Chapter 15

Ben was adorable when he was asleep. Super fucking adorable. It had taken me a while to understand what had happened, I was so distracted by scratching up into his thick red hair, and then down over the mole-speckled skin on his back. It was only when he started snoring that I realized the lazy lull of my touches had lured him to slumber.

I wasn’t mad though.

Truth be told, I was grateful.

Because even though I had a giant—and I mean giant —delicious man underneath me, my dick hadn’t wanted to come out to play. It had to happen eventually. I knew that. Wasn’t like magic, where every time Ben was nearby my cock would wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and start to work again.

Twice was enough.

Twice proved that after a good night and some solid sleep, my body was more than willing to cooperate.

But it was Sunday, not Monday. And I’d had a week of restless nights between me and the last time I’d dozed in Ben Montgomery’s bed.

So yeah.

Ben falling asleep on me was a blessing, kinda. Because I didn’t have to explain to him why my dick was soft, and why it probably wouldn’t wake up at all.

Flopping over onto my back beside him, I couldn’t help but find it funny that only a week ago he’d done that same exact thing beside me. Only his flopping had caused the bed to ripple, and mine barely disturbed the sleeping man beside me.

He mumbled something incoherent, squeezing the pillow in his grip tight, smacked his lips, and relaxed all over again.

And for several long, precious minutes, I let myself admire him.

I traced his wiry forearms and the fuzzy hair that clung to them. I stroked the bicep that had led me like Dorothy to the promised land of Oz. I brushed his hair away from his face and enjoyed his long dark lashes. Enjoyed the way they fluttered on his cheeks, spiky and soft. Enjoyed the wrinkles around his eyes and the gray at his temples that gave him a distinguished air.

I’d never thought I’d be into older guys, not that Ben was old —because he wasn’t. Forties wasn’t old. But he was still older than I was.

He’d seen more shit than I had.

And he had a family.

A family he’d chosen.

Kids he loved.

Kids that loved him back.

Miles said there was room in Belleville for the both of us. And I was starting to suspect he was right. But was there room in Ben Montgomery’s life for a washed-up, fucked-up, Southern reject?

He made it seem like there was.

With every kind gesture.

Every time he included me.

Every warm smile, every laugh, every brush of his fingers.

Ben made me feel the way no one ever had before. When I was with him, I fit. Like we were puzzle pieces. Or harmonies. Two shapes, two notes, same tune.

I played with his fingers for a while, curled up next to him, my toes tucked beneath his meaty thigh. He was wearing the sweatpants again. The threadbare ones. And his ass looked almost as spectacular as his dick had inside them.

His hands were bigger than mine. Maybe veinier too? Though I’d always had particularly veiny hands. The hair on his arms stopped just above his wrists, and while his fingers were long and dexterous, his wrists were slender. I could loop my fingers around them—something that surprised me far more than it probably should.

Ben Montgomery was warm dinners, late nights, and laughter.

He was solid, and sure, and dependable.

He was the sun rising every morning, and the moon at night.

He was caring and predictable in the way only truly good people were.

And it was easy to love him in the blanket of night, with his snores a symphony in the quiet room. It was easy to tap out a love song against his knuckles, to soak up his warmth, to pretend—if only for a moment—that I’d been lying that day I’d sat in the dark, eggnog in my belly, and shown Ben my blackened heart.

In his bed, I wasn’t poison.

I was just me.

And he was Ben.

And for a moment, I let myself pretend that this could be forever.

The next week went by in a blur. I spent as much time with Bubba and Miles as I could. And when they were busy, I went on the hunt for Ben. Sometimes he’d be at work. Sometimes he’d be out with the girls. Sometimes he’d invite me for cocoa, and then bring me to his home. We’d play with the girls till they passed the fuck out, and on one very memorable occasion, Jane even asked if I would be the one to read her bedtime story to her.

Apparently they both got to pick one a night.

Which was…honestly a fucking honor .

