by Emily Snow
“If he had, I’d take you there and you could name it whatever the fuck you’d like.” Scooting off the bar stool, he takes a step in my direction, nodding at the brown paper bag in my left hand. “You’re not plying me with more booze, are you?”
“You’ve had enough, Mr. I'm Partially Intoxicated. Besides, what I’ve got is better than booze.” He looks unconvinced, so I pull the contents from the bag, holding out a four-pack of vanilla pudding cups. “Happy birthday, Bennett.”
He accepts my gift, blue eyes pinning me in place as he removes one of the containers from the cardboard packaging. He draws back the foil lid, swirls his finger around the pudding, then licks it clean. Why, God—why does he have to look at me while he does that?
“It’s better than cake.” He sets the cup on the counter and approaches me again. “I can’t believe you remembered I like these.”
“How could I forget? My mom always called you a savage because you ate them without spoons.”
“The no spoon thing was preparing me for the future.” The suggestive gleam in his eyes pools heat in my core. His chest bumps against mine, and my knees hitch. “And I am a savage.”
“I don’t buy it,” I tease. I glance around, taking in the silence of the apartment, before I tilt my head back to gaze into his eyes. “Where is everyone?”
“Graham left to be with Charlotte a little while ago. My parents left for Australia earlier today.” He lifts his arms and looks around before dropping his hands. Instead of letting them land by his sides, though, he plants them on my hips. “It’s just me.”
It’s just him. Just us.
“You didn’t spend your birthday alone, did you?” I whisper, my heartbeat seeming to slow momentarily. The thought of him being by himself today hurts, so I’m relieved when he moves his head from side to side.
“I went out with Graham and Zeke and a few other friends, but I wanted to see you more than I wanted to drink with them. I promise, I didn’t spend my birthday alone.” His voice lowers. His hand skims my waist. And we share a breath. “I’m not spending my birthday alone.”
And then, he grasps a handful of my dress and covers my lips with his.
CHAPTER 8
VERONICA
Bennett Delaney is possessing me.
Slipping his tongue past the tiny space between my lips and filling my mouth with the sweet flavor of vanilla, just like I always imagined. It’s more potent than our first kiss. From the way he glides his tongue along the roof of my mouth to him dragging my lip between his teeth when he draws back. He sucks just hard enough for a thrill of raw pleasure to streak through me.
He knows what he’s doing. Knows that my body will come to life beneath his tongue and hands, so he uses that information to his advantage.
Fog swirls in my brain as he spins me around and bends me over the counter, bracing me on my elbows. The tops of my breasts push over the neckline of my dress to meet the marble. It’s cold, but warmth trickles through me as he runs his hands down my body.
This is happening. This is really happening and in his parents’ kitchen of all the places. I voice that aloud, and he shoves my dress around my hips. “They won’t be back for another week. Even if they were here, I don’t think my mother knows what a kitchen is anymore—and besides, I think she forgot she had this one built.”
“But Graham—”
He interrupts by lightly slapping my ass. He waits for the ripple of my flesh to cease, and my gasp to die down, to say, “He won’t be coming home tonight either. And please, V, let’s not talk about my family when my cock is hard and the only thing I can think of is being inside of you.”
“But it’s your birthday,” I protest. Why would they just leave him alone?
Pressing his body to my backside, he leans over me, his full lips tickling my ear. I turn my head slightly, and he gives me a look that makes me shiver again. It's anticipation. Longing. “My present will be you dripping wet on my tongue and cock. That’s all I wanted this year.”
I’m trembling all over when he stands upright. He slips my panties around my ankles. He leaves my sandals on but grips my thighs one at a time to help me out of the scrap of pale pink cotton. And then he brings them to his face and inhales. He breathes in again and murmurs that it’s the sweetest fucking scent in the world. Mouth falling open, I look back to see him kneeling, a cocky grin spreading his features.
“Bennett,” I whisper, but he presses his finger to his mouth.
“No talking. Turn around. Face on the counter.”
