Chapter 20
"Ben," I try to breathe between his lips. "It's closed."
He slips a red card from his pocket while his arm doesn't let me get away, and taps it on the lock.
Click. The door gives and Ben pushes it open, steering me through gently.
Suddenly I'm on the open rooftop, the midnight air crashing over me, threaded with pool water and stars.
"Wow. I had no idea it was done."
"It's not," he says as I turn to him. "Nobody knows about it. Perks of being friends with the receptionist."
The pool glows like something celestial, purple bleeding into cobalt, the surface splintered with shards of moving light.
The reflections dance across the glass bar, the white tiles, my skin—his skin.
In one smooth move, Ben rides his shirt up and flings it away, leaving me speechless when I see his bare chest. He's all golden skin and sinew.
I've said it before—he's a god.
I'll say it again until it's carved into marble, or into me.
Before I wake up from the daze, he starts toward me, only in those black jeans. "What was the other thing you said?"
"What thing?" I play dumb, walking backward. "I don't remember."
Two strides and his arms cage me, fingers confident on the zipper as it whispers down. "Liar. Who likes games here?"
The dress slips down and now I stand here only in red thongs, nipples hard like pebbles, hands down like I'm offering myself.
Ben takes a step back, dragging his eyes over my body.
"Damn... I had an image in my head... not this... not even close... You're perfection, baby."
I bite my lip. If I wasn't already melted open for him, those words would for sure undo me.
He surges closer, clutching my butt like he couldn't wait to do this.
Meanwhile, I stroke him over the jeans, then look down, and damn me, he's so huge that he's about to burst out of that pocket.
We glance at the red lounge bed, then back at each other.
No.
Here.
Like this.
Right where stone meets water.
We sink down on the cool tile, and he prowls over me, kissing and licking a path down my neck, between my breasts, my stomach, my inner thighs, breathing on my skin before he slides my thong down and puts them in his back pocket.
His hand pins my thigh wide open, and his head dips between my legs.
"Gorgeous..." he says, eyes locked between my legs.
The first drag of Ben's tongue is deliciously ruthless. He presses it firmly against me, pulling up slowly.
Then he circles my clit, gently scrapes his teeth over it, and sucks it into his mouth.
Holy—his mouth on me is heaven. My legs instantly shake.
He licks me passionately, gliding through my folds like he wants to taste me everywhere.
I don't mean to pull at his hair so hard, but I do, and he makes a raw, approving sound like he wants more of it.
"Soak my face, baby."
Oh. That's hot...
"Gladly," I breathe, and draw him closer by his hair until I feel his teeth sink into my delicate skin. I hope they'll leave a mark.
I roll my hips up and down, grinding against his gorgeous face, chasing the friction.
When he looks up, glistening with me everywhere, I can barely hold myself.
Then—mid-throb, mid-moan—he pulls back, saliva and my juices running down all over his throat. His eyes are half-crazed, and so are mine. I'm ready to kill him.
“Lying never tasted better,” he says, savoring it, wiping his mouth with a slow drag.
I glare daggers, even though I'm still splayed under him. "Say another word and I'll come without you just out of spite."
He smiles, face pulled back in amusement. "You think you're in charge, huh? Adorable."
He lands a kiss on my pulsing center and before I can say anything, he flips me, easy as tossing a coin.
I'm braced on my knees, head spinning, eyes locked on the lit-up window in the building across that isn't so far and wonder if they can see us, when—smack.
Ben's palm cracks across my ass, sharp enough to send a white-hot jolt between my legs. My cry splinters into the air, startled.
I turn my head back just when his hand comes down again on the same spot. Two slaps and it's already burning red, my skin thrumming.
His fingers dig into my butt-cheeks, pulling me wide open. Wider. Then—my eyes flare—so wide, I've never been so exposed and raw in my life. It's like he wants to see inside of me.
A guttural groan escapes him, his face only an inch from me. "Fuck... You're so dripping wet for me, Emma. It's running down your thighs."
I bet I am. I've never been hornier in my life.
"Don't worry," he says, breath hot enough to burn my soaked folds. “I want you dripping straight into my throat. I want to swallow every part of you you’ve never given anyone."
His tongue deliberately drags up my leg, tasting me before he plunges it inside and I gasp, my hips instantly rocking back.
He starts eating me like he's hunting for honey, tongue hard and riding deep, circling, his nose nudging on my flesh. The tide swells and I bite back my loud moan.
"Slower, Ben..."
"No. Louder," he rasps.
