Chapter 28 #3
He nips and sucks on my lips, then works his way down my neck to my chest, speaking words into my skin that I can’t make out.
I try to respond, but all that comes out is a mumble, then a gasp as his free hand slowly works its way up my thighs, closer and closer until his fingers graze my underwear, barely ghosting over the spot he had teased before.
I think he’s going to tease me again, keep me pinned here until I’m begging, but when he leans back, I can see the same desperation in his eyes.
Like he needs this just as much as I do.
Then he pushes my underwear aside and sinks his finger inside me.
I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he brings his lips to my ear, whispering all the things he wants to do to me as he slips in and out.
At some point I’m not hearing words anymore.
His voice is only a deep vibration hitting my core, reverberating out to every inch of my body.
Each nerve is independent, humming at its own pitch while my body is left with only pure instinct—fingers raking his hair, gasps and groans escaping from my throat.
I’m so disconnected I can’t even remember to be embarrassed.
All that matters is his lips traveling down my jaw as his fingers work deeper, faster, bringing me to the edge, so close I could fall.
And oh, I think I might. I can feel it there on the horizon, blossoming into my field of vision like a solar flare.
Ben must see it, too, how my limbs tense, my breath hitches, because his eyes flare with something hot and alive.
Then he bends down between my legs, licking and sucking, and I don’t care if the neighbors hear, I cry out.
There’s nothing I can do about it—every nerve ending is being pulled to that place where his lips are, tightening and tightening while my eyes squeeze shut and my hands grip his hair, grounding myself as it all finally releases, a perfect explosion in Technicolor as I come.
The vibrations are still humming beneath my skin as he kisses along the inside of my thigh, up my stomach, to my neck.
When I open my eyes, he’s standing at the end of the bed, gaze locked on me as he peels off his T-shirt, as he unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall to the floor.
Then he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a foil wrapper, taking his time as he rolls the condom down his length.
When he’s done, I look down at his body and my breath catches.
It’s like my brain is so hyper-focused on the intricate way his muscles come together, the dusting of hair along his chest, the hard length between his legs, that it forgets my lungs need air.
I crawl toward the edge of the mattress, then move to kneel in front of him, so hungry for his kiss that when I lean forward, I almost fall off the bed.
Luckily, he catches my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs.
“Nowhere,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He bends forward so we fall into the bed, and our kiss becomes hungry and deep, teeth and tongue, as our limbs tangle together in the sheets.
A moment later, he turns us both and I’m straddling his hips.
I can feel him there, hard between my legs.
A slight shift of my hips, a rock forward then down, and he slips inside me.
He hisses against my mouth, then licks down my neck as my head falls back, relishing the feel of him.
When I finally begin to move, it’s slow.
Languid strokes that are both torture and ecstasy.
I close my eyes as his arms wrap around me, his forehead resting between my breasts, and I know his eyes are closed, too.
It’s too much, the relief and joy melding together, the insatiable hunger that slowly builds until it takes over again.
My fingers disappear into his dark hair.
I moan, a strangled sound, and his lips find mine, like he wants that sound for himself.
To share every sensation, every ache and throb.
The thought sends me over the edge again, wave after wave of electricity surging through my veins, making my body taut.
“Oh my God, Ben,” I cry out.
He groans at the sound of his name. Then he flips us again, his body now over mine as his thrusts become frantic and hard, until finally he shudders, his head against my collarbone as he comes.
For a long moment, all I can hear is the sound of our breathing. My legs are still wrapped around his hips, and his arms are around my back, holding me close.
“I’m still really mad at you,” I whisper into his hair.
He nods against my shoulder. “I know.”
“But I love you more.”
His body shifts enough for him to meet my gaze. His gorgeous face is flushed, his expression sated and tired, and his eyes have that soft edge to them, framing the browns and golds that suddenly look so vibrant. “I love you, too.”
“Good.” I smile, pushing a few dark strands away from his forehead. “Then you can spend the next fifty or so years making it up to me.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he releases a breath. “I can do that.”