Chapter 10
Ben
There is a moment in a fight—on the ice, or anywhere else—when you realize you’ve lost control.
It’s not when the punch lands, or when you hit the ice.
It’s the split second before. It’s the intake of breath.
The realization that momentum has shifted, gravity has taken over, and there is absolutely nothing you can do but brace for impact.
I was bracing.
Ivy was straddling my lap on the mattress.
Her skin was pale in the moonlight filtering through the skylight, glowing like alabaster against the dark sheets.
Her hair was a wild halo around her face, blonde strands sticking to her lips.
She was naked, save for the ghost of my touch that I knew was already marking her skin.
I was naked beneath her.
And I was terrified.
Not of the sex. I knew sex. I knew mechanics. I knew how to make a woman come, how to find the rhythm, how to use my hands.
I was terrified because looking up at her—at her wide, trusting hazel eyes, at the way her chest rose and fell with shallow, panicked breaths—I realized that this wasn't just friction. This wasn't just a release of the tension that had been strangling us for weeks.
This was a surrender.
And I didn't surrender. I conquered. I defended. I held the line.
But tonight? The line was gone.
"Ben," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why did you stop?"
My hands were resting on her hips, gripping the curve of bone hard enough to bruise. I looked at her.
"Because," I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel in a blender. "I need you to be sure, Ivy. I need you to know exactly what you're asking for. Because once I start... I can't turn it off. The 'Teacher' isn't gentle. He isn't nice."
"I don't want nice," she breathed. She leaned forward, placing her small hands on my chest, right over the blackout tattoo. "I want you. The real you. The one who breaks things."
My control snapped. It was audible in the quiet room—the sound of my restraint shattering into dust.
"Fine," I growled.
I moved.
I flipped us.
It was a violent, fluid motion. One second she was on top, the next she was on her back, pinned to the mattress by my weight. I caged her, my forearms bracing on either side of her head, my hips settling between her spread legs.
She gasped, her eyes going wide. "Ben—"
"Quiet," I commanded.
I didn't kiss her. Not yet. I looked at her. I feasted on her. I let my gaze drag over every inch of her exposed body—the pulse fluttering in her throat, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her navel, the blonde curls at the apex of her thighs that were already slick with want.
She tried to cover herself, an instinctive shy movement, bringing her knees together.
I shoved my knee between hers, forcing them apart.
"No," I said, my voice low and dark. "Don't hide. You wanted this. You wanted to give up control? Then give it up. All of it. Let me see everything."
"I'm... I'm nervous," she admitted, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye. "It’s... you're so big. And I've never..."
The vulnerability in her voice nearly gutted me. She was terrified, but she was still here. For me.
I lowered my head until my lips were brushing her ear.
"I know," I whispered, softening my tone just a fraction. "I know you're scared. Good. Fear makes you present. Fear makes you feel."
I moved my hand to her breast, cupping the weight of it. Her nipple hardened instantly against my palm. I thumbed it, watching her face contort with pleasure.
"You're perfect, Ivy," I murmured. "So responsive. Like you were built for this. Built for my hands."
"Ben," she whined, arching her back. "Please."
"Please what?" I teased, nipping at the sensitive skin under her jaw. "Please stop? Please go?"
"Please... just... do something."
"I am doing something. I'm worshiping you."
I trailed kisses down her throat, over her collarbone. I paused at the valley between her breasts, inhaling her scent. Vanilla and arousal. It was intoxicating.
I moved lower. I kissed her sternum. Her ribs. Her belly button.
When my mouth brushed the soft skin of her lower stomach, she jolted.
"Ben! What are you..."
"Shh."
I moved between her legs. I hooked her knees over my shoulders, opening her completely to my view.
The sight of her—pink, wet, swollen—made my mouth water. She was beautiful. A ruin waiting to happen.
"Look at me, Ivy," I ordered, glancing up the length of her body.
She lifted her head from the pillow, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"This is mine," I told her, running my thumb over her clit. She bucked, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "All of this. Every shiver. Every sound. Mine."
I lowered my mouth.
And I tasted her.
She screamed.
It was a high, thin sound of shock. Her hands flew to my hair, gripping tight, trying to pull me closer or push me away—I wasn't sure which.
I didn't let her choose. I held her hips down and I devoured her.
I used my tongue broad and flat at first, laving her, tasting the sweetness. Then I focused. I used the tip, flicking the hard nub of nerves until she was sobbing, thrashing against the mattress.
"Ben! Ben, oh my god, it’s too much!"
