Chapter 17 #2
Caleb grins, that wicked smile that makes my pulse race. “Fine. Enemies with benefits then.”
“You’re craz—” We’re side by side on the couch when Caleb moves, sudden and certain. His arm hooks around my waist, and in the next breath I’m on my back, pinned into the cushions with his body braced above mine.
“One minute you’re saying we should pretend to date. Then you say we should be friends with benefits. Make up your damn mind,” I purr. My hands press against his chest, but my fingers curl instead of pushing him off.
He leans down, his mouth brushing along my jaw, heat spilling down my skin, as he corrects me. “Enemies with benefits. And I don’t see why we can’t be both. It’ll make the whole thing more believable, don’t you think?” he murmurs, lips grazing my throat.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I whisper, voice trembling. “This is not a good idea.”
“Why not?” His hand tugs the tie of my robe loose, the silk sliding open with ease. His palm cups me through lace, thumb circling lazily until my breath stutters. “We’re not attached. No one gets hurt. Just this. Just us.”
I shake my head, trying to cling to reason even as my back arches into his touch. “I don’t want—” The rest of the sentence breaks apart in a gasp when his mouth closes over my breast, hot and wet, sucking until a helpless sound escapes me.
“Don’t want what?” he rasps, his teeth grazing lightly before soothing the mark with his tongue. “Don’t want me touching you like this? Don’t want to feel how good it can be?”
My fingers twist in his hair, tugging, but instead of pulling him away, I hold him closer. “You’re trying to talk me into something I shouldn’t agree to.”
“And yet you’re trembling for me.” He lifts his head, eyes burning into mine as his thumb flicks over my nipple, coaxing another gasp from my lips. He kisses me hard, deep, relentless, swallowing my half formed protest. Between kisses, his words are rough, persuasive. “You want it, too. Admit it.”
I shake my head weakly, but my body betrays me, my thighs shifting beneath him, opening instinctively as his mouth trails back down, teasing, worshipping.
“I’ll prove it to you,” he murmurs against my skin, tugging the lace aside to bare me fully to his mouth. “You can fight me all you want, Eve. But you can’t lie to me.”
His tongue flicks over the hard peak of my breast, slow and deliberate, before he draws it fully into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me arch.
Heat flashes through me, sharp and overwhelming, and I can feel the damp ache starting between my thighs.
My robe slips wider, silk pooling at my sides, leaving me almost bare beneath him.
Every stroke of his tongue is torture, wet heat contrasted with the scrape of his teeth, and when he clamps his mouth around me again, a broken moan tears out of me before I can stop it.
“Caleb—” I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hand cups and kneads the other breast, pinching my nipple until my body jerks.
“Say the word ‘no,’ and I’ll stop,” he says hoarsely, pulling back just long enough to let the cool air sting the damp trail he’s left behind. His mouth immediately moves to the other side, sealing hot around me, drawing harder, deeper.
My hips lift, desperate for friction, for anything to ease the need building in me, but he holds me down with the weight of his body, controlling every inch of me.
I clutch at his hair, my breath ragged, my head tipping back into the cushions as sensation takes me over.
Every nerve in my chest feels raw, alive, too much and not enough.
My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the words I keep trying to form.
I want to refuse him. I want to shove him away. But my body has other ideas, responding with every gasp, every arch, every shameless sound breaking free as he laves, sucks, and teases me like he’s starving for me.
When he lifts his head again, my nipples are swollen, aching, wet from his mouth.
His lips are slick, his jaw tense, eyes blazing down at me like he already knows he’s winning.
“You can keep saying this isn’t a good idea,” he growls softly, his thumb brushing over the tight, damp peak he’s just abandoned, “but your body’s not listening. ”
And he’s right. God help me, he’s right.
His hand leaves my breast, dragging lower, fingertips teasing down my ribs to the waistband of lace. I tense, my thighs clamping together, and his mouth curves in a smirk.
“You don’t get to be shy now, Princess.” His voice is rough, coaxing. “Not when you’re this wet for me.”
“I’m not—” My protest shatters into a gasp as he slides the lace aside and presses a finger into my folds, finding me slick.
“Not what?” he interrupts darkly, his finger stroking slow, deliberate circles over my clit before dipping lower. “Not dripping for me right now? Liar.”
“Go to hell,” I grit out as he pushes one finger inside me, curling just enough to make my hips jerk.
