Chapter 51 #2
His fingers parted her with slow precision, gliding through wet, aching heat that clung to his touch like a secret. She was soaked—soaked and trembling and so perfectly, devastatingly open.
"And you want me to believe that wasn’t on purpose?"
he murmured.
Kath’s only answer was a choked sound—something between a moan and surrender.
He didn’t press for more.
He didn’t need to.
Ben moved with the intent of a man who’d waited long enough.
His fingers stroked through her again, slick and unhurried, learning every shiver, every subtle flex of muscle as her body yielded to his.
He circled her entrance with excruciating care, dragging out the moment until he felt her shudder, felt her hips twitch in search of more.
Her forehead dropped to the wall, a soft thud swallowed by the tension in the air. Her stance shifted—barely—but he felt it. The instinctive widening of her legs, the tilt of her hips. A silent offering.
It undid him.
His breath turned to a growl against her skin, lips grazing her neck as he drank in the salt of her. She was melting for him.
And it was all his. Every sigh. Every quake.
"You want to be fucked like this, don't you?" he murmured, voice rough with desire. "Rough. Fast. Like you don't have a choice."
Her breath faltered. Her back arched. He felt her answer before she gave it.
A subtle nod.
Barely there.
But more than enough.
His fingers stilled. His body coiled, held back by a thread.
"Say it," he growled. Not a request. A command.
She looked up at him—eyes dark, lips swollen, voice wrecked but brazen.
"I want you to fuck me," she said, low and filthy. "No teasing. No mercy. Just bend me over and fuck me like I’m yours to use."
She licked her lips, slow and deliberate.
"Make me feel it for days."
Benjamin felt something inside him snap—a thread pulled too tight, a dam finally giving way. His control, his restraint, everything he prided himself on maintaining—gone in an instant.
The world seemed to pause around them, suspended in that final moment before chaos. One heartbeat. Two. Then nothing but feral, unspoken hunger.
He spun her around again, hands firm on her waist, guiding her backward with sure, commanding steps.
Her thighs bumped the edge of the desk. Without hesitation, he lifted her effortlessly and sat her down, the paper-strewn surface crumpling beneath her. Katherine braced herself on her palms, the muscles in her arms flexing as she leaned back slightly, legs parting just enough to welcome him in.
Ben stepped in closer, one hand gripping her hip to keep her steady while the other moved to his belt.
The metallic clink echoed sharply in the office—precise, deliberate, loaded with intent.
He unfastened it in a single motion, pulling the leather free with a hiss before unbuttoning and dragging his zipper down.
He reached inside and freed himself, his cock heavy and hard in his palm. A sharp inhale left him as he stroked once, slow, base to tip. His gaze roamed her body with a possessive intensity—every curve, every breath, the flush blooming across her chest.
Katherine’s breath stuttered, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow waves. She leaned back on her hands, elbows locked, spine arched slightly as she rested her weight against them. Her fingers flexed once on the desk. She was open. Ready. Aching.
He leaned in, his chest brushing hers. He angled his face toward hers, not kissing her mouth but instead brushing his lips along the edge of her chin.
"You’ve no idea what you do to me," he whispered, his breath hot on her skin, his voice roughened with restraint.
He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes.
"You don't get to say things like that," he growled, "and think I'll take it easy."
He grabbed her thighs, yanking her forward again—hard. The force of it made her gasp, her eyes widening with anticipation rather than fear. One hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to bare her throat. The other wrapped around his cock, lining up against her entrance.
Ben dragged the head along her slick folds, teasing her, watching her lips part in desperate anticipation. He felt her heat, her wetness, the way her body trembled in expectation of what was coming.
Then he thrust. Hard. She gasped—more sound than air.
The sight of her—completely undone, completely his—sent a surge of primal satisfaction through him.
He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into her again, and again, each stroke brutal, unforgiving.
The desk creaked beneath them, papers scattered to the floor, but he couldn't have cared less.
All that mattered was her—the way she took every inch, trembling, moaning, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.
Ben growled against her throat, biting just enough to mark. To claim. To remind her exactly who she belonged to.
"You asked for this," he panted. "You played me. In that courtroom. In front of everyone."
