I slipped my arms out of the top and Ben pulled the material down to my hips. I reached down to untie my heels that were laced up my calf so I could slide the outfit off easier, but Ben grabbed my wrist.
“Please, for the love of all that is holy, leave the shoes on.”
My fingers paused on the laces, and I glanced up, watching him take in my legs with a heated gaze.
“I want to fuck you in these.” His hand wrapped around my calf, squeezing it before moving all the way up my leg to the bunched-up material at my hips.
“Lift up,” he said, smirking. I braced my hands on the counter and lifted, so he could wiggle my romper and thong over the curve of my ass.
His fingers brushed lightly down my calf, untangling the material from my heels before letting it drop to the floor at our feet.
“Mm,” he moaned. “Much better.” He gazed down at my entrance, like he was contemplating what he wanted to do with me next.
I grinned at him mischievously. “You think you’re in charge here, O’Connor?” I asked, trying to regain some control.
“Only when you allow me to be, princess,” he answered, his lips brushing across my collarbone. The heat of his breath washed over my skin, making my core clench with need.
“Good. You know your place,” I said a little breathlessly, my insides tying themselves in knots.
He quirked a brow at me, reaching behind my back and unhooking my bra with a practiced flick of his fingers. He grunted, watching me slip it off.
“My place?” He gave me a cocky grin. “My place is on my knees, wringing every ounce of pleasure I can get out of you. Until you’re writhing and panting. Until you can’t take any more and you let me find my own release.”
He kneeled in front of me, gripping beneath my knees and pulling me towards the counter’s edge. His mouth was on me in an instant. His eyes seared into mine as his tongue drove into me, a whimper slipping past my lips that were still parted in surprise from his words.
What he just said was possibly the sexiest thing I had ever heard.
I pressed myself against him harder, my fingers trailing through his hair as his tongue drew lines of pleasure from the top of my slit to my entrance.
“Holy shit, Ben,” I gasped as he flicked his tongue over me in a quick rhythm that had my toes curling in bliss.
His tongue swept through my center again before his fingers plunged back into me. He curled them up into my inner walls, stroking in a concentrated rhythm. I was breathless and quivering as he studied me. Extracting his fingers, he used the arousal pooling around them to coat my clit and then inserted a third finger.
“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded from his knees, his lips ghosting over the inside of my thigh—back and forth—as he watched. “How does it feel when I fuck you with my fingers like this?”
“It feels like...” I breathed in sharply as his lips closed around my clit and he started sucking. “Oh my God.” His fingers were picking up their pace and my mind was emptying itself of anything comprehensible. “Cielo,” I breathed.
His mouth left my clit. “Cielo?” he asked. “I don’t know that one.”
“Heaven. It feels like heaven. I’ll give you Spanish lessons later. Now stop fucking talking and put that mouth to better use,” I choked out, unable to stop myself from squirming under Ben’s stare.
He smiled wickedly, and I gripped the hair at the back of his head, guiding him back down to me.
My core tightened as his fingers pumped into me before curling up into that perfect spot, resuming his slow, methodical rhythm. His tongue swirled over my clit, flicking back and forth lightly until I was pressing him hard against me, demanding more. He obliged, latching onto my clit and intensifying the speed of his fingers. The sensation snowballing toward a pleasure so vivid and acute that I cried out as my orgasm exploded around me.
“Holy fucking shit,” Ben mumbled from between my thighs before using his tongue to devour me with fervor. I pushed him away when he reached my clit, oversensitized after the mind-blowing orgasm he’d just given me. I was still reeling.
“No more,” I panted. “Not yet. I can’t.”
He rose from his knees, eyeing me with something close to wonder. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed, gliding my hands—still a little shaky as I came down from the high of my climax—up his stomach and through his light dusting of chest hair. “You said that last time, too.”
He skated his fingers up my spine and back down again, chuckling as my breath caught in my throat and goosebumps rose on my flesh. “I meant what I said,” he said, opening a drawer to my right.
The drawer was full of things that didn’t have any specific place. A spot where randomly found screws, rubber bands, paper clips, business cards, batteries, receipts, notepads, and pens went to die. But then he pulled out a condom.
My eyebrow lifted. “Why do you have a condom in your kitchen drawer?”