And when I’d told Jane that, she’d grinned—at the same time Rosie’s little voice piped up, sleepily from her bed across the room that I now, in fact, owed her more “monies.”

After storytime when Ben and I had retreated to the couch to canoodle, I’d asked him about the swear jar. It seemed I was practically funding Rosie’s entire illegal operation single-handedly.

“Illegal operation?” Ben asked, obviously amused.

“Well, yeah,” I agreed, more than a little pleased with my life at the moment. I was in his lap. Which was somehow even better than being snuggled against his side. I could feel his dick beneath my ass when I wiggled—and he kept making this annoyed face at me like he knew I was doing it on purpose just to see if I could wake it up. “She’s like a tiny Al Pacino.” Putting on my best and worst Italian accent, in a low voice I added, “You owe me monies.”

Ben cracked up.

Which was flattering as hell.

His whole face lit up, wrinkles exploding across it in the way they only did when he was truly overjoyed. I was more than a little proud of myself for making him snort like that. When I wiggled in his lap again to celebrate a job well done, Ben’s eyebrow came back full force.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warned, big warm hands finding my hips and squeezing tight enough to bruise. And then, like he hadn’t just said the hottest shit in the history of the world, he went on to explain about the swear jar.

“She wants a cat,” he hummed.

“A…” I was still stuck on the “don’t start what you can’t finish” thing. “Cat?”

“Yes.” Ben’s lips twitched.

“Not the kinda pussy I was thinking about, but okay,” I replied, trying to make him laugh again. Ben’s eyes widened at the same time his brow lowered. That was a new look. A Look with a capital L. Wow. Look at me go! Making him make new faces and everything.

“You don’t have a pussy,” Ben told me in case I’d forgotten. He’d seen all my bits up close and personal, so I figured it was fair he was confused.

“Fine, a bussy.”

“A what?” Ben looked confused.

“Boy-pussy.” I ground against his dick again, and he made this amazing little growly sound. “You know. Bussy.”

“Robin—”

“I can make it real nice and wet for you, Ben Ben,” I informed him. “I keep it snug.” I was full of shit. There was no such thing as keeping your ass snug. At least…I didn’t think so? But it was turning him on. And I could feel it. So I wasn’t about to stop. “Keep it nice and tiny and tight for that big, big dick to goooOooo—oh-woah.” My back hit the couch with a thump , the wind knocked right out of me.

“You have such a mouth on you,” Ben hummed, one of those gigantic hands squeezing my face and making my lips purse. I whined, low and soft, unable to help it.

Please, dick gods, let my dick wake up, I prayed.

“Such a pretty mouth,” Ben added, staring down at my lips. “And it says the filthiest things.”

“Trashmouth,” I blurted, though it was muffled by the fact he was squeezing me. My cheeks went hot. “Comes with the territory.”

Such a pretty mouth, Ben’s words echoed around inside my head.

You’re a good boy, Robin.

Gorgeous.

Sweetheart.

“Rosie wants a pet cat,” Ben continued, like he wasn’t looming over me. Like he wasn’t holding me still. Like I wasn’t imagining thirty ways I could take his dick in the next thirty seconds. “I told her if she can raise a hundred dollars that after Christmas we would go pick one up from the shelter.”

Oh.

Oh my heart.

“I hope you know I’m going to be swearing up a storm around those kids,” I told him. “How much do they have left? Twenty bucks? Thirty? That’s easy. I can do that in less than a minute.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Ben replied dryly. He had the sexiest look on his face. Half grumpy, half amused. “But the point of making them earn it was to teach them patience and that there is nothing better than working hard for something.”

“Listening to other people swear is working hard?” I blinked, confused.

Ben snorted. His brow furrowed. A grin spread across his lips. “When you put it like that, you have a point.”

“This is why you need me around,” I told him. “I’ve got fresh perspective.”

“That’s not the only reason I need you around,” Ben said, sweeter than sugar. He leaned down and kissed my pursed lips. I could taste wine on his, familiar and musky sweet.

