Page 168 of Between the Blue
He reaches out his hand, grabbing my face and pulling it back to kiss me like his life depends on it. I’m so taken aback by it that my lips part, and he takes immediate advantage, slipping his tongue inside and twirling it with mine.
I raise my arm behind my head, hooking it around the back of his neck and pulling him forward so that his front is flush with my back.
As he’s distracting me with his kiss, I don’t notice Ben’s hand sliding down the front of my torso until it slips right between my legs. My teeth involuntarily tug on his bottom lip as he immediately finds me soft and soaked.
“Always so perfect for me,” Ben mutters against my mouth, sending another rush of heat flooding from my core.
In my haze, I think I register the sound of a belt being undone and pants hitting the floor, but just as I open my eyes to confirm that, Ben's hand lands firmly on my middle back, forcing me to bend over at the waist.
A mixture of a yelp and a moan escape me as the jersey rides up and I feel myself exposed to the cool air. But the heat quickly makes a comeback as Ben’s hand returns, his fingers running through my folds and teasing me.
“Please,” I groan. “Ben–”
“That’s right,” he drawls. “Who’s in charge here again?”
“You,” I let out on an exhale, my eyes squeezed shut. I slowly turn my head, looking at him over my shoulder.
“Fuck, Cherry,” he says, shaking his head, “as much as I like the sound of that, I think we both know it’s a lie.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip.
“I’m so unbelievably gone for you,” Ben breathes. “Would be on my fucking knees for you right now if you asked.”
My cheeks flush, my heart pounding painfully against my ribcage.
“As nice as that sounds,” I tell him, my voice strained, “I’d rather you act out your fantasy instead.”
Ben’s tongue pushes into the side of his cheek, and he nods slowly.
His fingers slip out of me, and my back arches against him as my body seeks friction.
It doesn’t have to look for long, however, the tip of Ben’s hard shaft quickly replacing his fingers, gliding along my slit and swirling my entrance in the most suspenseful, mind-numbing, toe-curling way.
“Cherry?”
“Yeah?” I manage to choke out.
“Never call me your friend again.”
And then Ben slides into me, making me feel every last inch of him as he buries himself in me to the hilt.
I let out a gasp, clutching onto the walls of his locker, trying to blink the stars in my vision away.
“Eyes on me,” Ben growls, making my head snap back in his direction.
He reaches down, gathering my hair in his hand and giving it one twist around his fist, forcing me to arch my back and keep my head in place.
“Don’t look away from me again,” he tells me.
And I don’t.
Not as he continues pumping into me.
Not as he peppers kisses along my spine.
Not as he tells me how beautiful I am when his movements are measured and firm. Or as he reminds me again how much he’s missed me when they get haphazard and messy.
Not as we finish. Me, and then him.
