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What is going on with me?
The sound of Ben shifting causes my eyes to fly back open. He hovers over me, bracing his elbows on either side of my head. The kiss he brushes over my lips is unhurried and reassuring.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I sigh. “You were staring at me. Like, really staring. I don’t think anyone has ever done that before.”
His nose rubs against mine before he whispers in my ear, “I was staring because I think you’re sexy and beautiful. I want to memorize every single inch of you.” He comes back to kiss me again, working slowly, hinting at how skilled he is with his mouth.
My discomfort fades, replaced with need. I sneak my hands up under his shirt to feel the shifting of muscles in his back.
Ben rocks against me, his jeans rough on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Everywhere our bodies touch is a source of raw pleasure. The heat of his arousal amplifies the scent of his pine-needle soap.
He breaks away from the kiss, panting. The desire in his dark green eyes turns my insides up a couple hundred degrees.
This man knows how to preheat my oven.
“You’re a master at getting me hot and bothered. You know that?” I’m gasping, too, my lungs demanding I breathe him in.
His answering grin is boyish, full of happy excitement. “Really?”
Instead of answering, I grab his face and demand more scalding kisses. When we pause for another breather, I give him a gentle push down south. “Okay, hotshot, show me what you’ve got.”
On his way down, Ben takes a pit stop, pulling aside the collar of my shirt and the cup of my bra, so he can run a thumb over my nipple. When I moan, he glances up at me, the corner of his mouth curling.
“Mmm. Missed these.” After another swipe with his thumb, he leans down to suck the tight bud into his mouth. The rough surface of his tongue is almost too much sensation, dragging a cry from the back of my throat.
My fingers tangle in his russet hair as my back bows off the bed.
He lets me go with a wet pop, and I whimper at the loss of contact. Ben chuckles and then moves lower.
First, he uses his fingers, tracing them down my hips and through my curls until the pad of his thumb reaches my sweet spot. When he gives my clit a gentle rub, the sound I let out is a mixture of a gasp and a purr. It’s intoxicating—being with a man who not only knows that my clit exists, but also knows exactly how to caress her.
“You like that? Want me to give you more?” His voice has gone low and dirty, and he firmly massages his thumb in a circular motion.
“Don’t stop … oh God …”
As his one hand works, the fingers of his other explore. They run over my opening, teasing and searching. A groan flows out of me as he continues his steady rhythm. He blows on me, and I jerk in surprise. The shock of cool air contrasting with his warm thumb has me writhing.
Then, I get his hot tongue. Ben licks me like I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream, and I come to believe I’m just as delicious. His fingers spread me wide before he pushes that teasing tongue inside me.
My hips buck involuntarily, and I realize my heels are digging into his shoulders, urging him closer. Demanding he go harder.
But he just keeps to the same pace, slow and insanity-inducing.
Normally, I’m pretty quiet during sex, concentrating on finishing, usually by playing out some fantasy in my head that turns me on more than the guy I’m with. But I’m fully present in this moment with Ben, and he has me gasping and almost laughing in the sheer joy of the moment.
Even though my body is shaking out of my control, I’ve never been more comfortable. Ben is my safe place He holds me steady, so I can let go.
My cheeks prickle and go numb. My fingers and toes curl, my whole body clenching, tensing, getting ready for the snap of a release. I’m light-headed and panting.
“Ben, please!”
My begging must be what he wants because he finally presses harder and moves faster.
Three … two … one.
The cliff edge comes, and I fall off, calling out his name. My muscles pulse with pleasure, finally releasing all that delightful tension.
