Chapter 20 #2
Can black go blacker? I swear his eyes just did—they lock on me, pinning me in place as everything in his face goes to lethal.
His hand clamps around my ankle, hard enough I might be wearing his fingerprint tomorrow, and his voice drops into a charged growl: "You still think we're temporary?"
I drove him too far. I should take it back, say I didn't mean it.
I didn't mean it anyway.
"Say it—" The thick head breaches me, but he doesn't move further, like a warning, "—again."
I gasp, every ounce of my blood rushing down where I feel him stretching me. He feels so good, I'm tempted to slide on him, steal his thunder, but even the tip is letting me know his size will probably hurt, so I stay put.
When I don't say anything, his mouth curves in that smug half-smirk.
He throws my legs aside, puts a pillow under my pelvis, and his fingers dig into my thigh seams. "Always a big mouth, Emma, aren't you? Don't choke on me now."
I glare. Fine. If I'm going to burn, I'll burn all the way.
"You must have mistaken me for someone else because I'm not afraid of you. We're aah—!"
THRUST.
The world tilts. The scream rips out of me as he slams into me in one sharp stroke. My nails shred the mattress, lungs gone.
Too much... Too full... Oh god... The stretch burns like holy agony and I don't think he's even all the way in.
At least I've gutted him too. His head kicks back in ecstasy, jaw locking as a ragged curse tears from his chest.
"Fuck, you're so tight... I might actually break you," he says through gritted teeth. His eyes drop to where our bodies fuse, and he instantly throbs inside me like that sight is enough to undo him.
Then he looks back up and shakes his head, heat threading through the tease in his voice. "Then again, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
It hurts, no doubt, but the pain tags along with pure bliss.I've waited eight years for this moment, and my body blooms around him in every possible way because I'm starting to think it was made for him.
"Guess so," I manage, moving my pelvis around him, sliding in and out in a smooth motion to adjust to his size. He lets out low moans, watching me intently.
I lock my eyes with his, wanting him to understand I mean every word. "Deeper, please."
His brow raises, weighing me, and he laughs darkly under his breath. "I swear, you were made for me. Well, since you ask so sweetly... I'll give you anything."
My legs fly wide as he hooks one under his arm, and draws me down onto him with a controlled pace—a few more sharp inches that steal air from my lungs.
“Oh... oh god… You feel so good…” It falls out of me, helpless.
We start moving, every stroke making up for the years we wasted, his hands gripping my hips, spreading me wider, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of my inner thighs, marking me with every push.
You picture moments a million times, plan them until you think they couldn't possibly live up, but nothing—nothing—comes close to Ben moving inside me, his body glowing purple-blue like that day in the desert, lit from the inside, pouring straight into mine.
His pace picks up, his stomach tightening with each thrust of his hips.
I put my hand between us, feeling the slick drag of him inside me as he groans.
He slams his hips so hard they thump against me and I whimper, feeling him stretching me inside.
Then he comes down over me, caging me with his elbows, and takes my mouth.
The change of position makes me feel him so deep that it's impossible to contain the volume of my cries spilling into him.
His breath splinters. "I've been doing this... in my head for eight years... Trying... to remember... what peace felt like before you."
"Before me?"
"Yeah... I'm so weak when it comes to you... Attracted to you in ways I can't explain... Don't pretend you didn't know it."
I didn't.
I watch the strain in his brow as he's trying to drive us to the same place together, the bulging muscles on his shoulders, the tendon rising on his neck. My next climax is already buzzing deep in my belly.
I hook my hands behind his neck and drag him closer. "I need you, Ben. I need you."
His whole body goes still for a beat and he looks at me like I stunned him.
He draws almost entirely out, then drives back in with a force that tears a gasp out of me, my back arching.
“Say it again,” he rasps, holding my chin in place, his eyes tunneling through me. "Let me hear it."
“I need you..." I gasp.
He retreats with a shudder. “Again.” And he slams into me.
The words get punched out of me. “I need you..."
This time he drags out completely, then drives in fast, burying himself almost to the hilt with a loud groan. “Again, Emma.”
OH GOD.
"I need you. I need you everywhere,” I cry out, unraveling for him as he forces himself even closer.
His breath fractures as he throbs hard enough to make my vision stutter, a starving twitch that feels like he’s about to lose himself inside me. The heat rushes up—
Bang.
My knees lock around him as the shattering hits my teeth. Eight years crash into this singular moment as his body seizes, his cry ripping out—hoarse, loud. He's pulsing, filling me until I can't contain it and it spills out. A strangled moan breaks out of my chest, followed by another, and another.
I didn't know you could die and be reborn in the same heartbeat, that someone can wreck you and make you whole in the same breath. Tears spill sideways, burning down my temples. I'm happy. God, I'm so fucking happy it hurts.
"Emma?" His voice is breathy and rough, his chest heaving against mine.
I blink through the blur, returning to myself while Ben's holding me. He's still buried deep inside me, his gaze warm as he thumbs away my tears.
"Yeah?" I give him an absolutely undone smile.
A ragged breath tumbles out of him, something raw flickering across his face before he forces it away, and he smiles, too.
"Nothing," he says, like he means everything.
He moves with a sudden surge of restless energy, his mouth grazing the inside of my thigh, sticky from both of us, and he pulls me up to run with him.
Splash. The water shocks me back to earth, cold biting against my overheated body, and a gasp rips free as I surface.
Ben takes a few laps around, then treads in front of me, his chest gleaming in the pool lights like a work of art.
"Should we be doing this?" I drift closer.
He shrugs. "Let's misbehave. Just a little."
"Misbehave is your middle name." I shake my head, smiling and flicking water at him. "Thought you didn't swim."
He gives me a pointed look. "That was before I heroically dragged your dramatic ass out of the ocean."
