My head whips forward, eyes rolling so high I think they can still see him. One by one, my nerves start melting, threatening to burst out of me.
"Please, Ben. Please..." I'm begging, digging my nails into his arm.
I say it, but my body begs for more.
"If you keep moaning like that, I'm never going to stop," he says, breath ragged.
Two of his fingers dart inside, thrusting in and out, in and out—rapidly, mercilessly—the squelching sounds he pulls out of me drawing out my orgasm higher.
The hot surge comes fast, more violent than anything I felt before.
Then his fingers slip out, and he yanks my hips back, burying his tongue deep inside me as he squeezes my pulsing clit. I instantly disintegrate.
"BEN...!"
I cry, sob his name, and convulse in quake after quake, not in control of my body, while he holds me there.
The sensation is so strong that I pitch forward, my head about to slam the tile, except Ben's hand catches me, protects me from harm. He anchors me to the ground while I lose it.
Hundreds of blue stars explode, maybe thousands.
I must have hit the water, or it's behind my eyes, because I'm a tipped jar of fireflies gone rogue.
I've never, ever, experienced anything like that.
It takes me a moment to calm down my breathing and realize where I am.
When I finally turn, Ben's braced above me, running a hand over his damp jaw and smiling at me like he's tasted the apex of life.
"Told you you're my favorite flavor in the world. No way I was stopping mid-taste."
"I'm... I'm going to strangle you," I rasp, my thighs involuntarily shaking. "Or never let you go. Haven't decided yet. What the hell was that?"
He licks his lips slowly. "That was Italian lovers: one. You: undone."
My brow lifts. "Really? You're still holding a grudge from the desert? Waiting all this time for your triumphant moment?"
He rolls one shoulder in a lazy shrug, biting back his grin. "Maybe. I told you we're built to worship."
"No. It's you," I say, my look turning feral as I wind my hands around his neck and pull him down. "And I'm not leaving until you fuck me."
He pauses, surprised. "Raunchy. For you."
Then his voice sinks, velvety and guttural: “I wasn’t leaving until I made your legs shake so hard you’d have to crawl to me for the next one."
His arms slide under me and he rises while I'm lifted into his arms like I weigh nothing.
He carries me to the red lounge bed, sets me down gently, and slowly peels out of his jeans. And then he's out.
Damn.I didn't expect this magnitude.Should have.
He's not just huge. He's phenomenal—thick, ridged, pulsing with veins that strain under flushed skin, the tip dripping like he's already thought about wrecking me.
My body clenches just from looking at him.
He settles between my thighs, eyes consuming every inch of me, like he's imprinting the image of my naked body into him.
The head slowly drags through my slick—teasing, catching on my entrance with every pass until my hips twitch on instinct.