“You’re after my bussy,” I mumbled against his mouth, delighted when he jerked back so he wouldn’t laugh right in my face. “I just know it.”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Ben cackled. He’d released my face, thank God. Because this time, he would not stop laughing. His hands went up, covering his expression as his shoulders shook and the most horrific, but beautiful, crackling kinda guffaw left him.

It was like watching a train wreck.

I couldn’t look away.

“My bussy brings all the boys to the yard—” I sing-songed as Ben died of laughter, still straddling me. “And they’re like—it’s better than yours.”

“ Robiiiin ,” Ben gasped out, lowering his hands and collapsing onto me. My song died as he smashed me into the couch, muffling his laughter into my neck now. Hesitantly, I reached around him, stroking a hand down the center of his back so I could feel his laughter vibrate through both sides of his body.

“Yeeees?” I replied, burying my nose in his downy, soft hair and trying not to die because I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.

And it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t.

Because I knew myself. I knew myself, and I knew the second things got too real—I’d run.

I always ran.

It was simply what I did.

Ben didn’t reply. And I knew it was because he knew I wasn’t ready to hear what he had been about to say. It was too soon. And I was too me . And my feet itched and itched and itched.

“Mmm,” I sobbed, scratching at the pillows my face was smashed into as Ben licked the back of my neck and those big, lovely hands skated down my side.

“I told you I don’t break my promises,” he purred, teeth sinking liquid hot, just deep enough to sting as his other hand—his other very naughty, very sexy hand—uncapped the lube bottle on the bed.

I was naked. Well. Kinda .

Aside from the hoodie I’d borrowed—bunched up to my armpits—and the furry sock things that still adorned my feet because Ben had been “afraid I’d get cold without them”.

His thoughtfulness knew no bounds. Especially when he was crammed up against my side and I knew without a shred of doubt in my mind that he was about to wreck my fucking ass.

At least, I hoped he was.

Equally as strongly, I hoped I’d get to touch him back today.

Knowing him though, he’d leave me hanging again without a chance to touch his cock at all.

It was early in the morning. Early enough the kids wouldn’t be up for hours. Neither of us were morning people, as evidenced by Ben’s sleepy grumblings when I’d rolled over and began to nibble along the back of his neck.

He’d woken up slow and grouchy—which, same, bud—but quickly perked up when he felt my dick push against his side. All it had taken was one little whine and Ben was wide a-fucking-wake.

And now here we were. The warm, dry skin of his abs brushing my back as he coasted his hand up and down my side, tracing my ribs and the dips of my hips as the slick, slick of lube coated his other hand.

How he was doing that with only one hand available was a mystery to me. I struggled doing most things even with both hands unoccupied.

“You want me to suck your little cock, baby?” Ben asked against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. My dick jerked. “Before I play with that sexy tight bussy.”

To his credit, he kept it together for a solid five seconds before a low, rumbly chuckle buzzed along my nape.

“Okay, you’re right—” I managed, muffled against the pillow. “No more talk of bussies.” Though… “Calling my cock little is definitely good though. Super good. Fuck. Why is that so hot?”

“Because you are little,” Ben murmured. “And if you’re little that makes me…”

“Huge.” My throat clicked when I swallowed, face hot. Then, because I couldn’t help it, I added. “But um. Yeah. No need to use bussy. I’ll survive without it.”

I really had only been using it as a joke—and because I liked the way he reacted to it. But…even though it was honestly pretty hot when he said it still, Ben somehow managed to say it like an old man. Kinda slow and awkward, like he was sounding the word out for the first time. Which made me want to laugh. Even worse, every time he said it he wouldn’t stop chuckling like the little shit he was. Which meant neither of us was taking it seriously at all.

“Are you sure?” Ben hummed, sobering a little. He laced a flickering little kiss behind my ear, his tongue sliding out to tease. Hot breath made a shiver run down my spine. “Because if you want me to tell you how badly I want to wreck your bussy I will.”

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” I gasped out, my dick twitching where it hung between my thighs. “I’m getting coal for Christmas this year.”