"Take it," I growled against her wet skin. "Take it for me."
I slid two fingers inside her.
She was tight. Incredibly tight. But she was so wet she accommodated me, her muscles clamping down around my fingers like a velvet vice.
"So tight," I groaned, adding a third finger to stretch her. "You're going to feel every inch of me, Princess."
I kept up the rhythm—tongue swirling, fingers thrusting—until she was hovering on the edge. I could feel the tension coiling in her thighs, the way her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.
"Ben... I'm going to... I'm going to..."
"Come for me," I commanded. "Come on my face, Ivy. Let go."
She shattered.
Her body bowed, her hips snapping up off the mattress. She cried out, a raw, animalistic sound of pure release. I felt her pulse around my fingers, milking me, drowning me.
I didn't stop. I kept licking, kept thrusting, riding out the waves of her orgasm until she collapsed back onto the sheets, limp and gasping.
I pulled away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I crawled up her body, positioning myself between her legs again.
She looked wrecked. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed, her chest heaving.
"You..." she whispered. "You are... evil."
"I'm thorough," I corrected.
I braced myself on my hands, hovering over her. My cock was painfully hard, aching, leaking pre-come. I needed to be inside her. I needed to bury myself in her warmth and forget the world existed.
But I paused.
I looked at her face. I needed to see her eyes.
"Ivy," I said, my voice rough. "This is going to hurt. At first. I can't... I can't make it not hurt."
She reached up and cupped my face. Her hands were shaking.
"I trust you," she whispered. "I trust you, Ben."
That broke me.
I kissed her. Hard. Possessive. I sank my teeth into her lower lip, tasting copper.
"Wrap your legs around me," I ordered.
She did. Her heels dug into the small of my back.
I guided myself to her entrance.
I pushed.
She gasped, her body stiffening.
"Relax," I murmured against her mouth. "Breathe, baby. Breathe through it."
I pushed harder. The resistance was real. The barrier of her virginity.
"Look at me," I demanded.
She opened her eyes. They were filled with tears.
"I'm right here," I promised. "I'm right here."
With one smooth, heavy thrust, I broke through. I buried myself to the hilt.
She cried out—a sharp sound of pain. Her nails dug into my shoulders, drawing blood.
I froze.
I held perfectly still, my muscles trembling with the effort. I was inside her. Completely. She was sheathing me so tightly it felt like she was part of my own body.
"Okay?" I panted, wiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "Are you okay?"
She took a shaky breath. She nodded. "It... it feels full. Stretching."
"Yeah. I know."
"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please don't stop now."
I started to move.
Slowly at first. Withdrawing almost completely, then sliding back in, stretching her, letting her adjust to my size.
"God," I groaned, my head falling back. "You feel... incredible. Ivy..."
The friction was maddening. It was too good. Too intense.
"Ben," she moaned, her hips starting to move, meeting my thrusts. "Ben, deeper."
"Careful," I warned, gripping her hips. "If I go deeper, I'm going to lose it."
"Lose it," she challenged. "I want you to lose it."
That was the permission I needed.
I unleashed the beast.
I picked up the pace. The slow, rhythmic thrusts turned into hard, driving slams. I pounded into her, skin slapping against skin, the sound filling the room.
"Yes!" she screamed, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Yes, just like that!"
I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. Domination. Control.
"You like that?" I growled in her ear. "You like being pinned down? You like being helpless?"
"Yes!" she sobbed. "I love it! I love you!"
The words registered somewhere in the back of my brain—I love you—but I couldn't process them. I was too far gone. I was purely creature.
I was fucking her like I played hockey—with violence and precision and total commitment.
"Mine," I grunted with each thrust. "Mine. Mine."
"Yours," she gasped. "I'm yours."
I felt her tighten around me again. She was close.
I let go of her wrists and slid my hand down between our bodies, finding her clit again. I rubbed it while I thrust.
It was too much for her.
She screamed my name, her body convulsing, clamping down on me so hard I saw stars.
That triggered me.
I groaned, a roar tearing from my throat. I drove into her one last time, deep, burying myself in her womb, and exploded.
I poured into her. Pulse after pulse. Hot. Endless. I emptied myself completely, giving her everything I had—my anger, my fear, my hope.
I collapsed on top of her, my face buried in the crook of her neck.
We lay there for a long time. Tangled. Sweaty. Breathing in sync.
The silence returned. But it wasn't empty. It was full.
I kissed the pulse point on her neck. It was slowing down.