27. Lyssa
Lyssa
Benji lowers me to the ground. We stare at each other, like two competitors sizing each other up. I tip my chin up, holding firm, but Benji is the first one to speak.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t have to – I mean, I’m trying to take it slow with you, for you–”
“Stop. Please,” I say, cutting off wherever he’s headed, not only for him but for myself. I’m grateful to finally understand he’s been holding back purely for my sake. Even now as he strokes his thumb across my palm, I can see plainly that he has no reservations, only curiosity and desire.
But a part of me worries that I’ll take the out he’s given me. When he only kissed me on our previous dates, my emotions ranged from guilt to relief to frustration. Perhaps I really wasn’t ready.
The barrier I had up in the hot tub is gone. I’m no longer hiding behind another identity, pretending to be confident, carefree Lisa, fueled by liquor and lust. We aren’t just going to part ways after this, with him being none the wiser about my past. This is real, and vulnerable, and terrifying.
“I want to,” I say, and watch as Benji blinks. “I want to do this with you. But I need…” I trail off and swallow.
“What do you need, little fighter?” Benji winds his fingers into mine, holding me steady. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
As I stare at this beautiful, patient man before me, I’m surprised to feel anger bubbling up. How dare Austin take this from me for so long? I can’t stand how much space he’s taken up in my mind, especially when I have something so potentially wonderful in front of me.
I want to change it. I want to think of nothing but the pleasure I can chase with Benji. And that starts, completely, today.
“Make me forget,” I whisper. “Make me forget everything but you.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and remains silent, letting the words linger for a long moment. Just as I’m about to question him, he mutters a soft curse and leans forward, his lips crashing into mine.
He devours me like if he didn’t, it might be our last kiss.
He backs us into his bedroom, his lips barely leaving mine as we go.
Every stroke of his tongue is a reclaiming, and his fingers skim over my body like he’s inspecting a piece of art, tracing each dip and curve.
In a few soft touches, my sweatshirt has been lifted over my head, and he’s shed his as well.
We find our way onto the bed, and I skim my hands over his warm, muscular shoulders, shuddering as he runs a finger under one strap of my bra. “What do you like?” he murmurs against my mouth. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
“I…I don’t know,” I stammer. My mind tumbles down the dark path of my memories, searching for an answer that isn’t there.
I can’t even get back to the early days with Austin, trying to remember if the sex was good or if I just didn’t know better.
Had I ever really examined what felt good for me, or had I always let it be about him?
I squeeze my eyes shut, unsure how to voice this as an answer.
There’s a soft brush of fingertips against my hair, pushing it behind my ear. I open my eyes to see Benji’s warm, brown gaze. “Don’t ice me out,” he says. “Don’t do that to me. Not now.”
“I…” My voice is little more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never…thought about it that way. Thought about it as something for me.”
His lips purse in the barest sign of disapproval, and when he glances away, I notice his jaw tick. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Shit. A swell of emotion threatens to consume me. I can't believe I've disappointed him already.
“What? No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.
Please. I’m just upset nobody has ever asked you that question.
You should know exactly what you want, and you should be able to ask for it.
” His expression is heated as he fixes his gaze back on me.
“And when you ask for it, I want to be able to give it to you. However you want, whenever you want.”
My breath catches at his words, and I lick my lips.
He tracks the movement and shakes his head again, running a hand over his face.
“I guess we’ll just have to learn as we go.
” He shifts on the bed to position himself between my legs, his hands hovering at the waistband of my leggings.
His eyes flick to mine, looking for silent permission, and I nod.
He tugs them down, running his hands over my bare skin as he goes.
I shiver at the touch, but he’s careful to leave my panties on.
I can tell restraint is warring in him as he eyes the blue lace, dragging his eyes over the two pieces of fabric keeping me from being entirely exposed to him.
After a moment, he shifts forward to kiss me again.
As he deepens the kiss, he runs a hand over the fabric of my bra, then down to my panties, his hand dipping between my legs.
