kick off my pants the rest of the way, and she’s straddling my legs before I’ve even managed to shrug out of my tee.
She traps me that way, with my arms tangled in the material of my shirt and still positioned over my head. Her mouth finds mine and everything about her is emphasized in sharp relief at the darkness. Her sweet scent surrounds me, drives me crazy. Nimble fingers grip my length, and I arch and buck against her.
“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” I murmur hoarsely.
She releases my arms and I attack. My fingers are no longer teasing or tempting as they strip her of her bikini bottoms, but insistent. The moment she’s completely bare to me, she slicks herself over the length of my cock like she can’t resist the simple friction of skin against skin.
“Ben,” she manages to choke out. “I can’t—”
I capture her lips. “I can. Just hold on to me.”
She sobs with pleasure as I guide myself to her entrance, her fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders. Lowering herself down an inch, two, she groans softly, sweetly. I arch my neck, nearly delirious with the rightness of it.
This, is all I can think. Everything about this and only this.
I grip her hips and pull her the rest of the way down until we are thigh to thigh and I can’t get enough. She pauses for a beat, maybe two, before she begins to move over me, seeking her own pleasure. I nip at her neck, repeating the simple movements I know make her crazy, arching my hips in time to tease her clit, nibbling her ear.
“Is that how you want it, Liv?” I ask. She mumbles something unintelligible in response. “Are you gonna come? I want to feel you come for me.”
I don’t even have to do anything other than urge her hips to keep our passionate rhythm and whisper all the filthy things I want to do to her before she tightens over me again—a tangle of want—and explodes.
I only manage to keep the sweet, steady pace long enough to work her through her orgasm before I follow right behind, lips pressed to her neck, clutching her around the waist like my life depends on it.
And my last thoughts as I follow her toward ecstasy are of how I want her to remember this moment as much as I know I will. I want to burn the memory of this night into her very core. I want her dreams to be of me, of this. I want the ghost of my touch to haunt her every day until I come back.
SWEAT SLICKS OUR skin together, but I can’t seem to find the energy to move. I’m drunk on the scent of him. Of us. Aftershocks dance along my spine causing me to shiver against him. We fell into Ben’s hotel room at some point, several hours ago, in a tangle of arms and tongues and moans. Our relentless exploration of each other frenzied with hurry like we cannot get enough, while lazy and reverent at the same time, like we never want it to end.
His hands tighten against me and he groans. “Don’t move for a second.”
I look down at him. “Why? Got a cramp?”
“No, you feel so good and considering that I’m going to be surrounded by a bunch of dudes for the next year, I want to remember this feeling.”
My mouth drops open and I slap his shoulder. “You are such an ass.”
He smiles and I feel his cock harden inside of me. My eyes widen in response, and I let out a soft groan. “I fuckin’ love it when you get feisty. Must be the red hair.”
He moves below me and all of the sensitive nerve endings he’d stoked to life send ripples of pleasure throughout me. “It’s not the hair, it’s because you can be a jackass and unlike the other bimbos in your life, I’m not afraid to tell you.”
“No,” he says, “I don’t think that’s it. You just like arguing.”
He angles his hips and hits a spot that has lights playing behind my closed lids. As the muscles in my stomach tighten, I try to focus. “I do not.”
“Don’t worry, Spitfire. I like it when you argue with me. You turn pink in some of my favorite places. If you come for me again, I’ll show you where they are.”
“I do not!” I try to protest but it’s pretty useless because I can’t stop smiling.
“Mmm-hmm.” He