Chapter 13

Ben’s bed was somehow even comfier with him in it despite how much space he took up. He was a cuddler. Which maybe should not have surprised me? But it totally did. Ben also was hot as a furnace—and grabby as hell, even when unconscious.

We’d gone to bed at either ends of the mattress. My fault, definitely. Ben had watched me with those serious golden eyes and I’d chickened the fuck out. Only that hadn’t ended up mattering, thank God, because an hour after I’d fallen asleep—I was starting to think Ben was a miracle worker—he octopused that big-ass body around me and woke me up.

“Mmm,” I whined into the pillow in complaint.

There was no reply.

Half asleep and groggy, I’d peeped one eye open to get a good look at my assailant. Ben was snoring beside me, drooling onto his pillow, his arm and leg slung over my body like I was the teddy bear I accused him of being. I could only see one of his tattoos from this angle, which was a shame.

I swear to god, when I realized that he had some, I’d nearly combusted right then and there.

Because being a hot doctor with a swimmer’s body was one thing. Being a hot doctor with a swimmer’s body and tattoos ? Another thing entirely. They were swirling black ink and delicate lines. As floral as the undernotes of his cologne.

Ben made a cute little snort-y noise, sniffed, then went right back to snoring. He was heavy as hell. And sweaty. But in a good way. The kind of way that reminded me of sex and bare skin, and cocks.

I fell back to sleep quickly—again, a miracle—and the next time I woke I realized I had…maybe a bit of a problem.

If you could call it that.

I was flat on my belly, one of Ben’s pillows hugged to my chest. His breath was hot at the back of my neck, his entire considerable weight plastered to my back. Ben slept mostly naked. Which was possibly the most amazing thing I’d ever discovered.

The only thing he wore were these frankly slutty pair of threadbare gray sweatpants that had a dick print obscene enough he belonged in prison. When he’d walked out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed, I’m pretty sure I’d swallowed my tongue.

“I can put a shirt on,” is what he’d said, as if his dick wasn’t taunting me, lying there all pretty and thick and long and yummy . I’d been half-tempted to fall to my knees, pull his pants down, and suck him as far down as I could.

But I’d been tired and full of wine and dinner, so I hadn’t.

Other than being revealing as hell, Ben’s pants seemed to have a second major flaw. They were so thin he might as well have been naked.

Actually, calling that a flaw was maybe too harsh.

And also inaccurate.

Because I had pretty much zero complaints right now about that. Especially considering the fact that Ben’s dick was pushing hard into my ass, and I could practically feel every ridge and dip of it, the fabric was so threadbare.

“Christ on a cracker,” I muttered into the mattress as Ben mouthed at the back of my neck, his cock wedged into the crack of my ass. I was wearing a pair of his boxers, and a hoodie that had rucked all the way up to my armpits, so there was pretty much nothing in the way of all that hot, hot skin smashed to my own.

He was still asleep.

I knew he was still asleep.

But I was currently being squashed into the bed and could not move whatsoever.

Not that I really wanted to. I had a god of a man grinding against me, and I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to memorize what that felt like. Still though…Ben was my friend.

My friend.

And while sleepy Ben fucking me was seriously the hottest thing ever—new kink unlocked—I wasn’t going to take advantage of him like that. Not without consent first.

“Ben,” my voice was crackly raw with both sleep and arousal. “ Ben .”

“Mmm,” Ben whined, teeth sinking into my skin, his tongue liquid hot. Jesus fuck. Electricity shot up my spine.

“Ben,” I tried again. “Benito. Beniciano. Bento box. Eggs and bake-ben. Cornish game Ben. A-Ben-Ca-Da-Bruh.” The last one seemed to do the trick, because Ben stopped grinding. His teeth released my nape and he groaned, somehow sinking even deeper into me, his nose squishing into my skin. “You awake?” I asked, even though it was obvious.

“Unfortunately,” Ben’s voice was a low mumbling growl. Damn. Grumpy in the mornings. So he did have a flaw. I craned my neck to see the alarm clock, grimacing when I realized how early it was.

“You were fucking me with your dick,” I informed him, muffled against the sheets. “Through your pants.”

“I know.” Ben laughed, the sound buzzing against my skin. He sounded embarrassed. Which was my job. “I’m sorry.”

I froze, growing rigid beneath him.

He was… sorry?

So he really hadn’t wanted it.

Mortification turned my skin bright red. I tried to wiggle out from under him, but gigantor wouldn’t let me.

“Not like that,” Ben apologized with his tone alone. “I’m still half asleep. Don’t misconstrue my words.” He curled his arms around me, his very hard dick still poking into me as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. I wheezed out the happiest breath I’d probably ever breathed. “I’m sorry because I didn’t ask your permission first.”

