I'm tempted to smack him, but I peel myself out—naked because that's still the law in our house, and clothes never survive Ben anyway.
The cold air kisses my skin, pulling my nipples into stiff peaks.
I drift toward the window with the city sprawling beyond the glass—jeweled towers blinking over the black expanse of Central Park.
I rub my arms, arch my back, and that's when I hear him behind me.
"Fuck..." His voice is rough, but not from sleep.
"What?" I say, biting back my grin. Then toss over my shoulder: "The skyline steal your thunder?"
Two strides and his body seals to mine, his bare chest solid against my back.
"Not even close. The skyline doesn't make me insane. Your ass, on the other hand..." He palms my butt-cheeks hard.
"Weren't we about to go somewhere?" I gasp, feeling his fingers digging in. "Or what happened to your meticulous plan?"
"Yeah, well, that changed the second you got up all naked and perfect, begging to be fucked against the glass,” he breathes.
Before I can say anything, he nudges my legs wider with his foot. Then he grabs my hips and draws me flush against him, over and over, teasing me through the fabric where I'm already wet for him.
My hands shoot behind my back, tug my fingers against the waistband of his boxers and his abs, and drag them down.
When he surges free, he drives his hips forward and slides right through my folds, but not inside.
A sharp gasp escapes me from the friction and I look down between my thighs at the thick, jutting length of him—the flushed head pulsing impatiently and dripping.
I stroke the head, smear the slick across my fingertip, and lift it to my mouth, savoring the taste of him.He's delicious... both sweet and salty in that way only he is...
He lets out a low rumble and I'm ready to turn around, take him in my mouth, but he moves back.
His right hand snakes around my throat—pressing hard tight enough to feel my pulse flutter beneath his fingers.
"Tell me—do you like this view?" he rasps into my ear, and his thumb hooks on my jaw, tilting my head down.
I instantly realize he doesn't mean the outside.
The night in combination with the glow from the corridor turned the glass into a mirror, and it's catching us clearly in its reflection.
We lock eyes in the window just as he breaches me, inhaling sharply together, and every muscle in me instantly pulls toward him, like my whole body is magnetized.
Then inch by inch, he pushes himself in until I have to rise onto the tips of my toes while he makes me watch my own body take him.
The stretch hits with that sharp-sweet ache my body loves so much.
I watch us moving together in the dark reflection—my hips tilting to meet him, his mouth near my ear, breath rough as he drives a slow, consuming grind into me, his free hand rolling my nipple between his fingers until fire flickers under my skin.
His eyes are locked on me in the glass, and there’s no question in them, just a raw claim. I belong to him and he knows it.
I will always belong to him—more than I belong to myself.
"Tell me," he breathes and dips his knees, lifting me with a deep upward thrust. "Do you?"
The sensation makes me whimper, clenching hard around him. "Yeah, I love this view. Really, really, love this view,” I gasp.
"Good answer, baby,” he says, and takes my chin between his fingers, turning my face toward him.
"Give me your tongue." He presses my chin down just enough for my lips to part, my mouth his to devour, and I flick my tongue out.
