Ever Unknown by Charlotte Stein Page A

completely clear.”
    She could almost see him cupping a hand to his ear, the bastard.
    “Fuck me, Ben. Fuck my pussy.”
    “You’re going to have to do better than that, for me to even consider it.”
    She stuttered over her next attempt. It had previously felt as if she was anything but a prude, but somehow he brought out the best in her. Or was it the worst?
    “Put your cock in my pussy. Do me hard, until I scream.”
    “I would…I really would…but pussy’s such a…tame word, wouldn’t you say? Try something else, and I might consider it.”
    “God! You’re maddening!”
    He did what could only be described as a snigger. It sounded both hugely frustrating, and completely glorious.
    “Yeah, but that’s what you like about me, isn’t it? Now say the right words.”
    “Fuck my cunt with your big, hard cock. Okay? Just do it. I’m wet, and ready, and I want you to fuck my cunt.”
    His hands smoothed over the backs of her thighs, for that.
    “ Ve — er — ry good, Molly. Very nice. Can you feel how wet you are, yourself?”
    “Yes.”
    The word came out small.
    “Without touching yourself? Has it all run down into the crack of your ass?”
    “Yes.”
    Smaller still.
    “And you’re just swollen and aching, am I right?”
    “Yes.”
    So tiny this time, so minute, it was as if she hadn’t spoken at all. Maybe she didn’t exist in the same way he didn’t, just all of her burned away and floating on the wind, light as a feather. Perfect.
    She felt his body spread over hers.
    “I’m going to make love to you now, Molly,” he said.
    She nodded her head. There weren’t any words she wanted to get out. Her face felt wet.
    “You don’t have to worry about anything, okay? Don’t worry.”
    He brushed away her hair, and kissed the nape of her neck. It felt like a relief. Everything felt like a relief—his cock sliding all the way into her, most of all. He filled her up solidly, giving her something to concentrate on and anchor herself to.
    But God, he went slow . Of course she’d expected him to. But even so, she found it hard to bear, at first. He rocked in, then almost all of the way out, teasing her with just the tip before plunging back in again. In fact, every stroke in felt like something plunging , something fierce and fast and almost enough, but then he’d stop and wait and draw back out so agonisingly slow.
    Still, he moaned before she did. In fact, he moaned a lot more than she would have imagined. She saw the conflict between his restraint and his desire, clearly. One obviously told him to hammer into her, while the other made him take his time, made him stretch the whole thing out like a length of taffy.
    Both were represented in the grip he had on her upper arms. She had them spread out on either side of her, flat to the bed—almost like a diamond-shaped frame for her head. And he just pressed each individual fingertip into her flesh, and pushed her down, down, into the mattress.
    No doubt she’d have bruises, tomorrow. He asked if she wanted him to go faster, harder, but all she could think was, squeeze tighter. Make some bracelets around my upper arms. Make me feel it, make me feel it—oh.
    He did. Despite his probable best intentions, his thrusts grew jerky and erratic. He picked up the pace whether he wanted to or not, and that sensation he’d provoked not long ago sparked again. She said his name without meaning to, and that made him say her name, and finally one of his hands went to her hip to bring her in tighter, and closer.
    “Oh yeah that’s good,” he panted, and she couldn’t disagree.
    It felt so good that when he demanded she touch herself, she barely thought twice about it. She just squirmed and shoved one hand beneath her body, searching out her clit.
    She came the moment her finger pressed over that little bud. Her body tried to go rigid, but he was pulling her up into every rough thrust—it made it hard. It made it hard to do anything but go with the ebbing,