Chapter Thirteen
Benji
The last swim student of the day is an older guy rehabbing a shoulder injury and bragging about some long-retired baseball glory. I’m trying to stay focused, correcting his strokes and counting his laps.
I feel her before I see her.
That warm itch under my skin. That electric, you’re not alone anymore zing that only ever means one thing.
I glance up between laps, and sure enough, there she is.
Big pink sunhat, heart shaped sunglasses, and a dress that doesn’t even try to pretend it’s not see-through in the sun.
Just perched on a lounger like a summer mirage, legs crossed and chewing on the straw of a drink she definitely brought just to look scandalous.
She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t smile.
Just watches me like I’m the one putting on a show.
My student notices me glancing over and jokes, “That your girl?”
I almost choke on air. “No. She’s, uh. Just a friend.”
The guy smirks. “Sure she is.”
Ten minutes later, I’m drying off my arms and dismissing him, and she’s still there, twirling that straw between her fingers like it’s a joystick she’s about to use to ruin my life.
I walk over.
“Hey.” My voice comes soft. “You stalking me?”
She shrugs. “No. That would require effort. This is lurking.”
“You want to get in?” I nod toward the pool. “Water’s warm.”
She stands. Her dress clings to her thighs like it missed her and wants her back. I can already feel my heart misfiring.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” she says and steps close enough that I can smell coconut sunscreen and something sharper underneath, wild, impossible, Delilah.
Then her fingers land right at the waistband of my shorts. Barely a touch. More of a suggestion.
“I wasn’t really planning on swimming,” she says, eyes flicking up to meet mine, bold and full of challenge. “But if you think I need to cool off…”
Cool off? Hell no. Not if this little pixie is hot for me.
“My place?” I ask, pulse doing dangerous things.
She hums like she’s considering it, then smiles, teeth sharp. “Race you to the car.”
I grab my bag and follow that sundress and sunhat like a man walking into his own beautiful, preventable ruin.
I pull into my driveway. She’s halfway out of her seatbelt before the engine’s off, and I barely get my keys in the door when her hands are in my shirt and her mouth is on mine.
She tastes like sun and sugar and the kind of trouble you never want to recover from.
“Jesus, Delilah.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain when I’m about to do this,” she huffs, sinking to her knees like this is a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon behavior and not something that’s going to rewire my entire central nervous system.
I haven’t even locked the door behind us. She’s kneeling in front of it, pink sunhat tumbling somewhere behind her, grinning up at me in a way that says she’s about to commit a felony with her mouth and needs me to sign the waiver.
“This okay?” she asks, even as her hands are already tugging at my shorts.
“Y-Yeah,” I choke. “Jesus. Yes. Are you?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls my waistband down just enough to free me.
I know I’m big. It’s not something I say, it’s just a fact I have to accommodate in pretty much every aspect of life. But the way her pupils dilate, the way she makes a sound, low and delighted and utterly unhinged, as she licks her lips?
I’m gone.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” she whispers, palming me like I’m the most interesting toy she’s ever seen. “Look at you. Benji. Do you know what this is going to do to me?”
“I, what it’s gonna do to me,” I manage, voice cracking like I’m a teenager. “You sure about this?”
“Absolutely not.” She kisses the head, tongue swirling. “Which means yes.”
Then she goes down.
Or tries to.
Her mouth stretches wide, jaw working, spit already slicking me up like she knew she wasn’t going to get it all but needed to try. It’s messy. It’s obscene. And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever survived.
“Fuck, Delilah, precious.” I grip the edge of the entryway table so hard it creaks. “You don’t have to… shit.”
She moans around me like hell yes she does, like this is sacred work and I’m the altar she’s ready to ruin.
I’ve had blowjobs before. But this? This is worship.
One hand wraps tight around my base, the other drags across my hip, nails biting in just enough to make my thighs twitch. She pulls off, gasping like she’s proud of herself.
“Gonna make you come,” she pants, eyes glassy. “Right here. Right now. Can’t stop thinking about it.”
“I’m not gonna last,” I admit, dizzy. “You’re killing me.”
“Good,” she growls, licking a stripe up the side and sinking back down, deeper this time.
I actually whimper. I didn’t even know I could make that sound.
She’s bobbing her head now, relentless, hand twisting in perfect sync.
“Delilah, I, fuck, you gotta stop or I’m gonna.”
She pulls off just long enough to breathe, “Then do it, big guy.”
My whole body locks up. My hips jerk once, sharp and helpless. I come hard, groaning like I’m being ripped open.
She doesn’t pull away. Just holds me through it, swallowing what she can, messy and perfect and grinning up at me.
