37
Trevor is ready.
The next thing I know, he sets me down on a soft pile of multicolored blankets in the white sand.
“What’s this?” I ask, glancing all around me.
“Just a little something I had the staff set up for us while we were busy at dinner.”
Plush, brightly-colored pillows rest on the blankets, and the whole area glows from the light of four shallow bowls with rocks that are afire, like four bright braziers.
Ben sits next to me and reaches for an iced bucket I didn’t notice, pulling from it a bottle of champagne. His other hand picks up two champagne glasses, which clink as he sets them on the blanket between us. I hold one while he pops the cork, then pours us each a bubbly glass.
“A toast,” he says after setting down the bottle. I lift my glass, a smile stretched from ear to ear. He lifts his as well, eyeing me importantly. “To being able to legally drink in America. To having the hottest ass on this beach.”
I roll my eyes.
“To good company,” he adds in a more sincere tone, which draws my softening eyes to him. “To knowing the gold you have when it’s sitting right in front of you. To taking our time, and in doing so, appreciating every precious minute we have.”
“I didn’t take you for such a sap.”
“I’m not done.” He reaches around me as fast as a whip and swats my ass, squeezing a laugh out of me that echoes over the sand and into the late evening beyond. “To knowing what’s truly, genuinely valuable in this world … and that it has nothing to do with the numbers … whether that number is an age, or a number in your bank account—”
“Or the number of likes you get on a Facebook post,” I finish.
Ben scowls at me. “Will you take any of this seriously? Or do I have to throw your sexy bare ass over my knee, right here on this beach, and teach you a lesson?”
I’m about to say something really sassy back to him, but then I feel a surge of emotion bubble up inside me out of nowhere. Is it the time we spent here that sobers me? Is it the honest look in his eyes and the way I see him come apart when he gazes at me? Is it the fact that I realize the only reason I enjoyed a second of this weekend was because Ben has been by my side the whole time?
I could be pampered a billion times like I was this morning. I would trade it all for a single kiss from Benjamin Gage.
I lift my glass a touch higher, all the humor in my face gone, replaced with hopeful compassion and gratitude. “To good times, good people, and happiness.”
He gives me a gentle nod. “To good times, good people, and happiness,” he agrees, then taps my glass with his own.
We both drink.
I have felt like Prince Trevor all damned day, pampered until I’m putty, thanks to this man.
But now, I feel like a King.
The empty glasses touch the blanket, and then we are looking into one another’s eyes with the breeze blowing about us. Neither of us move, watching one another as the tiniest bit of light slowly seeps from the sky like a dark gold ink bleeding from a canvas. His eyes sparkle in the light of the four braziers encircling us.
I take my cue. Slowly, I lean into him for a kiss.
His hand grips my shoulder powerfully, stopping me.
I lift an eyebrow, confused. The subtlest of smiles teases the corner of his mouth, and then he gently pushes me back onto the blanket, laying me down. He straddles my waist, then slowly starts to unbutton his shirt—that sleek grey thing that grips his every rippling muscle. When the buttons are freed, he peels it off, and the wind takes it.
My heart pounds, watching his shirtless torso as it glows in the dancing light from the braziers. The last tendril of sunlight burning on the horizon behind him ignites his silhouette in a way that makes him look like a demigod. It’s almost like he reads my mind, knowing how utterly beautiful he looks right now, since he starts taking his sweet time to unbutton his pants.
Somewhere between the button and the zipper, I experience a very untimely jolt of fear.
Is it about to happen? Is it really about to happen?
I realize he’s stopped moving, studying me in my apparent panic. “Something wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“No, no,” I assure him too quickly. “I’m fine.”
There’s a plate containing a hill of strawberries at my side, bright red and plump, accompanied by a small bowl of dipping chocolate. I’m not sure why my eye catches sight of them. I think suddenly I’m nervous and swallowing in my environment.
The waves of the Caribbean Sea still crash beyond us.
The breeze gently blows, tossing the strands of Ben’s hair.
Am I nervous? Am I really, actually nervous? Maybe I should eat a strawberry. Maybe we both should, even though we just devoured a small cake together.
“You look beautiful,” he volunteers suddenly.
I’m yanked from my thoughts. “Th-Thank you.”
He considers me for a moment, then lowers onto the blanket next to me, abandoning the task of taking off his pants. My eyes drift to them, which he’s left unbuttoned and half-unzipped, as he lies on his side with his head propped up by a palm and his elbow digging into the blanket. He can’t possibly know how sexy he looks right now, shirtless with his pants halfway open giving me a peek of his shiny blue boxer-briefs.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask him, forcing myself to sound brave despite my racing heart. “I was enjoying the show.”
