A visible shiver rips through our bodies as I cry out. He crashes his mouth into mine, like he wants to swallow the proof of my undoing, and then—he roars. A raw sound that echoes off the walls and pours straight into me as the throb of him inside becomes overwhelming, almost violent.
The shock of his release triggers mine, my body clenching around him. Ben grunts again and slows, his hips rolling through the final pulses until we're both shaking in the aftershock.
We collapse against the glass, his forehead dropping against my shoulder as he fights for breath. Meanwhile, my legs barely hold. My whole body feels liquid.
He pulls out with a slick sound, the warm spill of him running down my thigh, like evidence of what he did, how much he has, how completely he came apart in me.
Before I can breathe, he drags it up my thigh with the tip, gathering everything at my entrance—and he thrusts it back into me to the hilt.
"Stay full of me," he rasps a command to my body, working it into every tight inch inside.
A broken gasp tears from me, half-shock, half-need.
I should say something, laugh, or complain at what he keeps doing to my insides.
Ben wraps his hands around me and walks us backward, still buried inside, when he sits us on the edge of the bed.
He leans back on his hands, gaze burning through me, telling me without words it's my turn to ruin him.
We turn our heads at each other and I start moving on him, feeling him filling me in all the sore places that should rest, and the realization hits me: I'm crazy too. Crazy enough to want more, even though I won't be able to walk as he predicted.
Mad enough to ask him to break me in the way only he can.
How could I ever resist him when he looks like this—hair undone, that wicked spark in his eyes. His mouth is red and swollen, carrying the memory of me biting his lips back.
He palms my breast as I start moving against him again, then glances at his watch and rasps, "Shit, we don't actually havetime."
I stop and twist toward him with hair sticking on all my sides, my face flushed. "So this wasn't your only grandiose surprise?"
He looks at me like I'm the one who undid him, then hauls me to my feet by my hips and stands himself.
Before I can take a single step, he hoists me over his shoulder like a doll, arm locked around my aching thighs.
I try to kick playfully, but he only locks his grip.
"Put me down, caveman," I protest, laughing despite myself.
"Not a chance. You'll run," he says, walking with me across the hall.
"You're going to drop me," I whine, pinching his ass.
"Not in this lifetime." He smacks my butt-cheek, then plants a gentle kiss over it when I yelp. "Shower. Then we go. No more dawdling."
I think he means airport, suitcases, the inevitablearrivederciwedged like glass in my chest, but when we make it to the elevator, I realize we're going up.
"Rooftops again?" I arch my brow, and he pulls my hoodie over my damp hair. "Thought we'd graduated from that."
"Rooftops will always be our thing," he says, half a grin pulling at his mouth, and threads his hand around mine like a knot. "There's one more thing I want to do before you leave."
When the rooftop doors swing open, night air rushes around us—the kind that smells crispy and exciting.
Ben pulls me out with him, tethered by our joined hands.
Below us, the city that never sleeps lives up to its reputation—horns bleating, trains exhaling.
Up here, it's hushed, the sky stretched like a slab of onyx pricked with fire. As if someone had taken a pin and punctured holes until the darkness bled starlight.
I freeze, making him halt beside me. "What? How is this possible? Stars in New York?"
