Chapter 33
Nothing is going to happen, though. I already warned him.
Even if it's quieter up here, the Bellini chaos spilling from downstairs reminds me that the walls aren't exactly soundproof.
We've been lying around for an hour, talking about absolutely nothing and everything, digressing all the time—our specialty.
His room? Exactly what you'd expect from him: grey walls, plastered in trophies and medals. Pristine tennis rackets in the corner. A Rubik’s Cube on his table that he can solve in fifteen seconds flat.
He once tried to teach me but my brain doesn’t work like that—too busy complicating the simple things to ever manage to simplify the complicated ones.
There's a somber bassline thrumming under the bed because he has speakers wired into his bedframe, and dim blue lights that make everything feel low-key illicit.
"You look happy," I tell him.
"I am," he says right away. "Can't believe I'm going to be an uncle."
My smile comes a little late.
The next question sits at the edge of my tongue all night, the one everyone else kept orbiting. "Does it make you want to stay?"
He pauses, knowing I won't like the answer, but then says, "Yeah. I didn't spend too much time with them before. Always felt off because of the whole family dynamics." His thumb strokes the back of my hand. "But now I feel like I can finally breathe. Thanks to you."
He tugs me in for a kiss that's a little too excited, and I melt into it, tasting the alcohol on his tongue despite him brushing his teeth, until a yawn slips into his mouth.
He pulls back with a faux-insulted face. "Wow... romantic."
I pout, too drunk on fatigue to care. "Too much wine, too many relatives—as lovely as they are—I'm breath away from crashing."
And sure enough, I'm gone.
Until, sometime between dream and dark, I jolt awake.
My brain stutters as I feel the wet, insistent drag of pressure where it shouldn't be.
One murky second. Then clarity comes when I look down.
Ben's eyes glint up at me from between my thighs.
"Good, you're awake," he rasps. His fingers hook the seam of my fishnets, tearing it with a rasp of nylon as he draws me down the silky sheets, closer to his mouth.
"Ben! What are you—?!" My whisper warps into a moan the second he drags his tongue between my folds in one long, slow stroke, his scruff rasping against my sensitive skin.
"You," he says thickly. "You're in my bed. We're on the top floor. I'll make history count."
"No. Hell no. Mara and Paul are sleeping in the bedroom below," I whisper, voice full of dread.
I shove at his shoulder, but it's pointless—he smirks, knowing exactly how little fight I've got against him, physically and emotionally. He spreads my knees apart, pressing them into the mattress, and lifts my hips.
The second my pussy is right in his face, my face heats up from the exposed angle.
"So pink. And mine. Only mine," he growls.
He licks his way down my left thigh, then the right, worshipping each inch before dragging through my middle with firm pressure.
Okay… that feels good. So good it knocks the defiance out of me, and my legs fall open for him.
His tongue devours me like he means to live off me—lapping, circling, plunging deep, pulling hot, helpless sounds out of me.
A tightening coils low in me, and when my orgasm rips through my body, I clamp my teeth shut to keep from screaming his name into the dark.
When I manage a half-hearted glare, his swollen lips curl, pleased at how fast he can ruin me.
He shoves his boxers down and springs free, then kneels between my legs—face of a dark angel, body of a daredevil, his cock rock-hard and pointed at me like a threat he intends to deliver.
He gives himself one slow stroke and it twitches in his fist, a hot bead spilling onto the sheets.
I swallow hard.
He keeps stroking himself, eyes locked on my body, daring me to break first as his breath turns ragged.
I want him. God, I want him—exactly when I shouldn’t.
But I do.
No, Emma… that... that is a Roman monument... you can't choke on that in his boyhood room...
“No, Ben. Your family’s sleeping downstairs. We can’t—”
He moves before I finish and smacks my center with the heavy length of him—sharp and taunting. My legs jerk, a startled sound tearing out of me. Considering his size it nearly felt like a hammer. But... I want more.
"You'll be a good girl and keep quiet," he says, dark and soft both at once. "Right?"
I shake my head. I can't keep quiet with him, and he knows it.
But he doesn't give me space to argue—he lifts my legs over his shoulders and folds me in half as he comes down over me, pinning me under his heat and weight. My knees kiss my ears.
The blunt head presses against my entrance, slick and swollen, and then he's pushing in.
My voice splinters into a strangled whine, muffled by his hand just as a rough, velvety moan escapes from him when he bottoms out. I'm stretched tight around him, feeling the burning sting of it.
