“You feel. So good,” he said, eyes wide open as he looked down at me.
“So do you,” I told him.
I ran my nails lightly up his back, urging him on. His pupils edged out the ring of green around them as he pulled almost all the way out of me. He slid back in, slowly, driving me crazy. I could tell from his clenched jaw that he was being careful with me, holding back.
“Harder, Ben. I’m not a doll. I won’t break,” I told him.
He took me at my word, pulling out again and then driving into me, hitting part of my cervix when he was fully seated. I had never had this happen, only read about it. All the articles said it would either hurt, or be the best thing I’d ever felt. I was so turned on that I didn’t feel an ounce of pain, only bliss.
My eyes rolled back. “Oh my God, Ben. Right there.”
He kept one arm braced by the side of my head. The other dropped to my upper thigh. He squeezed it, holding me in place, and drove into me again. I hitched my hips up, needing more, and his hand moved further down, shoving beneath me so he could grab my ass and pull me closer. He lifted my hips clear off the bed, like I weighed nothing. I relished in the feeling of it, bracing my hands on the headboard to give myself more leverage as I met his next thrust.
He leaned down and dragged my earlobe into his mouth. “Ella,” he rumbled, then began to set a deliberate, driving pace.
I’d had sex. A decent amount of sex, I’d say. But Ben was by far the largest man I’d been with, and the feel of him sliding so deep was different than anything else I’d ever experienced. He brushed along my cervix with every stroke. Soon a pressure began to build within me. Instead of pleasure being centered around my clit, like it usually was, it felt like this stimulation was coming from much deeper, somewhere past even he could reach.
He picked up the pace slightly, his lips dropping to my neck, his fingers gripping my ass. My breathing gained a rough edge. The muscles of my thighs started to shake. Beads of sweat formed along the back of my neck.
Holy hell, what was he doing to me?
“Ben,” I said, tone full of warning because I was actually a little concerned about what was about to happen.
My muscles clenched around him deliciously.
He shuddered and slowed.
“What are you doing? Please don’t stop.”
He pushed into me, teeth scraping over the skin of my neck. “I’m really close, Ella.”
I shivered beneath him. “So am I.”
“Where do you want me to come?”
“Inside me. I want to feel you.”
He pulled halfway out and slammed into me. My spine arched off the bed. The moan that slipped through my teeth was close to a whimper.
The pressure was unbearable now.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Do that again.”
He thrust into me again. I had to clench my jaw shut to keep from screaming.
“Look at me, Ella.”
I stared up at him as he drove into me. His brows drew down in concentration, even as his lips lifted in a lopsided grin. The sight made me wish I’d never closed my eyes.
“Again,” I said.
We found our pace together, faster than before. Harder than before. Our breaths turned ragged. Within me, the pressure reached a crescendo.
He thrust into me one final time, and my orgasm hit so hard that I nearly blacked out. My entire body seized up around him, thighs gripping his sides, inner muscles clenching so hard he could barely move. It was like every single cell of my being came at the same time. I now understand why the French called thisla petite mort,the little death. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever felt so alive, or so close to dying.
“Fuck. Ella,” Ben said.