“Oh, there’s plenty more show where that came from.” Ben’s face glows when he smiles at me, his eyes twinkling in the flames that are quickly becoming our only source of light. “What’s the rush? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. You’re the birthday boy. You’re in charge.”
I feel all the moisture escaping my throat. Cotton fills my mouth as I try to form the right words. “It’s just … I mean … I want to do something. I want to do everything,” I amend with a nervous chuckle. “I’m really … really turned on by you. I think that much is obvious. Someone would have to be blind not to be.” I reconsider. “But even that’s not true. A blind man would hear your kindness and your character and your … your heart. And if that man were deaf as well, then he’d …” I meet Ben’s eyes, worried I’m rambling. He’s perfectly attentive, listening. “Then he’d feel your care.”
“He’d feel my care?”
“The way you touch me … the way you make me feel safe and present and heard.”
“Yeah?” He lifts his free hand to my hair, brushing the short, messy bangs off my forehead. “Like this?”
“Like that.”
Ben hooks a finger into the top of my shirt, somehow wiggling the first button free. My breathing deepens. Then the second button is freed, followed by the third, then the fourth, and then the last few.
He meets my eyes again. “Like … this?”
“Yes.”
He’s doing all of this one handed. It’s so sexy, how little effort he takes in pulling me right apart. It’s almost lazy, the way he now brings his hand to my sleeves, gently tugging them down my arms until I, like him, am freed from my shirt.
“Like that?” he continues. “Do you … feel my care?”
“I feel it.”
His eyes finally pull away from mine as they begin to explore my chest hungrily. He even licks his lips, but in the most natural, incidental way, like he doesn’t even notice he’s licked them. There isn’t a single bone of performance in him, or demonstrativeness, or fakeness. He isn’t acting or playing a role right now; he’s just Ben, a man with a need, like me, and his eyes are as curious as they are aware.
How can eyes as dark as his look so bright?
His hand comes up to my body. The moment his fingertips touch my skin, I close my eyes, overcome with sensitivity.
“Open them.”
My eyes flap open and reel onto his. “Sorry?”
“I want you to watch me watch you.”
I swallow hard. My heart beats so furiously right now. “I am.”
As he says the words, his hand slowly starts to slide up the side of my body. I’m about to close my eyes again, but then find myself desperate to obey him, keeping my hard gaze on him. His eyes are drinking in the sight of me as his hand softly explores.
The salty air dances over my skin. His fingertips cast waves of excitement through my body, goosebumps coming to life up and down my arms.
And I keep staring into his eyes, just like he ordered.
And he keeps running his hand along my skin, exploring me like he’s never touched another man before. Maybe in some way, this is his first time, too.
When his hand reaches my chest, his fingers play across my nipple gently. I groan and clench shut my eyes, terribly sensitive to his touch.
“Eyes, Trevor.”
I flick them open. “With what you’re doing to me …” I start to say, warning him.
“I don’t want you to miss a second of seeing what you do to me. You need to see the effect you have on other men. You need to see it firsthand and believe it when I say how beautiful you are.”
These words, coming from the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, have officially melted the inner parts of me that no masseuse could dream to touch. I’m officially one hundred percent pudding in the hands of the man I’ve come to trust so deeply.
The realization hits me like a sudden gust of wind off the sea. I trust Benjamin Gage.
I’m about to trust him with the greatest thing a person can.
“I’m ready,” I tell him.
“Good. Be ready. I want you ready and wanting it so badly that you’re squirming.” Benjamin’s voice is cocky, yet sweet somehow. His confidence emboldens me, and his compassion warms me—which is a good thing, because despite the flames, the wind off the ocean is starting to kick up a mean chill.
Then his hand slides to my other nipple, which is already hard from the cool breeze.
I shudder under his touch, but keep my eyes trained on him.
“Squirming,” I groan.
“Not yet.” He sits up and brings his other hand to join the party on my skin. I breathe deeply, trusting him despite my urgent need for something relieving to happen. I have succeeded in filling my underwear to full capacity—or rather, he’s succeeded. I have a very strong desire to set my cock free.
He tore me apart once in his office, taking full charge of me. He stole me away into a bathroom stall. He owned me in his high-rise apartment, taking what he declared was his.
And now he’s treating me like a precious glass ornament.