“Fuck,” he groans, breaking our kiss and ducking his head. I feel his hot breath fanning against my ear. “You’re already wet. Is this all for me?”
I arch against him as he drags his thumb over my clit, rubbing in a firm circle over the fabric. “All for you,” I gasp.
“Jesus,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, his hands trailing to my back, reaching the clasp of my bra.
He pauses, the question back in his eyes.
My breath is coming in short pants now, and it’s all I can do to nod.
The second I do, the pressure of the band releases, and my bra drops to the ground, leaving my chest exposed to him.
He gazes hungrily at me, a reverence to his look that has me flushing hot before he even puts his hands on me.
In the next second he does, though, taking my breasts in his hands and palming them. When he brushes his thumbs over the peaks of my nipples, I moan softly. “There we go,” he murmurs, his eyes shuttering with desire. “Found something. Let’s keep going, then.”
He replaces one hand with his mouth, and I press into the feel of his warm lips against my breast, gasping when he circles his tongue over my nipple. More, I think, lifting my hips to chase the surge of feeling he’s giving me. I need more.
As if I said the thought out loud, he gives one last flick of his tongue and moves to settle lower, trailing kisses across my skin as he goes. I eye him with a combination of desire and apprehension.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, slowly curling his fingers around the sides of my panties. When I simply squirm, he grins and tugs them down my legs, putting them in the pocket of his sweatpants. Unfair, I think, that he still has those on.
Before I can voice this, though, he’s moving up the bed and shifting my legs, situating himself between them, my heels resting on his shoulders. He gives me a wicked smirk as I realize his intentions. “You don’t have to –”
I’m cut off as the warm pad of his tongue is pressed to my core.
He trails his way up at a leisurely pace, the pressure deliriously perfect.
My protest twists into a moan, and his hum of approval vibrates against me, adding a spark to the pleasure already coursing through me.
His tongue swirls around my clit, and then he sucks, causing me to arch and reach for him, desperate to cling on.
I find his soft locks of hair and run my fingers through them, gripping tightly as he combines his sucking kisses with firm passes of his tongue. He wraps his large hands around my thighs, gentle but firm enough to hold me in place as I grind against him.
“Benji, I…” I trail off into a garbled sigh as the pressure builds.
I squeeze my legs against him tighter, rolling my hips into him, and he responds by sucking harder, followed by insistent strokes of his tongue.
I chase the pleasure, crying out as I rushing toward the edge.
He moans into me at the noise, a deep, throaty sound against my core that causes me to topple right over that edge.
But still, Benji doesn’t relent, carrying me through the orgasm with warm, firm lashes of his tongue that drag the pleasure out longer than I thought possible. When I finally come back down to earth, he’s resting his face against the inside of my thigh, dark eyes watching me expectantly.
“Holy shit,” is all I can manage.
Benji grins and rubs his face against my thigh, the scruff from the shadow of a beard he carries tickling my leg. “So we’ve found another thing you like,” he says, a low note of triumph in his voice.
I’m tempted to kick him for the cocky tone, but my legs are closer to Jell-O than bone at the moment, so all I can do is roll my eyes and smile.
He works his way out from between my legs and stands.
I eye the evidence of his own desire, straining to free itself from his sweatpants.
I reach for him, but he catches my hands before I can reach his waistband.
He shakes his head. “We don’t have to,” he says.
Not this again.
“But…” I trail off, insecurity rearing its ugly head. “Do you not want to?”
“Fuck, babe, of course I want to.” He runs a hand through his hair, and my eyes can’t seem to decide where they want to land.
The stretch of his ab muscles, the flex of his arm as it drops from his hair, the divots that dance over his hips and into his sweatpants.
“The sound of you saying my name while I ate your delicious pussy…fuck, of course I want to know what it would be like to have you doing that while I’m inside of you. ”
This man and his words. My legs clench, already in anticipation of more. “Then why not?”