Page 85 of Unbound

“I do.” He nearly moans the words, half in pain, forehead leaning to press against mine. I push up, climbing to sit astride his lap. A blowjob was overwhelming for him, but this might be easier to start with.

“Is it stupid to say I’m scared?” he asks, raw and painfully vulnerable.

“No,” I say fiercely. I grab his chin in my hand. “No, sex is terrifying. Even for me.”

I don’t mean for the admission to slip out, but I move on as quickly as I can so he won’t read too much into my words.

“We can go slow,” I say, pushing him languidly back into the mattress. “And you can stop me if you don’t like it, okay?”

Bennett swallows hard, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I just . . . I don’t want to mess it up,” he murmurs, his voice thick with vulnerability.

“You won’t,” I promise. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just feel.” I rock forward along the still-hard length of him.

I’m torn between the desire to kiss him and the need to watch him.

A moan pulls almost unbidden from his throat, seeming to surprise him.

“Does that feel good?” I ask.

“I want to make you feel good,” he gasps out, hands in the right place—along my waist—but tentative. I continue to move for him, dipping my head down to kiss his lips, along his jaw, and down to his neck.

His hands flex, jerking me a little harder over the mass of his bulge, and a long, low moan pulls from my mouth, breath against his skin.

“Like that?” he asks, taking a second to kiss my neck before whispering, “Please. I want you to make that noise again. Show me.”

I shake my head. “It feels good because it’s you,” I say, the words a little huffed and vulnerable. “Everything you’re doing feels good—touching my hair or my waist. I like it all.”

He looks almost frustrated as I pull back and lock in on his eyes. And I know him enough now to know those words aren’t comforting.

“I need you to show me,” he begs again. “I can’t . . . I can’t always read your body language. And I never want to do something you don’t want.”

My throat sticks.

“You have to tell me. Please, show me.” The words melt from a plea to a roughened command.

“Here.” My breath hitches as his hand, tucked into mine, brushes against my clit over my shorts.

“Like this?” he asks, playing his fingers over the area like a pianist warming up. I nod, a whimper slipping out of my throat at the almost teasing touch.

“Yes,” I pant. “Is it too much?” I ask, still riding across him. Still desperate. “We can stop—”

“No,” he growls out. “Don’t stop. That—the rocking feels so good.” Every word is low, and the clear sound of his own pleasure has me threading closer to the edge of that cliff.

“Does it feel good to you?” He slows his movements for a moment. There’s vulnerability and uncertainty in the question, and my hand comes up to cup his cheek, like I can soothe it away.

“Yes.” His hand works its way up my back to the loose strands of dishwater blond flowing over his skin. In a moment of anxiety, I snap out a quick command: “Don’t pull my hair.”

Bennett freezes, only for a moment, before carefully brushing his fingers through the ends, the tingling effect on my scalp making me moan.

“I would never hurt you,” he insists, words said into my ear as he tucks one strong arm around my waist, pulling me closer. His thrusts pick up, faster and more insistent. The hand in my hair glides carefully to my jaw, holding the side of it to pull my eyes to his, our foreheads nearly touching. “Tell me you know that. Say it.”

“I do,” I breathe, answering his command with shocking ease. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Are you going to come?” It’s a genuine question, and I nod into his neck, pressing my lips to the hot skin there as I let myself go—crying and moaning out.

He shifts his hands to my hips, setting the pace, using his strength to move me up and down the length of him as he roars out his own pleasure in an animalistic, uncontrolled rumble.

That sound makes me come, my own pleasured keening pressed into his throat as Bennett continues to press and pull me until I stop him.