Faster.
His teeth sink into my neck, and his finger crooks inside me, and then I'm coming.
Hard.
My muscles spasm around his finger, his thumb rubbing my clit, and I cry out, the orgasm shuddering through me, white-hot and electric.
"Jesus, yes," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "Christ, you feel good."
His thumb stops stroking, but his finger keeps pumping.
It's too much.
But I can't stop.
"Don't stop," I breathe. "Don't stop. Please."
His forehead drops to my shoulder.
"God, you feel good. So hot. So tight."
"Keep talking."
His voice is all I can think about, the pleasure of his touch, his words, all I can focus on.
"You like that, don't you? When I talk to you. Tell you how much I want you. How bad. Christ, I want to fuck you so bad."
He slides a second finger inside me, and I groan.
"That's it, baby. That's it."
His thumb starts to circle my clit again, his fingers sliding in and out of me.
My thighs start to shake.
"Don't stop. Don't stop."
"God, you're so beautiful. The sounds you're making. Fuck, I love your sounds."
"More," I breathe.
"The way you move. Your scent. The feel of your pussy squeezing my fingers."
My breath is coming faster, the tension in my body building.
"God, I want you. I want to feel you squeeze my cock. The sounds you'd make when I make you come."
His thumb strokes faster.
Harder.
“Ben, don't stop."
“Never.”
"Yes. Yes. Yes."
I'm gasping now, his fingers pumping, his thumb stroking, and I'm so close.