Page 112 of Bittersweet


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I’ve never come any other way.

“Ben, I can’t—”

“You fucking can, Lola. Look at me. Look at me fucking you, making you mine.” I mewl a miserable, turned-on sound and look at his face, sweat dripping down onto my belly, eyes hot.

One hand moves from my hip, swipes at the drop of sweat with a thumb, and puts it in my mouth.

“Suck that, baby.” My pussy clamps around him as I do what he demands, staring into his eyes as I do. “Fuck yeah, baby, that’s it. You’re gonna come just from me fucking you hard, aren’t you?”

It’s building, the crest coming for me, each thrust hitting something new and deep inside of me, hitting the ache in my belly that he put there.

That only he can cure.

His hand moves back to my hips, moving me to fuck me harder, deeper, the angle changing just a hair, and I scream.

“Right there! Fuck!” I shout, the sound going quiet in my ears.

“That’s it, baby, come for your man, then I’m gonna fill you, yeah?”

That does it.

The idea of this fucking man filling me has me screaming, my vision blurring and my body convulsing as I clamp down on him andlose it.

As I come, Ben growls an animalistic noise, slams in deep, and then I feel him pulsing into me.

And later, when I come down from my high, after he got a warm wet towel and cleaned me off, after he tucked me into the crook of his arm and held me in the dark, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Thirty

-Lola-

When I wake up,there’s an arm weighing me down.

When I crack an eye to look at it, it’s covered in dark ink.

Ben.

Ben’s arm is weighing me down. Draped on my naked skin.

My naked skin.

It comes back to me.

Johnny coming to the bakery. Trying to barter the debt. Trying to force himself on me.

Ben coming in like my saving grace.

I called his name.

I called his name.

Jesus.

What was I thinking?

Ben pulling Johnny off me. Seeing how small Johnny was compared to Ben.

“Did you ask him to touch you?”

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