Chapter 8 Friends With Bennies #3
He inhales, nose skimming me, and I swear my body lights up like a match finally catching.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You look—” He swallows the rest like it’s too much to say out loud.
It makes my cheeks burn. It makes me bolder.
“Then don’t wait,” I whisper, voice shaking. “Eat me.”
He goes still again. One last beat of restraint.
“Say please,” he murmurs.
“Please.” It falls out of me. Immediate. Clear.
“Good girl,” he says, and then he buries his mouth between my thighs like he’s starving and I’m the only thing on the table.
The first stroke of his tongue shatters me.
A raw, primal moan rips from my throat before I can stifle it, the sound reverberating between us.
I clutch the sheets desperately, nails digging into the fabric, as August hums against me in dark, wordless approval.
The low vibration threatens to undo my already unraveling self-control.
He pins me down firmly with both hands, as if anticipating my body's instinctive attempt to arch off the bed.
Which, given the way I'm writhing and twisting beneath him, is a damn smart move.
His mouth is relentless, methodical, each flick and swirl of his tongue strategically dismantling me with ruthless precision.
My mind goes blank, thoughts scattering.
I want to bite back my sounds, to anchor myself with something—anything—but all I manage between ragged, breathless gasps is his name. “August...”
He doesn't let up. If anything, my pleading spurs him on.
I feel his lips curve into a smug, wicked smile against my skin, and I want to hate him for it, but fuck, I love it, want to lose myself in it.
My hips strain desperately towards him, seeking more, but his grip is unyielding.
I'm not going anywhere until he decides I can.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Oh god...”
He rewards my unfiltered honesty with another deep, devastating lick, flattening his tongue firmly before teasing me with the tip, coaxing me closer and closer to the edge until I'm trembling uncontrollably, incoherent.
Every inch of my skin feels electrified.
My world narrows to the slick, perfect heat of his mouth and the delicious sting of his fingers digging into my hips.
I can barely remember my own name, can't think beyond how unbelievably good he makes me feel, how thoroughly he's ruining me.
Pulling back just far enough to let me catch my breath, he looks up at me, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with lust, lips wet with my arousal. The sight alone nearly makes me come on the spot.
I want to curse him, shove him, something, but all I can manage is a fractured, needy, “Please...”
August's grip tightens. Then without warning, he hauls me up off the mattress with effortless strength.
Tilting my hips, he drapes one of my legs over his broad shoulder, completely changing my center of gravity—leaving me even more at his mercy.
The room spins. My heart pounds wildly. I feel the scorch of his breath against my inner thigh, his intense gaze locked on my face.
He wants to watch me unravel.
I shudder hard, my body quivering with anticipation.
Mercilessly, he grazes my thigh with a teasing kiss, then traces his lips higher, higher, until—
He circles and flicks my clit before delving his tongue deep inside. I'm dripping with arousal, my thighs quaking around his head.
I gasp desperately, grinding myself against his face. “I'm so close... fuck, I'm gonna come...”
Sucking my throbbing clit between his lips, he flicks it relentlessly, pushing me to the brink. It's almost too intense to bear as I teeter there, my body strung tight as a bowstring.
As the aftershocks ripple through my body, August trails a path of soft, reverent kisses along my inner thighs, slowly making his way back up.
When he reaches my lips, he claims them in a deep, consuming kiss.
I can taste myself on his tongue—heady, intimate, addictive.
Craving more, I pull him closer, skin against skin, heat building between us once again.
“That was...” Words fail me as I try to articulate the mind-blowing ecstasy I just experienced.
August's low chuckle rumbles against my sensitized flesh, igniting sparks. “Oh, we're just getting started, baby,” he promises, his eyes molten with desire. “I'm nowhere close to being done with you yet.”
For a suspended moment, we remain still, savoring the blissful afterglow. My nerve endings sing, body thrumming with electric currents. August lowers my hips, hands skimming my sweat-slicked skin, touch searing yet steadying.
Slowly, deliberately, he drags his mouth back down my body, retracing his path—this time unhurried, intentional.
His breath ghosts over my stomach, then lower, until it settles between my thighs again, sending a fresh shiver through me.
Then, just as slowly, August begins moving up my body once more, lips marking a fiery trail. Each open-mouthed kiss brands me as his. Reaching my hip bone, he traces the curve with his tongue, drawing a breathy moan from my throat.
August presses a searing kiss to my sensitive flesh, stubble rasping deliciously. Growling against my skin, he rasps, “Fuck, I want... I need to capture this. Your body, spread out for me, is a goddamn work of art.”
Startled, I make an inarticulate sound of protest, unsure if I'm nodding or shaking my head. Lost in sensation, everything feels surreal.
“No face, I promise,” he quickly reassures. “I just... I have to worship this temple. Your incredible body deserves to be immortalized—this perfect ass, these hips, the freckles, tattoos, your gorgeous tits...”
His words send a thrill through me, desire warring with shyness. Hesitating, my gaze darts between his face and the moonlit ceiling as he resumes his sensual assault.