Maybe I’m not so precious as he thinks.
“Ben.”
“Yes, Trevor?”
“I don’t want you to woo me. I don’t need the strawberries and chocolate and sweetness. I know who you really are.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip and stare into his eyes. “Take me, Ben.”
Instantly, he slips a hand around my back, yanks me against him, and brings his mouth to mine. I gasp once, a tiny breath, and then I’m hopeless to get another breath with his powerful kiss.
We topple over, wrestling one another, shirtless, pants and legs entangling as we roll over and over, making out madly.
My back hits the bowl of chocolate. I have no idea if any gets on me.
Then we roll over again, and suddenly I’m on top of him as he lands on the plate of strawberries, splatting a handful of them beneath his weight and appearing for a second like our making out has caused a fatal wound to his backside.
Yeah, I’ve busted a strawberry red hole through his dam of emotion. All I see in his wet eyes is feeling, watching as he devours me with every kiss and wrestles me with aggressive force.
Straddling him with his fatal wound of strawberries beneath his body, I look down into his eyes, his wet and needy eyes. There’s no more waiting left in me. I’m all out of patience.
“Ben, I need you inside me.”
His eyes flash with surprise. “Oh? Do you, now?”
“I want to know what it feels like. Please, Ben. Make me yours. It’s all I want.”
He lifts his eyebrows, appearing genuinely surprised as he appraises me. “Are you sure you can handle me?”
Ugh, the way he says that is so hot.
I’m nervous, I’m not going to lie. I have no idea if I’m going to fuck it all up and embarrass myself. But I’m excited, too.
I’m excited because I’m with Ben. “Yes,” I answer.
He holds my arms and slowly runs his big hands up and down their length, rubbing me soothingly. I bite my lip and stare down at him, tense as ever, unsure what to expect, jumpy in all the best and worst ways. I’m starting to shiver under the calm winds that chase each other around us.
Then Ben gives me a sudden pat and guides me off of him, gesturing toward the blankets. “Come. Lie down.”
I lie on my stomach. He pulls a plush crimson pillow from the assortment that lie around us and tucks it under my face. It feels like silk and heaven beneath me as I cuddle it.
His big warm hands start to gently massage me. I feel his fingers and palms covering so much of my back that I’m instantly warm again, grateful for his touch. The flames dance around us as he massages me with care.
Ben leans down and plants kisses on the back of my neck as he rubs me. I quiver, melting against the blanket. “Ben, that feels so … so … so good,” I moan.
“I know it’s probably nothing like what you got this morning by the professionals,” he teases, planting another kiss by the back of my ear, “but I try.”
“To be honest,” I murmur back, my voice deep, “I think your hands might even be better than theirs.” With every pressing of his thumbs into my back muscles, I feel more and more relaxed. His kissing is so tender, his lips soft. “Ben, you really have a—”
“Let’s get your pants off, babe.”
Babe?? The word—and the command—turn me on so fucking much that all the blood in my body rushes right to my cock. In the space of ten seconds, I feel myself grow to full mast, which is both alarming as well as incredibly exciting.
Without waiting for my response, he reaches under my waist to undo my buttons. I lift my hips up slightly, granting him access, and then soon he slips them down my legs. My shoes and socks come off along with them. I rest my hips back onto the blanket.
“Underwear, too.”
I blink and turn my head slightly around, though I can’t see him well, being on my stomach. “Underwear, too??” I half-protest.
“It’s a private beach. All ours. You trust me?”
My heart is racing so badly right now, I feel like my chest is casting earthquakes through the sand to the other side of the damned planet. My throbbing heart is going to cause a tsunami in Antarctica.
“Do you trust me?” he repeats, a touch softer.
“I trust you. Yes. Of course.”
“Then what’re you waiting for? Off they go.”
I lift my hips once again, and he softly hooks his fingers under the waistband of my underwear to pull them down. This time, however, Ben goes very, very slowly. He enjoys every second of the silky fabric as my underwear gently slips down my legs. He leans against me while he takes them off, kissing my back, kissing my side, then kissing the top of my butt cheeks as they reveal themselves to the night air. I suspect he’s getting quite a show of my bare butt greeting his eyes and lips. He already became pretty intimate with my ass once; I’m quivering down there thinking of him stimulating me once again the way he did in his office.
Then the underwear is gone. “How do you feel, babe?”
There’s that “babe” again. Fuck, it’s so sexy. “B-Breezy. You got me in my birthday suit.”
“Good. Spread your legs.”