His tongue becomes a rapid, focused blur, striking and lapping with a frantic rhythm through my folds.
"Oh... god..." My breath is ripped out of me, torn open from the inside out, my ears buzzing, the lightning bolt rushing up my spine.
Then I realize he isn't done.
His arms lock me in place, caging me, and the suction turns feverish.
My elbows break under the force and I breathe loudly.
"What... what are you doing... Wait..."
He groans into me like he's found his obsession made flesh and he needs more, needs everything. Then his mouth goes completely feral.
"Wait—" I choke, clawing at the floor, trying to twist free. "Ben. It's enough. It's enough—"
I turn my head at him, pleading with my gaze, but he locks eyes with me, unyielding, and his tongue surges through me in one hard, upward sweep.
Urgh... god.... so... good...
My head whips forward, eyes rolling so high I think they can still see him. One by one, my nerves start melting, threatening to burst out of me.
"Please, Ben. Please..." I'm begging, digging my nails into his arm.
I say it, but my body begs for more.
"If you keep moaning like that, I'm never going to stop," he says, breath ragged.
Two of his fingers dart inside, thrusting in and out, in and out—rapidly, mercilessly—the squelching sounds he pulls out of me drawing out my orgasm higher.
The hot surge comes fast, more violent than anything I felt before.
Then his fingers slip out, and he yanks my hips back, burying his tongue deep inside me as he squeezes my pulsing clit. I instantly disintegrate.
"BEN...!"
I cry, sob his name, and convulse in quake after quake, not in control of my body, while he holds me there.
The sensation is so strong that I pitch forward, my head about to slam the tile, except Ben's hand catches me, protects me from harm. He anchors me to the ground while I lose it.
Hundreds of blue stars explode, maybe thousands.
I must have hit the water, or it's behind my eyes, because I'm a tipped jar of fireflies gone rogue.
I've never, ever, experienced anything like that.
It takes me a moment to calm down my breathing and realize where I am.
When I finally turn, Ben's braced above me, running a hand over his damp jaw and smiling at me like he's tasted the apex of life.
"Told you you're my favorite flavor in the world. No way I was stopping mid-taste."
"I'm... I'm going to strangle you," I rasp, my thighs involuntarily shaking. "Or never let you go. Haven't decided yet. What the hell was that?"
He licks his lips slowly. "That was Italian lovers: one. You: undone."
My brow lifts. "Really? You're still holding a grudge from the desert? Waiting all this time for your triumphant moment?"
He rolls one shoulder in a lazy shrug, biting back his grin. "Maybe. I told you we're built to worship."
"No. It's you," I say, my look turning feral as I wind my hands around his neck and pull him down. "And I'm not leaving until you fuck me."
He pauses, surprised. "Raunchy. For you."
Then his voice sinks, velvety and guttural: “I wasn’t leaving until I made your legs shake so hard you’d have to crawl to me for the next one."
His arms slide under me and he rises while I'm lifted into his arms like I weigh nothing.
He carries me to the red lounge bed, sets me down gently, and slowly peels out of his jeans. And then he's out.
Damn. I didn't expect this magnitude. Should have.
He's not just huge. He's phenomenal—thick, ridged, pulsing with veins that strain under flushed skin, the tip dripping like he's already thought about wrecking me.
My body clenches just from looking at him.
He settles between my thighs, eyes consuming every inch of me, like he's imprinting the image of my naked body into him.
The head slowly drags through my slick—teasing, catching on my entrance with every pass until my hips twitch on instinct.
I shouldn't be impatient since he already wrung me out twice, but I'm greedy for him, so I nudge him with my leg anyway.
"Patience, baby. Don't want to hurt you."
"But I want you to hurt me," I say, shocking myself. That thing could split me in half.
And I'd probably thank it, even beg for it.
Maybe I want it as proof that this is happening.
Ben gives me a sinful smile—he's eating up the fact I confessed it out loud.
"You don't get it," he says, circling on me now. "I'm going to take you many, many more times. Can't have you too sore from the start."
I swallow hard, because he's probably right.
Still, I mutter irritably, "You just want me to beg."
"That too. You sound delicious when you're begging for me."
I glare at him. I guess he's back to toying.
Two can play, though.
I force myself still, try not to focus on how good he feels, and school my face to boredom. "Ben?"
"Mm?" He holds himself there and looks up.
"I just remembered something—" My toes press into his chest and I nudge him back like it's a game. "We're only a fling."
The second it's out, I want to snatch it back.