When he moved to the bed, that was my answer.
My legs opened, and I pulled him against me, getting his narrow hips perfectly between my thighs. My ankles hooked together around his waist, my heels grinding against his ass. One arm circled his neck, while my other hand planted against his chest, feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart.
He pushed inside me and sank.
“Oh…yes.” My head rolled back as I gave a moan, feeling his bare skin under my fingertips, the hardness of his muscles, the heat of his skin. My eyes closed as the moment swept through me. When we were combined, it was a controlled fire, a desire that burned between us both without torching everything around us. It was just ours.
His heavy body started to rock, smothering me against the mattress, his powerful arms holding up his muscled frame. In and out, he moved, sliding through my copious wetness, the sound of our sexes moving past each other the most erotic symphony.
My arm remained around his neck, his blue eyes looking into mine in a way they never had before. They were clear like still water, like snowmelt flowing from the tallest mountain. His eyes could see through me, see my beating heart and the fragile ribs that kept it safe.
I pulled him close and kissed him, feeling that flush down my spine as well as between my legs. I never wanted this moment to end, this heated serenity, this instant where nothing else existed but the two of us.
I’d never felt so safe—emotionally or physically.
The explosion was immediate, my body tightening around him as I released all the stress, the pain, the past. My nails simultaneously dragged down as I gave a mixture of a whimper and a scream. “Benton…” His name was fire on my tongue. My eyes closed as I was pulled under the deepest water, a cool ocean that was as clear as air, except I could still breathe, breathe like I never had before.
My lips found his when it passed, desperate for another hit, for another out-of-this-world high that only he could give. It was just as potent as the drugs I had been forced to take, but the high was so much better, burned longer.
He met my hunger with his own, his lips taking the lead like he did with everything else. His fingers dug into my hair, and he thrust into me harder, my climax making his dick stiffen even more.
I could do this forever. Never stopping. Just going…on and on.
My ankles released and I tried to roll him onto his back, but he was too heavy, having the weight of an ox.
He rolled for me, taking me with him.
I straddled his hips, slipped his length back inside, and then sank deep.
He gave a suppressed moan as his jaw tightened, like it was the first time he’d entered me. His eyes closed briefly, his masculine face hard in desire. He propped himself up on his elbows and started to thrust from below.
My hands planted on his shoulders for balance, and I rolled my hips back and forth as I rode up and down, taking him from tip to base, over and over, feeling him stretch me every single time.
He didn’t lie back and enjoy it. His body moved in sync with mine, his hips rising when I fell, a distinct smack of our bodies every time we came back together. His fingers gripped my knees as he watched me, taking in the sight of my shaking tits, of the sweat that coated my skin.
I made myself come again, and this time, he joined me.
I felt him release inside me—and it felt like a five-pound dumbbell. It made me wet all over again, to feel his arousal inside me, to have a piece of him. My body came to a halt, and I rested my forehead against his, his dick still hard inside me.
His lips caught mine, giving me an eager kiss like this was far from over. “Keep going.”
I obeyed the command and rode his dick again, our arousal mixed together, smearing up his base as I moved up and down. My lips took his at the same time, my entire body on fire as if those climaxes had done nothing to douse the flames. It was as if we’d just started from the beginning—and that was a warm-up.
He dozed off afterward on his back, his chest rising and falling at an even pace.
It took all my strength not to drape my arm over his stomach and rest my head on his shoulder. Every time I’d tried to have that kind of affection, I’d been met with the bite of rejection. He just wasn’t that kind of man.
I propped myself up on my shoulder to look past him to the clock on his nightstand. I needed to leave to pick up Claire soon.
The movement must have stirred him because he opened his eyes and released a quiet sigh. His thoughts must have immediately gone to his daughter because his eyes darted to the clock too. He settled back down again, his fingers running through his hair as he stared at the ceiling.
“I’ll get her. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“And miss ice cream?” His voice was deep and raspy, like he’d been asleep for the entire night instead of just thirty minutes. “Never.”
I cracked a smile at his comment, liking the rare times when he made a joke.
He turned to look at me, his eyes still heavy like he was half asleep.
I could stare at those blue eyes forever. Throughout the night and the following day. Always. He was grizzled and bitter, but that somehow made me care for him more—because I was grizzled and bitter too.
We were the same person…in a complicated way. “Do you have to work tonight?”
“No. But I’ll be out for a few hours.”
“Oh.” I wanted to ask where he was going, but I kept the question on my tongue since it was none of my business. If I asked, that was probably exactly what he would say. It would be the only time he’d left the house for a reason other than work, so it must be a social reason, but he didn’t seem like a fan of socialization. I’d probably never know.
He got out of bed, standing there like a Greek god with that tight ass. He was muscled and chiseled, a gun without bullets. A black shirt was pulled over his head and then a long-sleeved flannel.
I watched him from bed, too comfortable to move, enjoying the view far too much.
Once he was fully clothed, he walked out without looking back.
And just like that, I felt it.
I felt the cold.
“I want a sundae—”
“She’ll take a single scoop.” Benton looked down at her, his eyes narrowed in authority.
Claire turned to me and rolled her eyes.
I suppressed the chuckle as best I could.
“And that’s not how you order,” Benton said, pretending not to see what she just did. “Try again.”
The young woman stood behind the counter and stared at Benton just the way I did, as if she couldn’t believe a man like that existed.
Claire sighed. “May I please have a sundae—”
“One scoop of gelato in a cone.”
Claire rolled her eyes—again.
This time, I brushed my hand over my lips because it was all I could do not to laugh.
The woman smiled. “You got it. What flavor?”
“Strawberry,” Claire said.
Benton gave her a glare.
“Please,” Claire said quickly.
We finished our order then took our ice cream to a table near the window. We all had the same thing, a single scoop on cones. Benton sat beside his daughter and spun the cone in his hand, dragging his tongue across the surface of the scoop. He would catch the cream on his tongue then swallow.
Damn.