Page 118 of If Only In Our Dreams

“Shhh,” Ben murmured, low and soothing. He had that mean glint in his eyes again. The glint he only got when we were in bed together, and he was enjoying making me squirm.

“Whyyyy?” I gasped out, twitching toward him when he wrapped his fingers around us together again and began to stroke once more. Slower this time, nice and easy. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it—and I knew it—and I ached and ached.

“You’re so pretty when you suffer, my little songbird,” Ben murmured, leaning down to kiss me. The hard bite of the kiss was in sharp contrast with the slow, steady glide of his hand—never tight enough—never enough.

My hips flexed, trying to force him to tighten, but he didn’t.

He knew exactly what he was doing to me.

“Fuck,” I whined, nipples hard and flushed puffy red. Ben plucked at them again—the right, then the left—twisting the rings just enough to make my blood sing.

“Beautiful,” he hummed against my lips, pulling back, his eyes black with lust. “So fucking beautiful.” The praise made me feel hot all over, like I’d been dropped in a vat of honey. “You’re so good for me. Allowing me to tease you like this. Whining for me. Making my cock hard enough to burst.”

My hips twitched again, and Ben’s hand went slack in response to punish me. He tutted disapprovingly against my lips, then moved again, dragging kisses across my cheek, down my throat, and then up behind my ear. His breath was hot when he spoke again, “You’remygood boy, aren’t you, Robin?”

“Fuck,” I whimpered.

“Say it,” Ben’s breath was hot against the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you are.”

“I’m your good boy.” My voice broke, thready and soft.

“And you’re beautiful, aren’t you?”

“I’m beautiful.” I ached and ached and ached.

Ben had so much power over me then, because of my unspoken feelings for him. Because of the way he was cradling me. Because of the pleasure he held, just out of reach. And yet…he was using that power to heal me, rather than hurt me.

And I loved him, I loved him,I loved him.

And I was scared, scared, scared.

“Do you see how hard you make me?” Ben hummed. I glanced down, groaning low when my gaze fluttered over the slick, fat head of his dick. In and out of his fist, slow and easy, he wrung our cocks together. “Do youfeelhow hard you make me?” Ben squeezed us tighter, and I shuddered, balls pulling tight.

“Y-yes,” I managed, because I knew if I didn’t reply fast enough he’d make me anyway.

“You’re a blessing, Robin,” Ben hummed, nipping at my ear and finally, blissfully, tightening his grip. I sobbed, hips threatening to twitch again, even though I knew better. Ben wanted me to lie back and take it, so I would. “You’remyblessing.”

Tight, slick, rub, rub, rubbing,Ben twisted our cocks together.

His dick was much larger than mine was. A fact that was seriously fucking hot, and made more obvious with us pressed length to length like this. Even his balls were bigger, hanging low as he rutted our hips together, theschlick, schlicksound his hand made making my blood sing. Every time our balls tapped it felt like nirvana.

“You’re going to come for me,” Ben informed me, like it was a fact. I nodded jerkily, because he was right. I totally was. Myfingers dug crescents into his biceps—the same lovely biceps that had started all of this. “You’re going to come for me and you’re going to thank me afterward,” Ben hummed, nipping at my ear again.

“Y-yes,” I agreed, because he was right—I was.

“Now.” Ben’s hand tightened at the same time that quiet rumble bounced around inside my head. He’d toyed with me for long enough I felt like I was drowning. And when I finally came, my dick spilled and spilled—and it felt like it went on for ages.

“Thank you,” I gasped out, wet ropes of cum slicking his big, hot hand as he squeezed, squeezed, squeezed us together. “Thank you,” I managed again.

“So pretty,” Ben drawled, smooth and soft. He’d twisted to watch my dick spill, and all I could see was the cowlick on the top of his head, the slope of his nose, and those lovely dark lashes. “So fucking pretty.”

Ben pressed my dick flat against my belly with his palm. His hand was bigger than it was, a fact that sent a thrill through my body and threatened to make me spurt again. He pressed harder, and I sobbed, my balls twitching.

Ignoring his own dick, Ben wiggled the tip of his finger inside my slit, rubbing, rubbing, as his breath came out in low, greedy pants.

“Christ,” he groaned, cock pointing right at me, heavy between his legs. “You’re perfect.” It was the second time he’d said that tonight, and it made me light up even brighter.

When he stopped staring at my recently tortured dick, Ben kissed me again. It was sweeter than before, less teeth this time. I was drowning in him, and I never wanted to find the surface again.

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