‘Put your hands above your head.’
My arms move almost of their own volition, the skin on the back of my hands hot against the cool wall. He doesn’t move, the only point of contact between us his hands now resting around my neck, his thumb lightly brushing the rapid beat of my pulse. His lips touch my forehead as he presses one hand against mine while his other cups my breast.
‘Are you wet?’
‘Please.’ My response sounds so needy as Ben presses his lips to my ear.
‘I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer it.’
‘You could always find out for yourself.’
This is madness. This isn’t me. Yet I feel I’m wired to resist to the maximum. To drive him mad—to make him want me as much as I want him.
In an instant, Ben’s hands move, pulling the fabric of my skirt roughly up my thighs, pulling it so hard, my ass bounces against the wall and the stitching splits. Once it’s rucked around my waist, he shoves his big hands down the back of my silky panties, squeezing my ass as though it belongs to him.Squeezing it. Needing it. Stretching the cheeks apart.
‘Last chance, sweetheart,’ he says, his fingers teasing the thin strip of fabric between my legs.’ Tell me how wet you are, or I’m going to shove my fingers inside you so hard and for so long, you’ll think they belong there.’
‘That sounds like an incentive.’
‘You’re sure?’ The low timbre of his voice is enough to send shivers across my skin without what he says next. ‘Because that’s just the beginning.’
Instantly, two rough fingers press inside me without any preamble, thrusting deep inside, causing me to cry out. Ben kisses me hard then, swallowing my whimpers as he works those fingers inside me again and again. Two fingers become three as he murmurs a quiethushinto my mouth, his fingers swiping through my shameful wetness to bring moisture against my clit. He begins to pet and touch, all the while my insides clench emptily.
‘Please, Ben,’ I whisper. ‘I need you.’ I push my body against his hand, wanting the rough feel of his fingers inside me. But he doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t let up. In my desperation to take control, I begin to lower my hands when he catches them, pressing them back in place, entwining his fingers with mine as he braces himself with his forearm. My whole body draws upwards as he presses his mouth over the thin material of my blouse, his teeth finding my nipple tight and taut immediately. Pinned by his hands at both ends and captured by his teeth, I begin to come undone, my orgasm crawling through me and gathering like a summer storm. Up on my toes, I chase the sensation, whimpering and thrashing, trying to pull him to me. I forget about Mel for the moment, forget about propriety and the upper hand. The abandonment feels so erotic, it takes my breath away.
‘I can smell you,’ he rasps. ‘Your tight little pussy is desperate for my cock.’
The noises I make in response aren’t exactly a denial.
‘And you’ll get it. After I taste you. After I bury myself in your sweet perfume.’ I gasp at his dirty words, the images blooming and bursting just my orgasm begins to crest, growing and expanding, forcing my legs wider and my body lower as I begin to flex against his hand.
‘Fuck, look at you, riding my hand.’ His words cease to have meaning or make sense as I begin to whimper and thrash, my insides pulsing emptily. I want to use my hands, to scrape and scratch, to pull him to the floor, to fill myself. But despite the images filling my head, I can do nothing but stay pinned like a butterfly, trapped by his attentions.
As the realisation dawns, my orgasm takes over.
‘Ben, I need—’
—what he gives me as he thrusts three long fingers in deep.
‘That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck my fingers. Fuck them hard,’ he growls, pressing his thumb to my oversensitive clit. ‘Before I take you upstairs and fuck your mouth.’
With one final thrust, I undulate against him as I come thoroughly undone.
Chapter 15
BEN
If Nell is concerned about Melody disturbing us, she doesn’t show it as she rests her head against my chest. Her breathing has settled as I stroke my fingers the length of her narrow back. More importantly, for the possibility of discovery, my fingers are coated in her cooling essence and she’s wearing her skirt as a belt. I love that none of it matters to her right now. Love how in to us she is.
Not us. There isn’t an us.
How intothisshe is.
‘Sweetheart, you okay?’ I place my lips on her head, sensing rather than seeing her answer in a deeply satisfied breath.
When Melody was small, she had a favourite book about a princess who didn’t want to marry a prince, experiencing the best kind of adventures instead. With her chestnut curls wildly coiling around her face and an expression that’s part naughty, part sleepily satisfied, Nell could be the grown-up and incredibly sexy version of the character from this book.
Tipping her head back, she appears to be examining me. ‘What are you smiling at?’