"Ben..." I whisper, sounding desperate.
"Good job, baby."
He kisses me hard, grinding deep the way only Ben knows how—circular, brutal, hitting that perfect spot, over and over again, and I keep gasping, my nails raking down the sculpted line of his back.
His palm flattens against my stomach as if he can feel himself moving inside me, and a low, feral sound vibrates out of him. Then his eyes lock on mine. "Come on me, baby. Come on me hard. The way you were meant to."
I don't have any other option but to obey.
My climax detonates, sharp and hot because he doesn't let me go—he rides me through it while I feel him everywhere—his chest crushing my breasts against his, the hair on his thighs abrading the sensitive skin of my inner legs, the way his taste floods my mouth. I'm unraveling in every way.
"I swear I could die inside you," he growls. "You were made to ruin me anyway."
His rhythm stutters as he twitches inside me, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring.
He's close, and I want him to lose control. I drag my hand over his sweat-glazed abs, feeling them clench hard as he fights with the urge to let go.
My turn...
With my other hand, I grip the firm curve of his ass, my nails sinking in, and drag him impossibly closer, like I can fuse our bodies together. I clench around him as much as I can, and rock my hips up and down.
"Fuck..." He pinches his eyes shut, consumed by me.
He releases a raw sound, his head snapping back, and he can’t help it—he empties himself inside me in thick waves, each one pulsing deep as I gasp, feeling everything, even the last drop.
I expect him to collapse, but Ben isn't like other men. He doesn't stop at once.
He lowers my legs, cinches his arms around my waist, the grip nearly punching the air out of me, and he pulls out—everything he left rushing out of me—only to thrust it back in.
"Again," he commands.
I whimper, my body still overstimulated, but the thought of him rewriting me from the inside makes me heedless.
I throw my arms up, tilt my head back, and he follows the movement—sucking on my nipples, then on my neck, planting those rough biting kisses that will for sure leave visible marks.
I arch my back, letting him know he can bite me even harder, and his teeth sink into my neck so deep I gasp, afraid it will be my last breath.
Our mouths clash again, his tongue deep in my throat as he drives into me, hard enough to rattle the bed, the lights flickering with every snap of his hips.
"Your bed will die," I gasp out, chest heaving.
"Then let it. I'll rebuild it tomorrow. I'll rebuild a hundred beds if I have to, but I will carve myself into you. Not just your body. All of you."
Yes... empty yourself into me... Completely.
I feel him swell again, dragging through me, and it wrecks me instantly. My body convulses under him uncontrollably, and I come.
Still moving in me, his hand slides between us, his thumb pressing on my swollen clit in tight, merciless circles.
"Again," he rasps, eyes wild.
"Ben, I can't..." I cry out, my body going into overload.
He smiles at my flushed face—delighted, wicked. "I said again."
He grips my ass and pushes me against the full drive of his cock, the rough friction making my legs shake. When he taps the spot high in my belly, my body sparks, and I clench around him.
"Like that..." he moans.
His tongue laps at my breasts and nipples as he pumps me senseless, every thrust deeper and sharper. His wet tongue on me is pure heaven. Then he catches my nipple in his teeth, thrusts his hips forward, and throbs so hard it makes my eyes roll back.
My next climax nearly blinds me as I bite hard on his shoulder to muffle the scream that slips out anyway. The sound bounces off the walls, louder than it should. He follows with a guttural moan that vibrates through my bones.
Afterwards, my body feels spent, loose in his arms.
Ben takes a quick breather, then sits back between my thighs. His fingers slip inside me, swirling, gathering everything he left there before dragging his glistening hand up my belly, over my breasts, nipples, all the way to my mouth.
I catch his finger, run my tongue around it, and suck him in, savoring the decadent taste of us together. We taste perfect.
"Give me more..." I moan.
Something dark flickers in his eyes. "I will."
He grabs my hips and turns me onto my stomach, a controlled manhandling that sparks a hard pulse inside me as he lifts my hips. When I realize he's positioning himself behind me, my eyes shoot wide and I whip my head to him.
"No. No way, Ben. We're not doing that position."
"We are," he says, smiling darkly, already holding himself against me. "The one that makes you whine because it hurts so good."
For the record, Ben did make my body remember it's made for him, but this one position always makes me fear someone will call the cops.
"You want your parents to lose it? You're insane," I moan.
"No, Emma," he says, voice thick. "I'm painfully addicted. To you."