Chapter 18 #2
In the mirror, one side of Ben’s mouth quirks up. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page.”
His fingers brush over the peak of my breast at the same time his mouth settles back on my neck, and it’s almost too much, too good.
Losing control, I press my hips back against the bulge in his pants, seeking whatever friction I can find.
Ben groans against my shoulder, cupping my breast in his hand and teasing my nipple with his thumb.
The mirror steams up as the room heats, condensation clouding the edges.
But there in the center, I watch us. Watch Ben’s strong arms encircle me, watch his other hand dip lower now, fingers disappearing beneath the edge of my black cotton panties.
His middle finger slides through my slickness, and we both curse.
“I’m so wet,” I tell him, even though he’s currently discovering that for himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before.”
“That makes two of us,” he replies, teeth scraping the hinge of my jaw.
I watch as Ben continues to slowly devour me, mouth and hands competing to see which can drive me the maddest, and it’s the most erotic moment of my life.
“I like watching us,” I tell him, and I don’t know why these confessions fall out of my mouth like one domino knocking over the next in line, but I also can’t locate the slightest desire to put a stop to them. “In the mirror, I mean. I love your hands. I love seeing them touch me.”
Ben’s mouth leaves my throat as he lays his forehead against my shoulder and takes a deep, shuddered breath. “Jesus Christ. You might actually kill me before tonight’s over.”
“What a shame that’d be when I haven’t even gotten you inside of me yet.”
With another strained groan, Ben lifts his head, then, deliberate and slow, slides my underwear off my hips. “Wouldn’t want to block your view.”
It’s my turn to groan as Ben returns his fingers between my legs, stroking me with just enough pressure to make me crave more.
I watch his finger slide inside me, and I bite my lower lip to keep myself from crying out.
He removes his slick finger, circles my clit and then reinserts it, and my spine arches involuntarily.
I don’t recognize this woman in the mirror in front of me.
Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and red.
Her dark hair is tossed to one side, her nipples tight and begging for attention.
She’s reaching behind her to guide Ben’s mouth back to her neck with one arm, and her other hand slides up to roll one of her nipples between her fingers.
“We look so fucking good together,” I tell him as I tease and caress myself, and his eyes roam over us as he slides another finger inside me, casting me closer to the edge. “But I don’t want to come yet.”
He removes his fingers and takes a step back, both our reflections looking absolutely ravaged. “We should slow down then. I’m not nearly through with you yet.”
He’s probably right, but how exactly do you slow a force fourteen years in the making?
“Let’s shower,” I say, stepping forward and unbuttoning his hiking pants.
I push those along with his boxer briefs down his hips, and he steps out of them, pulling off his socks in the process.
When he straightens in front of me, I take his length in my hand, and his eyes squeeze closed as his head drops back.
“If you don’t want either of us to come yet, you’re going to have to stop touching me,” he says after only a few gentle strokes of my fingers.
So I take his hand and pull him into the shower with me.
The hot spray rains down on us from above, sliding over my skin like silk as I undo my braid and run my fingers through my hair. Ben starts to close the glass door behind us, but I stop him. “Leave it open,” I say, jutting my chin toward the mirror across from us. “We can still watch with it open.”
“You’re so goddamn sexy,” he replies, voice deep and gritty.
I pick up the provided bottle of soap, and we spend the next few minutes not so much showering as running our soapy hands all over each other’s bodies. Worshipping and relearning at the same time.
“All clean,” I finally say, and Ben takes hold of the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss beneath the spray. I lean into him, my breasts against his chest and his erection pressed between us, and as much as we might want to go slow and sweet, I don’t think either of us are capable of it.
“I love your mouth,” Ben tells me, cradling my face and sweeping his tongue across my lower lip. “I could kiss you forever.”
Undoubtedly, those words will replay over and over in my head later. But right now, I’m too consumed with want to overanalyze any possible meaning behind them.
Pulling back from our kiss, I drop to my knees. “Maybe I can make you love my mouth even more.”
“Ems, you don’t have to.” His hands come to rest on my shoulders, holding me back from him.
“I want to.” I bat his hands away. “If we’re doing this, I want everything from you tonight.”
He studies me, and I can see in his eyes we’re both thinking some version of the same thing.
Years ago, the one and only time we were together, we were two shy teenagers without much idea what we were doing and who lacked any sense of confidence about our bodies.
Now we’re all grown up and experienced, and with the way Ben makes me feel desired, I know exactly what I want from him, and I’m not afraid to vocalize it.
I take him in my mouth, twirling my tongue around his sensitive tip, a string of curses and broken breaths unleashed from above.
Then his hands are twisting in my wet hair, and I’m taking him deep in my throat and squeezing my hand tighter around his base, wanting to give him every ounce of pleasure that I can.
But he stops me again and pulls me back to my feet, swearing he’ll never last if I keep it up.
“My turn,” he tells me right before he lifts me and settles me on the tiled window ledge, “and I want you to watch every second.”
Across from us, the bathroom mirror is completely fogged up by now, so he steps out of the shower and quickly wipes it down with a towel before returning and dropping to his knees in front of me.
Spreading my legs, he starts planting kisses on the inside of my left knee, working his way upward over my inner thigh.
The first time his tongue slides lightly over my center in a barely-there tease, my hips arch and a strangled cry emerges from the back of my throat that sounds more animal than human.
