”
His arms loop around my waist, and I spring up onto my tiptoes to wind my arms around his neck again as he lifts me off my feet. He walks us into the shower and the water cascades from overhead. The sudden shock of the heat feels so good, and I tilt my face back to the spray. It’s so satisfying that it’s my favorite temperature. What I wouldn’t give to have this every day.
“Yep, I’m sure. We can stew in our filth another time.”
“All right, next time then.”
I try not to let that affect me, but my stomach flutters and I seriously consider it.
“Why is your shower so fucking sexy?” I ask, pulling away from where my thoughts have drifted.
He laughs as he sits on the bench along the wall while I arrange myself in his lap to perch over his thighs.
“You sound jealous.”
“You would be, too, if you saw what I was working with.”
“You can use my shower any time you want.”
“Even if I’m really dirty?” This bathroom is so white and sterile, but comforting in a way I can’t comprehend. I can’t imagine it any other way.
“What kind of dirty?”
“Mmm. Covered in mud. Like mud and dirt in every crevice.”
“Mud is easy enough to clean.”
“Okay—what about blood? Blood and guts all over.”
He laughs, his hand moving from my hips to grip my chin as he tilts my face down to him until I’m looking him in the eye.
“You planning on committing a murder, little bird?”
With his hair wet from the water, droplets rolling down his cheek from the spray catching us both, he looks so serene. The dark sweep of his eyes roam my face, and I bring a hand up to trace the side of his neck because I can’t stop touching him. I can’t stop wanting him to touch me. I lean into his hand when he scratches up my scalp and starts to pull my ponytail out.
“Maybe. Who knows what the future holds?” I shrug.
“Maybe you’re the mafia mob boss.”
I lean back as he draws my ponytail out, my hair falling to my neck, and he slips the hair tie around his wrist. He settles his hands around my hips and grinds me down against his lap, feeling his hardening cock against my ass.
My eyebrows raise as I plant my hands on his shoulders. “That turn you on, Mr. Reed?”
He rests his head back against the wall, hands drifting down to grab my ass and pull me even closer. The spray of the water is barely even hitting us, but the steam in the room is almost billowing now. Our slick skin meets and my nipples drag across his chest with a heavy inhale. His gaze tracks slowly down from my face to my parted thighs and back up to linger on my lips.
“I think you can feel that well enough. I like the thought of you taking whatever it is that you want.”
I slide a hand up the curve of his shoulder to wrap around his throat. His pupils dilate when I tighten my grip, lips parting on a breath. It cuts through the steam to blow over my chin, and even now, he tastes like cinnamon.
“And if I said I wanted you like this?”
He pulls me down in a roll of my hips, and my clit rubs over his pubic bone. My tongue runs over my lower lip as a wash of desire burns me up.
“I’d say if you wanted it bad enough, you’d know how to make it happen.”
The way Ben’s voice drops husky and low melts my insides. The rush of thinking about him at my mercy and begging for release is more than I can even envision. But as much as I’d like to experience that, I love the way my head blanks when he takes control. I like not having to make much of a choice beyond yes or no.
“Maybe my hand around your neck is enough for now. I’m particularly partial to your brand of dominance.”
He leans forward into my touch, taking as much as I’m giving.
“So put my cock in that soaked fucking pussy and ride me until you get what you want.”
I lift onto my knees and reach back to grab his cock. I stroke him from base to tip, enjoying the way his hips buck up into my grasp as he hardens further beneath my touch. His eyes glaze over, and I lean forward to press my lips to his—he tastes so good.
I murmur against his lips, “I’m going to regret this tomorrow when I can’t walk straight, but I want you again, just like this.”
Lifting up enough to guide his cock into my pussy, I slide down his length until I’m seated in his lap and he’s stretching me out all over again.
“Fuck, this pussy is going to be the death of me,” Ben groans, his hands grasping at my hips and gently rocking me back and forth.
I grind down into his lap, shifting my knees and trying to get as close to him as this position will allow. My fingers flex over his throat and he shudders, eyes fluttering and jaw slack. I release him after another minute of just watching the way his expression glazes over.
“Wash my hair,” I demand, swiveling my hips and trailing my fingers up to his hair to tug on the strands. “And I’ll wash yours.”
“Bossy little thing when you think you’re in charge.”