I roll my eyes. "I already said sorry. Twice. That's apparently historic for me."
"Sorry doesn't cut it when I almost watched you drown," he says, a shadow cutting through the playfulness before he drags in a breath and gestures around. "This isn't even deep."
"Yeah—if you're a giant," I mutter, not brave enough to stand flat-footed.
His grin crooks, dirty. "Lucky you, then."
My eyes drop down, catching him through the shimmering water, and widen.
Does water distort things? Definitely lucky me.
"I think I need a lifeguard around you," I say, kicking off as he lunges for me. Surprise—he hates swimming but somehow he's faster, hauling me against him, his mouth crashing over mine.
The city lights blaze around us, high-rises awake, but in this chlorinated little world, it's just us, roaming like two teenagers at heart, stealing back that summer when they had their first time—a summer that should never come back. Except with him, it does.
"Promise me something," Ben says, once he finally lets go of my mouth and lets me breathe.
"Depends what it is."
His eyes narrow and he shakes his head, like it's non-negotiable. "Promise."
I exhale loudly. "Fine."
"No more games," he says, thumbs brushing my arms. "No running, no hiding. I want everything you're feeling. Always."
"That's—"
"A lot," he jumps in, nodding. "I know. But we need honesty between us. Even the screwed-up bits you never tell anyone. I want to know."
"But I don't always know what I feel, and you know that."
“That’s fine,” he says, pulling me toward the shallows until my toes skim the tile. His voice is calm, but resolute. “Then say it. Say you don’t know. I’ll live with the truth, not excuses.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “It was… an incredible one night. I’ll always remember it.”
He tilts his head, one brow up, studying me like he’s weighing the words in my mouth. Then: “It wasn’t just one night.”
I frown. “Didn’t you say that?”
He pulls his brows closer, blinking hard. “When did I ever say that?”
“You literally did.” I jab his chest, smirking. “You said, ‘Give me one night.’”
“No. I said, 'Give me one night to make you mine.'"
I bite back my smile. "Uh-huh, so semantics."
“You should know better, writer. Words matter.”
I give him a look. “You think I was analyzing syntax while your fingers were knuckle-deep in me?”
His mouth twitches. "Is this the moment you're going to tell me this was a fling, too?"
I weigh whether I should say something real or biting, and when I don't say anything, he takes a step closer and says, "That's what I thought."
I'm tempted to pinch him, but don't. I sigh instead. "You know, it could never be a fling with you, which just makes it more terrifying.”
His gaze goes serious. "It's the most terrifying thing I've ever felt."
I search in his face. "That sounds intense. I always thought you didn't give a damn."
"You think I don't give a damn?" he echoes, frowning. Then he studies me a beat before he says. "I do. You're the damn I give."
I bite back my smile, but the heaviness of our reality starts sneaking in.
"Ben, I loved all of it, and it wasn't just about your skilled hands or mouth—it's you," I rush out, then sigh and slow down. "But the minute I leave you I'll realize that I've become everything I hate. And I don't know how to live with that."
The water laps quietly around us as he goes still, his face unreadable now.
"I have someone waiting at home," I say, low, because I'm ashamed. "It's not perfect, but he doesn't deserve this. No one does. We crossed a line tonight."
"I know. And I don't want to go back," he says instantly, voice firm. Then he exhales roughly through his nose, his jaw tightening. "Do you want to talk about him?"
"No." I shake my head instantly. "Definitely not."
“Good. I don't want to talk about him either,” he says, tone calm but loaded. “But you’ll have to tell him.”
"I know."
"Preferably now."
I blink, caught off guard.
When he keeps watching me, unshakable, I frown at him.
"Of course not. It's not that simple. First I need to overthink why we did this.
What a horrible person I am. How much I hate myself, despite loving it so much.
If I'm even allowed to like it. Pretty sure I'll fall apart the second I leave you. "
When I finish, he's looking at me with that unnerving silence, and I have no idea what's going on in his head.
I swallow and my voice comes out too small. "So? Are you going to run now that I told you the truth? Pretend you didn't hear any of that?"
Ben lets out a low snort, brushing a wet strand of hair from my cheek.
"You know what I'm thinking? That I'm staying. Even if you need to fall apart," he says, lips hovering above mine, like he's about to spill a secret straight into them. A crooked half-smile. "But if you do, I'd prefer it to happen on top of me."
I swat at him, laughing despite myself. "Try to be serious for once."
"I am serious," he says, grip tightening at my waist. "Deadly. Don't believe me?"
"I don't know. I want to."
He hums, more thoughtful than offended. "What would convince you? Want me to get your name tattooed?"
I flick water at him, making a face. "You hate tattoos. You said you'd never do it."
"Exactly." He rolls his eyes. "Which just proves how much I like you."
"Okay, but it only counts if it's visible. Not like—" I wave vaguely under the water, "—the crack of your ass."
His eyes flare wide in mock horror. "That would be incredibly painful. True commitment."
I shake my head. "Doesn't count."
He shrugs, unfazed. "Fine. Your call. Arm? Neck? My face?"
"God, no." My lips brush his cheek, just shy of his mouth, close enough to steal his breath. "Not your face. Not your neck." My hand drifts lower, pausing right above the trouble. "Or anywhere at all, actually."
That does it. In a flash, he has me pinned against the pool corner, water lapping high as he lifts my leg up, and I throw my arms around his neck.
"Say my name again, the way you did before," he says, sliding halfway inside me under the water.
I gasp, dropping my head on his shoulder. "Ben."
"I like how I sound in your mouth..."
And then we're gone again, wet-faced, kissing, half-dissolving into each other as the night spins into oblivion.
Until something catches my eye.
The second I notice it, my head twists to hide behind Ben's body.
We've been watched the whole time.