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I nod, urging him with my heel, telling him with my body that I’m good, that I can take him, that I want more. And he gives it to me. Each stroke intensifying until he’s shuttling in and out, angling his hips one way and then the other. Making me feel him everywhere.
“Never want this to end,” he growls, eyes fixed on the spread of my pussy. “But seeing you taking me so fucking deep. Christ, Elle. I can’t wait. Need to make you come.”
I cry out, nearly there, close enough that my body feels like it’s about to turn inside out.
He leans forward that much farther, hitting a new spot inside as he slips his hand between us. Covering my clit with his thumb, he nips at my ear. “Give it to me, Lara.”
And the world around us combusts.
* * *
Ben
Lara Elliot is in my arms. In my bed. Hours after we finished the sexstravaganza— read: she had plenty of time to sleep off her orgasms and make her way to her own bed if she so desired —and she’s still tangled up with me.
But I can’t sleep. Can’t get my heart to stop hammering so hard I’m kind of shocked it hasn’t woken her up. Or Zamboni.
Yesterday was a big day for him. And he’s still curled up in his deluxe puppy bed with the Sherpa burrow cover we got him when we took him out for a walk that turned into a ride to this high-end puppy shop we nearly bought out last night between rounds three and four.
The place was the shit.
Little over the top, but that’s kind of where I live.
So maybe I’m gonna have to get a second job to keep my boy in the lifestyle he’s become accustomed to in the last eighteen hours.
Worth it.
Lara cuddles closer, and I grin as she breathes my name in her sleep. Hearing it all soft like that, knowing she’s thinking of me even now has Big Ben ready for a stretch and some early-morning calisthenics, but pretty sure I wrung her poor body out last night.
PS: The app is fucking amazing.
But in addition to owing her some rest, I’ve got a busy morning with the team.
I gently extract myself from Lara’s sleepy hold and slip out of bed. She rolls into the space where I was, feeling around with the cutest fucking frown on her face, and then cracks a sleepy eyelid at me.
“Come back.”
“Wish I could.” I brush a bit of hair from her face. “Morning skate.”
She’s back asleep before I stand up. Zamboni is still curled up tight in his bed, so I go straight to the shower, grinning like I just got named to the all-stars game. Because… Lara Elliot is still in my bed.
I make my shower quick, pull on some athletic pants and a team shirt, and then lean down to drop a kiss on her brow. She mewls this contented sound that satisfies something deep inside me. Before I can pull away, she loops her finger in my collar and tugs me in for another kiss.
“You going to be home before your game?”
“Yeah. For a few hours.”
She bites her lip, smiling. “See you then.”
I swallow hard, because that right there was one-hundred-percent girlfriend talk. The kind of heart-achy sweetness I haven’t been on the receiving end of for the better part of a decade. And for a minute, all I can do is stare as she drifts back to sleep.
Last night, lying in bed together, she asked me what we were doing. She told me she didn’t know what to call it. And I got it.
Yeah, a part of me wanted to slap every label on us I could find. Tattoo her ass with If found, return to Benjamin Boerboom Junior.
Yeah, I’m not proud.
But that’s the kind of possessive permanent shit that was rolling through my mind. Only I know better. I know Lara’s got a lot of priorities, and whatever this is, I don’t want her to feel like it’s a threat to any one of them.