Didn’t slow down.
If anything, the need made him merciless.
Control wasn’t slipping—it had already shattered. Every nerve in his body screamed for more. For her. For the way she opened under him like she was made to be claimed. This wasn’t about finesse. It was about possession.
His hand found her throat to own.
His fingers curled, pressing gently, firmly against the delicate skin. A reminder. A claim. A command. He felt her pulse hammering beneath his palm, felt the vibration of her moan against his fingertips.
“You're mine,” he murmured, voice low and deliberate. “And I won’t let you forget what that means.”
Her moan ripped out of her chest—raw, shattered, perfect. The sound was pure surrender, pure need, and it punched straight through him. A shot of fire to the base of his spine.
He pulled back—almost completely—leaving her gasping, hollow. She trembled, chased the loss, instinctive and raw, desperate for him again. Then he slammed back into her. Hard.
She cried out, her body arching, pressing back into him like she needed more, wanted more. The sight of her—desperate, wanton, completely his—ignited something primal deep in his chest.
"No one else will ever touch you," he snarled, his voice a low growl against her neck, breath hot, mouth close—his hand still firm around her throat.
Thrust.
"No one else will ever fuck you."
Thrust.
"And you won’t want them to."
His other hand gripped her hip, tight and commanding, pulling her back into him with every movement, anchoring her exactly where he wanted her.
"Because this—this is all you’ll ever fucking need."
He didn’t wait for her to agree.
He didn't need her confirmation. He knew it viscerally—felt it in how her body surrendered completely beneath him, in those fractured, helpless sounds she couldn't contain as he claimed her. Each thrust drove the truth deeper. She belonged to him, utterly and irrevocably.
But knowing wasn't enough. Not tonight. Tonight, he needed to hear it from her lips.
"Say it, Katherine," he growled, the words rough and demanding. "Say you're mine."
Her face—flushed, trembling, eyes wide and glassy—was a roadmap of pleasure written just for him. Her voice cracked as she clawed at his wrist—not to fight him, not to escape, but to anchor herself as the pleasure threatened to sweep her away.
Her lips parted around a gasp, and then came the whisper.
A prayer offered up to him alone.
"Yours."
His grin broke slow and savage across her skin—feral, claiming, dark with satisfaction.
"That's right," he breathed, his voice like crushed velvet and sin. "You're mine. All mine."
He thrust deeper. Harder. Fucking her like he was imprinting it into her bones.
"And you'll take everything I give you, won't you?" he murmured against her skin, licking the words over her pulse point. "Because that's what good girls do."
He felt Kath's whole body stutter beneath him.
She shuddered—beautiful, shaking, ruined. Her breath came in broken bursts, her thighs trembling violently against his hips.
"Yes—" she gasped. "Ben—fuck—yes."
Her nails raked down his arms, leaving stinging trails of fire in their wake. She writhed beneath him, every tremor an unspoken plea. Muscles clenched tight, like she was fighting her own survival instinct. Every twitch of her hips begged for release—and still, she held on. Just for him.
He felt it. Felt her getting close. Too close. But he didn’t let her fall. Not yet.
He slowed—just enough to hold her at the edge. Just enough to make her ache.
The denial made her whimper, a sound so soft and helpless it tore straight through what little control he had left.
"Stay with me," he murmured. "You don't come until I say."
Kath nodded, wild-eyed, lips bitten red and swollen.
She didn’t need words—her body was already pleading in every tremor, every breathless twitch beneath his hands.
She was flushed, soaked, marked in every way that mattered.
And fuck—he’d never seen anything so devastatingly, absolutely his.
For minutes now, she'd been fighting it—legs trembling, back arched, her weight braced on her forearms as her hips rocked up to meet him again and again.
Her breath came in ragged bursts, each one sharper than the last, and he could see it in her face—that wild, desperate concentration. She was holding on. For him.
Every part of her strained with the effort. Her muscles tensed, her core fluttered around him in relentless waves, and yet she didn’t give in. Her moans came in clipped, broken sounds, like she was trying to silence herself, to stay just on this side of release. But it was killing her.
"Come for me," he growled, voice low and dark and utterly final. "Now."
Kath shattered.