The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

He guides himself inside me and I close my eyes, bracing myself for the pinch.

He starts in slowly and I hiss. He immediately stops. “What? What did I do?” he asks, touching my face tenderly. “Grace?”

“Do it fast,” I tell him. “Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

He chuckles. “Sex isn’t like a Band-Aid, Princess.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “Last time I checked, you didn’t have a vagina to know what this feels like. Just do it, Bennett.”

He rolls his hips slightly. “Definitely no vagina.” He winks.

He bends and kisses me, but doesn’t move any farther inside me. His tongue tangles in mine and I grasp his shoulders, ready to push him away so I can yell at him to get a move on with it, when he does push all the way into me. I cry into his mouth and I’m pretty sure I bite his tongue or lip. He doesn’t scold me, though.

He holds steady there and looks down at me as I fight tears. I knew it would hurt, but I guess I didn’t think it would be this bad.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and he looks truly distraught at causing me any sort of pain.

I want to tell him it’s okay, but there’s not any air in my lungs to speak with. He seems to know to give me a minute, and eventually, the pain turns to a dull throbbing and my fingernails are no longer digging into his shoulders.

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “Promise.”

He looks at me doubtfully. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

“Not yet.” I nearly scream the words, clamping my legs around his waist.

He chuckles softly and lowers his head, sweeping his lips over mine in a tender caress. He’s being infinitely sweet with me—sweeter than I ever imagined. He deepens the kiss and I completely forget about the pain. He moves to my neck, kissing the sensitive skin there and my hips rock slightly against his. The pain is minimal now, merely a dullness remaining. But I still find myself scared to tell him to continue in case it starts up again. He seems fine to wait, though.

I grasp his cheeks in my hands and bring his lips back to mine. I kiss him deeply, my tongue tangling with his. He tastes like cinnamon and something sweet that I can’t quite pinpoint.

With a shaky breath I say, “You can move now.”

He pauses, giving me the chance to take back the words if I don’t really mean them, but he must see the truth there because he slides out the smallest amount and back in. It hurts, but not like before. It’s duller now.

I can tell he’s holding back, however.

“I can take it,” I tell him. “Don’t hold back.”

He looks uncertain and breathes out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I promise. At least, not now, like this. He does have the power to hurt me—to break my heart.

He grabs my waist and angles my hips up. He moves faster, but not too fast, and for that, I’m thankful. He’s slightly rough, though, in the way his fingers dig into my skin, and I love that—I love that he’s so close to losing control that he has to hold onto me.

He stares down at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I don’t feel that way when he looks at me. More than beautiful: he makes me feel alive in a way I never have before.

He lowers, his chest pressing mine, and angles his hips so he’s pressing deeper into me. My eyes nearly roll back into my head.

“Do that again,” I beg.

He does, chuckling when he sees what it does to me.

I force my eyes open and look down to where we’re joined. The sight turns me on and I clench around him. Bennett’s eyes darken with desire.

“That turns you on,” he rasps out. “Watching me fuck you.”

It does, but I have no words to tell him. My thoughts have turned into a kaleidoscope of colors and I can’t think straight. The only thing I feel and know is pleasure.

He rubs his fingers against me, and I jolt in surprise at the feeling.