I come to consciousness already on the edge, his tongue working my clit while two fingers thrust inside me. The pleasure is sharp and sudden, cutting through the fog of sleep like a knife.
“Ben.” His name comes out garbled, slurred. My hand finds his hair, gripping tight.
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my oversensitive body. His fingers curl, finding that spot, and I’m coming before I’m fully awake. The orgasm crashes through me, sudden and sharp, pulling a broken cry from my throat.
He doesn’t stop. Works me through it and keeps going, adding a third finger, stretching me wider. The overstimulation borders on pain but I don’t care. Can’t care. Just need more, always more.
“One more,” he murmurs against my pussy, his breath hot on my sensitive flesh. “Come on my tongue one more time, then I’ll give you my cock.”
I shake my head. Can’t. Too much. But my body has other ideas, already climbing again under his relentless attention.
“You can.” He sucks my clit into his mouth, fucks me faster with his fingers. “This greedy pussy can take it. Come on, Tessa. Soak my face. I want to taste it.”
I come so hard I forget to breathe. White-hot pleasure, my whole body convulsing, slick gushing out around his fingers. He groans and drinks it down like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
Then he’s climbing up my body, positioning himself, pushing inside in one smooth thrust.
The stretch is everything I needed. I’m so sensitive that every inch of his cock feels like a revelation, like being taken apart and put back together. He bottoms out and stills, giving me a moment to adjust, and I can feel him throbbing inside me.
“Okay?” he checks, voice strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod. More than okay. Perfect.
He starts to move. Slow at first, but building quickly. He knows I’m already close again, knows my body is primed and ready to shatter. He doesn’t make me wait.
“Gonna knot this pussy,” he says, speeding up. “Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping with my come. You want that? Want me to breed this needy little hole?”
I nod frantically. Want it more than I can say.
“Say it.” His voice is rough, demanding. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want it.” My voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. “Want your knot. Please, Ben. Fill me up.”
“Good girl.”
He speeds up, chasing his own release now. His knot is swelling, stretching me wider with each thrust, catching at my rim. The pressure builds and builds until it’s almost unbearable, until I’m right on the edge of too much.
Then it pops inside me, and we both cry out.
I feel him coming. Feel every pulse and throb as he fills me with his release. My own orgasm hits like an aftershock, weaker but still devastating, rolling through me in waves. We shake together, locked tight, riding it out.
Ours. This is ours.
“Fuck,” he breathes when it’s finally over, collapsing onto his forearms above me. “Tessa. God.”
I don’t have words. Just press my face into his neck and breathe him in. Leather and musk and something that’s just Ben. Home.
The waves are getting further apart.
I notice it dimly, somewhere in the back of my heat-fogged brain. More time between the desperate awakenings. Longer stretches of actual sleep instead of just passing out.
“You’re doing so good.” Milo’s voice, soft in the darkness. “Almost over, sweetheart.”
Almost over.
The words should bring relief. Instead, my chest tightens. Fear, maybe. Or sadness.
What happens when this ends? What happens when I can think clearly again?
