Chapter 29 Bennett
Bennett
Beth takes one of the rooms downstairs, and Clover and I are left to the second floor.
My mother walks her to a guest room and leaves her with one of my old T-shirts and sweatpants. She makes a point to lead me out of the room and close the door behind us.
“We are married,” I remind Mother. “Should I go out to the—?”
She shakes her head. “Just take your old room for the night.”
We say good night and I think for too long about whether I should hug her, but then the moment passes.
I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bed for less than two minutes when there’s a knock at my door.
Clover steps in, wearing only my T-shirt. The neck is stretched and it hangs down to the middle of her thighs, pulled taut over her hips. “It felt weird being in bed by myself.”
I hold my arms out for her, and she shuffles in, crowding between my knees. She lets me envelop her and after a minute of simply listening to me breathe, she looks around and asks, “What happened to all your stuff?”
“My mom moved me into the guesthouse when I graduated.”
She snorts. “This place isn’t big enough for the two of you?”
I lean back so I can see her as I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think seeing it empty just made her really sad after a while.”
“Can we go see it?” she asks. “Is it very different?”
“You’ll get all wet,” I tell her.
A mischievous grin curls along her lips. “Oh no.”
There are spare Wellies and some rain shells in the mudroom, so we both bundle up as best we can and make a run for it.
The guesthouse is beyond the pool and closer to the cliffside. It might be significantly smaller than the main house, but the view is superior.
We splash through puddles and mud, but the boots do a good job of protecting our feet. When we both stumble into the dark house, we’re soaked from the sideways rain blowing in off the water and we quickly strip out of our gear.
I flip on the gas fireplace while Clover flicks on a few lamps and turns in slow circles. “The couch is different,” she says, walking around the dark green leather sectional.
“Yeah, I couldn’t be responsible for a white couch.”
She laughs, standing behind the couch, her arms spread across the back. “Neither could my mom, honestly. She flipped the cushions so many times that I wondered if the inside of the couch led to another dimension.”
I tried not to change the house too much. Just a few pieces of furniture so that my mom would walk in and think I at least tried.
“I haven’t really spent much time here,” I tell her as I crowd behind her. Skin, damp from the rain. The threadbare T-shirt does little to separate us, and all I want is to touch her.
The back wall of windows facing the cliffside is open air from the first floor to the second mezzanine. The lightning illuminates the sky in an unpredictable rhythm, spilling into the house.
Clover arches back against me, her lovely ass pressing into my groin.
With one arm curled around her waist, I use my free hand to push her hair aside so that my teeth can sink into the soft flesh of her neck. She emits a low, throaty moan. I decide that if I had to choose one last sound to hear on my deathbed, it would be that.
“Ben,” she whines, an arm reaching up, fingers winding around the back of my neck.
My erection was already coming to life when she stepped into my room wearing this T-shirt, but now it is fully stiff in the cleft of her ass.
She turns in my arms and pushes me back just enough so that she can lift the shirt over her head.
I almost complain about undressing her being my job, but she leaves me breathless without a complete thought in my head.
Her underwear only just covers her. A small navy scrap of fabric with thin strings pulled over the curves of her hips, nearly disappearing into the mouthwatering crease there.
The curve above her pubic bone makes me feral and has me thinking obscene, irresponsible things about making her belly swell.
The bra is a flimsy mesh thing with strips of navy fabric that run through the center of each cup, just wide enough to cover her hardening nipples.
“Do you have any idea how many hours of my days have been spent wondering what you’re wearing under your clothing? From the first day of school when you got dressed in our room. I could write an entire essay about your propensity for matching underthings.”
“Really?” she asks in a way that says she’s got me right where she wants me.
She pulls me back to her by the waistband of my wet jeans, and my hips jerk forward as I watch her delicate hands undo the buckle of my belt and then my button and fly.
My mouth is on her, biting and licking and teasing. She yanks the collar of my T-shirt and pulls me down on her, so that we’re both tumbling over the back of the couch, laughing and moaning into each other’s mouths.
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” she says.
With one hand, I yank my long-sleeved shirt off. “You could tell me to bark and I would say how loud.”
She grins devilishly.
