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He grinds against me once more, and I just react, shoving him off of me.
I can’t take the close proximity any longer and need to get my head on straight. I nearly vault off the bed and turn the cameras off.
“I did good, huh?” Bennet asks as he leans back on the bed. My eyes are drawn to the huge bulge in his pants, and I purse my lips to keep them from attaching themselves to his big dick.
I refuse to swallow it down.
I refuse.
“It was bearable. I’ll send it to Carter in the morning.”
“Pfft, bearable. You’re so full of shit,” he says and leans back even more, his hands bracing his weight on the bed, and I try not to notice how hot he looks with his bulging muscles, the veins popping out at the strain.
“I am full of a lot of things, but not shit,” I say, and Bennet just smirks at me and then reaches his hand between his legs and cups his cock.
My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel my entire body clench.
“Come on, Jasper. It’s been a shit day. Let’s get off again,” he says, and my hands flutter in front of me.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Come on,” he says, his hand clenching, and a grunt escapes his lips. Oh, that sound.
“Fine,” I say, much too easily convinced.
I am just tired. It’s been a long day. What’s wrong with a little stress relief?
“Thank fuck,” Bennet says and then arches his hips up and shucks his pants like an ear of corn. Damn, he’s fast. Must have had practice living out here.
Do they grow corn in Kansas? I need to ask.
“Hurry,” he says, and I glower at him as I peel myself out of my clothes. As soon as I’m naked, I start to shiver, so I move up on top of him. For the body heat, of course. I don’t want to die out here. This is not how I want my life to end.
“Oh fuck, yes,” Bennet says as I straddle his hips and pull the blanket up over me.
“This is for the heat and so we don’t have to wash the sheets again,” I say, and Bennet nods, reaching down and taking his cock in his hand.
Fuck, he’s big.
“You can touch it if you want,” he says, and I reach up and flick his ear.
“I don’t want to.”
I so want to, but instead of wrapping my hand around it, I grasp my own dick and start to stroke.
Oh hell, that feels good.
“Shit,” Bennet groans, and I let out a shaky breath.
Fuck, my hand does not feel right. Not right.
“Let’s trade,” I hiss, and Bennet doesn’t even hesitate. He just reaches out and grabs on to my cock and my back arches—the feel of his hand on me is too much.
I want to hate it, but I can’t. It feels too damn good.
“Look at you,” he says lowly. “Fucking look at you.”
I shake my head, thrusting my hips into his fist.
