Ben goes still as his eyes go serious, giving away he's battling whether to be honest.
"Come on," I say, coaxing. "Tell me. What is it?"
"Alright," he says firmly before looking me in the eyes with sudden intensity. "Sometimes I think about being so deep inside you, you'll beg me to stop and I wouldn't be able to. Because I wouldn't even hear you, still trying to get closer."
I blink at him too hard while he doesn't look away and doesn't say anything else.
"Okay..." I manage then, breathy. "You're a little unhinged, aren't you?"
"For you? Yeah. You have no idea. You fuck up my mind like no one else."
He sets me on the counter, his palm sliding up my back, gentling at the base of my head. "You're chaos. I'm chaos. But...I'd never hurt you, you know that." He presses his forehead on mine, eyes steady. "I also see you in white sheets, in the morning light, kissing your gorgeous body everywhere. I want both."
Really, what does a woman do when she finds herself a man this unholy-perfect?
She's about to drop to her knees and blow his mind.
I slide down in front of him and take off his tee. Then trail my lips down his chest, over the taut plane of his lower belly, breathing him in—my cedar, my bergamot, my god kissed in Roman sun. Just the scent of him is my aphrodisiac.
"You wore these in the store that day..." I say, tugging at the knot of his waistband. "And all I could think about was tasting you right between the aisles."
He hums thickly, eyes locked on my hands. "Guess I knew why I should stock the kitchen. Consider that an invitation."
I give him a playful smirk just as the knot gives and his pants pool by his feet, exposing him in his white boxers, already straining the fabric. There's a big, wet spot on it from his arousal.
I sink to the floor, the cold tiles hard beneath my knees, but I don't care. All I care about is finally tasting him. I wanted to do this since our first night, but it's not something I'd do publicly.
The second I kneel in front of him, he crouches for my access since he is so tall. His finger dips into the hollow of my upper lip, and his eyes hood with that molten heat.
"You've no idea how much I dreamed about those lips on me—that philtrum."
"That philtrum," I echo, smirking. It still does the job.
I drag my tongue along the thick line of him through the boxers, then slide them down.
The moment he's out, he drops heavily against my lips—hard, hot, and beautifully engorged.
He's gorgeous, veins like lines and ridges carved with obscene precision. No wonder he's so cocky all the time.
I flatten my tongue and look up at him just as I run it slowly from the base to the tip, tasting his skin, then licking the bead coating the head.
I love the taste of him... I could eat him all day.
He takes in a sharp breath, watching me intently as I give him a tight stroke, drawing more slick. Then I close my lips around the head and suck deep enough that a blissed gasp tears out of him.
His hand tangles in my hair and he starts feeding himself to me, guiding me inch by inch, testing how much of him my mouth can take.
I know I won’t be able to take all of him; he’s not even halfway in and my throat is already tightening around the thick length, forcing its way deeper.
I’m shocked my gag reflex hasn’t kicked in, but my body’s just as turned on as I am, judging by the aching heat already pooling between my thighs.
He starts with shallow thrusts, then deeper, but I’m too greedy. I work my mouth along him, licking, sucking until my jaw aches, drawing out those needy, rough moans Ben makes when he's on edge.
I need it recorded, put it on a loop...
"Don't break your jaw, baby," he rasps, thumb stroking my cheek. "I want to kiss it later."
That smug-ass.I glare up, mouth full of him, and when he notices my expression, hunger quickly sharpens into obsession.