“Naughty list?” Ben chuckled, amused.

“Always.”

The warm, dry hand that skimmed my side slid down to my ass. It was easy for him to grip it. The size difference came in handy in this case as he dragged his thumb down my crack and pulled me open wide.

“This part of you is definitely naughty,” Ben agreed, speaking conversationally, like my hole wasn’t fluttering all over the place, and my dick wasn’t drooling onto his comforter. He leaned back, made a quiet sound, like he was inspecting me, then slid back in close.

Hot breath tickled my ear the next time he spoke, “Just look at the way it twitches.”

“Can’t help it,” I replied. “I’m a ho-ho-hoooo—” Ben cut me off when his dry thumb pressed against my hole, shoving hard enough I felt the skin give a little.

“When was the last time you were touched here?” Ben asked, tone still conversational. Slick fingers replaced the dry ones as his hand went back to holding my ass open.

“Um,” my voice was crackly dry, all jokes forgotten. “Two years?” Fuck. Wait. No. “Three.” That wasn’t right either. When was the last time I’d been fucked? It’d been in Vegas. Not this last tour but the one before. Some guy who’d told me I was pretty in the parking lot at a rest stop. He’d tasted like cigarettes, left bruises I didn’t want, and I’d said yes because the sky had been so empty, empty, empty, and yet somehow, my heart had been even emptier.

“I’ll need to stretch you out first,” Ben murmured. “Train you.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Ben training me brought visions of me on my knees with a collar and a leash to mind. He’d loom over me, that sexy brow twitch taunting me as he tugged on my leash, and told me that only good boys got treats.

“Yes please,” I managed, shuddering as he pressed more insistently at my hole.

“I’m not fucking you tonight.”

“Bah humbug.” What a spoilsport.

“Even though you like it rough.” Ben’s thumb slipped in and I sobbed. Damn, I really was a whore. I couldn’t help it. Because the second he was inside me I wanted more, more, more. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. It couldn’t.

Deeper he slipped, the scratch of his knuckle catching on my rim as he leaned back to watch himself disappear inside me again. When I glanced back, I wished I hadn’t.

Because one look at the concentrated, almost pissed-off expression on his face made my dick threaten to spill entirely untouched.

“When the girls aren’t in the other room I’m going to edge you,” Ben promised, pulling his thumb out slow and easy, before fucking in with a snap that I felt all the way to my toes. The next time, he pulled out all the way. My hole twitched, begging for more.

“Edge me?”

“Edge you,” Ben agreed, slipping his index finger in this time. It wasn’t as thick, but damn, it was long. I clenched around it, and Ben rumbled his approval. “I want to see how long it takes to make you cry.”

Well that was terrifying and also the hottest thing I’d ever heard.

“Won’t take much,” I admitted as he fucked in and out, the wet slap of his wrist echoing through the room. He slid his middle finger in with the other on the next thrust, and it burned so good my toes curled.

“Have you ever worn a cock ring?” Ben asked, keeping up the pace even though I was falling to pieces beneath him.

“Um. No.”

“One day we’re going to buy you one,” Ben hummed. “Bright red. So it blends in with your pretty little,” he flicked my cock head and I howled, “Dick.”

When Ben slid a third finger inside me I lost the game with my patience. I ground back against him, fucking onto his knuckles with a sob as my body trembled beneath him.

“Look at your toes curl,” Ben cooed. “You love being fucked, don’t you?” He twisted his fingers down, pressing hard against my prostate. I sobbed . “You give me these looks, you know?” Ben hummed, the sound of his fingers fucking into me somehow growing louder as I moved back to meet his thrusts. I was surprised he even let me move, he was so damn bossy.

“L-looks?” I managed, even though I had no idea how my mouth was still working.

“Your eyes beg for it. For me to fuck you. I bet you’d let me pull your pants down and slip inside you anytime, anywhere.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“You…” Ben sped up, his fingers twisting, the pounding against my prostate too much for me to be able to survive. I lost my train of thought, head swimming with sensation. When I came it felt like I died. Pleasure exploded through my body, my cock spilling and spilling and spilling.

