Page 24 of Indirect Attack
Jasmine
MY SKIN FELT LIKE ITwas on fire, Ben’s every kiss, every touch, leaving sparks in their wake. I didn’t remember the two times we’d been together being like this, the way every inch of my body was screaming with desire and need.
Ben had pinned me against the wall, his knee between my thighs, and I squirmed against it, delicious waves flowing up and through me. I was wet—I could feel it, and I wondered if he could, too.
His kisses had destroyed my concentration, but I took up my campaign again to finish unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt, my fingers slipping each time another kiss landed on its target. I finally had to drag his mouth back to mine, my tongue swirling and dipping with his, just to give me time to finish with his shirt and then the white undershirt. I had to see what was beneath to see if the changes I had estimated were real.
The shirts off, I pushed Ben back, taking in the sight in front of me—I hadn’t been wrong. As a kid, Ben had been skinny. As a teenager, he’d been tall and gangly, all elbows and awkward angles, like a sketch waiting to be filled in. But now, he was entirely mass and strength, sinew and muscle rippling beneath his skin when he moved. My eyes followed the defined lines, from the striking breadth of his shoulders to the peaks ofmuscles in his shoulders and arms to the obvious strength of his chest and the planes and valleys of his abdominals.
I looked up with a warm chuckle to see Ben watching me, an amused half-smile on his face.
“Like what you see?” The words rumbled in his chest, and I suddenly couldn’t speak, the words caught by the explosion of desire that also stole my breath.
Instead, I nodded, my tongue running along my lips like I wished his to, desire for the man in front of me filling my entire body until I could barely stand still.
“Good.”
Then Ben was pressing me back again, tugging my dress over my head so that the wall was cold against my back in stark contrast to how my skin burned. His hand slipped past the waistband of my panties, his tongue slipping light as a feather against the skin of my chest, and a shiver ran through me.
But I gasped as he slipped a finger, then another, into my waiting wetness. My hands dug into the skin of his shoulders, smooth and warm beneath my palms, as he began to stroke me in soft, fluttering movements.
Pleasure flooded my brain, taking with it every thought except the fire he was building in me, stroking the walls, swirling his fingertips, dragging them across every nerve ending.
“You like this?” Ben’s words were a whisper of breath against my ear.
I nodded, the only reply I could gather a nod of my head. The same chuckle rumbled through his chest again, the vibrations setting up answering tremors in my own chest. Pulses that shot from my toes to my head and back, in time to each movement of his fingers.
My pelvis arched into him, trying to take in as much as possible, my hips rocking and grinding against his hand. The pressure built, growing until it was a tsunami of a wave thatblocked out the rest of the world. The wave crashed over me with such force it wrenched a cry that echoed through the room.
“Good?”
My lungs drawing in deep gulps of air, I looked up to see Ben’s face hovering just beyond mine, a grin on his face, his pupils dilated with palpable want. The same want that was still pulsing through me, driving me forward, onward, desperate for one thing.
Again, I didn’t answer Ben with words. Instead, I yanked him toward me, my desperate kisses giving him the answer he was looking for.
My fingers fumbled with the belt of his pants, but I let out a groan of frustrated need when I couldn’t get them undone. Ben took over without another word, his practiced fingers flying. I shoved my panties down at the same time he kicked his pants and underwear away, and then we were pressed together again.
We both cried out as he entered me, the only break we took from feverish kisses that left us entirely breathless. His movements were anything but slow, instead desperate and impassioned. This wouldn’t last long, but I didn’t care.
Ben was all I wanted, all I needed, in every fiber of my being, down to my bones. All I wanted was this moment, this joining, the pleasure roaring between and around us like wildfire. Our gasps and cries mixed as I stood on my toes to take more of him in, the patterned wallpaper on the wall rough, his muscles flexing beneath my arms and hands. Beads of sweat gathered on my skin, making his skin slick against me as I met his strokes with curves of my hips.
“Ben,” I gasped his name, cried his name, as his head bent over my shoulder in concentration, his expression lost entirely in the fire of pleasure consuming us both.
My entire body tensed, peaks of flame licking at the back of my consciousness and threatening to engulf me. I wrapped mylegs around Ben’s hips, taking him in as much as possible for his last thrust, and that was all I needed as the inferno consumed me, the cry ripping from my core and scraping across my throat.
For a moment, the world was energy and light, taking up all space, time, and thought. And then the world drew back, and Ben roared his finish, his entire body stiff against me. Then, for a time, all we could do was cling to each other, shaking, weak, as the fire faded to glowing embers.
We finally made it to the bed, spent, sweaty, still breathing hard. The sweat was cooling when Ben took me into his arms, pulling me against his chest, and I curled into the warmth there.
From outside, I could hear crickets chirping, a soft breeze stirring the curtains from the window I’d left open a crack. I could still feel the last faint echo of my orgasm and the bliss that had settled over me.
But as the sweat had cooled, my heartrate coming down, the unsettled feeling from earlier had crept back in. And this close to Ben, this close to having everything I’d wanted for so long, the meaning behind it had finally crept in, too.
I didn’t know whether I’d unconsciously stiffened away from Ben or whether he’d sensed another change in me, but he shifted so he could look over my shoulder and into my face.
“You okay?” He furrowed his brow in confused concern. An expression that only grew as I failed to answer him right away.
But I wasn’t sure what to say. Or, rather, I knew what I wanted to say—the words had come with the clarity—but saying them was another thing entirely.
