Having ridden a knife edge—quite literally—for the last hour or so, I didn’t have anything left in the way of resistance, and my body, so confused by the pain and pleasure, took little to no coaxing to reach its peak. With a barely audible sigh at his murmured instruction to come, I drifted along the ripples of completion radiating outward, slicking the friction between us. Ben groaned at the sudden lubrication, his mouth on mine but immobile. We breathed each other’s air, our lips catching with incidental contact.
“I love you, Sir.”