I tighten my fingers, tugging his head to the side until I can lean in and lick a line up the side of his neck until I reach the coarse hair below his jaw. He rewards me with a roll of his hips, causing me to lift up and then slide back down. It’s so satisfying to feel him that deeply that I bite into his neck to smother the moan that rises.
Ben tilts his head further, hands roaming over my ass and thighs as we rock together before he slaps one palm down on my ass on the opposite cheek from earlier. I gasp against his throat before I can suck a bruise into his skin.
“Put those fangs away.”
A petulant whine leaves my lips as I lean back, shoving his shoulders to the tile behind him. “Funny, considering you seem so determined to leave me covered in marks.”
“And they look so pretty on you,” he taunts. “A good reminder for all those fuck boys out there that you don’t need a single one of them.”
“If you think that would stop a fuck boy, you don’t know what a fuck boy is.”
“And would you stop them, then?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I’m yours.”
“And I like for you to be reminded of that every time you look in the mirror.”
He brings a hand up to my chin, tipping my head back and leaning forward with me until the spray of water can coat my hair from roots to ends. I lick the water that drips off my nose when I straighten up.
“You’re lucky I like it, too.”
I lean to the side to snatch the bottle of shampoo off the recessed shelf in the wall. Settling back down in Ben’s lap, I shimmy my hips, enjoying the way he twitches inside me. Popping the cap open, I squeeze out a glob and run my hands through his damp hair, coating the strands before scrubbing it in.
“Why’s that so good?” he asks, tipping his head back with closed eyes as he squeezes my hips.
“Me washing your hair or warming your cock?”
“Fucking both.”
My scrubbing turns into a massage, and I can’t help the smirk that pulls across my face when he moans. The sound makes my pussy flutter and his nostrils flare in response. I swivel my hips at the same time I rub the back of his head with my thumbs, making me sort of feel like a slutty hairstylist.
I’m addicted to the throaty sound of his moan. And Ben was right before; I’m the biggest fucking liar on this Earth, because I’m an auditory person. I love the way he talks to me, the way he moans, his grunts of pleasure when I clench my pussy in a pulsing rhythm with the express purpose of driving him wild.
Erotic ASMR is God’s gift, and Ben gives it to me for free.
Wait.
No—he pays me.
“Shampoo me up, then we’ll rinse.”
He throws me a look that’s equal measures pain and pleasure, blindly reaching his hand out for the bottle on the bench next to us. Instead of pouring the shampoo into his hand, he squeezes the bottle straight onto my head.
“Why are you such a psycho?”
He sets the bottle down before pushing the dripping shampoo back off my forehead and running his fingers through my hair to spread it around. His hum thrums through my chest. “Why are you such a masochist?”
The motion of his arms working the shampoo through my hair subtly shifts me in his lap and now I’m just a little more understanding of Ben’s feelings. Because his cock is stretching me out, his pubic bone is pressed up against my clit and his hands on my head are working the shampoo in deep circles.
This is fucking magical.
“Why are you such a sadist?” I counter.
He only laughs. “Why do we always answer each other’s questions with more questions?”
“Because we clearly both have avoidance issues.”
He drags his fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I let my nose turn up to the ceiling. His lips flutter a kiss to the front of my throat, and I’m right back to being putty in his hands.
“Well, luckily I don’t want to avoid you at all.”
That makes my insides all gooey and gross. It’s a conscious decision not to reply to that statement, because I don’t want to say something I might regret.
I run my hands over his shoulders and neck, dragging the foamy lather of the shampoo all over. My knees tighten against his hips, and I lock my wrists together behind his head as he scoops me up under my thighs and shuffles forward until he can stand. My legs loop around his waist, and he makes a grunt of effort.
“You got me, old man?”
“Always,” he says, “and we’ve gone over this, I’m not old. I go to the gym four times a week.”
I make a face at that as he stands us in the middle of the water’s spray. “What does going to the gym have to do with you being old?”
He squeezes my thighs, gripping me harder as he shifts my weight and bounces me on his cock. His eyes close briefly, and I expect it’s taking a lot for him to not just slam me against the wall and fuck me. And, I get it. I do. Because I want him to do it, too.
“So I fucked you stupid but didn’t quite get the brat out of you, huh?”