Oh my god, the way he commands me. I slowly spread my legs. I feel him settle between them, then return his big warm hands to my cool backside, resuming where he left off in rubbing me down. I feel my whole body give in to his strength, gently relaxing underneath him, even completely naked and exposed as I am.
I have a feeling he’s really enjoying having me exposed to him while he’s still in a state of half-dress. This would be the second—or is it the third?—time that he’s put me in such a compromising position. I’m really starting to like being his toy he gets to play with whenever he wants.
This is something a boy like me could get used to.
His hands start to rub lower, reaching the middle of my back. I suppress a bit of squirming while underneath him, enjoying so much the warm, weighty feeling of him pressing into my back in rhythmic circles. He keeps kissing my back too as he rubs, his strong thumbs targeting just the right muscle areas, pushing and releasing, pushing and releasing, then gently letting the tips of his fingers explore. It’s as relaxing as it is invigorating.
And his kisses, so soft, but deliberate, like each kiss is a firm, wet declaration of how much he adores that very specific spot of my body. He must especially adore my ass cheeks, by the way.
Then his hands go lower yet. He’s reached the upper part of my ass and starts using his knuckles to dig into the muscles right above my glutes, deeply and with fervor.
His fingers stretch out, and before I know it, his palms are filled with the meat of my ass cheeks. As he massages them, his fingers start to gently graze between them, teasing the crack and barely daring over my hole.
Remarkably, I’m so relaxed I don’t even squirm. I welcome his touch. I’m desperate for it, even. I want him to keep grazing my hole with his fingers.
Suddenly and without warning, his face descends into my exposed ass, burying between my cheeks completely. His tongue drags over my hole, and I’m sent into a cyclone of pleasure.
I bite the pillow to stifle my moaning. Yeah, I’m officially a pillow-biter.
He doesn’t let up. The way he eats me out down there is twice as vigorous as it was in the office. I squirm with my legs spread, exposed as I endure the endless pleasure.
Or rather, not so endless. Ben lifts his face out of my ass, but replaces it at once with a hand. I’m only allowed a single second of wondering what he’s doing before something very cold and very wet touches my hole.
I clench up, surprised. “What’s—??”
“Just a little aid to make things more … slippery.”
“Is it lube?”
“Relax, babe. Let me take care of you.”
The lube warms up quickly as he massages it along my hole, and before long, I’m a puddle of happiness all over the colorful blankets again. “Babe …” I murmur dreamily, enjoying the slick sensation of his fingertips circling and teasing and gliding. “Where did this ‘babe’ stuff come from?”
“Just feels right,” he answers simply. “Babe. The word rolls right off my … tongue.”
His fingertip, almost accidentally, slips a tiny bit into my hole to the first knuckle.
I gasp. “Oh my God …”
“Relax,” he sings to me, his voice soothing and gentle. His other hand slowly rubs my butt as the slippery fingers of his other hand continue to tease and circle my hole. “Just a little bit at a time. I want you to feel everything.”
“Oh, I’m feeling everything,” I promise him, a declaration the whole world has to know.
“Good.” He continues.
And continues.
Oh my God.
His finger slips farther in. I groan, clinging to the blanket. The muscles of my hole tighten around his finger, which makes my cock throb to an unprecedented level of hardness. He is so gentle and patient, the way he slowly slips in and out of my hole, but never totally leaving it. He’s stretching me out, little by little, as his finger works me.
“You ready, babe?”
Oh my God. Already?? “I … I’m …”
“For another finger,” he finishes, then chuckles with a nearly mocking tone in his laughter. “You thought I was going to give you my big D already? No, no. You’re not ready for that yet.”
I bite my lip and suppress a groan as he gently slips in another finger. My cock flexes, throbbing almost painfully hard now. Chills rush up my body, and for a second, I wonder if I can’t take it.
Then, just as suddenly, I can. My body relaxes, accepting him. “I never … never …”
“What’s that?” he prompts me.
“I never thought it’d feel like this.”
“Like what?”
I can’t even describe it, so his question goes unanswered as I feel his fingers work me slowly. I clutch the pillow now and bury my face in it, quashing the embarrassing moan of ecstasy I let out.
He penetrates me a little deeper, then dares to start applying torque to his cruel, sensual maneuvers. It is becoming quite an ordeal not to squirm and writhe like I’m possessed, with the way he’s handling my body.
