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“Yours,” I agree, the word feeling like a vow.
He maintains this slower rhythm, building me back up with exquisite patience. My body responds despite my exhaustion, heat gathering once more like a storm on the horizon. It's different though—deeper, more intense, radiating from somewhere beyond the physical.
“Bennett,” I breathe, arms wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him closer until there's no space between us. “I need more.”
Without breaking rhythm, he takes my hand, guiding it between my legs. “Touch yourself,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to watch you.”
I comply, fingers finding my oversensitive clit while he maintains his steady thrusts. The sensation makes me gasp, my body already wound tight from multiple orgasms.
As I begin to circle that bundle of nerves, his free hand slips around behind me, exploring with gentle but insistent pressure.
“Trust me,” he breathes as his finger drags my wetness to a place no one has touched before.
I tense momentarily at the unfamiliar sensation, then surrender to his touch as he presses gently inside, creatinga new dimension of fullness that has me gasping with surprised delight.
“Oh god,” I moan, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening inside my body. “Bennett?—”
“Let go,” he urges, voice strained with his own approaching climax. “Come with me, Layla. I want to feel you shatter. Just one more time, baby. Once more.”
With his cock deep inside me, my fingers on my clit and his finger exploring my ass, I’m pushed beyond what I thought possible. Ecstasy builds in waves that threaten to drown me, and I can feel him getting close too, his rhythm becoming erratic.
“Fuck, I love being inside you,” he groans, voice rough with the effort of holding back. “You're everything, Layla. Everything I never knew I needed.”
His words resonate deep within me as sensation builds to an unbearable peak. It's not just physical anymore. It's emotional too, this connection between us that feels bigger than both of us combined.
The climax that crashes over me is the biggest I’ve ever experienced. It starts deep in my core and radiates outward, consuming every nerve ending until I'm shaking with the force of it. And in that moment of complete surrender, when every wall I've ever built comes crashing down, I lose every ounce of my control.
“Bennett!” His name bursts from my lips, a scream tearing from my throat as I come. “I love you!”
His rhythm falters for just a moment, his eyes flying to mine, wide with surprise. But then his own release overtakes him, and he buries his face in my neck, groaning my name as he finds his climax, his arms crushing me against him like he's afraid I might disappear. “Layla.”
Afterward, as our breathing slows and reality seeps back in, I freeze, suddenly aware of what I've just said. What slipped out in the heat of the moment.
I've just told Bennett Mercer I love him.
During the most intense orgasm of my life.
Panic rises in my chest, but before it can fully take hold, Bennett lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. There's something in his expression I can't quite read. Surprise, yes, but also something softer. Warmer.
“You love me?” he asks, voice low and careful, as if he's testing the words.
My mouth suddenly feels dry. I could lie. Could play it off as something said in the moment, heat-of-passion words without weight. But looking into his eyes, I find I don't want to.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I didn't plan to say it like that. Or at all, yet. But... yes. I meant it.”
He's silent for a long moment, still inside me, still holding me close. I can feel his heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Then he presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing briefly before meeting my gaze again.
“No one has ever said that to me and meant it,” he says, voice rough.
The admission breaks my heart a little. I lift a hand to his face, fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I meant it, Bennett. I love you.”
Something in his expression shifts, softens. He doesn't say it back—I hadn't expected him to—but he kisses me with such tenderness that it feels like an answer of its own.
“Don't leave me,” he murmurs against my lips, andthere's vulnerability in his voice I've never heard before. “I need you, Layla. More than I've ever needed anything.”
It's not ‘I love you,’ but it's something just as significant coming from him. A commitment. A promise. A plea.