I did it. I’m the one making my crush’s mouth hang open, his eyes stare intently, and his hands tremble.
“Your tits,” he snarls.
I busy my hands with my clothes, ignoring the flutter of embarrassment that tries to corrupt the moment. As I pull the shirt over my head, I remember the way Alex looked when he told me he was getting married, the unmistakable joy marking his every feature.
I remember how I smiled over Skype, telling him I was happy for him. And even then, I was wondering if Ben would be the best man. I knew he would. I knew I’d see him.
But I never expected this.
“Fuck,” he whispers as I unclasp my bra.
My breasts spill free. I do my best to keep my hands at my sides, to stop them from rising up to cover myself. I imagine him laughing at me, calling me the F-word, even if he’s made it clear he’s attracted to me.
Suddenly, he reaches down and picks me up, his hands firm under my armpits. I giggle in delight as he drops me onto the couch. It’s the way he handles me, making me feel lighter than I ever have, making me feel like I’ve finally met the man for me.
“You’re perfect. Every part.”
My hand instinctively goes to the back of his head when he guides his lips to my nipples.
He grabs one of my breasts, massaging confidently, sucking on my other nipple as he makes growling noises of desire.
My nipple grows hard in his mouth, tingling temptingly, as he swirls his finger around the other one. Both of us hum with pleasure, and then I’m moaning, unable to stop, my chest feeling like it’s on fire in the best way.
He slides his hand up my leg, toward my sex, my pussy buzzing in anticipation.
“I thought this was about you,” I gasp, pushing the words past the boiling lust.
“You’re too damn addicting,” he growls. “I need to make you come again. Can you do that for me?”
I look down at him, at his lips glimmering from my sex and my nipples, at the darkness in his eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling like my predator has finally caught me.
He slides his finger inside of me, driving deep, pressing the heel of his palm against my clit in the same motion.
My moan comes out hollow as if he’s stolen all the air from me, and I push against his finger, chasing the pressure, the pleasure.
His mouth sucks on my nipple harder, his hand greedily massaging, the sensation adding to the tightness in my belly. Deeper than my belly.
My core, sending signals.
The thought should make me laugh. But with his finger swirling deeply inside of me, tickling a hot, sensitive spot I’ve never felt before, it only adds to the steaminess.
My core wants to please this man and give him everything he desires, so he fills me with his seed.
As the pressure abruptly bursts to the breaking point, I bite down, my walls going tight around his finger, my clit aching with the tension.
“That’s it,” he snarls. “You receptive horny girl. Come for me again, Becca bee.”
I open my mouth in a tangled cry as he slips another finger inside of me. Then, he starts to pump his hand, the heel of his palm grazing my clit as he sucks my nipple with even more possessive power like he wants to let me know I’m his.
I’m his, I’m his, I repeat over and over as the orgasm pulses through me, the sensation only getting more intense.
Finally, the melting, the shimmering, the aching passes, and I’m left a panting mess on the couch.
Ben stands up, staring down, his eyes glazed again.
He looks possessed.