“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “That feels so good. Please don’t stop, please, Dion, please…”
Another half-finished sentence swallowed by moans, and it sends an electric shock straight to my pussy, making my muscles clench tight.
“I don’t want to stop,” I say simply as I slide my hand into his underwear and much to my surprise, I also moan when I touch the smooth taut skin of his cock.
“Oh, God. Oh,God.” He throws his head back and I find my eyes staring at the curve of his neck. It’s impossible to resist so I press up on my toes and kiss the warm skin there, surprised by how delicate it feels, and how rapidly his pulse thumps against my tongue.
“Don’t move,” I grit out against his skin as I push his boxers down with my other hand. I take my mouth off his throat only to look down and spit on the bright red head of his dick. When that helps me move my grip up and downhis length, I return to nibbling, licking, kissing his neck and he returns to mumbled curse words and moans.
Suddenly, out of nowhere he grips my forearm tightly and pulls it away from his body.
“Stop!” he grits out. “I don’t… I don’t want to come yet. Fuck, I was so close.”
“I know, and I’ll take you there again. I’ll take you there and beyond,” I say between kisses. “We’ve got all night before this is over.”
His entire body stills and it’s almost like his temperature drops. “What?”
I pull back. “Tonight,” I say. “The night is yet young.”
“No, not that, about this being…over?”
“Well, yeah,” I say, searching his blue eyes to look for more than the horror staring back at me. “This is just sex.”
He pushes my hand further away from him. “No, it’s not,” he says quietly but firmly. “It’s not just sex for me. I liked you fifteen years ago. I like you now.”
“And I like you.” I try to touch his body again but he keeps me at a distance. With his other hand he yanks his underwear up his body and tucks his penis away.
“No, I likelikeyou. Like, I used to go to sleep thinking about you. Like I know I’ll do the same tonight, or rather, tomorrow, and many nights after that.”
“Oh,” I say, uselessly.
“Don’t you feel the same?”
I scoff lightly. “Whether I feel the same or not, is irrelevant. We’d never work. I hardly know the person you are now and you have no idea who I am. I’m not even the same gender!”
“I do know you.” He squares his shoulders. “I know that you are creative and contemplative. That you don’t let just anybody get close to you, but when you do you’re loyal andprotective of those you care about. I know that you put your family first, before everything. I know that you’re incredibly talented at what you do, and that you have a knack for saying the right thing. At least to me.”
Lucky guesses, I tell myself to stop my legs from buckling at such a speech. “Well, I don’t know you,” I say, although I can taste my own hesitation in the words.
Benji’s hand slides down to hold mine. “Then get to know me. Let’s go for coffee, dinner, to the cinema, whatever. Date me.”
“Wouldn’t you rather fuck me?”
“No, actually, I wouldn’t. And trust me, I want to do that more than I can iterate, but what I want more than one night with you — much, much more — is a future with you.”
And just like that, I’m silenced. My head is empty of responses and my thoughts evaporate into thin air.
“Do you want that too?” Benji prompts.
It’s like he’s offering me a bunch of flowers, a bouquet of roses but just as I reach for them, a thorn snags one of my fingers bringing pain and panic and blood.
“I can’t have that with you,” I tell him slowly. “Not after what you said.”
Benji looks utterly forlorn. “But I don’t remember. Please, Dion. Please tell me what I said. I need to know. I want to say sorry, but I need to know what I’m saying sorry for.”
The knot between my legs tightens itself again, gathering more heat and more twists and turns. It seems even him begging to apologise does it for me. But that’s not the only physical sensation I have. My heart also swells, with hope, with desire, with want for something more than I’ve let myself have before.
And so, I tell him.
