Page 79 of Imogen

“You want me,” he states, tugging at me until I’m flush against his chest.

“You know I do, but I can’t be with you the way you want.”

My lips part as he brushes his along my jaw. “Tell me to leave and I’ll leave,” he commands as he presses his lips against my neck.

“Ben…” I begin, but then he presses his erection into my stomach.

“Tell me,” he demands, tilting my head back and removing the clip holding my hair up.

“I…”

I can’t form the words, not when his lips slam against mine. His kiss swallows the moan that slips free. He swings me up into his arms by my thighs, and the movement causes my skirt to rise up to my waist. My arse is hanging out as he pushes me against the wall next to the door.

I kiss him back, and roughly rake my nails down his jacket.

Fuck! My entire body is burning for him.

His hand reaches between us, his fingers sliding the thin scrap of material aside as he plunges two fingers inside of me. I arch against the doorframe, crying out when he hits the right spot.

“Ben,” I moan, writhing as he fucks me with his fingers.

“You’re fucking soaked for me,” he rasps. “You want me.”

“Yes,” I hiss, and hear the distinct sound of a belt being unbuckled.

The rough material of his jeans slips past my ankles. I want to tell him to stop, but the minute I see the desire shining back at me, the words die in my mouth and I’m kissing him again.

He slips his fingers free, and I feel the tip of his dick at my entrance. He waits for me to pull back, his gaze unwavering as he slams inside of me.

My walls clench around him and a moan slips free. He fucks me against the wall, rattling the picture hanging on the wall not too far away.

“So fucking tight,” he grits out, his hand cupping my tit above my top. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Harder,” I plead as my back slams against the wall.

I cry out, rocking my hips, needing more. Sweat trickles down my spine, the heat between us becoming too much.

Nothing has ever excited me this much. I’ve never felt this driving need during sex either. It’s new to me. All of it.

The chime of the doorbell echoes down the hall, my body freezing when I realise it might be my parents.

“We need to stop,” I breathe, but my body is screaming for more.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he demands, his thrusts becoming almost punishing.

“I should get the door,” I counter, my orgasm just at the edge of reach.

“No. Not until you come for me,” he declares. “You’re mine. This…” he squeezes my tit hard, “is mine. All of you is mine.”

I explode into a thousand pieces, my cries echoing off the walls.

One thrust. Two. And just when I think I can’t take any more, he growls low in his throat, releasing his own orgasm.

He kisses the tip of my nose as he lowers my feet to the floor. I have to reach out to steady myself, my legs weak. He rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

Shame surrounds me, and I lower my head more.

“Get rid of whoever is at the door,” he orders, his tone still filled with desire.

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