And it was good, it was so good.

It was so, so, so good.

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered. “Oh fuck. Please. Please .” Ben kept his fingers inside me, shoving in hard now, his knuckles pushing against my rim so I could squeeze and squeeze and squeeze around him.

And then, because my teddy bear was clearly the devil, he leaned down, low and slow. And just like before, his warm breath curled around the shell of my ear as he purred, “I wish this was my dick. That I could feel you squeezing around it. Milking me dry. Letting me breed this sweet little ass.”

When my brain had stopped being broken and my limbs worked again, I made it my mission to touch Ben’s dick.

When I told Ben that, he snorted out a laugh, gently removed his fingers from my ass, and gave it a parting rub. He did not respond to my stink face, other than to grin, lay on his back like a good sport, spread his legs, and gesture magnanimously at his cock.

It flexed toward me.

Like he was offering me a fucking treat.

Which…I guess he was.

“These sweatpants should be illegal,” I told him, yanking down the fabric unceremoniously. “You should be in prison right now.” He just chuckled, but otherwise didn’t say a word.

When his dick slapped free—commando, damn—my brain broke for a second time. Because if I’d thought Ben’s dick was hot when it was wrapped up in cotton, it was fucking delicious bare. I stared at it, mouth watering, my head spinning.

I’d always liked dicks.

Maybe it’d taken me till my early twenties to figure out that I was bisexual, but that had never changed my very real attraction to men.

Ben Montgomery was the epitome of a male specimen. He had hair in all the right places. He smelled clean and musky. He’d aged like fine wine, and his very large, very gorgeous body was made up of hard lines and compact muscle.

He wasn’t as brawny as his brothers but there was no denying that he was strong.

“In prison?” Ben husked out, voice lower than before.

His dick twitched, the flushed skin making my mouth water. Thick and long, it listed slightly to the left rather than pointed directly at me. Like it was polite, for a cock, despite how hard it was. His balls were heavy and full, coated in a soft dusting of gray hair that I wanted to flatten with my tongue so bad, I nearly shoved my face down right then and there to do it.

Ben’s cock was longer than mine was. Thicker too. Which only made sense.

Again, proportional.

“You know for being…” I trailed off, still staring at his dick. “ Indecent .” I was very obviously distracted. He knew it, I knew it, his dick definitely knew it.

Ben’s dick flexed at me again and I whined , reaching a tentative finger out to trace along the vein that ran up its length. Where to start first? So many options. The rosy head, all slick and soft…his balls, where I could bury my face and suck. The vein I was tracing, like a treasure trail to Heaven.

“You look hungry, little songbird,” Ben murmured, slowly—confidently—spreading his legs wider. I could see the dusky dark skin behind his balls, and I ached.

I wanted to say something about looking for a “worm” to eat, but for the first time in ages the words simply didn’t want to come out. Because Ben’s dick was too pretty, and while his voice was hoarse and wrecked with arousal, I could see vulnerability flickering in his toffee-colored gaze.

I’d told Ben it’d been a while since I’d been fucked.

And I wondered…if maybe it’d been a while for him too.

“You have a really amazing cock,” I murmured, surprised by how sincere and breathless I sounded. “Like… really amazing.” I licked my lips, eyeing the flushed crown as a fresh drop of precum slid down his shaft. “I’d make a wax sculpture of it and put it on my desk—if I had a desk—just so I could look at it.”

“Thank you.” Ben’s dick twitched again.

“Can I touch it?” My hands were shaking. I didn’t want to fuck this up. I really, really didn’t want to fuck this up.

Ben must’ve seen my anxiety because he softened even more, one of those huge, lovely hands reaching out to skim through my hair. “Of course you can,” he murmured, affection evident. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

My head spun and I whined again, sinking into the gentle scratch of his fingers as I lowered down close. Close enough I could smell the musky sweet scent of Ben’s skin and those sexy-as-fuck thighs framed my face. I licked my lips, suddenly ravenous.

