Page 120 of Crimson Promises
“Want or need?” He taunted with another agonizing push and pull of his finger.
“Need.”
Finally, he rose from his knees as he stroked his impressive cock. “Yes, baby, I’ll give you exactly what you need. Only me. You better remember that next time someone tries to take what’s mine.”
He hauled me into his arms and took five impressive strides as he gently laid me down on the bed. I rested on my elbows as I took in his impressive naked form.
Ben’s body was a map of scars connected by muscles. His abdomen was a series of taut, interlocking slabs that flexed and relaxed in rhythm; his chest was broad and sculpted. His skin was a palette of natural and harsh tones, with the white lines of healed lacerations crisscrossing, a reminder of the vulnerable circumstances of his upbringing. I spotted a tattoo on his wrist, noting it was the only ink on him. There was a vibrant energy, a sense of untamed power that was harnessed and controlled. His body was a testament to his past, every inch a chronicle of pain, resilience, and an unwavering will to live.
But the most magnificent thing about Bennett was his wings. With them on full display, he looked like an avenging angel teeming with power. All that intelligence, brute strength, and evident desire focused on me.
Briefly, I wondered if I was the only female he had ever shown his wings to. The thought of him sharing this moment, this experience with someone else, stirred a rage deep inside me unlike any I had ever known.
The bond between us sparked to life and wiggled slightly, comforting me and reminding me to pay attention.
He came over me, his hands balled into fists as he caged me between pillows.
Ben's nose brushed mine ever so tenderly. But tonight wasn’t for slow or delicate. I wanted to be decimated, wholly owned by him. I pulled his lips between mine and bit down. That action seemed to snap whatever control he had tried maintaining.
“You make it so fucking hard to breathe sometimes. When I look at you, I see all the things I could have.” His mouth devoured mine, and then he slowed the pace, kissing the corner of my lips. He was teasing me. I hated it. My body was wound tight, desperate to feel him inside me.
“Please,” I whimpered.
“Not yet,” he blew against the shell of my ear.
He leaned back and rolled on a condom while pushing my knees apart with his other hand. In one fluid motion, he was inside. He paused once he was fully sheathed, letting my body adjust to his size.
“Tell me who you belong to,” he said as he slid out of me. His tip hovered right at my entrance.
God, he could take everything.
“You,” I whispered because the feel of him inside me was ecstasy. I would do anything, sell my soul, rob a bank, anything to feel this exquisite torture again.
Millimetre by millimeter, he inched in agonizingly slow.
“Tell me again,” he demanded.
“You, you, you,” I screamed.
This time, he pulled one of my knees over his shoulder, and the difference was instantaneous. He thrusted harder, faster, deeper.
I twisted my hips in a circle and pushed them upward to match his strokes. He didn’t stop kissing me, his hands never staying still. They moved from cocooning my hair to exploring my body. When he finally made his way to my center, he applied pressure with the pad of his thumb.
Ben made quick rotations as he said, “I want to feel your pussy tighten around my cock and burn into your brain that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”
His words were crude and unrefined. The rough timbre of his gravelly voice seemed to resonate directly against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. It was as though each syllable was a brush of coarse velvet against the nape of my neck.
I felt a warmth creeping up my cheeks, the unbidden blush of my body's betrayal to his ignoble provocations.
Each of his words, so stark and shameless, coursed through me, a river breaking its banks. They did wicked things, whispering over the surface of my consciousness, teasing the edges of my self-control. It was a physical response to the raw, undiluted masculinity that his voice carried. The room around us seemed to charge with an electric current, a tangible tension that clung to my skin and made the air heavy to breathe.
I leaned in ever so slightly, my body yearning to catch every crude utterance, to be scorched by the fire of his words. Then reached between us and gave the base of his cock a hard squeeze.
"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth.
I gripped him tighter to me. I couldn't hold on much longer.
"So close," I uttered.
