My fingers tangle in his russet hair as my back bows off the bed.

He lets me go with a wet pop, and I whimper at the loss of contact. Ben chuckles and then moves lower.

First, he uses his fingers, tracing them down my hips and through my curls until the pad of his thumb reaches my sweet spot. When he gives my clit a gentle rub, the sound I let out is a mixture of a gasp and a purr. It’s intoxicating—being with a man who not only knows that my clit exists, but also knows exactly how to caress her.

“You like that? Want me to give you more?” His voice has gone low and dirty, and he firmly massages his thumb in a circular motion.

“Don’t stop … oh God …”

As his one hand works, the fingers of his other explore. They run over my opening, teasing and searching. A groan flows out of me as he continues his steady rhythm. He blows on me, and I jerk in surprise. The shock of cool air contrasting with his warm thumb has me writhing.

Then, I get his hot tongue. Ben licks me like I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream, and I come to believe I’m just as delicious. His fingers spread me wide before he pushes that teasing tongue inside me.

My hips buck involuntarily, and I realize my heels are digging into his shoulders, urging him closer. Demanding he go harder.

But he just keeps to the same pace, slow and insanity-inducing.

Normally, I’m pretty quiet during sex, concentrating on finishing, usually by playing out some fantasy in my head that turns me on more than the guy I’m with. But I’m fully present in this moment with Ben, and he has me gasping and almost laughing in the sheer joy of the moment.

Even though my body is shaking out of my control, I’ve never been more comfortable. Ben is my safe place He holds me steady, so I can let go.

My cheeks prickle and go numb. My fingers and toes curl, my whole body clenching, tensing, getting ready for the snap of a release. I’m light-headed and panting.

“Ben, please!”

My begging must be what he wants because he finally presses harder and moves faster.

Three … two … one.

The cliff edge comes, and I fall off, calling out his name. My muscles pulse with pleasure, finally releasing all that delightful tension.

Once the aftershocks fade, I sink, boneless, into Ben’s mattress. Black spots dot in front of my eyes, and my throat has gone hoarse. The buzzing in my ears retreats until I can hear my own ragged breathing.

Ben appears in my line of vision, supporting himself above me, the way he did before he shattered me. He takes in my hazy, satisfied expression and gifts me with another of his heart-aching grins. If I had any control over my limbs, I’d drag his face down to where I could kiss him.