“Can I lick it?” I asked, voice low and wrecked.

“Anything you want,” Ben countered again, keeping his tone gentle.

There was something about his constant patience that really did it for me. In a sexy way, yes. But also in a…softer way too. Like he was bubble wrap and I was glass—and he knew just how tight to wrap to keep me from breaking.

His skin tasted just as good as it smelled. With a hungry mewl I tucked in, running my tongue up his shaft to the tip, where I dug into his slit to taste him directly. The texture was velvety soft, almost silky right around the crown.

“Fuck,” Ben swore under his breath, the hand in my hair tightening, then loosening, his balls pulling up tight. “That’s it, baby.” His voice was a husky, half-purr. “Just like that.”

Lashes fluttering, it only felt second nature to continue to tease his slit. To rub and rub at it, chasing all the slightly salty cum the moment it surfaced.

“Such a hungry little thing,” Ben murmured, still petting my head. When he tightened his grip again, gently urging me to take more, I was quick to comply. The deeper Ben sank into my mouth the more at peace I felt.

I’d wanted this.

I could admit that now.

I’d wanted to be full of him. To have his complete attention. To suck and lick, and sink low, low, low. He cursed again, stroking his fingers through my hair, over my cheeks, and thumbing where my lips stretched wide.

When I glanced up again, the expression on his face made my skin feel hot.

He looked wrecked .

Completely fucking wrecked.

The way he’d wanted to wreck me.

His legs were shaking, like he was doing everything he could not to snap up into my mouth and choke me. The sadistic gleam in Ben’s eyes made it obvious he’d thought of doing just that. And that was…fuck.

That was so hot.

I latched onto his hips, gently urging him deeper, trying to convey to him just how badly I wanted him to give in to his desire to fuck me. Ben was a bit of a bully when he was horny—and that paired with his normally serious and soft demeanor was simply the sexiest discovery I’d ever made.

He was exactly what I’d always wanted.

Ben hesitated, but after the second time I tugged on his hips, he gave in.

Snap went his pelvis, sinking till his crown was snug in the back of my throat and his balls slapped against my chin. I choked. And it wasn’t even on purpose. He was simply that fucking big. Gagging, my eyes burned as Ben pulled me off his dick.

“No,” I whined, when it slipped free, slapping sticky-wet against his tight belly. “I want it.” My voice was fucked-out and hoarse. Sounded like I did when I was on tour after back-to-back performances.

Ben arched his eyebrow at me, waiting for a solid—painful—ten seconds to see if I’d change my mind, before a sly, evil smirk spread across his lips and he was shoving me back down onto his fat cock. Slow and easy, every time I tried to speed up or take more than he wanted me to he’d pull my hair till it stung and force me to comply.

And every time he did, pleasure would zing up my spine, zipping through my body all the way to my toes.

I’d told him I liked a little pain, and fuck—he was perfect—because rather than make me beg for it, he simply gave me what I wanted.

After teasing me for what felt like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, Ben let me have what I wanted. With my face smashed against his pelvis and his cock down my throat, I found the peace I’d been searching for.

The world was quiet aside from the steady swoosh of his breath and my own needy grunts. My mind drifted, my lashes fluttering as Ben pressed into me, grinding against my mouth like I was nothing more than a sleeve for him to fuck.

My dick wanted to wake up again. I could feel it, twitching back to life, as I pulled up then pushed down, urging Ben to move. He grabbed my face with both hands, the molten hot skin causing more tingly buzzing to dance through my body as he followed my lead and began to fuck my face in earnest.

Smack, smack went his balls against my chin, the skin soft and prickly in a way that made me feel crazy . I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. There were no sleepless nights, there was no trip to L.A. looming over me. My contract didn’t need to be signed. The world didn’t feel too big. There was just Ben, and his monster cock, and the way he pounded me like I’d been desperate all my life to be pounded.