“Oh.” The humiliation faded as happy-happy-happy chemicals danced all around inside my brain. I was surprisingly chipper this morning! For a dude up before the sun. Maybe it was because a big dick was poking me.

Probably.

“Does that mean you want to poke me with your dick some more now that you’re awake?” I asked hopefully.

Ben chuckled. Chuckled! All sexy and low and amused. He stopped squeezing me like a dog toy, his teeth finding the back of my neck again. “Do you want me to do that?” he asked, always the gentleman.

“Does Mads Mikkelsen deserve another Oscar? Yes. Yes I want you to do that.” My cheeks were hot as Ben laughed again.

He liked me.

I didn’t understand why.

But he really did like me.

As evidenced by the fact he was always sweet-talking me. Always touching me. Always laughing at my jokes and finding joy in all the things I said.

My thoughts screeched to a halt when Ben ground his hips into mine again, slow and deliberate. This was different than the sloppy, sleepy ruts from before. This was a man on a mission. And that mission was to push his cock directly against my twitchy asshole, fabric barriers be damned.

Pulling back, Ben fucked forward with purpose again. A sharp snap of his hips that made me whine.

And then he was pulling away, taking all that hot, lovely skin with him. He flopped over onto his back beside me, sucking in a breath with a groan. When I glanced down I could see the tent his dick made. It twitched, and when I glanced back at his face, Ben was watching me.

“Why’d you stop?” I asked, because duh.

Why the fuck had he stopped?

“Show me your cock, little songbird,” Ben’s voice was low and sugary sweet.

Flames burst across my body, my own dick perking right the fuck up. Like it’d never stopped working in the first place. I knew this was purely luck. That it had everything to do with the lovely night’s rest I had just experienced—but still.

It was a gift.

I didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to get the comforter off my tangled legs. Scrambling to get the boxers I had borrowed from Ben down and off. Only apparently I wasn’t fast enough for Ben, because while I was kicking around at the blankets he reached for the hem of the underwear with both hands and yanked them right down to my knees.

My dick slapped against my belly, sticky and hard, the skin flushed pink enough to see in the dark. The crows on my hips pointed toward it, framing the flushed skin as Ben growled, low and happy under his breath.

“So fucking pretty.”

My cock flexed.

And then he was slurping me down, quick as that.

My hand tangled in the auburn waves on the top of his head, scrambling for support as my balls tapped his lips and bliss exploded behind my eyelids.

When he pulled off, spit clung from the tip of my cock connecting to his lower lip. Ben’s eyes were hungry . “You’ve got the perfect sized dick,” he told me. The praise lit me up from the inside out. His big hand fanned along my length, demonstrating without words just how small it looked in his grip. And then he stroked me, tight and rough, and deliberate—and my brain about fell out of my ears.

“Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben,” I chanted his name, legs kicking out as my hole clenched tight. It’d been so long since the last time I’d been touched. And even then, it’d never felt like this. Electric all the way down to my bones. There wasn’t a single thing I didn’t like about Ben Montgomery.

Not a single fucking thing.

“Shhh,” Ben urged, sliding up the bed so he was hovering over me, my cock clutched loosely in his grip. My legs trembled, balls drawn up tight. And then he winked. Because he was simply the hottest human to ever exist. I made a garbled sound and Ben tutted disapprovingly.

He hadn’t even moved his hand again, but it felt like he was.

My hips stuttered, trying to fuck into him, but he kept his grip gentle enough my movements did jack shit. Like my dick was a leash, and he was holding me in place.

“You need to be quiet, little songbird,” Ben hummed, leaning down so our lips brushed with every word. “Can you do that for me?”

I didn’t know if I could.

I didn’t want to lie.

“Is that too hard?” Ben asked, voice low and sugary sweet. “Is that too hard for my pretty little bird? Can’t stay quiet, can you, baby? You have such pretty notes to sing.”

I nodded jerkily, once again trying to fuck Ben’s fist and failing.

He released my cock as quickly as he’d grabbed it, hands gripping my hip hard enough to bruise as he shoved them into the mattress. “Did I say you could move?” he asked, voice still sugary sweet, though there was a threat laced within it.

“No,” I managed, surprised by how croaky and needy I sounded.

“Are you going to stay still if I let you go?” Ben’s lips brushed mine again.

“Yes.”

He released my hip, long fingers playing at the sensitive skin that joined my legs and pelvis. They skimmed along the tattoos there, sliding low, a single finger tracing between my aching balls, up, up, up to the tip of my leaking dick.

“What a good boy,” Ben murmured, still not kissing me. “So wet for me, aren’t you?”

I nodded jerkily.