“It’s impossible,” I trill, using my leverage around his neck to help lift my hips and slide nearly all the way off his cock before resting back down. Biting my lip barely suppresses the moan that crawls up my throat as I clench around him. And I almost give in and ask him to try again, God knows I want to.
Instead, I tip my head back and reach a hand up to sift through the wet strands of my hair as the shampoo washes out.
“Well, I’ll just have to try again,” Ben says before shifting me up his cock and then back down. “And again”—he repeats the motion—“and again.”
He read my mind like I spoke the words aloud, but with the way I’m biting my lip and shuddering, maybe it wasn’t exactly a secret.
“You won’t find me complaining.”
“Weren’t you just saying you were going to regret hopping on my cock again tomorrow?”
“Semantics,” I groan before threading my hand through his hair and making sure the shampoo is washed out. “Now that we’re both semi-clean, get me dirty again with that cum inside my pussy.”
“I love the sound of that.” He leans in, nose brushing along my lower lip. I’m tempted to lick the water off his skin again. “Hold on.”
A few short steps and my back is pressed to the wall beside the shower controls, the overhead spray now only catching at Ben’s shoulders. I’m just thankful that the tile isn’t ice cold. It’s warm from the steam in the room, but still a stark enough contrast against the heated temperature of my skin. My back arches, pushing my chest into him just as he leans down to close his lips around my nipple.
“Oh fuck—”
He pumps into me, the slide of his cock so slick with the mess of his cum and my arousal that it’s fast and loud as he drives me up the wall with each thrust of his hips.
“This is not going to be long and drawn out like before, I’m ready to blow already, baby,” he murmurs over my chest, licking and sucking as he switches between my breasts. “Touch yourself if you need it.”
My hand fists in his hair, yanking his head off where he’s tugging on the jewelry decorating my nipples and driving me out of my mind. I drag his head up to kiss him, and it’s a clash of tongues and teeth and desperation. Heat runs through my veins like wildfire, and I can’t fathom the fact that I can want him so much so soon. My body aches for him, and my stomach clenches with anticipation as my pleasure ratchets up to another level.
Ben bites my lower lip, tugging, and I release the hold on his hair as he groans low and deep. The sound has my pussy clenching on his cock, my thighs starting to shake, and my clit throbbing. Sliding my hand between our bodies, I press two fingers to my clit and stroke over the sensitive nerves. He thrusts into me, pelvis slamming into my hand over and over. Somehow that intermittent pressure, right on the edge of pain, is enough to have me babbling.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ben, I’m—your cock is making me so fucking stupid. May I come? I’m there—right there. I need it—your cock, your cum, your touch. I need you. Make me come.”
He bands his arm under my ass and hauls me up as he slams his other hand against the tile with a wet slap. He ruts into me like a man possessed, and I’m here for it.
“Give it to me then,” he huffs, breath blowing over my skin as he buries his head in my neck. “Come on my cock, and then I’ll fill this pussy up again.”
It’s all the permission I need, because apparently I’m all about that today.
My fingers rub a tight circle around my clit a few times before I run my fingers directly over it. It has me spasming as my head knocks back to the wall, jaw falling slack. “I’m coming, fuck, Ben—I’m coming.”
Pleasure washes over me, consuming me from head to toe, and I go rigid. My thighs tense, fingers digging into his shoulder. It’s a good thing I prefer almond nails to stiletto.
“Yes, there it is. Such a fucking good girl coming on my cock. You deserve the cum I’m going to feed this pretty pussy, don’t you, baby? Tell me you want it.”
The room is spinning. I close my eyes tight and suck in a breath as the feeling comes back to my limbs and the buzzing in my veins begins to settle.
“I want it, I want it, I want it—”
“Take it, Emmeline,” he moans, and the sound alone nearly has me panting for more.
He drives into me several more times and I feel his twitching cock as he comes, still shallowly thrusting. Everything feels so warm, so content, and I never want to step foot outside this shower. My head tips back, a kaleidoscope of fragmented feelings making my head spin.
“So good for me,” Ben murmurs as he holds me close, lips peppering my neck with kisses that have my stomach fluttering. The way his beard scratches over my skin only heightens the emotion flooding me.
“Put me to bed,” I say softly, resigned to the fact that I don’t want to leave.