"You shouldn't look so damn good in a bridesmaid's dress," he rasps. "You made me think very impure thoughts in thechurch."
I can't help it and lean into his touch, breathing heavily. "What thoughts?"
"Mm." His tone deepens. "Bending you over the altar and taking you raw in front of God, so everyone knows you're mine."
I swallow hard, the thought instantly coiling low in my belly, and nod. "Agreed. Very, very impure thoughts. You should hit the confessional."
He snorts a short, dark laugh. "It's useless. There's no salvation for me at this point."
He leans into me, brackets me, and his hand slides over my arm toward my palm.
It's on the faucet, the water still running, spilling over the brink, and it could run forever for all I care when he's finally touching me.
He shuts it off and his hand snakes to the front of my navel before he pulls me flush against him.
I feel his grip that's not rough but claiming and breathe heavily. "You know, you never asked if I'm on a pill."
"Mmmm. Are you?" he rasps against my skin.
"Shouldn't you care?"
"Shouldn't I care?" he says, dragging his lips over the slope of my neck. "I want nothing more than to put my baby in you. To watch it grow inside you."
I let out a muffled gasp.
"Would you want that?"
"I want nothing more than to carry something of you in me," I admit.
His palm moves to the nape of my neck, holding me tightly, steering me forward, and bending me over in one unhurried motion.
"Would you want me to make you one right here?" he asks.
The second my ass grazes the thick bulge in his pants, my knees buckle.
"Tell me, Emma, how much do you want me to fuck you over the sink right now?" His voice is dark and teasing.
I blink, stunned he said that, but I don't have time to think about it, because he drags his hand down my navel and then he presses it down on my clit and rubs with a slow, controlled rhythm that feels engineered to break me.
My hands land on the sink, gripping it, and I nod headily. "I want you..."
He hums low in his chest. "I think you deserve to be punished," he says, the pressure between my thighs increasing.
"Punished?" I barely breathe, feeling my arousal and trepidation warring within me.
I arch my back as much as I can, nearly breaking my back against his hand holding me down. "How?"
"You deserve to be edged for hours, begging for my cock."
Oh... he is really, really angry...
I moan, too needy and stupid. I can hear people talking down the hall and any second someone could come here. If his parents walked in on us, it would be beyond shameful.
But common sense evaporates around Ben, so I don't even try to pull away. So does his around me, because he doesn't let me go either, doesn't take a step back.
Instead, he continues to rub me over my clothes and his other hand takes mine and presses it on the rigid outline of his erection. "I think I'm the hardest I've ever been."
I palm him against his leg. His dress pants are so stuffed they are about to rip, and my mouth drops.