As his delicious mouth continues its mission, my gaze never strays from the image of us in the mirror, the back of Ben’s head working between my thighs, his broad, muscled shoulders spreading my knees as he clutches my ankles and holds my legs apart.
My shoulder blades press into the window as my back curves, one of my hands buried deep in Ben’s hair, the other pressed to the steamed glass above my head.
Rivulets of hot water stream down my chest, my pink nipples tight and wet.
I will not last.
No one in my situation possibly could.
“Ben, you’re going to make me come already,” I pant.
He pauses to look up at me through thick lashes.
“Would that be so bad?” Another slow slide of his tongue over me while his green eyes stay glued to mine.
“You taste so fucking good, Ems, and I promise I’ll do it again and again.
” Then he sucks my clit between his lips, and the pressure in my lower belly nearly explodes.
“Ben.” I push at his shoulder with my knee until I have his attention again.
(Or at least my face has his attention again.) “This might be a request with a lot of meaning behind it that neither of us are ready to examine yet…” His brows knit together as I hesitate.
“…But it’s been fourteen years, and I want to come with you fully inside me. Please.”
Something softens in his eyes, and he rises from his knees to take my face in his hands. “Ems, you can have anything you want from me.”
He presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss before shutting off the water.
Then he grabs the towel hanging next to the open shower door and wraps it around my shoulders.
I clench it tight as he retrieves a second one and starts drying off.
I don’t know what’s happening exactly, but I know things aren’t stopping here, so I move off the window ledge and squeeze the excess water from my hair.
Ben takes my hand, towel clenched at his waist, and leads me to the bedroom.
At the side of the bed, he undoes my towel and lets it drop to the floor, followed by his own. Then we’re kissing, and my heart is thundering in my chest like it’s the very first time all over again.
I pull him down with me as I fall onto the pillowy mattress. He props himself up on his forearms, and the view of him above me, after all these years, constricts my throat.
“I never thought we’d end up here again,” he says, echoing my thoughts. He kisses my mouth, then my cheek, then my jaw.
“I guess fate had other plans for us,” I answer, trying to keep the emotion from my voice.
Ben kisses tenderly down my throat and chest, his mouth eagerly exploring every part of me.
As a writer who deals in words as a profession, I don’t have any for what’s happening between me and Ben right now.
I’ve never experienced this overwhelming desire mixed with this intensity of emotion.
Everything in me wants more of him, like no matter how close we get, it will never be enough.
I want to be imprinted on him, and him on me.
Tears sting my eyes at the same time he elicits pleasure from every part of me he touches. My nails dig into his shoulders as he moves his mouth from one breast to the other, my back arching to get even more of his touch.
When I’m to the point I might come from this alone, Ben slides back up and kisses my mouth open, whispering, “I have a condom in my wa—”
“I have an IUD.” The statement flies from my mouth so fast that Ben pulls back to look at me, uncertain.
“I mean, I’m just putting that out there for informational purposes.
We don’t really need the condom. Unless you want it.
Which is absolutely fine if you do. I totally understand.
Everything is good either way. No worries. ”
“Ems.” He smiles down at me, kisses the center of my forehead. “Tell me what you really want.”
I take a deep breath, remind myself who I’m with, and say, “If you want to get the condom, I’m completely fine with that. But if you don’t, I’m more than okay with that, too.”
“As long as you’re okay with it”—he trails his lips over my cheek to the corner of my mouth—“I’d love to be inside you with nothing between us.”
“Yes, Ben, please.” I’m already reaching for his hips, guiding him against me.
Our mouths merge as I feel the press of him between my legs, then the escalating friction as he eases inside me. When he fills me up completely, I swear I see stars behind my eyes.
“It’s so fucking good,” Ben moans, finding a slow rhythm that sends me soaring. “Nothing could ever feel better than this. You’re it for me. I swear to god, you’ve always been it for me.”
His words are a balm to my old wounds, transforming them into faded scars.
“I’m already close,” I say, embarrassed at my lack of stamina.
He grins. “It’s okay, I’ve been close since I saw you in Cal’s office.”
Laughter bursts out of me, despite the fact that Ben’s currently thrusting into me. “Please do not bring up Calvin right now.”
Ben’s laughing now, too, and I wonder if this is what a relationship with him would be like as an adult. Laughter and sex and inside jokes. A history longer than a CVS receipt. A friendship greater than any I’ve ever known. Someone to always keep my secrets.
I want all of those things so much it becomes hard to breathe if I really think about it, and that’s a dangerous line of thinking anyway.
Giving myself to someone in this way, knowing he could destroy my heart for good this time.
And yet, it’s too late to hold any part of myself back from him.
“More, Ben,” I say, hitching my thighs around his hips. “More.”
He pins my wrists over my head and drives into me harder. My mouth seeks out his, and I whisper against his lips, “Please come with me.”
Groaning, he slides a hand down between my legs and rubs circles against my clit, and that’s all it takes to throw me over the edge, spasms racking my body in one wave of pleasure after another.
Ben follows behind, his movements erratic as he presses his hips into mine and we’re both left breathlessly spent.
We lie twisted in the bedsheets for a long while, me holding Ben in my arms, the stars sparkling in the sky beyond the window, those special three words floating through my chest, winding around my heart, almost spilling from my lips.
But I hold them back. Because even after fourteen years, I don’t think I’d survive saying them and not hearing them back again.
And for now, for tonight, this will do.