“Should we make you more wet?”

Again, I nodded.

“I think you can be quiet,” Ben promised. “In fact, I know you can.”

When Ben grabbed my dick once more his pace was relentless. Up and down, tight, slick, scratchy in all the right ways. I held my hips still because every time they so much as flinched Ben would tut at me again and slacken his grip till I apologized.

Staying quiet was half the battle. My eyes rolled back, my tongue curling as I gasped and shivered, so focused on not moaning that I forgot for a moment how this had even started in the first place. My dick leaked and leaked and leaked, growing wet just the way he’d promised it would. Like he was squeezing every drop to the surface till my skin was tacky and his hand was messy.

What felt like an eon later, voice low and thready, Ben murmured against my lips one final demand.

“Come,” he said, like he fully expected me to do it on command. Like it was a trick and I was his puppy—and he’d trained me to obey. I sobbed quietly, balls drawing up tight as I did as I was told, hot cum spilling into his fist. He squeezed tighter somehow. Milking me through it, over and over and over till my skin was raw just the way I liked, and my eyes had crossed.

“You like a little pain, huh?” Ben cooed against the shell of my ear. “That’s what you told me.” Schlick, schlick, schlick. Ben twisted tighter around my cock. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt—and it felt…so fucking good . “Over coffee,” Ben added, voice still sugary sweet and threatening. “Like you thought I wouldn’t remember. Like I wasn’t paying attention to every twitch of your expression. Like I wasn’t thinking about pulling your nipples till you cried, or fisting your ass till it’s pink and gaping and sore.”

“Fuck,” my voice cracked, a second orgasm building, building, building. I’d never come twice in a row before. Never knew I could.

“Looking at me with that smirk, and those eyes—” Ben bit my ear, his hot breath tickling in a way that made my blood sing. “Like I wasn’t imagining torturing you till you made a mess all over the dining room table.”

The second orgasm hit me like a freight train. No more cum came out. But it arched through me, over and over and over. And still, Ben toyed with me. Digging his thumb into my slit like if he teased me hard enough he could force a third out of my cock.

I sagged against the mattress when I was done, so oversensitive I didn’t even have the energy to push him off my dick. Grip softening, Ben kept his hand curled loosely around my dick. Like he was simply keeping track of his property.

And then he kissed my cheek.

It was a chaste kiss, in comparison to what he’d just done to me.

My head felt heavy and my limbs were fuzzy as I made a garbled little sound.

“You did so good, baby,” Ben promised against my skin, murmuring praise along my jaw, down my throat, and over the rucked up hoodie I still wore. “So pretty , aren’t you? The prettiest. Look what a gift you gave me.” I whined, cracking my eyes open—belatedly realizing they’d been pinched shut.

Ben’s hand was in front of my face, cum-slick and messy.

“Next time, I’m going to finger you open,” Ben promised, his sticky fingers slip-sliding across my lips.

“Mmm,” I sighed, opening my mouth obediently as he fed me each finger, one at a time. Salty and bitter, the familiar taste made me groan.

“Clean them up,” Ben ordered, as bossy as I’d hoped he’d be. “That’s a good boy. Nice and thorough.”

Lapping at the pads of his fingers and down between them, I felt safe and warm in a way I never had before. Like for the first time in my life, I’d found a place I really fit in. Because after this single, perfect sexual experience, there was no denying the fact that Ben Montgomery was everything I’d ever wanted and more.

He didn’t let me touch his dick.

When I tried, he simply shushed me with another kiss to my cheek and rose from bed.

“Later,” he promised, eyes glinting in the dark. “The girls are almost up.”

I stared at him dumbly, eyes caught on the way his cock tented his pants. When he rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom, the light flicked on, and I flinched with a hiss, blocking its glare from view. “Get dressed, sweetheart,” Ben hummed, leaning against the doorway, all that gorgeous tattooed muscle on display. There was a smattering of chest hair between his pecs. It was mostly gray, which I couldn’t help but find…soooo fucking hot. “Then get some sleep.”

Still bossy, even when his dick was pointing right at me.

“Mmm,” I mumbled incoherently as I forced my own boxers back up. Ben had licked me clean at one point, though I wasn’t sure when. It was a blur of muscles and warmth, and praise.

“I’ll wake you up when breakfast is ready.”

My dick twitched one last, final time, before Ben shut the bathroom door and I heard the sound of his electric toothbrush flick on. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, I allowed myself a single, solitary moment to freak the fuck out about what this might mean for our friendship, and for Miles—and for my stay here in Belleville.

And then I promptly fell back to sleep, blissed out and happy, with the knowledge that I’d been right.

Ben was one bossy-ass motherfucker.

Especially in bed.