“You can try,” I said, scratching down his stomach. “But I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
With a light pinch to my nipple, he bent low, nipping at my jaw. “I love you anyway.”
As he slid into me, I shook, crying out sharply at the relief before gasping, “I love you anyway, too.”
“It feels so fucking good.”
“I know.”
I pressed my palms to his ass, feeling the contracting muscles, pulling him deeper into me and rising to meet his every push. Bennett’s lips moved across my cheeks, aimless, to my ears and my mouth. Down my chin to my neck. His words came out broken and desperate.
So much
Oh, God, Chlo, I don’t
Let me hear
Let me hear you
Tell me what you’re feeling, tell me
Tell me what you want
I sucked at his neck, watching his shoulders bunch as he moved and moved and moved over me. “I want faster. Closer. More. Please.”
He pushed up onto his knees between my legs, gripping my thigh and pushing my legs farther apart. “Fucking hell, Chloe, you’re so beautiful.”
I groaned, feeling the heavy drag of him sliding inside me; the pleasure was amplified by the way his eyes seemed to caress my skin.
“Reach down,” he whispered. “Feel where I move in you.”
I did what he asked, letting his cock move over my fingertip as he slid in and out.
He bent low. “Tell me what you feel.”
“Wet,” I answered, looking up at him. “Hard.”
His gaze burned and he stared down at my fingers on him. When he smiled, he looked dangerous, and it made my heart slam into my chest.
“I know,” he said. He took in my tangled hair, picked up one of my dirty feet, and slid my ankle up his hip. “You’re a mess, you greedy fucking girl.”
He slowed, pulling almost all the way out until I panicked and wrapped my legs around his waist. It felt like a match had been lit inside my belly and it burned, spreading like wildfire down between my legs, serving only to increase the impatient need I felt.
As if sensing how close I was, Bennett pushed back into me, focused now on getting me there. He was sweaty, his hair damp from exertion, and a drop fell from his forehead onto my chest, and then another.
“Tell me how good it is,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
“I . . . I . . .”
With a sharp jab of his hips, he thrust harder into me. “Tell me, Chloe, how good the fucking is.”
I couldn’t answer, already starting to dissolve. He was wild: rough touches and punishing thrusts, flipping me on the bed and taking, taking, taking. My eyes closed, my cheek resting against the cool blankets when his hands fisted in my hair, forcing my head back as his mouth found my neck, each labored exhale sending waves of warm breath across my dampened skin. He kissed along my shoulders, his tongue reaching out to taste me, his teeth nipping and dragging along my skin. I arched my back, angling my hips to meet each push of his hips. My arms reached out, hands twisting in the sheets, my entire body shaking with the need to let go.
But he didn’t give me what I needed. Instead, he teased and took, and took some more, and then finally, with a determined set to his jaw, and more desperate need in his eyes than I’d seen in days, leaned in close, circling over me and giving—giving, giving—me an orgasm so intense it left me shaking and near tears in his arms. What had built in my belly to a low, heavy ache exploded up my spine and spilled like liquid heat into my limbs until my toes were curling. Fuck, it had been so long since I’d felt that: my body coming around him, trying to draw him in, greedy for every commanding inch. I worried my heart might smash through my ribs with how hard it was beating.