His fingers slid against me, massaging the slick, swollen tissue. Pleasure rocketed through me. I’d fantasized about his touch, and now that it was actually happening it was beyond any expectations I’d had. His skilled fingers massaged my clit with just enough pressure and a lazy rhythm that allowed the pleasure to build slowly.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered. He palmed one breast while his other hand remained buried in my panties.

I was soft, with extra padding on my hips, thighs, and breasts; my body was curvy and womanly, and though I would have thought this was a bad thing—especially for a toned and firm model like him—he seemed to like it.

He kissed a wet path across my neck as his hands explored. I should’ve stopped him but my mind was numb and my body was all kinds of lit up. I wanted more. I deserved more, didn’t I? I’d been the good girl for so long.

He slid one long finger inside me and I whimpered, arching my back. “You’re a little thing, aren’t you?” He kissed my neck while his finger continued its slow progression, sliding in and out of me in a careful rhythm.

“Ben . . .” I groaned, frustrated by his measured strokes. I needed more.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I need it harder.”

His mouth captured mine while his finger plunged deeper inside me, his bicep flexing with the motion. He added a second finger and pressed his thumb against the top of my sex. I moaned loudly, rocking my hips against his hand. I didn’t care that I looked like a horny mess. Hell, I was a horny mess.

He rhythmically fingered me in and out, his thick fingers filling an ache left untouched for too long. And now, Ben Shaw was in my bed. Holy hell.


Ben

She might have told me she didn’t want this, but her body disagreed. She had sent me all kinds of signals. She liked this. A lot. Her breathing came in soft pants and her hips rocked closer. I didn’t even think she realized she was doing it. She wanted me inside her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. But I didn’t want to ask her. I couldn’t bear to hear her tell me to stop. I needed to touch this girl.

“That feel good, baby?” I needed to hear her say it did. I was naturally pretty aggressive and that had always served me well with girls, but something told me Emmy wouldn’t like being told what to do. As much as I’d like to command her to strip naked, take off her panties, and stand before me, I wouldn’t. She wasn’t ready. She was too skittish around me. Too unsure.

“Mmm . . .” She let out a soft groan, her only signal that this felt good. She let her eyes slide closed and her head rested in the crook of my neck. That wouldn’t do. I wanted to see her face when she came, but I let her remain there, feeling the soft pant of breath against my neck. It felt nice.

She was by far the classiest girl I’d been with. Double major in college. She was smart, hardworking, and articulate. She didn’t sleep around. I could tell she was two seconds from pulling the plug on this whole thing, and I couldn’t let that happen. I’d never wanted a girl more. Not that I was about to get all introspective and examine why that was. No. My goal was much simpler. I just wanted to get her naked and see her tits. From the first moment I’d seen her, we’d been headed toward this very moment.

I moved my hand against her, dragging my fingers slowly in and out of her. She was wet as fuck and it made my dick so hard. I wanted to be inside her. I needed it. But I wouldn’t rush her. She felt amazing and she was literally soaking wet, now writhing against my hand. She went really tight and I could tell she was close. I could already read her body. I continued my measured strokes, unwilling to rush her to the finish line. I felt her begin to clench around my fingers as she started to unravel. Her eyes were a pretty gray-blue and clouded over with her pleasure. Still fucking her with my fingers, our eyes connected as she started to come.


Emmy

My orgasm built slowly then came rushing at me all at once, knocking the breath from my lungs and making me cry out. My world exploded around me. The climax hit me like a freight train, and I was in mindless ecstasy, clutching at Ben’s biceps as I fought to hold on. He knew what he was doing; I’d certainly give him that.

Recovering slightly, I pulled in a shaky breath. I wondered how loud I’d been. Ben’s smug smile of satisfaction confirmed he was pleased—with his performance, or mine, I didn’t know. Didn’t care. I needed to touch him. He removed his hand from my panties and planted a soft kiss on my mouth.

“Feel better, honey?” A smug smile was planted firmly on his lips. His reaction was cute. And yeah, that orgasm was a doozy. There was no denying that.

“Yes dear.”