“Y-you’re—” I drag in a breath and then release it, whooshing stray locks of hair out of my face. “We’re doing it here?”
“I’m tasting you here because it’s a kitchen. Perfect for what I’ve got in mind. Now, Veronica, turn around.”
As soon as I’m where he wants me, he smooths his hands over my bare ass, pulling me closer to him. He kisses my left cheek. Draws the soft skin of my right between his teeth, nibbling hungrily. Marking me. Heat coils in my belly as he trails his lips higher.
“I’ve dreamt of this,” he admits, kissing the base of my spine, then the dimples on either side of my lower back. I grit my teeth for control. “I just thought…”
My heart pumps so violently I can barely hear myself. “What?”
“That it would be you and Graham someday—if you ended up with any of us, that is.”
I look down at him over my shoulder, my throat going dry at the wild glint in his blue eyes. “Never.”
He holds my gaze for a long pause before he stands and turns me to face him. He hoists me up on the counter and runs his hands up the insides of my legs, stopping when I snap my thighs together.
“Shyness?” Amusement curls his lips. “Is this the same girl who gives me dirty looks whenever I say something she doesn’t like?” I make a noise, and he licks his tongue over his teeth. “I want to see you, Veronica. I need to see you.”
My veins pulse at his words. “Okay,” I breathe. He presses his fingertips into my skin and this time, I let my legs fall apart so he can lean into me. Roaming his eyes over my exposed body, he breathes me in, tightening my clit with his exhale. He chuckles when my body bucks. Greedily draws in my scent before going in for seconds.
“Why are you closing your eyes?” He drags his knuckles from my clit to my opening and circles my wetness. “How else are you going to learn if you don’t watch me?”
“Is this what this is?” I try to sound teasing, do my best to keep my voice light and even, but my chest is so taut it comes out wheezed. “A lesson?”
“Yes, and the only one who’ll ever reap the benefits is me. Now … open your eyes,” he orders, “I want you to see everything.”
I do, blinking at the bright lights flooding my vision. Satisfied, he dips his face between my legs again, his stubble scratching my thighs and clit. My heart nearly stops when his eyes lock with mine just before he lets out another warm breath.
“Do you want to know what you taste like?” he demands, plumping my clit between his thumb and forefinger. Even though he’s told me before, I bob my head. He stops his pumping, plucks my sensitive flesh, and then swirls his tongue around it, lapping at me. I make a noise that barely sounds human. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want to know how your cunt tastes.”
“Yes,” I rasp. “I want to know how my cunt tastes.”
I’ll be nineteen in five short months, and this is the first time I’ve ever said that word aloud. Doing so now sends a shiver of pleasure rippling straight down my spine.
He tugs my clit between his teeth, sucking hard and fast. “Heaven,” he groans, rubbing his face against my sex, the friction from his unshaven skin taking my breath away. “Your pussy tastes like heaven, and it’ll take the devil himself to keep me from claiming you.”
“Bennett … please.” It’s sad. I don’t know precisely what I’m begging him for, but he does. He works a finger deep inside me, making a shallow circle that sends me close to falling over
the edge. I claw at the countertop, desperate to find something to hold on to, but the only thing there is pudding and all I’m left with is a bunch of vanilla cream on my fingertips.
So, I reach for his face.
And he responds by pulling away from me for a split second to lick my fingers before he’s back between my legs, his tongue and teeth at my clit and his finger crooking inside of me, skimming a spot that sets my body on fire.
My hips lift to meet his tongue’s brutal lashes and his finger’s thrusts and my heart is close to exploding. It feels so good—so perfect and right—and it just gets better when he adds another finger.
“I’m crazy about you, Veronica,” he says, the words seeming to echo off my skin. “I mean that. I am. Wild. For. You.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, the words coming out broken. “Always. I’ve always been yours, Bennett.”
He picks up speed, his tongue raking over me and his fingers arching. Deeper and deeper. Harder and harder. I shout his name at the top of my lungs as I convulse. My throat is on fire from screaming, my climax still rocking me, when he crawls up my body.
