Page 123 of Imogen

“You can take me to bed,” I confirm with another dramatic sniff.

He slides off the side and lifts me up by the back of my thighs. I kiss him, enjoying the freedom I feel when he kisses me back. There’s no fear over getting caught, or any anxiety from keeping this a secret from my dad.

I pull back. “Wait, put me down,” I cry quietly. He does and I race over to the Oreos and quickly pop them back where I stole them from. I run back over and he catches me. I swing my hair out of my face. “Now you can take me to bed.”

His pupils darken. “I’m going to make sure your vengeance is forgotten. No more distractions.”

“Promise,” I whisper against his lips.

*** *** ***

I always thought doggy style was a way for a person to detach themselves from the intimacy that comes with sex.

But as it goes, Ben has a fascination with the curve of my back, and my arse. It has nothing to do with him wanting to imagine another woman, or not grow close. If anything, this feels more intimate, since I’m completely at his mercy. I feel vulnerable yet powerful, which has only heightened my arousal.

I would never have done this with the men I’ve had sex with before. Albeit, there are only two others, but still, doing this would never have entered my mind.

With one hand still digging into my hip, he frees the other to curve around to my front, pinching and tugging at my nipples until I have to reach down and bite into the pillow to avoid alerting everyone in the lodge to what we are doing.

When his thrusts become punishing, I know it won’t be long until my orgasm hits me. The heavy sway of my tits and the sound of our skin slapping together feels dirty, raunchy, and I like it. I like it even more when he presses down on my tailbone. It somehow makes him thrust deeper inside of me.

“Oh God,” I groan as he grabs my hips and slams me against him. His balls hit my flesh, completely undoing me.

My vision blurs as wave after wave of my orgasm hits me. Never have I felt one this strong, and never has one made me collapse, completely spent.

“Fuck,” he growls, his dick twitching as his own orgasm is released inside of me.

I want to crawl away when he continues to thrust, this time softer. I have never felt this sensitive, not to the point I want to cry because it feels so good. My body can’t handle any more.

He drops down beside me, sparing me from having to move away. I turn to cock my leg up over his, forgetting I haven’t wiped myself clean. I feel it dripping between my legs, onto his thigh, but he doesn’t flinch or move away.

I rest my chin on his chest and blink up at him as he runs his fingers along my spine. “Tell me a flaw about you,” I demand softly.

“A flaw?” he questions as his brows pinch together.

“Yes. Because it’s unnerving that I can’t find anything wrong with you.”

His lips twitch. “Is putting my foot in my mouth not enough?”

I think about it for a second, then let out a sigh. “Actually, it is. I keep forgetting about that.”

“Which I’m grateful for. I was a shitty person to you, and I want to make amends.”

“By killing me with orgasms?”

“Are you complaining?”

I smile wide as I drop down to rest against him. “Not even a little,” I reply. My fingers go to the scar on his side, the one that almost took his life. “You must have been scared during the night you got this.”

“I think it went deeper than fear,” he whispers.

I lean back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I knew my injuries were bad. I knew there was a high chance I wouldn’t get out of there, but my fear wasn’t because of death itself. It was the regrets I would go to my grave with. It scared me more than not seeing tomorrow.”

“You said that before but never explained what regrets,” I tell him quietly.

“If I tell you, will you keep my secret and not ruin my reputation as a badass?”

---