With my eyes watching his, my hands found his belt and worked to unlatch it. The moment felt highly erotic. We lay side by side on the bed, watching each other’s eyes as I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. We both knew what was coming, and the anticipation was thick between us. He kissed me softly on my lips and forehead while I slid my hand into the front of his boxers. I was rewarded with a rock-hard, thick cock pressing insistently against my palm. His skin was warm and taut and my sex muscles clenched in response. My hand curled tightly around his shaft and he groaned. The noise came from deep inside him and I loved that sound. Closing my hand around him, I began stroking. Ben dropped his head back against the pillow in complete surrender. I liked knowing I did that to him. Not some supermodel. Me.

His hips rocked forward into my hand and his mouth momentarily stilled over mine as he released a low moan. “Emmy . . .”

The feel of Ben in my hand was amazing—a powerful rush surged through me. Even if it was just for this moment, he was mine.

“Fuuuck, that feels good.” He watched me with a sexy half-lidded stare of awe, his breath coming fast through those pouty lips. “Faster baby, a little faster.”

I could feel warm pre-cum already leaking from the tip. My hand gripped him tighter and I increased my speed, rubbing along his hardened shaft and up over the head. A few more strokes and I was rewarded with a throaty groan and felt Ben come, warm jets of semen erupting against my hand and his stomach.

Neither of us had removed a single article of clothing, but we’d each succeeded in finding release together. I was guessing I’d regret this in the morning, but the stupid feeling of bliss spreading through my chest wouldn’t be dampened right now.

Ben dropped a kiss against my forehead then reached for the tissues on my nightstand. He quickly cleaned us both up then tucked his still hard cock back inside his pants.

Ben stood from the bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Shall I tuck you in?”

I nodded drowsily.

He peeled back the covers and I shimmied out of my jeans, suddenly too tired to feel self-conscious. He chuckled at me and swept my hair back behind my ears.

“Sorry,” I yawned. “I guess the wine hit me pretty hard.”

Ben’s lips curved upward. “Was it the wine or the orgasm?”

“Shh. Hush.” I smiled.

“Night, darling.”

“Night night.”

Ben, still smiling, looked down at me. “Thanks for tonight. It was good to go out with someone who’s not looking for me to be the guy they see in the pictures.”

“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to be yourself.”

He brought his hand to my jawline and his thumb skittered along my cheek. “I did. Thank you.”

“Sleep well.”

He smiled softly. “We’ll see. I’m not the best sleeper.”

I frowned. What did that mean? Wasn’t sleep a vital bodily function needed for survival? I knew it was pretty much one of my favorite things in the world. “Well, if you can’t sleep, you know you can text me.”

“Can I now?”

Captain fucking obvious. Nice one, Emmy. I simply nodded.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His gaze lingered on mine for a moment, then he strode toward the door and left without another word. But really, what was there to say? Tonight had been nothing like I had expected.

After he left, I reluctantly left the warm cocoon of the bed to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas before crawling under the covers. I was nowhere near asleep when my phone chimed with a new message.

Ben: Are you awake?

Wasn’t there some rule about texting a man back after midnight? I glanced at the clock. It was 12:20. I didn’t care. I would break the rules for Ben.

Me: Yes. Hi

Ben: You sure it’s wise to text me back when you’re in bed, Miss Clarke? Now that I’ve got that visual in my head . . .

Me: Yes.

Ben: He misses you.

There was a dimly lit picture of Ben lying in bed. Just his chest, abs, and black boxer briefs, which were nicely filled out in the front.

I smiled to myself and shook my head. My exhaustion took a backseat if it meant flirting with Ben was an option. I liked that he’d texted me just moments after leaving. I liked the idea that he was still thinking of me. My brain refused to focus on anything else. I studied the picture more closely, imagining licking those grooves in his abs, working my way lower to bite his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Something about this man brought out my primal side.

Me: Are you hard again?

Ben: Nah

Me: He looks that good just being lazy?!

Who was this girl? And what had she done with careful, straight-laced Emmy? Ben turned me into a flirty version of myself I didn’t quite recognize, but liked all the same. I giggled silently, my eyes glued to my phone and waiting for his response.