Page 140 of Just for the Plot

I want to feel him near me, on me…in me.

I want to know what it’s like to be worshipped by him and not just in small pieces. I want all of him. I want to be controlled and possessed.

And the craving for it has grown each and every day, as well as the fear.

“Just because I won’t physically be here doesn’t mean that I still won’t be able to help.”

“Help in what capacity?”

“Any capacity you want,” he says, his thumbs hooking on the waistband of my shorts and tugging them an inch lower.

I suck in a sharp breath, my mind starting to go fuzzy again. Seems to happen whenever he gets this close. “I don’t know, Bennett.”

“What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know anything at this point,” I say, my hand on his chest. “And when you’re this close, it’s hard to think. It’s hard to even compute what you’re saying.”

“Do you want me to back away?”

Yes.

No.

But also yes.

But fuck…ugh, no.

“I’m taking your silence as an answer,” he says, tugging my shorts down another inch so that they’re barely covering my front now.

My mouth waters at the thought of what he can do, the ache inside of me growing so intensely that my legs feel wobbly and my core twitches, waiting for his touch.

“I’m so confused,” I say, finally finding my voice.

“Confused about me?”

I shake my head but then nod it. “I shouldn’t want this, want you. I know I shouldn’t. And yet…”

He wets his lips, his eyes going feral as he says, “But you do.”

Maintaining eye contact, I do the one thing I probably shouldn’t. I nod.

The smallest of smirks peeks past his lips before he whispers, “Good.”

And then he goes down to his knees and pulls my shorts with him, as well as my underwear, exposing me right in front of his face. He helps me out of my clothes, deposits them to the side, and then lifts my leg over his shoulder.

He looks up at me for a moment, hunger in his pupils, and he pauses, waits for me to tell him no, but for the life of me, I can’t.

I know I should, but I can’t.

I’m so desperate for him to make me feel alive again that I don’t say one fucking word.

And he runs with it.

He brings his mouth right up against my pussy, and he kisses me gently. Immediately, I grow wet, my arousal spiking with just one simple kiss. His hand smooths over the back of my thigh and up to my ass, where he grips it tightly, right before he parts me and his tongue slowly drags over my clit.

“Fuck,” I whisper as my hand falls to the top of his head.

He must enjoy the encouragement, because he pushes my leg open more, the one on his shoulder, and he moves his tongue in even deeper, applying more pressure and hitting me in just the right spot for the sweetest torture ever.