“God, look at you.” He cups my cheek in his hand. Smiles—dimples and beautiful teeth and undisguised lust. “Shaking all over. Do you know how incredible you are?”
I shake my head, so he lifts his other hand to his mouth. He doesn’t say a word as he licks the taste of me off the tips of his fingers, one by one. Then he kisses me. His mouth is rough and hungry, but I throw my arms around his neck and take everything. I’m weightless, floating on air and the orgasm, when he pulls me into his arms and carries me down the hall to his bedroom.
He lowers me in front of his giant bed, his hand trailing my body as he walks around me to sit down on the edge of the mattress. He smirks. “I dare you to strip.”
“I’m not the one who's a sucker for drunken dares, remember?”
He tucks his hand beneath my dress to cup my right butt cheek. “You’re also not drunk.”
There’s no music, nothing but the frantic drumming of my heart, not that it matters. I’ve never stripped for anyone, but I move my hands up my legs, lifting my dress higher. Over my thighs, around my hips, over my ass and stomach and breasts. Dangling the mint green fabric from my fingertip, I swallow hard and look at him.
“Sorry, you already took my panties,” I murmur.
The corner of his mouth tugging up, he rises. Joins me where I stand. He unclasps my bra, and I shiver as soon as the cold air kisses my breasts. I make a move to cross my arms over my chest, but he shakes his head. Buries his mouth in the crook of my neck. Murmurs his appreciation of my body. So, I stand in front of him, completely bare, my nipples tight beneath his perusal, the pressure in my core heavy.
He touches me everywhere. Palms my sex, my ass, my breasts. Draws my nipples between his teeth, sucking gently, his teeth clamping down harder when I cry out and beg for more. And then he tears off his clothes, and the breath flies out of my lungs as I stare between his legs.
Apparently, the Birchwood Academy legend of Bennett Delaney and his … gift is one hundred percent true.
He responds to my wide-eyed look by jerking his fist over his erection, working his fingertips over his pre-cum before he steps close to me. “Open your mouth."
I part my lips a little and he wiggles his fingertip past my teeth, grinning when I roll my tongue around him to taste his salty sweet flavor. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve thought about your tongue wrapped around my cock.” To demonstrate, he presses down on my tongue and slips his finger further into my mouth, until it skims the back of my throat. He studies my eager expression then groans and jerks his wrist back.
“Fuck Veronica, you drive me insane.”
“Do you want me to … I’m not very …” I start to sink to my knees, but he stops me, gripping my hips between his large hands. “What?”
His fingers flex around my flesh. “I do,” he growls. “You will. But first I need to be inside of you.”
My breath quickens as I sit on the edge of his bed. I slide up the cool sheets, my stomach furling as he follows close behind me. He splays his hands on the insides of my knees and urges my legs far apart. “Are you sure?”
I can only move my head up and down because my throat is so dry and tight.
He leans over the side of the bed and returns with a foil packet that he rips open with his teeth. He sheaths himself quickly before settling between my legs. He nudges my pussy with the head of his cock, running it up and down my wetness and releasing a curse under his breath. “You’re so soft.”
I swallow deeply. “Please, Bennett” I try to calm myself into taking a breath as he pushes into me just enough to make me cry out.
A grin inches across his face. “Louder. I want the doorman to hear you.”
I roll my hips and arch my back. “Please,” I say, my tone hushed.
Once again, he knows exactly what I’m asking for. What I need. What I’ve wanted for so many years. He juts his hips slightly, ripping another harsh sound from my lips. “I’m going to love being the first—the last—to have this beautiful pussy.”
I am on fire. From his filthy words and body and hands. This is happening. This is really happening. I’m in Bennett’s place, on his sheets. He’s inside of me, seconds from tearing me apart, and I’m loving every minute of it. “I’m yours,” I say.
“Damn right you are.”
I writhe beneath him as he stretches me inch-by-inch. I grab onto his shoulder with one hand. Rake my nails down his tattooed back with the other. His mouth is against my ear, whispering softly, asking me if I’m all right.