Sliding his fingers back inside me, August pumps them with maddening control, gaze locked on mine. The intensity, the wrecked beauty of him, the charged atmosphere—it's overwhelming in the best way. Desperate for more, I rock into his touch, moaning brokenly as he increases the pressure.
I nod because forming a sentence is beyond me at this point. August kisses me—slow, messy, perfect—then slips his fingers free. I make a noise I refuse to admit is a whimper.
“Stay right there,” he says, voice low and rough. “Don’t move. You look—fuck—perfect.”
He leans over, taps my hip like he’s adjusting a camera angle, then his phone clicks once—soft, deliberate. I’m too blissed to argue.
A single finger traces my spine; I twitch, already oversensitive. Another click. He tosses the phone to the floor—it clatters—and his hand returns to business. Two fingers slide inside me again without ceremony. My toes curl; I grip the sheets.
He mouths the base of my spine, tongue swirling once before he flips me onto my stomach. The first smack lands sharp, sound echoing. I yelp into the pillow, but my hips rise on instinct.
He drags his palm up my stinging skin and kisses the spot he just slapped. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
I answer by arching higher, biting the pillow.
Another smack, softer this time, more promise than punishment. He drags the condom wrapper across my back—teasing—then tears it open. The crinkle is indecent, thrilling. He rolls it on, grip steady, breath hotter.
He lines up, slow. When he pushes in it’s a stretch that steals my air. My fingers claw at the headboard.
“You good?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m fine. Move,” I rasp. “Just—move.”
I expect him to grind his hips and move in and out of me, but instead, he goes even deeper. And I buck forward wincing. The question makes sense now. I moan as he slides in me so deep that I feel him in my stomach and need to gather myself for a second.
I moan, and nod into the mattress, adjusting as I bow back towards him.
And that’s when I hear it, the soft barely audible, ‘Fuck,’ before he kisses my shoulder softly once, before we find our rhythm—first slow and measured, then deeper, harder.
Each thrust knocks a sound out of me. Our rhythm is messy, urgent, skin slapping, breath catching.
He spanks me again—harder—and I clench around him. “Jesus—you feel—”
I can’t answer. I’m too busy chasing the next wave. His hand slips under, fingers on my clit, rubbing in time. My whole body lights up.
He pulls out, flips me over, and drags me onto his lap in one motion. I’m still buzzing, boneless, but I straddle him, hands on his shoulders.
His hands settle firm on my hips. “Come here,” he murmurs. “I want you on me.”
I sink down and his groan rumbles against my chest. I start slow, then faster—up, down, grinding. Each roll of my hips draws a hiss from him.
I bite his ear. “More.”
He thrusts up to meet me, hits that spot, and I forget my own name.
“That’s it, princesa,” he breathes, his hands gripping my hips tighter as I ride him with wild abandon. Pleasure builds inside me with every thrust, pushing me closer to the edge.
I lean back, bracing my hands on his thighs, letting him hit even deeper. “Oh god, August,” I cry, throwing my head back as I rotate my hips clockwise.
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing tight circles that make my thighs quake. I increase my pace, bouncing faster, chasing the orgasm I can feel building low in my belly.
August sits up suddenly, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. “I got you, baby. Let go for me.” His voice is rough with desire against my ear.
I whimper as his lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and shoulder. “I'm so close. Fuck, don't stop.”
He thrusts up hard to meet my downward grind. Once, twice, and then I'm flying apart with a cry of his name, my body shaking as ecstasy crashes through me in wave after wave.
I come hard, body shaking, clenching around him like I can’t help it. My mouth opens on a cry that turns into his name. I collapse forward, forehead against his, breath ragged.
August holds me there, hands firm on my hips, keeping me moving just enough to stretch the pleasure into something cruel and sweet.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, mouth brushing mine. “That’s my girl.”
My eyes flutter, overstimulated, trembling.
And then the heat builds again, different. Deeper. Less bright and more consuming.
Thought fracture. Again. Too much.
I try to pull back, but his hands keep me anchored. Not forcing. Guiding. Like he knows I’ll bolt if he lets me.
“Easy,” he whispers. “Breathe.”
He kisses my throat, slow, grounding. Then he shifts his grip and starts driving up into me harder, sharper, like he’s losing patience with his own restraint.
I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “August—”
“I’m right here,” he says, voice gone wrecked. “Give it to me.”
His fingers return to my clit, ruthless now, and my body goes tight all at once. I come again, broken and breathless, shaking through it like I’m being pulled under.
I sag against him, spent. He holds me upright like he refuses to let me disappear.
A sound tears out of his chest, low and raw. His arms lock around my waist like he’s holding on for dear life.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s coming, hips stuttering once, twice, grinding deep as he finds his release with his face pressed to my shoulder.
He stays there, shaking, breathing hard against my skin.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Just heat. Just heartbeats. Just the aftermath clinging to us like sweat.
His mouth brushes my temple, softer now. “You okay, princesa?”
I can’t even form a real answer.
So I nod.
And melt into him like I don’t have a single plan left in my body.