Page 23 of Her Ex's Father
“You have a lot to learn about me, Madeline,” Ben grits out after a deep, slow breath. “I’ve spent years learning how to maintain control, but that doesn’t mean you should be testing just how far you can push me.”
He moves—closing the last of the distance between us, hand wrapping around the plush blanket and drawing it away from my body.
“We are married,” he says, voice low and final. “Whether you like it or not.”
The air between us feels electric, every inch of my skin aware of his nearness. My pulse is loud in my ears, and I hate that part of me is responding to it—heat pooling low in my belly, breath catching in my throat.
“You think this is what I wanted?” I whisper back. “You think this was my dream wedding?”
His mouth curves, not into a smile but something sharper. “Looks to me like you need something else entirely.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You need a good fuck, Maddie.”
The words slam into me, bold and obscene, and instead of being offended, I feel the ground tilt under me.
I force out a scoff. “Please. I never expected one on my wedding night anyway.”
His gaze darkens, slow and dangerous. “Is that a challenge?”
Hands at my hips, Benedict Bronson turns me abruptly, pulling my ass back into his hips. Instinctively I arch back, looking for friction, wet with wanting to be touched. One of his massive hands presses flat against my belly, the silk between our skin.
“You forget that it’s a man you married, not a boy.”
I don’t get the chance to answer before his hand delves lower, dipping beneath the white lace panties and teasing my pussy. He growls, feeling how wet I am already, and I answer with a mewl of frustration—at how annoyed I am with myself, and how badly I want him.
All at once Benedict releases me and I turn, ready to tell him off—ready to go to bed wanting. But his mouth crashes onto mine, and the kiss is nothing like I imagined—it’s hotter, rougher, tasting of scotch and something that’s all him.
I gasp, and his tongue slides in, claiming, teasing, making my knees go weak. He walks us back slowly, bare toes finding purchase on the plush rug, until I’m up against the wall. Hisbody is solid against mine, heat radiating through the thin barrier of silk between us.
My fingers fist in his shirt, pulling him closer when I should be pushing him away. His hand skims down my side, over the curve of my hip, and hooks under my thigh, hitching it up so I’m flush against him.
“Ben—”
“Shut up,” he growls against my mouth, and I do. Because thinking is impossible when his hand is on my skin, when his chest is pressing into my breasts, when every nerve ending is screamingyes.
The kiss turns frantic, messy, years of restraint condensed into seconds. His other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head just enough for him to deepen it until I’m dizzy. No man has ever touched me like this—demanding, controlled.
The sharp pull of fabric cuts into my hip, and then my panties rip at the waist, Ben casting them to the side. I grind my hips against the hard length of his erection and he pulls back, holding me firmly until my feet are on the ground, even though I’m swaying with lust.
Eyes locked on mine, he undoes his belt. The loudclankof it is the only sound in the room aside from my panting. My eyes drop at thesnickof the zipper. He takes himself in hand, cock long and thick and throbbing along the vein running up his shaft.
“Go to the couch.”
I obey without even thinking, slipping past him, almost stumbling before I get to it, looking back over my shoulder for his next instructions.
Ben shucks off his pants, cock bouncing to attention as he straightens. The suite is dark, but as he steps through slivers of moonlight it’s not hard to see the precum glistening at his tip, the ridges of his muscles cutting deep at his hips.
Another gush of heat between my thighs, wet and embarrassing as he approaches. His hands caress my hips.
Then he smacks my ass.
“Bend over.”
“I—”
Before I can protest, he presses gently at my lower back, and my body bends for him. I think of the few times I’ve done it like this, uncomfortable and unsatisfied, but Ben runs his fingers along my soaked pussy from behind and I whimper.
