Page 56 of Waging War
“Touch yourself, Hazel.” That smile turns predatory as he trains his gaze on me.
Excitement hijacks every cell when he leisurely slides a hand down his abdomen toward his erection. He palms himself, making languid strokes as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do in front of me. Blood rushes to my face before pounding through my core.
The pleasure he gets from my gasp makes my thighs clench.
“I told you to wait,” I say with less confidence than I’d like.
“And what are you going to do about it?” Ben hums the challenge.
Oh, I like this game.
Taking two steps back, I slowly inch my pants down my legs. They hit the floor, and I make sure I’ve caught his attention before dragging my fingers back up my calves and thighs, trailing little seductive caresses up toward my clit.
His brows pinch, but when he moves to sit up, I stop him with a pointed finger.
“Hazel.” His voice is strained, but he doesn’t stop stroking himself.
I run a finger through the slickness covering my clit and back up, repeating the motion several times. “Ahh.”
There’s something wholly erotic about the two of us touching ourselves in time to the other. When he moves, I move with him, until we’re both to the point of panting with need.
“Don’t come without me, Hazel,” he warns, but I’m so close.
Just one… more… stroke.
Grasping the edge of the brick fireplace to keep upright, I stare Ben down as I find my release, rubbing myself until I’m nearly sagging.
In a matter of seconds, Ben’s standing, looking lethal with dark eyes and hell’s shadow coating his body. Stalking toward me, he grips his hardness and continues to glide a hand up and over the tip, teasing me with the sheer size of him.
“Ah-ah,” he tsks before grabbing my limp arm and yanking me toward the small wooden table in the kitchen.
He swoops an arm across the top, knocking what few items rested there onto the floor. He all but tosses me on top, and the cool wood bites my bare ass and back. I’m frantic, attempting to wrap my legs around the man.
Ben secures them around his waist before pressing against that wonderous heat at my entrance. He pays me back with a little torture of his own by gliding himself up and down without entering.
“Do I need to get a condom?”
I shake my head impatiently. “I saw our family doc when I got back home. We’re good.”
He smirks before teasing my center once more. “You were a very bad girl, Hazel.”
The rumble of his voice has me writhing. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He rolls me so my left cheek lifts off the table and smacks my ass hard. I moan just as loud. “No, you won’t do that again, will you?”
“I promise!”
He rubs the sting before gliding himself against my clit and back down. I yelp when he thrust himself all the way inside. “Save your lies.”
“Ben.”
My head thrashes. It’s too good, the sensations even a simple touch evokes. This is nothing compared to my first time all those years ago. It’s carnal and sensual, and just when I think it’s too much, I’m gripping him, whimpering for more.
Ben coaxes me, “I know, baby, I know.”
He slams into me hard enough that we’re scooting the entire table across the floor, then he picks up a deliciously expert pace. Back and forth, in and out, he moves.
“I wish I could take it back,” he says. I don’t know what he’s talking about, and I don’t care. I can barely breathe, let alone form a coherent thought. “If I could change anything, it’d be that we were ever enemies. That you ever once thought you really hated me.”
