Chapter 51 #3
Her whole body seized, then broke open—clenching, pulsing, her cry muffled as her head fell back and her forearms strained to keep her upright on the desk.
The orgasm tore through her like a current, robbing her of breath, of control, of everything except sensation.
She shook beneath him, limbs trembling, overwhelmed, still braced on shaking arms.
Benjamin didn’t move.
Not yet. He held her there, kept her anchored, let her ride it all the way down until her body went slack against the desk—boneless, wrecked, panting.
But he wasn’t done. Not even close.
He pulled her up, arms wrapping around her waist as he lifted her higher onto the desk, her thighs still spread wide, knees unsteady.
Now she was almost sitting. Exposed. Open. His.
"We’re not done," he murmured, eyes gleaming.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and fucked-out and barely able to focus.
But she didn’t protest. She couldn’t.
Benjamin drove into her again, his body taking control where his mind had surrendered. But now, his angle shifted—each thrust not just deep, but upward, angled with precision, dragging his pelvis against her with every motion.
The rough patch of hair at his base brushed her clit on every stroke, the friction just enough to make her gasp, her body convulsing beneath him. The pressure was relentless—inside and out—and he knew exactly what he was doing. Every movement was calculated. Deliberate. Designed to wreck her.
He thrust hard, deep, and slightly up, making the desk beneath them creak in protest.
Kath gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she sought something—anything—to anchor herself while he moved inside her. Faster now, relentless, his own pleasure building with each stroke. Her desperation only fueled him further.
His breath came in ragged pants against her cheek, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to leave marks. The thought of it—of her carrying his imprint beneath her clothes tomorrow—sent a fresh wave of heat through him.
"Gonna make sure you feel me for days," he panted, punctuating each word with another brutal, upward-driven thrust.
Her head fell back, mouth open, a cry choking out between broken gasps. The overwhelming sensation was too much—every stroke another spark in the wire already lit.
"You'll remember this."
She whimpered in response, the sound breaking into a high, desperate moan that was sweeter than any music he'd ever heard. Her body trembled beneath him, around him, taking everything he gave and still silently begging for more.
Ben watched, transfixed, as her second orgasm built.
Her eyes grew unfocused, her breathing shallow and quick. She was beautiful like this. Her body jerked with each stroke, tightening around him as the pleasure became too much, too intense, too fast.
When she finally broke, it was with his name on her lips—a sobbing, desperate cry that echoed in the small room. Her thighs shook violently around him, her inner walls clenching and pulsing as she came apart for the second time.
It was too much. The sight of her, the feel of her—Ben followed with a growl, his hips slamming forward one final time as he emptied himself inside her, his release hitting him with an intensity that left him shaking.
They froze together, bodies locked in perfect stillness save for their heaving chests. The only sound was their mingled breathing, harsh in the sudden quiet.
His breath steadied first, control returning to him as it always did. Hers took longer, little aftershocks still making her tremble against him. Ben pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her face.
He watched her as she came down from her high, taking in every detail. She was flushed, ruined—head tilted back, lips parted around shallow gasps, eyes dazed and barely open.
And fuck—he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
But there was one more thing he needed to do.
His hand trailed down between them, fingers sliding through the slick heat still pulsing between her thighs. He pressed two fingers into her slowly, deliberately, curling them as he moved. She gasped—sharp, instinctive—her muscles clenching around him as if her body still didn’t want to let go.
He stroked once. Deep. Precise. Just enough to make her hips twitch.
Then he dragged his fingers back out, gliding through the mess of her—sweat, arousal, and everything he’d just given her. He lifted his hand, slow and deliberate, holding her gaze.
Kath’s lips parted without hesitation.
He pressed his fingers past them, and she sucked him clean, her tongue flicking over the pads as her eyes fluttered closed. Benjamin groaned, low and approving.
"That’s my good girl," he said, voice raw—hoarse from control he barely held. "Suck it all down. Remember exactly who just ruined you."
Her chest rose and fell in wrecked, uneven waves.
Benjamin straightened. Smooth. Unhurried. He fastened his pants with practiced precision—like he hadn’t just undone her completely, like he could do it again without breaking a sweat.
“That?” His smile tilted—lazy, confident, with just enough sharpness to cut. “That was me being generous.”
He let his gaze travel down her—flushed, open, wrecked—and exhaled slowly, like a man appreciating his own precision. The outcome of something carefully executed.
“You’ll remember it.” A pause. Measured. Calculated.
“I made sure of that.”