When he came it was so far down my throat I couldn’t taste it.

Once, twice, three times he fucked me, rhythm stuttering as he rode out his high. His eyes were darker than coal, his face flushed. Sexiest of all, however, was the way he bore his teeth at me, pearly white and flashing,

“Fuck,” Ben swore again, using his grip on my hair to pull me from his dick. I made sure to give it one last, lingering suck on my way off. Ben’s eyes rolled back, and I shuddered, aching to make him make that face again. He cracked a smile, eyes drifting shut. “Maybe you should be the one in prison,” he hummed, teasing me.

“Because of my superior cock-sucking skills?” I asked, voice scratchy and quiet. I eyed his balls thoughtfully, debating if he’d let me sink down to suck on them like I’d wanted.

“ Goddamn ,” Ben shuddered, like the sound of my voice like this was enough to get him going again.

And then he yanked me up the bed, hauling me into him, all our sweat-sticky skin pressing together as he fluttered kiss after kiss against my lips, my cheeks, my ears, my throat. His hands smoothed down my body, finding my ass, and slip-sliding along my still-lubed crack.

“ Ben ,” I whined, my hard dick jutting out at him.

I couldn’t believe it’d managed to get hard a second time in one night.

“Up here,” Ben’s voice was a low command. My limbs were fuzzy and my head was full of cotton so it took me a second to respond. “ Now , Robin.”

Up I went, straddling his face as his big hands cupped and squeezed my ass cheeks and he pulled my hips forward to feed my dick into his mouth.

Wet, hot, and tight, he swallowed around me.

I didn’t last more than a minute, my hips twitching, my hole fluttering as Ben snuck a finger inside me again and crooked till he found that spot that made me sing. When I spilled, he swallowed every last drop. He nibbled at my thighs, at my belly. He pinched my dick and lapped the salt from the skin, sucked my balls into his mouth, and toyed with me till I was scratching at his hair weakly and sobbing quietly.

“Shhh,” he murmured, still teasing my now-softening cock. “You like this.”

He was right. I did.

So I let him continue to torture me. Till my eyes burned, my cheeks were wet, and I had bite marks up and down my thighs. I thought it was over then because my dick couldn’t rise, and I doubted Ben’s could either.

But it wasn’t.

“Up,” Ben urged again, his finger still in my ass.

“Mm?” I shuddered, dick limp and aching so, so good. I loved this. Loved how raw and used up I felt. There was no room for sadness or self-consciousness like this. And for the first time in my life I truly felt like I didn’t have to take care of myself.

Ben knew what I wanted before I even knew it.

Ben knew how to take care of me.

Ben was the comfort I’d never known I needed. He was strength and home and trust. He was laughter, shared wine glasses, and belonging. He made me want to stay.

“Up,” he urged again, voice rough and full of affection. “Do you need help, baby?”

I whined.

The sadistic gleam was gone now as Ben wiggled my hips up till my soft cock pushed into the pillow above his head. It was nice that he’d helped, even without me having to ask. Though I still didn’t get why he wanted me like this. “Hands on the headboard,” Ben murmured from somewhere beneath me.

I grabbed on, still shaking, my head fuzzy.

And then his tongue was there. Hot and slick and lick, lick, licking at my asshole. Stretching my rim as he wiggled his tongue beside his finger.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped out, head dropping down.

We didn’t have a lot of time before the girls would wake up. I didn’t want to be too loud. But it felt almost impossible not to gasp and shudder as Ben made room for himself inside my body. When he pulled his finger out, my ass clenched and clenched and clenched, trying to coax it back in.

“Empty,” I complained without meaning to, my voice unrecognizably soft.

“I know, baby,” Ben’s voice crackled, low and husky. “I know your pretty little hole is lonely, isn’t it?” He cooed, pressing a kiss right over my ass. “I need you closer,” he urged, forcing my hips down.

“You won’t be able to breathe,” I argued—even though I really didn’t mean to.

“Sit on my face, little songbird,” Ben replied, tone flat and demanding.

