"They'll know," I manage on a broken moan.
“Let.”Thrust. “Them.“Thrust. “Know.”Thrust.
A jolt ricochets up my spine, each snap sharper than thelast, dragging me tighter around him, and I cry out, "More..."
Ben gives it to me instantly, the next thrust so hard I slap the mattress again. Lightning-fire shoots through my whole body. I nearly break my neck as I twist it so he can kiss me. He takes my mouth, kissing, biting, invading, and then—
CRACK.
The bed gives way beneath us, the whole frame collapsing. Ben falls forward as we hit the floor, the staggering drop driving him so deep I let out a keening wail. His hand shoots out, muffling the sound at the last second, but it's still loud enough to echo through the otherwise silent house.
My release slams over me like a tsunami and my body arches back hard as my nails carve down his thighs—his whole body pressed to mine, shaking through an endless spasm. Then Ben empties himself—pulse after thick pulse, spilling through clenched, broken groans.
Can you hear colors? I swear I hear red. It's roaring in my ears. The room goes liquid, spinning. My body melts.
That... was... insane.
When the wave dwindles, the whole room smells of sex and ruin.
"Emma, are you okay?" Ben rasps when his body relaxes, then clears his throat. "Did I hurt you?"
"Not sure," I say, voice thin. That's all I manage.
His tone quickly recalibrates to serious and he strokes my hair off my face to look at me properly. "Are you hurt?" he asks again, back to his softer self now.
"Yeah," I manage, still smashed into his pillow. "My dignityis. I'm not seeing your family again—I'm leaving."
"It's okay, baby," he says and presses a soft kiss on my shoulder. "They didn't hear you."
"I told you your bed wouldn't survive you," I mutter and shake my head as I scowl at him. "Neither will I. I need to train my body to say fuckingnoaround you."
He laughs under his breath and pulls out carefully, but I swear I can still feel him there.
"Guess we should have taken it to the floor," he jokes, still breathy, and wipes sweat from his forehead and my back. "We got a little carried away."
"A little?" I flop to the side, delirious, and give him a sharp look. "You transcended my cervix. I think I heard your thoughts in my head, how far you were."
A short laugh escapes him again as he sits on the edge of the bed. "And? Did you hear it was all you in my head?"
I just pull a face, even though he better be saying more of those things now.
"I'm sorry, baby," he says. "I'll make it up to you. A massage. Brunch in bed. I'll carry you everywhere. A whole day."
"A day?!" I snap at that absurd offer because hell no. My eyes narrow. "You owe me a month. At least."
His brows draw together, but he's fighting a laugh. "A month? Now you’re just milking it."
"I can't milk anything. You broke my hips," I shoot back.
He rolls his eyes, but smiles and runs his hand over my hip. "Fine. You know I'd do anything for you anyway."
"And I'm filing acomplaint anyway," I add with lips pursed.
He tuts and smacks my ass in mock-discipline, then smooths his hand over it like I'm suddenly delicate.
"I don't know what they fed you as a kid, but it should be banned. No man should have this kind of stamina," I mutter.
"You didn't seem to mind," he says, his voice curling around the words. He laughs under his breath again. "My baby bird roaring."
