What do I want?
I want to talk about books and disagree over how to interpret an article and steal heated glances while we do so. I want to sit in comfortable silence and feel valued just for existing in the same space as them. I want to bemoreto someone, not because I play a perfect role in the life they’ve created, but because I’m simply enough for them just the way I am. I want to feel like the person I’m with is more interested in the thoughts swirling inside my head than thoughts swirling around in the ether about me, about us.
This all-consuming look leaves little room for interpretation. I know that if I leaned forward just an inch and angled my head slightly down and to the right; if I placed my free hand on his chest and pressed my lips against his, it’d take all his strength not to kiss me back.
What do I want?
I want Ben to kiss me, now.
Logic evaporates from any part of my being as I lean forward, angling my head toward him. I watch his sharp intake of breath as he registers the move, but that’s all he does. Like the ball is in my court. And I guess it is because this is aboutwhat I want. He is asking me what I want because it matters to him.
“What do you want, Olivia?” he almost whispers, his lips barely moving, his body frozen besides the way his chest rises and falls.
“I think you know what I want,” I say, secretly hoping I’m right.
I catch the mischievous glint in his eyes just before he closes the distance between us.
When his lips touch mine it’s feather soft, like he’s memorizing every line on my mouth with his. My eyes fall shut the moment his hand slides through my hair from the nape of my neck, and I feel the reverberations of it everywhere. He’s barely touched me and I’m buzzing with anticipation, internally begging him for more.
Like he senses this, he kisses me deeply, his tongue sliding and twirling with mine, his other hand slowly descending from my collar bone to my breast. His hand cups me, lightly caressing me there, coiling whatever was heating in my core earlier tighter.
“Is this okay, Liv?” he asks against my mouth, pausing only long enough to register my vigorous nodding.
“Yes,” I manage to express between kisses, his lips and tongue moving with mine in perfect harmony. It almost feels unreal— like I’m dreaming this, his touch so intoxicating in this moment that it must be a figment of my overactive imagination. I can taste the hints of cinnamon in the tea I gave him earlier, the mintiness of his toothpaste, andhim. It invades my senses as I kiss him, this almost feral need to be as close as I can to his very essence. I restraddle him, subtly rubbing against him,satisfaction coursing through me when I feel how affected he is. I reach for his belt buckle at the exact moment that his hands grasp my hips, rolling me against him before adeptly laying me back. He’s above me now, grinning down at me with those kiss swollen lips.
“This still okay, Olivia?” he asks, with a seriousness in his tone despite the ravenous look in his eye.
“Please stop talking, Ben,” I beg him before pulling him to me. Strong arms rest on either side of me, the beautifully corded muscles of his forearm barely twitching as he holds himself above me. His lips traverse the expanse that is me, with kisses that feel like the softest kindling, leaving warm, stirring fire in their wake. When he gets to the part of me that needs him most, sliding my pants off and tossing them on the floor, it’s all I can do not to levitate off my bed. His hand splays against my lower stomach, keeping me in place while he pulls me apart, his fingers moving in perfect tandem with his tongue. Just when that coil couldn’t be spun any tighter, stars erupt in my vision, sparks skitter across my skin, I pulse with the most infatuating sense of pleasure and I come apart.
I sit slightly up on my forearms, catching Ben’s gaze just as he licks his lips, and I’m already pulsing again with insatiable need. Never did I ever think I’d be on the receiving end of this kind of pleasure; again— books, movies, but not me. He presses sensuous kisses back up my body, his hands gripping and caressing me, my hands gripping and caressing him, until his lips are whispering in my ear.
“Tell me to stop, Liv.” And while something in my brain holds up a warning sign, waves it in the air, screams at me to pause, I simply don’t want to.
“Don’t stop.” I feel his smile against my ear before he sits up and pulls off his crewneck. We peel off our clothing, his fingers caressing my ribcage as he pulls my sweater up my torsoand over my head. Those same fingers make quick work of my balconette bra, tugging my underwear off, his eyes on mine, before suddenly pausing.
I breathe in sharply, literally naked under his gaze. His teeth worry his bottom lip, and I watch him swallow.
“You can’t be real, Olivia.” A slow smile spreads over my face as his mouth comes back down to me, claiming my mouth, his hand gently gripping my waist, the other settling between us.
“Ben, it really won’t happen again,” I insist, despite feeling myself spun tighter and tighter with every touch.
“Is that a challenge?” he growls against my ear, and I feel his mouth upturn in a knowing smile.
“No, I—” I gasp, his fingers reaching that spot deep inside me, before retreating. “Again,” I demand, but I know I’m not in control here.
“Patience, Liv.” He coaxes me open, his kiss consuming me and driving me even further toward the edge. My hands slide against his skin, now slick with a thin layer of sweat, exploring each dip and hard line of his chest the way I wanted to that day in his apartment. His hands roam, tracing circles and rubbing gently against every sensitive spot I know anddon’tknow on my body. I hear a rip and he reaches between us again, and I silently, irrationally wish he wouldn’t put anything between us. He captures my mouth again, bracing his hand on my left hip, his other on the bed as he lines himself up against me. I feel him already, and the anticipation itself is enough to send me over the edge.
And then he’s inside me, and I’m so full of him, so completely connected to him, and I know I will never not want this. Never not need this. It’s intoxicating, euphoric,perfect.His forehead rests against mine as we breathe in tandem, everything about us so perfectly in sync in this moment. His lips move to my neck the moment my body wishes they were there, and his hand reachesbehind me, sliding down my back before aggressively claiming me the second my mind asks for it.
“Ben, I’m?—”
“I know,” he says, and of course he does.
This time, I don’t just come apart— I shatter. I dig into his shoulders, the feeling almost unbearable, when I feel him go rigid beneath me, the euphoric strain of his climax painted on his face. My release intensifies and I kiss him, desperate to be connected in every way, until I feel him relax above. He rolls to his back, taking me with him, my head resting on his chest, and I hear his heart beating.
Nothing has ever been this perfect, I think to myself as I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.
“I guess I can see why you have a reputation,” is the first thing I think to say out loud when it seems both of our heart rates have stabilized as we lay side by side in my bed. I feel Ben freeze in an instant and I turn to look at him. “It was a joke, Ben,” I add, slightly annoyed that he can’t just indulge my humor.
