Page 30 of Storm in a Teacup (Love in Edinburgh #3)

“I highly— fuck. ” His tongue replaces his thumb, giving generous strokes before settling in. I draw in a breath and finish my sentence, “—doubt that.”

He sucks on my clit, holding it between his lips before his tongue slides over it again.

A finger gently strokes my entrance, waiting for approval.

Once he has it, he dips that finger inside, shortly followed by another.

As his mouth works my clit, his fingers curve in.

They pump inside of me before hitting that perfect spot and—

Oh god .

I come hard, bending over at the waist as the ripples of pleasure ride through me.

He would keep going, I can tell by the way his mouth continues to move intently, but I pull him back to his feet and bring his mouth to mine, tasting myself on his lips.

Even though my legs are shaking and I’m not sure how much longer I can manage to stand, I guide his fingers back to my clit, still desperate for him.

I find his hard cock. “I need to touch you,” I say. I stroke him, hot and thick, as I grind on his hand.

He puts two fingers back inside of me, but finds quickly that I want a third. His free hand twists in my hair, gathering it and tugging it enough for a delicious pinch of pain.

“Fecking hell,” he murmurs. My inner walls grasp him tightly as the water runs over us in thick streams. As I focus on the head of his cock, thumb tracing over a pearl of pre-cum, he continues his attention on me.

“Come for me again, sugar. I want to feel your cunt pulsing around my fingers.”

My body listens to his plea as bliss rockets through me, his name falling from my lips.

Finally, that’s enough. Legs threatening to give up, I gently push his hand away, letting him grasp my waist tightly as I continue to stroke his throbbing erection.

I spit in my hand, water not offering enough lubrication for my efforts.

His hips nudge forward, pushing into my touch.

“Linny,” he growls warningly as he gets close.

“Come on my stomach,” I instruct, positioning myself so he can do just that. I keep pumping him.

Soon enough, he comes, his pleasure pulsating onto my belly.

I use the wall of the shower to keep myself steady. His head drops to my shoulder as we catch our breath.

When it is well enough caught, Ben squeezes body wash onto a loofa and starts to clean my stomach. I laugh when I catch the scent.

“You bought my body wash!”

“I love how you smell.”

He moves the loofa over my body, washing me carefully. He takes his time, ensuring every bit of me receives his apt attention. When he’s done, I take it from him, enjoying the soapy trails I leave behind on his skin. When he turns around so I can clean his back, I spy something new.

“You have a tattoo,” I observe. My eyes trail along the compass tattoo on his upper right shoulder blade.

“I do. I got it when I was eighteen because I thought I was going to lead a lot more adventurous life than I have. I had a year of adventure, but that’s it.”

I reach out to touch it, but halt before I make contact.

Ben must sense the heat of my fingers, because he says, “Sugar, I just cleaned cum off your stomach. I think it’s okay if you touch my back.”

“You don’t have to be so crass,” I grumble. My fingers trace the inked lines through droplets of water on his warm, wet skin. “I like it.” I tap my fingers against the tattoo. “I think you still have time for more adventures.” I trail over the tattoo and the rest of his back with the loofa.

“I do. But the problem is, I don’t want to take those adventures alone anymore.”

I place a light kiss on his back where the water just rinsed it clean, before I continue to wash him. “That’s understandable.”

The water runs cold by the time we’re both washed up. Ben reluctantly cranks the shower off before we step out. He wraps me in a towel, letting me secure it across my chest, then grabs another towel for himself.

We have certainly crossed the boundary we agreed we would not cross, but in this moment, I cannot find it in myself to mind.

I fold my arms. “Thanks for today. I needed it.”

He gives half a smile. “Me too.” He mimics my crossed arms over his strong chest. “But we agree, a one-time thing, yeah?”

“Definitely, yeah.” I lean against the counter, toeing the ground. “Pregnancy,” I say without looking at him.

“Huh?”

“I don’t do penis in vagina because of pregnancy.

It’s a simple reason, but it’s the most effective way to keep from getting pregnant.

I’ve been trying to get an IUD, but the NHS waiting list is atrocious, and I don’t really want to pay for private care, so…

it’s easier to just not. I can’t ge t pregnant. ”

“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

I gather my clothing from the floor, glad he did not inquire further. However, I suspect he knows my reasoning goes beyond simple preference. “I like being honest with you.”

Whenever I’m with him, I’m in the safest place in the world.

He bends with me, fetching my underwear before I can grab it myself and holding it out to me, looped around one finger. I snatch it from his hand.

“If we’re being honest, I recently learned that I rather like penetration.”

I snort, surprised by what just came out of his mouth. “Oh yeah? I assume we’re talking about you being the penetrate-e?”

“Indeed, we are.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, then swivels out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to get redressed.

I wasn’t expecting this tonight, but really, I wasn’t expecting Ben at all.

When I sat down next to him all those months ago, I was not expecting him to become someone to me.

But I am so incredibly glad he has. However, now that he has, I am terrified to lose him too.

I refuse to add him to my list of losses.

When I exit the bathroom fully clothed and meet him in his living room, I direct my gaze to the back garden. “Should we clean up?”

“You don’t have to help.”

“I’d like to.”

He agrees, grabbing a broom and two pairs of thick work gloves from the kitchen.

I take one pair of gloves and ask, “Why do you have these?”

As he pulls on the other pair, he answers, “I convinced myself I was going to garden. I bought all the things I needed to build one back here, but I never did. Maybe I’ll get it going before next spring. ”

We go back outside. I crouch down to start grabbing at some of the bigger pieces of ceramic, throwing them into the box we brought from the store.

“Why a garden?”

Ben starts to sweep. “Rachel’s brother has a garden, and he seems like a happy guy. I thought it would make me happy.”

“Baking makes you happy,” I comment.

“It does. Maybe chickens would be a better idea. Then I could use the eggs.”

“Maybe,” I agree while trying not to make a face.

He stops sweeping. “What?”

“Chickens freak me out. They’re little, mean, cannibalistic dinosaurs.”

He laughs loudly as he keeps sweeping. “If I got chickens, would you never come over here again?”

I seriously consider this. “I enjoy your company more than I hate the company of chickens, I suppose.”

“I enjoy your company more than I enjoy the company of chickens,” he says in return.

I smile to myself. “Thanks.”

We finish cleaning up the broken teacups, filling the box with all the shattered bits and dust.

“I’ll dispose of that in a proper way tomorrow,” Ben says, pulling off his gloves. “Gloves,” he says to me.

I hold out my hands, letting him pull them off for me one after the other.

He uses his free hand to stroke a strand of my hair behind my ear, still wet from the shower.

Leaving that hand on my cheek, he bends forward to press a kiss to my forehead.

I lean into it, savoring the feeling of his lips on my skin.

Have we gone so far past the line that we won’t ever be able to return?