Page 32 of Pull
“He’s not hitting on me,” I murmur, keeping my mouth by his ear so I don’t have to yell. That and I want to give him chills right back.
“He is,” Ben slides his hands down to my ass, gripping me hard enough that I gasp. “And you’re nothis, Ryan.”
“Mmm… whose am I?” I trail his jaw with my lips, feeling him shiver in my arms, though he maintains his solid, growly Ben persona. Always in control… until his isn’t.
I’m crazy for it.
“You’re mine, baby.” One strong hand glides up my back, holding me close to him while bringing his lips over my own. “You’ve always been mine.”
“Always.” The word barely makes it from my mouth before he kisses me.
It’s so tender and full, I’m melting. His sweet, plush lips sucking at mine, warm tongue sliding in to taste me. I have to groan—I don’t have a choice, it just comes out—my hips jolting forward to seek his.
And before I know it, we’re moving together. We’re kissing anddancing. Sort of…
Neither of us are big dancers, though I’m sure I’ve danced more than Ben has. I think he told me the last time he actually danced was on his and Jess’s wedding day. Our wedding was more about moving between the bedsheets. No actual dancing happened that night.
But now here we are, in a club on Pride, hips swaying to the thumping bass of electronic beats, slow and gradual, building heat between us like a spreading fire. I think I recognize the song playing—it’s Troye Sivan—and suddenly I can’t stop my hands from running all over my husband.
You’d have no idea we just fucked not twenty-minutes ago from how much we’re mauling each other right now.
Our kiss breaks so we can breathe, and I quickly glance at the bar to find Tate gone. There are two new elaborate rainbow drinks waiting for us, but I feel buzzed already and it has nothing to do with booze.
I’m drunk on Ben Lockwood-Harper, my gorgeous husband whose skin is warm beneath my touch; whose lips are soft on my neck, arms strong around my waist.
“Do you know how it feels to hold you like this?” He whispers on my flesh, just loud enough that I can hear him, the lust and love deep in his voice.
It reminds me of back then… How we fell in love so damn fast when we weren’t supposed to. How he’d tell me things in a hushed voice that would linger in my head for hours and hours after he’d go.
“Yes,” I answer him, chest to chest. Breathing, hearts beating together. “Because I’m holding you right back.”
We move slow, easy, as his face pulls back so we can look at one another. His eyes are so blue, even in the darkness of the club. Surrounded by so much love, a pure celebration of it, Ben smiles at me. It’s one of his subtle grins, though it shines like a beacon in the room.
“Thank you for being here with me,” he hums then licks his lip.
I’m a bit hypnotized by it as I mumble, “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”
“I wish Jess was here too,” he says quietly, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair. My eyes close for a moment.
“Me too.”
“I think she’d love it.” Then his index finger traces my bottom lip.
“We can bring her sometime,” I tell him with wide eyes locked on his, wondering if he’stryingto slowly seduce me with all these tempting touches.
Because if so, it’s totally working.
“Or we can have a little after-party when we get back to the hotel,” his brow cocks and I shiver at the sight. And the thought.
If there’s one thing I can’t get enough of, it’s watching Ben fuck our wife. Or even more so, fucking him while he’s fucking our wife. It’s visceral, with us. A reflex, almost. Obviously, our connection runs so much deeper than just the physical, but there’s no denying how mind-altering it is when we come together.Pun intended.
“That sounds like an excuse to leave early, my love,” I grin, and he chuckles, caressing my throat with gentle fingertips.
“Let’s stay just a little bit longer,” he sighs. Now it’s my eyebrow’s turn to arch.
“Is Ben Lockwood havingfunat a club?” I tease. “I’ll have to alert the media.”
“I just like spending time with my husband.” He gives me a look. “Though the atmosphere in this place is pretty…”
