Page 92 of Tight Ends & Tiaras
He swells inside me, and I moan. In just a few moments, I’m right there all over again.
“I’m gonna come again,” I whisper.
Ben’s jaw is tight, his whole body rigid. I reach between our bodies and rub around where he slides into me. I use that wetness to stroke my swollen clit, and I go off. Lights shoot behind my eyes, and I quake.
He sits up, sets his hand on my ass and bounces me in his lap, impaling me on his giant erection as he kisses me possessively. His chest rumbles in a low groan when he comes.
I’m still shivering in his arms minutes later when we’re panting in a tangled heap. My head rests on his chest. I run my finger over his defined pecs. Over his collarbone. Up his neck.
“We’re sweaty. You’re going to need another shower.” Because I know he took one at the gym.
His eyes are closed, but he opens one to squint at me. “Nah. I’m good. I smell like you now.”
I sniff him. “You smell like sex,” I tease. Actually, he smells like Ben. Like sexy man, sandalwood soap, and clean sweat.
“And what sex that was. Why would I wanna wash it off right away?”
“Gross.”
I scream with laughter as he tucks me underneath him to wipe his sweaty body on me, but then he launches off the bed while holding his dick. It’s an awkward look that amuses me to no end.
“Gotta take care of this before you’re covered in my swimmers.”
Then he trots his naked ass down my hallway to the bathroom.
I sigh and collapse back in bed, deliriously happy.
Which can’t be good. Nothing good ever comes from being this content.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
No, I’m not going to do this to myself.
Hating the negativity I’ve picked up lately, I decide I’ll work it out on my yoga mat and get to a good place where I’m not doubting everything.
Just because things are going well with Ben doesn’t mean they’ll fall apart, right?