I sat on his face.

He groaned, running his nose and lips all over my perineum, and then up against my hole. His hands felt impossibly huge as he clutched my ass tight, squeezing and squeezing—like he loved the give of it, as he gave my hole a filthy suck.

Like he was kissing it.

The same way he kissed me.

There was no way my dick was managing a third orgasm. But in an odd way that made me like this even more. Because Ben was simply doing it because he wanted to. Not because he was trying to get either of us off. He simply wanted to start his day by eating me out.

And I was…absolutely not complaining.

Flick, twist, flick.

Ben rubbed and kissed and slurped around my hole. His beard scratched. It was barely more than stubble, but it was enough to make my already sensitive skin burn. He pried my cheeks open wider, teeth gently worrying my skin as his tongue lick, lick, licked where I was sticky and empty.

For ten glorious, sloppy minutes Ben feasted on my ass. He got his fingers back in at some point. Three this time. Probably part of his “training”. And by the time he was done, his wrist had to have been sore from the way he’d pounded into my oversensitive body.

When he withdrew, I felt cold all over.

I only knew he was done because he gave my hole one last, chaste kiss, and then tugged me down the bed and into his arms. Ben massaged my hands—somehow understanding that I’d been gripping the damn headboard for dear life. He fluttered kisses along my cheekbones again. His lips were cherry red and abused as he told me what a “good boy” I was.

“So good,” he murmured, kissing along my cheek and stroking over my flank. I was shaking. I knew I was. But I couldn’t seem to stop. “Such a good, good boy.” Ben’s praise made me light up from the inside out.

No one had ever been this sweet to me.

“So pretty, so obedient,” Ben continued, pulling me till I was snuggled into all that warm, sweat-damp muscle. “You’re my pretty little songbird, aren’t you?”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the nickname, since I’d never had one before. But in that moment it was good, good, good. I wasn’t Robin “Trashmouth” Johnson. Wasn’t famous. Wasn’t the kinda guy who dreaded his everyday existence, didn’t know how to talk to people without putting his foot in his mouth, and was tired, tired, tired.

I was Ben’s pretty little songbird.

And I was a good boy.

“Yes,” I managed, voice rough and sugary sweet.

“So pretty,” Ben murmured, stroking over my cheeks, across my eyebrows—which was a little weird but nice—and into my hair. “You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Ben hummed as his thumbs curled beneath my eyes, pressing gently at the dark circles.

“Tired,” I agreed, voice cracking.

“I know, baby,” Ben kissed me to reward my honesty. “You work so hard, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” my voice cracked again, hot tears burning beneath my lashes.

“You just want to rest,” Ben’s voice was gentle, calm. I leaned into his touch, tears leaking down my cheeks. “You’ve been so strong for so long.”

“Yes,” I agreed, because he got me. He fucking got me the way no one else had.

“You just need someone else to take care of you for a change.” Ben kissed me gently and I cried my agreement against his mouth, a wet little hum that I knew was probably more gross than sexy, but Ben didn’t complain. “That’s okay,” Ben murmured, unfazed by the tears. “That’s okay. I’m here. I’m here now, sweetheart.” He kissed me again. “I’ll take care of everything. So that you can rest.”

The weird thing?

I believed him.

Ben held me till I fell asleep not long after.

I knew he had to get up to take care of the girls so I wasn’t offended when eventually the bed next to me was empty. At one point he’d redressed me, but I’d barely noticed that either as I slid into the warm space he’d left, curled around his pillow, and dreamed.

Dreamed of a world where I was Ben’s songbird forever.

Where he could care for me.

Where I was well and rested, had a family of my own, and the future was bright, bright, bright.

When I woke up later, there were pancakes and coffee awaiting me—just the way I liked it. Ben kissed me good morning, stroked his hands up and down my back, and made me promise to eat both lunch and dinner.

And I let myself love him.

Quietly.

Happily.

Because I knew my time would be up soon, and I thought—just this once—I’d let myself forget what I was.