Can we discuss my poor cock for a moment? It’s becoming an increasing concern of mine that it might genuinely explode. With each finger Ben adds, my asshole grips him tighter, and my cock grows even harder. I am definitely leaking pre-cum all over the blanket beneath me. There’ll be a giant pool of it when I get up eventually, I’m quite certain.
“You’re so tight,” he groans.
“I want to see you,” I say at once, realizing it just as the words fall out of my mouth.
“Hmm. That can be arranged.”
His fingers slip out of me with surprising ease, which I wasn’t expecting, and then he guides me to flip over. On my back now, I gaze up at the staggeringly gorgeous sight that is Benjamin Gage, shirtless. Before returning to his task, he decides he needs to be free from those sexy pants of his. I get to watch with mounting excitement as his biceps bulge and flex with his efforts of opening his pants. His whole body is a goddamned dream, from his round sculpted pecs to the ripples of his abs, punctuated by his sexy bellybutton below. His tattoos decorate half his torso, giving him an unexpected edge when the clothes are stripped off and the businessman turns into the bad boy.
I can’t contain myself, lying here beneath him and drooling all over myself at the sight of him. I sit up and bring my face to his gorgeous body, ravishing it with kisses, admiring his perfect form.
My hands slide down his muscled backside and come to rest at the top of his ass. I’m reminded all over again what a pert, solid butt Benjamin is packing. It makes me want to cry that such a gorgeous work of art exists in this world.
Call me dramatic, but Benjamin’s ass really is that epic.
“Back down, babe,” he instructs me. “I’m not done with you.”
“Maybe I’m not done with you,” I counter, then take his nipple between my teeth and bite it, giving him a taste of the torment he’s given me.
He grunts, then groans, then lets out a sigh of delight. He looks down at me with a warning in his eyes.
I grin victoriously up at him, then let go of his nipple.
“Down, boy,” he commands.
I’m on my back in an instant, looking up at my beautiful man, who is now just in his underwear. He is hard—very hard, from the look of it.
With my legs spread, Ben sweeps a hand under each of my thighs, then lifts me, bringing his hips to my ass. I grind against him, desperate to know what he feels like inside me. He growls in response, likely eager for the same thing.
I’ve never been more ready for something in my life.
From the pants he just took off, he fetches something from the pocket. A condom. He tears it open almost gently, the wrapper flung to the side, and then he slips the condom into his underwear, rolling it onto his cock.
My eyes follow his every move. “Is your cock shy?” I tease.
“Not in the least,” he answers, pulling the waistband of his underwear down. His cock is unleashed like a beast. Every swollen inch of it is throbbing—and it’s throbbing for my ass.
I breathe deeply, my heart racing so fast.
He produces the lube again, except this time I watch as he lets some out onto his length, then strokes it really slow, his biceps swelling and dancing in the effort.
My mouth is hanging open. I’m literally drooling.
“It’s … It’s so … big,” I breathe, unsure if the observation is in fear or excitement.
Ben almost laughs at that, his smile spreading and showing teeth. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. I’m going to treat you right.”
His tip touches my hole.
My eyes flash, overwhelmed at once.
Benjamin’s cock is so thick, but it’s slippery. My hole is just as slick and inviting, the marriage of the two feeling so perfect and wet and primed—and he hasn’t even entered me yet.
He leans forward, putting one hand in the blanket to brace himself and bringing the other to my face, caressing my flushing cheek. “I’ll go slow.”
“At first,” I grunt back.
His tip slips inside almost accidentally.
I gasp at the sensation of being invaded. It scares me for only a split second before my body adjusts. I’m ever thankful that his fingers did a lot of the work of relaxing my muscles down there. It almost seems easy at first, letting him in.
And then he presses a bit more.
Pressure builds up down there. I clench shut my eyes.
“Slowly,” he murmurs into my ear, watching every single emotion crackle and flick and brush across my face like changing weather patterns. “The moment you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg him, still curious, still wanting it. “Please don’t stop.”
He grins, then pushes some more.
Something gives, something that makes my jaw drop and my insides shiver with desire. I have no idea how much of him just slipped inside me, but it feels like his whole length.
“How much is in?” I ask between jagged breaths.
“Just an inch or so past the tip,” he answers.
I gawk at him. Just an inch??
“More,” I beg him, reaching to grip his backside to encourage him farther in. “More, more.”
“Slow, babe. Slow. I’m not going to hurt you, even if you want me to.”
Gently, he starts to pump me—the inch sliding out, sliding in. When he pushes back inside me, he goes slightly deeper, then out. Back in even deeper, then out. He forms a rhythm that my body quickly adapts to, rocking with him.