He groans low in his chest. “Tight as sin. You can talk all the shit you want, Eve, but your cunt’s clutching me like it never wants to let go.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” My voice breaks on a moan, but I lift my chin stubbornly, even as he thrusts deeper, steady, unrelenting.
“Flatter myself?” His mouth crashes to mine, swallowing my defiance in a kiss that’s rough and filthy, his tongue as demanding as his hand. He breaks away, breathing hard. “You’re fucking soaked around my finger. That’s not flattery, Princess. That’s proof.”
I arch up despite myself, chasing the curl of his hand when he brushes that spot inside me again, electric heat tearing through me.
“Say you don’t want this,” he challenges, sliding in a second finger, stretching me. “Say it while I’ve got you writhing on my hand.”
A strangled sound rips out of me, half curse, half moan, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re trembling for me,” he fires back, twisting his fingers until my thighs fall open against my will.
“Such a mouth on you, but your body’s begging for more.
” When he adds a third finger, my sharp retort breaks into a cry.
I bite my lip hard, refusing to cry out his name even as the stretch burns into unbearable pleasure.
“Take it,” he growls, watching me closely. “That’s it. Open up for me, Eve. Be as stubborn as you want. Your body already knows who it belongs to.”
My nails rake down his back, not gentle, and I spit out between ragged breaths, “I don’t belong to anyone.”
He thrusts deep, curling hard, making my vision blur. “We’ll see about that.”
His words are a promise, dark and rough, as his hand drives deeper, faster. The wet sounds between us are obscene, echoing in the quiet of the room as his thumb grinds down on my clit with merciless precision.
“Fuck—” The word tears from me, strangled, as my hips buck against his palm, chasing him even while I shake my head.
“That’s it,” he growls, eyes locked on mine, daring me to look away. “You fight me with your mouth, but your body—” He twists his fingers, curling until I cry out. “—Your body begs me to keep going.”
I grip his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, digging in, trying to ground myself against the heat ripping through me. “You think you’ve won,” I manage, breath hitching.
His grin is wicked. “I know I have.”
Then he presses in a fourth finger. The stretch is brutal, my body clenching tight around him, a shocked gasp breaking free even as I bite down hard on my lip. He doesn’t retreat. He holds steady, filling me wide, his thumb never letting up its ruthless circles on my clit.
“Tell me I’ve won,” he hisses, thrusting faster, thumb grinding harder against my clit. I choke on another moan, my nails raking down his back, desperate. My body is shuddering, straining, ready to snap, but my mouth refuses to give him what he wants.
His lips brush my ear, his voice a dark, hungry promise. “Fine. Don’t say it. I’ll make you scream it instead.” His fingers thrust deeper, curling harder. My cry rips out before I can stop it, my body writhing under his hand.
“Take it, Princess,” he orders, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with hunger. “Take everything I give you. You’re so goddamn perfect like this.”
I try to twist away, but he pins me down with the weight of his body, forcing me to meet his rhythm as his hand begins to move again, thrusting me open. The burn melts into unbearable pleasure, ripping another cry from my throat.
“Say you don’t want it,” he challenges, his voice rough, taunting. “Say it while I’ve got four fingers buried in you.”
I choke on a moan, shaking my head, nails raking his skin in defiance. “You don’t get to own me.”
His mouth crashes to mine, kissing me hard, biting at my bottom lip before breaking away, his breath harsh against my cheek. “Then why are you dripping down my hand, Eve? Why are you shaking like you’re about to come apart?”
His thrusts get harder, faster, relentless, until I can’t hold back the sounds tearing from my throat. My body bows beneath him, my thighs quivering, the wet slide of his hand merciless.
“You feel that?” he rasps, curling deep, hitting the spot that makes me lose my grasp on reality. “That’s me wrecking you from the inside. That’s me proving you wrong.”
And when he twists his hand, stretching me wide, his thumb grinding faster against my clit, I moan—raw, helpless, broken open under him. My orgasm tears out of me, my back bowing with the force of it.
As the aftershocks ripple through me, my body trembles, every nerve ending buzzing. I want to push him away, to catch my breath, but instead I find myself arching into him, greedy for more.
No one has ever made me feel like this. Not once. Not this undone, not this stripped bare. And a terrifying thought claws through me: why am I fighting him so hard when I’m the one unraveling for him? Why am I refusing what I so clearly want?