Chapter 98 Chapter 98

Chapter 98 Chapter 98
Kimberley 

Ben’s lips are as hard and demanding as the man himself is, and as soon as my mouth presses against his, he reacts.
His arms wrap around me, holding me to him in a crushing bear hug as he kisses me with consuming hunger.

Fury still burns hot in my veins, mixing with the kind of fierce arousal I felt the day I kissed him in that classroom at Amundsen High, back in my junior year. A need to possess and destroy. A need to tame. A need to fuse myself to the very thing that causes me pain, like a moth determined to extinguish itself in the flame.

Memories crowd my mind, vivid recollections of that day, of that moment.
This feels the same, but different. Familiar, yet wholly new.
Ben is different now than he was then. He’s always been the biggest of the three Icons, tall and broad-shouldered, with arms so thick I can’t even wrap both hands around them. He was thick and muscular back in high school, but he’s bigger now. More man, with no traces at all of the boy he was then.

There’s something rougher about him now.
More dangerous.
More powerful.
His amber and musk scent only adds to his intense masculinity, making me feel lightheaded as I draw in breaths through my nose. I can’t get enough oxygen. It’s as if the fire burning between us has sucked it all out of the air, leaving me gasping and dizzy.

This will be the last time, I tell myself, and I let myself believe the empty promise.
I tried to fuck Ben out of my system all the way back in high school. I let him take my virginity, as if giving him that piece of myself would sever the connection between us.
But it didn’t.
Instead, the bond only feels stronger.
More unbreakable.

I’m drowning in his kiss, sinking beneath the surface of dangerous, violent waves. He unwinds his tight grip on me for a second as he gropes along the wall nearby, and a second later, he yanks the bathroom door open and we stumble inside.
He walks me backward across the small, dingy room toward the sink along one wall, tearing at my clothes with rough hands as he goes.

I’m wearing jeans and an off the shoulder sweater since the weather’s been a bit cold, and he shoves the knitted fabric up, making me gasp as his hand brushes over bare skin.
He palms my breast roughly, pinching and tugging at my nipple through the fabric of my bra, and I moan into his mouth.

harder, his tongue delving into my mouth so possessively I feel like I’m being consumed by him.
He gropes and massages my breast as his other hand slides down my back to palm my ass. Then he lifts me with what seems like no effort at all, depositing me on the edge of the sink before nudging my legs open, settling his large frame into the space between them.

I can feel the shape of his cock, the hardness and thickness of it, as he uses his hold on me to pull me close, pulsing his hips against mine. The feel of it elicits a whole new wave of memories, sensations my body has never quite forgotten. My clit aches for relief as my heart thunders hard and fast in my chest, each beat practically indistinguishable from the next.

Grinding against him, I hook my legs around his waist, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt to keep me balanced as I give in to the sensations coursing through me.
I want him to fuck me again.
God fucking help me, I want him.

I want to know if he’ll feel the same as he did in high school, if his thick length will hurt me, tear me open, before pouring pleasure into my wounds. The way he touches me makes me think of that day. His hands are rough, his movements almost uncontrolled, as if there’s an animal that lives inside him, just beneath the skin.

My body burns for him, and I arch my back, gazing dazedly up at the cracked, peeling paint on the ceiling as he scrapes his teeth along the column of my neck. I shiver in response, pulling him closer, trying to force him to follow through on the threat I can feel in his touch.

The threat of what will happen when his control breaks.
I want to feel it.
I want to know what that’s like.
And I think some small part of me hopes it will destroy us both.

His movements are becoming harsher, the thrusts of his hips more jarring as we hump each other through our clothes, bodies writhing and colliding as low grunts and whispered moans fill the air. I don’t even think he locked the door. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t. His hands were on me, and they’ve stayed there the whole time.

Anybody could come in and see us, could see Ben with one hand up my shirt, his mouth latched onto my neck, and his other hand gripping my ass so hard I’m sure it’ll leave a bruise.
But I don’t care.

The horrifying, awful truth is that I don’t give a single shit about that.
Ben has overtaken my senses so completely that reason self-control have abandoned me.

Slipping a hand between us, I fumble for the button on his jeans, and as soon as I manage to pop it open, I yank his zipper down. I swear I can feel the heat of his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs, searing my skin like a brand, and my breath comes faster as I dip my hand beneath the waistband, brushing against velvety smooth skin.

His hips jerk, and I feel several drops of precum leak out, coating my fingers. An answering gush of wetness floods my panties, and I realize I could come like this. Just from the feel of his cock beneath my fingertips, just from the small pearls of liquid that wet my skin. Just from knowing that I’m breaking him apart as much as he’s breaking me.

I slide my hand deeper inside his pants as he bites down hard on my neck, my heels digging into his ass as I wrap my fingers around him. His cock is broad, just like the rest of him, and my thumb doesn’t meet my fingers as I encircle him, pumping his shaft in short, choppy motions, using the liquid on my fingers to smooth my way.

Then, suddenly, he releases the skin of my neck with a wet pop. He keeps one hand on my back to steady me while the other grabs my wrist, forcing me to release him as he drags my hand out of his briefs.

I’m panting, the world around me is spinning, and I can’t quite figure out what happened. I tighten my legs around him and make a move to reach for his cock again, but he stops me, holding me in a firm grip.

“No.”

The single word feels like running into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. My eyes fly wide, and I gaze up at him in shock, the emotion quickly turning into anger.

This motherfucker.

Is this his new game? Get me to admit I want him, get me on the verge of giving in, and then pull away? Is he going to taunt me for how easy I am, mock me for being unable to stay away from the people I should hate most in the world?