“Woof,” I say as I dip my head down to run my tongue between her breasts, then pull her nipples into my mouth one by one, swirling my tongue over the fabric. Her fingers dig into the leather of the couch, and I rut into her, the seam of my boxer briefs damp with pre-come.
“I don’t want this to stop,” she tells me, her moan echoing and competing with the rattling of thunder.
I don’t know if she means us or what we’re doing, but I’m foolish enough to hope that she means both.
I gather each of her wrists in one of my hands, pinning them above her head, into the corner cushion of the sofa. Reluctantly, I abandon her tits. Her eyes are calculating as she searches my face for any sign of doubt.
My free hand slides up her ribs, cupping her, and I could study the broad expanse of my hand on her milky skin for the rest of my life and still find new subtle beauties. “If you’re looking at me to say no—if you’re looking for someone to stop—you won’t find that here.”
“I want you,” she keens beneath me.
I grind into her, and she gasps.
“Fuck, Ben—Bennett, I need you to be inside me. Please.”
The pleading goes straight to my already hard cock.
I sit back on my knees a little, her wrists still pinned in one hand.
My other hand runs down her middle, and when my fingers rub against her folds, pushing the fabric against her clit to tease her, I find that she has soaked right through her panties.
“You’re dripping for me,” I tell her. Lightning flashes across the sky, giving me a perfect view of the color in her cheeks. “There it is,” I whisper. “My favorite color.”
“What?” she asks on a desperate breath.
I free her wrists for a moment to caress her cheek with the back of my hand. “The color of your blush, love.”
She burrows her cheek into the cushion.
I click my tongue and grip her jaw, bringing her back to me as my fingers press into her again. “No hiding.”
Her kiss is violent and punishing in retaliation for how I am winding her up. “I’ve only done this twice before.”
“I know,” I tell her, cradling her face with both hands now. “And I promise to make this so good for you that you forget their names.”
She hums against my lips and scrapes her nails down my shoulders before wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me flush against her. My arms drop down to brace myself, and I buck against her in several quick thrusts until we’re both moaning and rambling.
I can’t wait any longer. I promise to whatever god is listening to make this girl come over and over again for as long as she will let me, but right now I need to feel her tight, wet heat on my cock like my life depends on it.
She cries out the moment my body is no longer on top of hers. I kick off my boxer briefs and sit back down, my cock bobbing against the planes of my abdomen.
Clover scrambles to her feet and I take hold of her hips, spinning her around, a groan on my lips when I see the cheeky back of her panties.
I want to sink my teeth into her plump ass.
But I have one thing in mind as I yank the sinful little garment down and pull her onto my lap.
She reaches back and unhooks her bra as her legs straddle my thighs and her luscious, dimpled rump strangles my dick.
“I’m on the pill,” she tells me.
My teeth are clenched as she rolls her hips against me. “I’m clean. I got tested at the beginning of the semester and I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Good,” she says. “Good. I’m okay if we don’t use a condom. But only if you are.”
“You’re sure?” I ask, my arm reaching around so my fingers can dip into her slick core.
“Ab—solutely,” she tells me, practically choking on the word. “I’ve—I’ve never done this position.”
“I swear on my life I will fuck you in as many places and positions as you want. There are so many things I want to see you experience, but I need … godfuckingdamnit, I need to see your face. I need to see what you look like when you come on my dick.” The way her brows furrow.
The way she licks her lips. I need to see it all.
“Okay, okay.” She turns, our skin barely breaking contact, and she is right there, hovering over me. Her bare pussy brushes my dick for the first time, and both of us are panting, breath hitching.
With a curious, hungry look in her eyes, her fingers wrap around the base of my length. She sits up higher on her knees with one hand splayed on my chest.
Helpless to the temptation, I catch her nipple in my mouth.
The head of my penis nudges her clit, and she practically purrs as she repeats the action twice, three times, using me for her pleasure.
She’s lost for a moment before her gaze connects with mine, and she’s naked to me in every way. I see it all. The nerves, the lust, the excitement, and the slightest hint of worry.
I move her hand to my other shoulder and stroke myself a few times before pushing against her center.
With an encouraging nod from me, she begins to sink down.