I collapse back against the door, panting, chest heaving, legs barely holding me up.
She licks her lips. “Hi,” she says brightly. “So, still want me to stay for lunch?”
I laugh. Or wheeze. It might be both.
“Delilah,” I breathe. “Lunch. Dinner. Forever. Yeah.”
She’s still on her knees, licking the corner of her mouth like she just taste-tested her favorite flavor.
Mine.
I’m trying to remember how to breathe.
She climbs to her feet like she’s not done.
“You good?” she asks, eyes wild and hair a wreck and somehow the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“No,” I say honestly. “I think I’m in love.”
She snorts, pushes up on tiptoe to kiss my jaw. “You can fall in love again after you make me come.”
“Yeah?” I say, curling an arm around her hips and lifting her like she weighs nothing. She doesn’t. Not to me.
“Benji,” she breathes, hands clutching my shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“You said I could,” I smile, walking us toward the bedroom. “So I’m gonna. You ready?”
“I will be,” she says dramatically, “if you carry me like that every time.”
I nudge the bedroom door open with my foot, already cataloguing everything I’ll need: pillows, lube, hands to hold her still when she starts talking in tongues.
I lay her out on the bed like she’s breakable, even though I know better. Even though she’s already undone me once.
She props herself up on her elbows, grin turning wicked. “Gonna fuck me now, big guy?”
“Not yet,” I say, crawling up between her thighs. “You need a proper warm-up.”
“Benji, I can take you.”
“Don’t care,” I say, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “You’ll want this first.”
Her eyes flutter when I lick a slow, lazy stripe up the center of her. Then I do it again, more focused. Her thighs twitch. Her breath stutters.
And when I suck on her clit, just a little she whines.
“Holy fuck, Benji.”
“Language,” I say against her, voice rough.
“Fuck you.”
“Soon.”
Then I bury my mouth in her.
She tastes like heat and chaos, sweet and sharp, something unholy and honey-dripped and entirely her. I drag my tongue through her and suck her clit again, and this time she barks a laugh-gasp, fist curling in the sheets.
“Jesus, Benji,” she pants. “How are you good at everything?”
“I listen,” I say, slipping two fingers inside her while my mouth works.
Her hips lift to meet me. She’s riding my mouth now, chasing it. Ferocious.
I keep at it, keep curling my fingers and sucking her clit until she’s bucking against my face, gasping, voice hitting high registers I didn’t know existed.
When she comes, it’s with a ragged scream and my name.
I don’t stop until she’s shaking, trying to push my head away, too sensitive. Then I finally pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and kiss her thigh.
“You okay?” I ask, crawling up to hover over her.
She stares at me, dazed, pupils blown wide. “Okay?” she whispers. “You just tongue-fucked me like you trained for it.”
“Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you,” I admit, kissing her neck. “You want more?”
She nods, eyes glassy. “Need it.”
I reach over to the drawer, grab lube, because she’s small and I’m not and I’ve never wanted to be gentle and filthy in equal measure like this before.
“Okay,” I whisper, slicking up my cock, “You’re gonna tell me if anything feels off, yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” she teases, hips already tilting toward me. “Now wreck me.”
Oh, precious. I’m gonna ruin you sweetly.
She’s still shaking from her orgasm when I nudge her thighs open wider, but she doesn’t look tired. No, she looks possessed. Hair a mess, face flushed, still grinning up at me like she’s about to wreck my will to live.
“You ready?” I ask again, even though I already know the answer. My cock is slick in my hand, lube-glossed and throbbing, heavy enough it’s bobbing toward her on instinct. She licks her lips when she sees it.
“Oh, I’ve been ready,” she says, voice gone husky. “Just didn’t wanna scare you.”
“Scare me?”
“I can be a bit much,” she says. “But you. You’ve got the dick of a goddamn monument, Benji. It’s intimidating.”
I blush so hard it hurts. “It’s not.”
“It is,” she hisses, raking her nails down my chest. “You’re gonna ruin me, aren’t you?”
“Not if I prep you right,” I say, pushing the head against her, barely easing in.
She gasps, tenses, and then rolls her hips forward, needy and wild.
“Oh fuck, I can feel how big you are already. Benji, you’re, oh my god.”
I stop, frozen, only the tip in. Every muscle in my body is trembling with restraint. She’s hot and tight and already squeezing me like her body’s deciding I’m never leaving.
“Slow,” I pant, kissing her shoulder. “I need to go slow.”
“No, I need you in,” she growls, hooking her legs around my waist. “All of it. I want to feel every fucking inch, stretch me open like it’s your job, baby.”
Jesus Christ.