Page 23 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Five

David

B umping back up the track in my pickup truck is a completely different experience from going down.

This time, Benji’s pressed against me, his hand placed proprietarily on my knee.

Around the time we hit the gravel road, he starts to run his fingers up the inside seam of my jeans, making me grip the steering wheel hard.

“Careful, or this pickup truck is going to end up in Old Thompson’s hayfield,” I grate out.

It’s not until we pull up in my driveway that nerves arrive in my stomach like a swarm of locusts.

The evening light paints long shadows across my front yard as we climb out of the truck. Benji follows me up the path to my front door, and my hands shake so much I drop my keys. Twice. He leans down to pick them up the second time.

“Maybe I should handle the door opening around here,” he says, his hands steady as he unlocks the door.

I stumble in after him and find myself standing next to him in my hallway, the familiar smell of grass and sheep dogs and home suddenly seeming different with him here.

When I’m brave enough to glance at him, I find his eyes dark and intent on mine.

Fuck. What do I do now?

It feels like the first time Dad let me drive the tractor alone, that same mixture of fear and wanting so badly to get it right.

Benji steps forward, closing the distance between us.

He reaches up to touch my face, his fingers calloused from farm work but so careful, like I’m something that might spook.

“You okay?” he asks. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

At the sensation of his fingertips on my cheekbones, everything I’ve been denying myself crashes over me like a wave that drowns out doubt and hesitation. My heart pounds a deafening rhythm against my ribs as I pull him closer.

His stubble scratches against my palm as I cup his jaw. He makes a low noise in his throat that unravels something deep in my gut, something that’s been wound tight for longer than I can remember.

I catch his bottom lip between my teeth and his hands fist in my shirt like he’s afraid I might change my mind. He doesn’t seem to understand that I couldn’t stop this now any more than I could stop the seasons from turning.

Somehow, we end up with Benji pinned against the wall, me crowding against him.

His back arches as my hands find their way under his shirt. I’m dizzy with the taste of him, honeyed and familiar in a way that makes no sense. It’s like finding a path in real life that I’ve walked a thousand times in my dreams.

Benji’s breathless and panting when our kiss finally breaks.

“Fuck, it’s always the quiet ones,” he says.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” I manage to grind out as I catch my breath.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not complaining about anything right now.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he fixes his green eyes on me. “When did you realize that this was…this?” He waves his hand between us to illustrate what this he’s referring to.

“In the hedge today,” I admit.

He grins. “I’ll have to thank Pepper next time I see her.”

“My sheep do not have names,” I growl, but it only makes his grin grow wider.

“What about you? When did you figure it out?”

“About two years ago.”

“Two years?” I grunt the words. I clear my throat, but my voice still sounds rough as I continue, “You never said anything.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to spook you. And you’re a smart guy. I figured you’d catch up eventually.”

I’ve never been particularly good with words, so I answer him in what feels like the most logical way—by pulling him closer and claiming his mouth with mine.

To let him know I’ve definitely figured it out now.

We stagger toward my bedroom, making it to the bed. My bed with its mismatched sheets and the quilt Emma gave me two Christmases ago. The frame groans beneath our combined weight, which I’d find alarming if I could think straight, which I decidedly cannot with Benji’s breath hot against my neck.

It should be awkward coming together like this for the first time. God knows I have limited experience with anyone in the bedroom.

Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to unbutton his shirt slowly, kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, methodically, deliberately, making sure I don’t miss an inch.

I touch his skin the same way I touched blackbird eggs and four-leaf clovers when I was a kid, when they’d been my most treasured and cherished possessions.

Benji’s shirt falls open under my fingers, revealing skin that’s tanned golden where the sun catches him working outside and pale as fresh milk everywhere else. I can’t help tracing the boundary line between those two tones with my lips.

His breath hitches, and he reaches for my shirt.

When he finishes undoing the last button and pulls off my shirt, he splays his fingers across my chest, rough palm catching on the coarse hair.

When he lifts his gaze to mine, his eyes are molten.

“Holy fuck, David. Why the hell don’t you go shirtless more?”

“Pretty sure that would scare the livestock,” I reply.

And then Benji is kissing me again as we struggle with belts and zippers, knees bumping, hands fumbling.

Benji’s boxers—purple, which doesn’t surprise me—slide down his legs, and I’m suddenly breathless. My underwear joins his, and I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with nakedness and everything to do with how he’s looking at me like I’m the last green paddock in a drought.

To have Benji Gange stretched out naked in my bed sparks something primitive inside me. The need to possess, to claim, to mark him as mine.

I kiss down his chest, following the trail of dark hair, mapping every muscle and scar with my tongue.

His hands fist in the sheets when I reach his navel.

“This is just another way to torture me, isn’t it?” he asks, but his voice is too wrecked to contain much snark.

“You know I like to do things thoroughly,” I reply.

And Benji doesn’t seem to mind my thoroughness as I head lower. I press my mouth to that crease where thigh meets hip, tasting salt and skin, reducing him to breathless curses and pleas.

His cock is rigid, the head glistening. The desire pulsing through me feels like someone’s replaced my blood with lightning, every heartbeat sending sparks through my veins.