It’s like a dance that’s so natural, I didn’t need lessons. Our own bodies choreograph every careful movement, gliding and shifting and swaying in perfect unison. Even our groans align.
He pushes even deeper with each thrust, and soon I start to feel mounting pressure inside me, pressure that I have never felt before. Is he hitting my prostate? Is that what this feels like?
Would I even know?
“Ben, how deep?” I ask, out of breath, my eyes half closed.
“Almost all the way, babe. You’re taking it like a champ.”
“Prince Trevor, the Champion,” I recite, to which Ben grins down at me, appreciative.
And then he drives into me full-on, hitting a spot.
My cock, already hard, flexes involuntarily like a peg made of steel.
That’s my prostate, I realize at once. And yes, I knew.
“Oh my God,” I groan.
“Feel good?”
“Keep doing that,” I beg him. “Oh my God. Do it again.”
“Do what? Did I tap your boy button?”
“You and your euphe—OH MY GOD—euphemisms,” I finish. Yes, he hit it again in the middle of my sentence.
“I can’t do it to you too much just yet,” he tells me, his voice as hard as our dicks. “You’ll come before I want you to come.”
“Oh? Is it up to you?”
“Considering my position and yours … yes.” He’s cocky when he addresses me, confidently handling my body and taking charge of every pleasure I’m allowed or denied. “It’s very much up to me when you get to come.”
“Please, Ben. Fuck …”
“Maybe I’ll make you wait until your birthday.” He stares down at my gawping face as he continues to penetrate me, thrust by thrust, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just fuck you for a solid two hours, keeping you on the edge of insanity the whole time until you’re finally twenty-one and deserve to come.”
“I deserve it now,” I hiss at him, my voice embarrassingly desperate and begging. “I’ve had such a hard day. All the meals and pampering … such a hard day. God, please …”
He picks up pace, pumping me faster and harder—and with each thrust, seemingly deeper.
The pressure is so much, and yet my whole body is racked with insurmountable pleasure. I have never felt so many nerve endings firing in my body all at once. I don’t know what to pay attention to, so overcome with feeling.
Then I know exactly what to pay attention to: I reach for my swollen cock. The second I touch it, I’m shocked by how sensitive it’s become, as if a single stroke could fling me over the edge.
Ben grabs my hand and swats it away. “Denied.”
I whimper at him. “Ben. Fuck. I need to jerk off.”
“You need a promotion.”
I groan when he pumps me even deeper. I think I hear his balls slapping my ass with every thrust. “P-Promotion??”
“From intern to birthday bitch,” he taunts me, his rhythm perfect, relentless, and uninterrupted. He’s like a goddamned machine that never tires. All his muscles flex and bulge and work as he keeps thrusting into me deeply. “How’s that sound?”
“Degrading.”
“So it’s perfect, then?”
“Fucking perfect. I’m your birthday bitch. Oh my God, I’m so your birthday bitch.”
He starts drilling me so hard that my hips lift up from the blanket while he pummels his dick in me, deeper, deeper, deeper.
I’m seeing stars. They frame Ben’s face as he gives me his all, his eyes still locked on mine.
Fuck, he is so strong and determined.
The world spins around me as I breathe brokenly and grind myself against him. My fingers dig into his meaty body, pulling him against me more and more with every shove.
He hits the spot again. And then again.
And then again.
Over and over.
I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m coming,” I groan, the waves of orgasm rushing into my cock too fast for a warning.
And then I’m howling my release, coming all over my body in stream after sticky, warm, white stream. I’m coming forever. I come so much, I fill the Caribbean Sea twice over.
Ben isn’t far behind. After a few more thrusts, he groans over my face, his eyes never pulling from mine as he empties himself inside of me. His stare becomes so intense as he watches me while he comes, spilling and spilling … then spilling some more.
The pair of us collapse on the blankets, spent. The stars look down on us as our bodies enjoy glorious, happy aftershocks. Our breaths overpower even the crashing waves from the sea.
Minutes go by. I am completely at peace. Nothing can touch me, not even a thought.
Then Ben turns his head toward mine, happiness painted over his sex-drunk eyes. He holds a fat chocolate-dipped strawberry pinched between two fingers, dangling it. A drop lands on my chest. The next lands on my chin. And then I bite the plump red fruit with a little giggle when he brings it to my lips.
When I turn my face toward him, I find him smiling. He puts a kiss on my lips, pulls back, and whispers, “Happy birthday,” into the gentle wind.