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This, in retrospect, is not one of Rey’s brightest ideas.
To be fair, there had been little thought involved once the initial panic wore off. What is one supposed to think when their apartment gets robbed? After Rey had filed a police report and took an inventory of her meager belongings the robber had so kindly left behind, getting absolutely shit-faced had seemed like the next best move.
That’s how she finds herself here now, at a bar downtown that she doesn’t even know the name of, utterly and completely wasted.
“Another tequila shot, please,” she tells the bartender, proud when the words come out only slightly slurred.
The bartender, a pretty blonde woman, fixes her with a concerned frown as she pours out the shot. “You look upset, sweetie.”
“M’very upset,” says Rey, pointing at her clumsily. “Came home from work to find out I was robbed today.”
The bartender pauses, and it’s clear she’s not sure whether this is serious or just the nonsensical ramblings of a drunk person. “Are you okay?” she asks cautiously.
Rey waves a dismissive hand. “Sure, sure. I mean— all my valuables have been stolen, and my apartment clearly isn’t safe to live in, but, like. Things could probably be worse, right?”
Except things really couldn’t be worse; she’s a broke intern and an orphan from Britain with no emergency contacts to speak of— she can’t even afford a hotel room for the night.
But she is also drunk enough to pretend that her life isn’t completely falling apart at the seams, which is exactly what she had been going for, so yeah. At least there’s that.
The bartender’s eyes hold real pity when she slides the shot toward Rey. “I’m sorry, hon.”
Rey shrugs with a lazy smile. “It is what it is,” she says and throws the shot back.
She realizes just how extraordinarily drunk she is when the tequila slides down her throat and doesn’t burn in the slightest.
“Right, that should do it,” she mutters, shelling out the last of her cash and laying it on top of the bar. It’s not like she will miss a measly ten dollars, for all the good it will do her at this point.
She stumbles outside, aware that it is very late, and she is very drunk and alone. She had taken an Uber down to the bar, but it had cost a whopping thirty-four dollars, and Rey is sure she doesn’t have enough in her bank account for the ride back to her apartment building.
“Rey, you fucking idiot,” she mumbles, leaning back against the brick wall of the bar for support— she keeps swaying this way and that, and she doesn’t trust herself to stay upright.
She clumsily whips out her cell phone, opening up her contact list and sliding her thumb down the limited saved names. She wracks her alcohol-addled brain for anybody in the city she knows well enough to come pick her up— when it hits her.
“Finn!” Rey cries triumphantly, scrolling down to his name.
Finn Smith is another intern at Resistance Machinery, and they get along just fine. Quite well, actually— Rey would probably venture to say that Finn is the only friend she’s made since she moved here three months ago.
They haven’t exactly spent time together outside of work— not unless you count grabbing food during their lunch break — but Rey is fairly certain he wouldn’t object to picking up her drunk ass and preventing her abduction or otherwise.
“Finn it is,” she announces, to no one in particular.
Despite her vision spinning, she finds his name in her phone and clicks it with a heavy-handed press of her finger.
The phone rings once, twice, three times—
“Hello?”
Finn’s voice sounds different on the phone— much deeper and a little huskier than she remembers.
“Hey, Finn,” she begins airily, head swimming. “S’me, Rey. Um. I’m sorry, I know it’s pretty late—or, I think it’s pretty late? I dunno. It’s dark.”
“Rey?” he says, voice suddenly much more alert.
“Yeah, s’me. Look, I hate to ask, but I need a ride home. I’m alone here, and I can’t afford an Uber, and I am… drunk.” She draws the last word out, giggling a bit.
“Where are you, Rey?”
Rey glances up at the sign above her and reads off the name of the bar, squinting hard to make the words come into focus.
She hears the faint sound of rustling on the other end when Finn speaks again, “Don’t move. Do you understand? I’m coming to get you.”
The call ends with a beep, and Rey pulls her phone away in surprise. She blinks a few times before a pleased grin spreads across her face.
She knew she could count on Finn.
*
Imagine her surprise when it’s not Finn climbing out of a sleek, black Audi twenty minutes later, but the large, imposing body of Ben Solo.
As in, her boss, Ben Solo.
As in, Rey’s life somehow just got about a hundred times worse.
“I—wah—” she splutters, eyes wide as Ben strides over to her from the curb.
“Can you walk on your own?” he asks once he reaches her.
“But—” Rey can’t even begin to process this in her current state. “But I called Finn?”
“You called me,” says Ben. And then, more insistent this time: “Can you walk?”
Rey takes a step forward and immediately sways to the left. Ben’s hand comes up to grip her elbow, steadying her.
“Hold on to me,” he orders, and Rey’s hands wrap around his thick arm of their own accord.