How the hell have I noticed every detail about this man except for how much I’ve wanted him?

I press my lips to his inner thigh, hesitating, feeling his pulse flutter under my tongue.

I’ve never done this before. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Then summoning my courage, I finally wrap my mouth around his cock.

The unfamiliar fullness makes my jaw ache in a way that’s strangely satisfying. He’s smoother than I imagined, warmer too. The taste of him, salt and musk, floods my senses, making my hips rock involuntarily against the sheets, seeking friction that isn’t there.

The sheer intimacy of him trusting his most vulnerable part to my inexperienced care makes my own desire spike sharply, my body responding to each muffled sound he makes. His hands clutch my shoulders, fingertips pressing into muscle as I take him deeper.

I hollow my cheeks, determined to apply the same stubborn focus to this that I do to everything else in my life.

Then I touch the soft skin behind his balls, feeling him tremble under my calloused fingers.

He grabs my hand and pushes it farther back, and I circle his hole with a teasing pressure that has him cursing my name in ways that would make a shearer blush.

“You’ve got lube anywhere?” he asks desperately.

“Top drawer.” I nod, suddenly grateful for Lance’s Christmas joke gift that isn’t quite as funny anymore.

“What about a condom?”

“There should be a box in there too.”

Benji doesn’t comment on the unopened box of condoms, instead ripping through the plastic, his usual precise movements clumsy.

“I’m open to ditching these once we get tested,” he says as he passes me a condom.

Fuck. I can’t help cringing at his words.

A frown creases his forehead, and he fidgets with the edge of the sheet. “It’s going to be just us, right?” he asks quietly.

My cringe fades.

“Of course it’s going to be just us.” Shit, I didn’t mean for that to come out as such a possessive growl.

“Then why did you cringe?”

“Just imagining having a conversation about getting tested with Doc Wilson,” I admit.

He laughs, and I watch the laughter transform his face, almost in awe at the quirk of his lips.

I kiss him again, and we sink into the kiss, the taste of his laughter sweet on my tongue as I press him back into the pillows.

Then we’re fumbling with the condom and lube, any competence deserting us as we try to coordinate limbs that seem to have multiplied since we hit the bed.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing,” I admit, staring at the bottle of lube like it’s a piece of farm equipment with missing assembly instructions.

Benji’s eyes soften. “It’s okay, I’m pretty sure you’ll be a quick study with the proper motivation.”

And he kisses me deeply, grinding his hard cock against mine, which definitely provides me with the right motivation.

He guides my hand back. “Just go slow. Think of it like... checking a ewe for lambing complications, except with more finesse and significantly less wool.”

“Jesus, Benji. That’s the least sexy comparison you could have made.”

His laugh is warm against my neck. “Sorry. How about, it’s like testing soil, but instead of checking for nutrients, you’re looking for?—”

“If you finish that sentence with any kind of agricultural metaphor, I might reconsider this whole thing,” I say.

Benji places his hand on my cock and strokes me, making me shudder as pleasure rocks through me.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not reconsidering anything,” he says with absolute certainty, and he’s right.

I’m not quite sure what I’m doing as I press a slick finger inside him, my weathered farmer’s hands feeling too rough and clumsy for something this delicate.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask, freezing at the sharp intake of his breath.

“God, no. Just…curve your finger a bit.”

I follow his instructions, and suddenly he arches into my touch, gasping my name in a way that makes every hair on my body stand at attention.

The only thing that stops me from feeling embarrassed by my obvious lack of experience is the look in Benji’s eyes. I’m pretty sure no one has ever looked at me like this.

“Another finger,” he instructs, his voice strangled.

I work a second finger alongside the first, the tight heat making my breath stutter. My hands, usually so confident with machinery and livestock, feel clumsy and uncertain.

“Like this?” I ask, and I barely recognize my own voice, it’s so husky.

“Perfect,” he breathes.

Benji’s eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the line of his throat. Seeing him like this, him trusting me to take care of him, feels like a gift.

When I twist my wrist slightly, he makes a strangled noise that sounds nothing like his usual articulate banter. His knees fall wider apart, an invitation I can’t misinterpret even with my limited experience. His skin is flushed all the way down his chest, and I press gentle kisses along his collarbone as my fingers establish a tentative rhythm.

“Deeper,” he gasps. “And angle up a bit.”

When my fingers brush against a spot inside him, his whole body jolts like he’s been struck by summer lightning.

“Fuck, David,” he breathes, voice cracking on my name. His tone is raw, stripped of his usual composure.

“Yeah,” I manage to grunt. I can’t take my eyes off his face, the way his lips part slightly and his pupils have all but swallowed the green.

“I’m ready,” he says breathlessly.

I’m happy for Benji to take the lead, and when he pushes me on my back, I follow without hesitation, grateful for his guidance.

He trails open-mouthed kisses along my neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that makes me curse under my breath. His chuckle against my skin tells me he’s filing that information away for future torture.

Then he pulls back, sitting up to straddle me, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Oh, holy fuck,” I say as he starts to sink down on me. The shock of sensation is so intense my vision blurs at the edges. My entire body feels electrified like I’ve touched an ungrounded fence wire with both hands.