So, I buck my hips and sink my teeth into my lip as he surges—deep, deeper, deepest—inside of me.
I never thought it was possible to feel this full. I’m throbbing, from the blood rushing to my head to the nerves in my toes, and I take several breaths to bring myself back down. To hear what he’s saying as he goes perfectly still above me.
“Christ, this feels amazing,” he groans. His shoulder muscles tense, and he props his hand on the upholstered wall over the bed to brace himself. “I knew you’d be tight, Veronica, but this is too good. Too fucking good.”
“You’re … wow,” I moan. A rumbled breath shakes his chest. He bends his head and I feel his lips, then his tongue, on the tears trickling down my cheeks. “Please, Bennett. Please.”
He pulls out of me swiftly, rubs my clit between his fingers, then eases his cock inside of me again. It’s pain. It's pleasure. Wonderfully filling. I squirm beneath him and ask him not to stop. Bend my knees and meet his powerful strokes, mewling softly when he grabs my hips and drives into me.
I lose all inhibition. Don’t shy away when he props my legs over his broad shoulders and leans back so he can witness the sight of him moving in and out of me. He trails his hand up the side of my body, over the dip of my waist and my ribcage, to stroke my breast.
He weighs it in his palm, drinking in a breath through his teeth. “It fits so well,” he murmurs, circling his thumb around my nipple. “We fit so well, Veronica.”
We do. Even better than my wildest dreams. I tremble with each thrust, my moans so guttural they burn my stomach, my toes curled so tightly my feet ache. Something is happening. Something different and new that heats my body and leaves me pulsating all over. I feel it everywhere—in my head and on the tip of my tongue, in my core.
Hell, I feel it in my bones.
It takes away all sound, all sight, all sanity. And it shatters me. That’s the only way I can describe it.
It. Fucking. Shatters. Me.
My senses come back slow, starting with my vision. The image of Bennett’s sweat-drenched shoulders bent over me. Smell comes next, and I draw in his scent with harsh, gasping breaths, letting it wrap around me as the ringing in my ears stops.
“…going to come,” he’s saying roughly. “Fuck, I’m going to…”
But then touch returns. His fingers in my hair, stroking the blonde strands
from my face, his other hand on my waist. Gripping, kneading. I want to touch, too, so I scratch my fingers down his back to pull him in to me. I don’t stop until his chest presses against mine and our foreheads connect and his breath fans my cheeks.
Finally—finally—I taste. Vanilla and myself. It’s all there, right on the tip of his tongue as he crashes his mouth to mine. I taste his words, a warning that he’s close to letting go. I taste the deep roar that claws from the back of his throat as he jerks against me. And when that dies down and all that’s left is our trembling, intertwined bodies and mingled scents, I taste his next words, too. I savor them like they’re my last meal instead of my first.
“You are mine, Veronica. Always … mine. Don’t ever forget that.”
CHAPTER 9
BENNETT
My phone is the only thing that can wrench me away from Veronica the next morning.
Its generic ringtone goes off furiously on the floor next to my bed, so I grab it from the pocket of my jeans and accept the call before she can hear it. She looks so goddamn peaceful, hair fanned out on my pillows, lips parted in a sleepy smile, that the last thing I want to do is wake her. Not yet, at least.
“Hey,” I whisper roughly, dragging on my boxers and sliding off the bed.
“Sleeping in, son?” My jaw twitches in frustration at my father’s chuckle. Why’s he calling? Shouldn’t he be on a flight to Australia right now? “You won’t be able to do that when you’re working for me this fall.”
I wait until I’m out of my bedroom and in the hallway to answer him. “What if I said no?”
“Why would you?” At my snort, he sighs. He tells me to hold on for a second, and I hear him typing away on his laptop. That’s my father, always working. “It makes sense, Bennett. You’re not returning to Duke, and you won’t start Harvard until next spring. What did you plan to do? Lay around drinking and racing cars all day?”