Page 132 of If Only In Our Dreams

“F-fuck,” my voice broke and Ben hummed, low and sweet.

“Relax, little songbird.” His fingers continued to pet at me, teasing me into submission as he fluttered an almost innocent kiss against my cheekbone. At least…it felt innocent—in comparison to what his hand was doing. “Push out when I?—”

I did as I was told, groaning as Ben slipped inside, the pad of his finger wiggling experimentally deeper.

“You’re acting like you’ve never fucked me before,” I complained as he moved impossibly slow.

“I haven’t.”

“I—” I guess I didn’t have anything to say to that. Because he was right. Sure he’d had his fingers inside me more times than I could count, but this was different. Because there was a condom wrapper beside the lube bottle tonight, and Ben and I were going to be joined for the first time.

“What, no snarky comment?” Ben teased, kissing my temple affectionately. “No silly nickname? Not going to try and boss me around again?”

“Wouldn’t work even if I tried,” I agreed, shuddering as he pushed deeper, and deeper still. “We both know you’re the one in charge.”

“Fuck,” Ben’s voice was back to that quiet little growl. He slid a second finger in with the first and I whined, fingers biting into his biceps.

“What, you like that?” I teased, squeezing around him and enjoying the slight burn. My lashes fluttered. “You like being the one in control?”

“Of course I do,” Ben replied, fingers twisting and then—oh fuck. Jesus. It was my turn to swear now. I whined softly, the bite of my fingers growing slack as all my focus was redirected to thepleasure zinging from where Ben was brutally pushing against my prostate. “When I’m in control, you’re safe.”

I gasped out, squeezing around him, eyes rolling back as he pushed in and out, the wet sound obscene.

“When I’m in control, you’re spoiled and stuffed full—” Ben continued, still fucking me, his wrist snapping a little harder. “You’re happy.”

He was right, so I didn’t argue.

I just spread wider and arched my back to take him better.

Ben’s third finger burned more than the first two had, but I didn’t mind. I’d never minded. I liked that even more than if I’d felt no burn at all. It reminded me of how big he was. Reminded me that this massive monster of a man was inside me.

His dick was most definitely bigger than three fingers.

And when he was focused on my ass, his dark eyes full of lust, gaze trained on where he pushed in and out of the hot-wet-pink, I wiggled my foot down to press against his dick.

“Fuck,” Ben groaned, hips bucking. His gaze snapped up to my face, brow arched almost threateningly.

“Ben,” I begged. My snark was noticeably missing, voice plaintive and sweet. “Please.”

I knew he’d continue to stretch me for hours if I let him. Knew he would edge me. He’d bring me to the brink over and over—like he loved to do.

But I needed him.

Ineededhim, and I knew he needed me too.

Ben—because beneath all that sadistic deliciousness, he was a giant teddy bear—immediately complied. He rose up my body, the crinkle of the condom wrapper sounding as my now-empty hole gaped.

He didn’t make me wait long.

“Green?” he murmured against my lips, his sheathed cock bumping against my hole. I clenched in invitation, and Ben groaned.

“Green,” I agreed, because I was. I was green-green-green.

And then he was pushing in. And it ached and ached—so fucking good. Made me feel split wide. Like I was forced to evolve to accommodate his girth. And I loved every fucking second of it. Loved the way every inch caused new little zaps of electricity to skate up my arms. Loved the way Ben’s chest heaved, and his breath left him in an overwhelmed swoosh.

“You feel so good,” he gasped out, the words hot against my temple. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight.”

I didn’t have words, so I just nodded, whining softly, my ass giving for him. Steadily, he pressed inside. Inch by inch. I wanted to force him to move faster, but even I knew that wasn’t the best idea.

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