I grab his hips hard, trying to anchor myself, hoping I’m not leaving bruises.

But Benji doesn’t seem to be feeling anything but bliss right now as he continues to take me in inch by inch, his thighs trembling with the effort of controlling his descent, his bottom lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying to hold back something that might break us both. His usual perfect hair is a disaster, and absurd pride shoots through me, knowing my hands are responsible.

When he catches my eye, he gives me one of his mischievous smiles, though it wavers when I give a tentative thrust, turning into something more desperate.

This is a sight I’ll remember forever. Benji above me, his usual snarkiness stripped away to show something raw and real, something that matches the ache in my own chest.

He starts to move with maddening slowness, and I’m drowning in sensation. The slick slide of skin against skin, the weight of him above me, the way his breath hitches every time I hit just the right spot.

I reach up with one hand, tugging him down for a messy kiss. He moans into my mouth, his usual smartass comments replaced by broken syllables of praise.

I reach out and wrap a hand around his cock. His whole body jerks at my touch, and the sound he makes, halfway between a gasp and my name, sends heat rushing through me.

His hips stutter between thrusting into my grip and grinding down on my cock, like he can’t decide which sensation he needs more.

Shit. The need to claim him, to mark him as mine in the most primal way possible, overwhelms me.

Going purely on instinct, I grab his hips and flip us in one smooth motion.

He lands beneath me with a soft ‘oof’ that transforms into a laugh, then a gasp as I settle between his thighs.

This new angle lets me push deeper, and the sensation nearly blinds me. I brace myself on my forearms, wanting to see his face as I withdraw almost completely before sinking back in.

Fuck. The feel of him around me is better than anything I’ve known.

The room is filled with the sounds of our breathing, the soft creak of a bedframe that has known only my solitary weight until now. His eyelids flutter shut. Each thrust brings new sounds from him, soft grunts and half-formed pleas that I greedily collect.

I find a steady pace, careful at first, then with growing confidence.

His hands travel up my arms, fingers tracing the work-hardened muscle. When they reach my face, cupping my jaw with unexpected tenderness, something in my chest cracks open as wide as the Canterbury sky.

When I wrap my fingers around his cock, his clever mouth gives a silent gasp. For once in his life, Benji Gange is completely speechless, and the power of that goes straight to my head.

Sweat gathers in the hollow of his throat, catching the late evening light filtering through my bedroom window, and I’m struck by how bloody beautiful he is like this.

And I suddenly realize we’ve been speaking this language all along. In vegetables left on doorsteps and meals cooked just for me, in arguments that were really just excuses to stay in each other’s orbit.

I guess because I was slower to realize what was happening between us, it’s fitting that I shatter first.

My usual stoic control deserts me completely as I fall over the edge. Heat surges through me like a current, whiting out my vision as pleasure seizes every muscle. My body pulses and trembles, caught in something so intense I can barely remember my own name.

Benji’s eyes lock on mine like he’s memorizing this moment.

Fucking hell. Why the hell did it take me so many years to experience this?

I withdraw from him gently, taking care not to hurt him, though the loss of connection makes me ache in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

I take care of the condom quickly, then turn my attention back to him because I’m never someone who leaves a job half-finished.

Benji’s curled on his side to watch me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, lips parted and swollen from our kisses.

I lean forward to take his cock into my mouth, pushing him onto his back and filling him with my fingers until he gasps a broken sound.

I pull off just as his body shudders and his fingers tangle in my hair as he comes all over his chest.

Satisfaction sweeps through me. I did this. I reduced clever, articulate Benji Gange to a speechless, panting mess.

I press kisses to his trembling thighs as he catches his breath, his skin flushed and gleaming in the fading light.

He looks thoroughly claimed, with marks scattered across his throat, his usual perfect hair completely destroyed, and his green eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction.

When he pulls me up for a kiss, it’s slow and deep and perfect.

We lie tangled together, my heartbeat slowly returning to its normal rhythm. I brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting my touch linger longer than necessary, just because I can.

“That was different from what I expected.” Benji finally breaks the silence between us.

My stomach drops. All the warmth I was feeling suddenly freezes solid.

“Not sure if ‘different’ was what I was going for,” I manage to say.

“Oh no, no.” He’s seen the look on my face, and he pushes himself up on one arm to meet my gaze. “That was incredible. Absolutely incredible. I guess I just always assumed that the first time between us would be explosive hate sex after we argued about something.”

The relief flowing through me means it takes me a moment to find my voice.

“I’ll give you explosive hate sex next time you leave the boundary gate open,” I finally say, and he laughs, the sound vibrating through me.

Next time.

The word seems to hang in the air between us.

“I’ll take that as a promise,” Benji says as he snuggles back into me, his head on my chest.

His weight against my chest feels right, like when the wool press clicks perfectly into place. I never knew I was waiting for this, but now it seems so bloody obvious. His eyes flutter closed as his breathing evens out, and I lie there thinking about tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Everything suddenly seems so much brighter.

Because I now have a future full of next times.