Frayed (Connections, #4)(91)

A wicked smile tilts at my lips as I reach to touch him again, but he doesn’t let me.

“Take your hose off.”

“Take your pants off,” I counter.

He grins at me but doesn’t move.

Okay, so I’ll go first. I slowly slide my hose down and stand naked before him. “Your turn.”

He toes off his boots and pushes his jeans and boxers down at the same time. I stare in awe now that I finally get to admire him in all his glory. I want to reacquaint myself with every part of him. I step forward and run my hands over him, under him, around him.

“Oh, f*ck,” he groans again, this time letting his head drop back when my index finger touches that one sensitive spot. His response to my touch only further ignites the sexual energy between us.

“Still want to take it slow?” I taunt.

“You don’t play fair,” he manages through gritted teeth.

I rub my palms back and forth over his penis and stop only to squeeze it tight. Tight enough that I can feel an incredible pulsing. It matches the one between my legs. I do it again and then again. Each squeeze causes his face to bloom in a pleasure he can’t mask.

His hands move quickly to my sex. The sound I make when he plunges a finger inside me is one I’ve never heard and only escalates my urge to have him inside me.

“I think we’re done with the foreplay.” The husky tone of his voice makes a wave of pleasure skip all the way from my head to my toes.

My pulse is racing as we fall to the bed together. He props himself up on an elbow and lets his gaze lazily slide down me, but he stops when he sees the gleaming green shamrock in my belly button. For a moment time stands still. He leans down to softly kiss it and I rest my hands on his head. A spark of uncertainty blossoms between us and I’m almost afraid to look down. When I finally do, I can feel a tear shimmering in my eye and feel another slide down my cheek. He crawls up the bed and with both elbows resting on the mattress he hovers over me and catches my tears with his thumbs.

He swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not sad. What you did was beautiful.”

He kisses my tears one by one and once they’ve all stopped, he finds my mouth. We kiss for a long time. Soft gentle kisses with tender touches. We share a sadness that we both take the time to mourn. His tongue strokes mine, his hands roam my body, and the flame between us reignites. With each touch my body burns hotter for him. When our kisses turn into hard, deep, soul-searching ones, he nudges my legs apart.

He presses his palms into the mattress, shifting his weight. I run my tongue in a frenzy up and down his chest, letting him know I’m hungry for him. His penis throbs between us until finally he slides inside me. He groans at our contact and my back arches to allow him in—all the way in. He slides deep, so deep. We’re both so aroused there’s no friction between us. I feel him everywhere—inside me, surrounding me, in my soul even. I lift my hips, curl my fingers around his shoulders, dig my nails into my flesh, all while his body rocks over me. I’m in sensation overload. He’s everywhere and I want even more of him.

“You’re so wet, so tight,” he whispers in my ear.

“You feel so good,” I moan.

Everything around us disappears; every part of my body feels licked by flames. He moves deliberately, painfully slow, but it feels torturously good. I don’t want this pleasure to ever end. His tongue thrusts into my mouth. I moan when he pulls out and slams back into me. He does it again and I cry out even louder. My hands graze his back, roam down, and push him deeper.

He stills. “The feel of your hands drives me wild.”

I become impatient and thrust my hips up. “You drive me wild.”

“Not yet,” he groans. “I want to stay buried deep inside you.”

“Please, Ben.” I’m begging him.

He looks at me and then he rocks harder, faster, thrusting in and out in an unrelenting momentum that makes me feel as if I’ve gone to heaven.

My back arches. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“You like that?”

I scream out, “Yes, Ben, yes. Take me to heaven,” over and over.

He buries his face in my neck and then I hear my name like a prayer. “S’belle,” he calls out, his body convulsing.

I squeeze my eyes closed, seeing stars everywhere as I come harder than I ever have. My body shakes, pleasure radiates throughout it, and I feel him spasming over and over inside me.

“Open your eyes,” he tells me.

He thrusts one last time and I watch as pleasure covers his face in a way I’ve never seen on a man. He falls on top of me, breathless, panting, and completely spent. He murmurs my name against my neck. After a few minutes he rolls to my side and pulls my body tight to his. He cups my chin to look up at him. “That was . . .” He stops and bolts up. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

I sit up, confused.

“I didn’t wrap up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t wear a condom.”

Laughter bursts from my mouth. “I’m on the pill. It’s fine.”

He darts his eyes to mine. “I hope you don’t say that to all the guys you’ve fuc . . . been with.”

I push his shoulder. “I haven’t actually slept with that many guys and, yes, they’ve always . . . wrapped up.” I laugh even harder.