Ben leads them to his car like that, opening the passenger door and helping her inside. He leans over her to fasten her seatbelt, his broad chest and spiced scent momentarily enveloping Rey completely.
When he slides into the driver’s seat beside her, she lolls her head to the side and takes in the dark green shirt and black jeans he’s wearing.
“I’ve never seen you not in a suit,” she muses as he starts the car. “You look less… stuffy.”
Ben doesn’t look at her as he pulls away from the curb and asks, “Where do you live?”
At this, Rey promptly bursts into tears.
*
“That’s him?”
“That’s him.”
Ben Solo cuts a striking figure against the boring beige of their office building, tall and broad in every sense. His pale skin contrasts nicely with the black of his suit, the same black that colors his long, tousled hair. His brow is strong and furrowed, full mouth pulled down into a faint frown of concentration that hardens the sharp lines of his face and makes him that much more intimidating.
But Rey never did easily scare.
“I feel like I should go introduce myself,” she says, eyeing him from across the room.
Finn snorts. “I wouldn’t bother. I’ve been delivering him his coffee for six months and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know my name.”
“He’s the sales manager for the entire company. I’m sure he knows who works under him.”
“I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but we’re interns, Rey. We’re at the bottom of the food chain here. Ben Solo doesn’t concern himself with the likes of us, believe me.”
“I’m going,” she announces, moving out from behind the copier. “First impressions are important.”
Finn shrugs. “It’s your funeral.”
Rey rolls her eyes— sure, she’s heard a few horror stories about her boss being less than friendly and somewhat of a slave driver, but she suspects a lot of it is exaggeration and office gossip. She smoothes out her hair and skirt before making her way over to where he stands at the counter, studying the contents of a manila folder. He doesn’t even bother looking up when Rey stops beside him.
“Mr. Solo?” she says expectantly.
He keeps his eyes fixed down, fingers deftly flipping through the sheets of paper in his hands. “What is it?”
Rey pastes a bright smile on her face. “I just wanted to introduce myself—I’m Rey Niima, the new sales intern.”
He finally glances up at this, stilling completely when his eyes meet hers. Rey resists the urge to squirm under the weight of his dark, intense gaze.
When he says nothing in response, she continues, a bit flustered. “I’m really looking forward to working here. Everyone has been so nice so far.”
Ben Solo nods once, eyes skating over her face. He clears his throat. “Is that all?”
Rey’s smile falters. “I… Yes, that’s all.”
He nods again before turning and striding away. Rey’s mouth falls open in shock.
When she looks back at Finn, he’s smothering gleeful laughter into the palm of his hand.
*
Whatever Ben is making, it smells delicious.
Rey sits bundled up on his couch, nursing a glass of water and periodically leaning back in an attempt to catch sight of whatever it is in the kitchen that’s making her mouth water.
Ben’s apartment is much homier than she would have expected. There’s no clutter, but it’s decorated nicely enough. And the throw blanket around her shoulders is wonderfully cozy.
She’s already downed two ibuprofens at Ben’s insistence, but otherwise the conversation between them has been limited. Ever since Rey mentioned that someone robbed her apartment on the way home from the bar, Ben’s jaw has stayed tightly clenched shut.
What to make of that, Rey isn’t entirely sure.
She’s marginally less drunk after filling her belly with two glasses of water, but when Ben walks into the living room with a sandwich that smells like bacon and warm bread, it’s clear that she’s no less hungry.
“Is that for me?” she asks eagerly.
“It is,” Ben says, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of her.
“Thank you,” Rey says, heartfelt. She takes the sandwich and bites into it immediately, moaning aloud at the taste of warm, greasy bacon. “This is so good,” she gushes through the food in her mouth. “You’re a really good cook.”
Ben averts his eyes from her bulging cheeks as he takes a seat at the other end of the couch from her. “It’s just a BLT.”
“So good,” she insists, swallowing. “Thanks for picking me up, by the way. I thought I called Finn.”
“Our last names both start with S,” says Ben. “You probably pressed my name on accident when you were going through your contact list.”
Rey considers this, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Probably,” she agrees. She looks over at him then, brow furrowing as something dawns on her. “But you still came to get me.”
Ben holds her gaze for a moment before he answers. “I still came.”
She swallows, feeling strangely exposed under his heavy gaze. “I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“Because—because I was pretty sure you couldn’t stand me.”
Ben frowns at this, his clear brown eyes shading with something like disappointment. “What? Why would you—” He stops himself, pressing his lips together tightly and shaking his head. “Not at all, Rey.”
She snorts. “Are you sure about that? Because you certainly act like it. Which—which sucks, honestly, because when I got hired in at Resistance I was really excited to work under you.”
She’s vaguely aware that she’s probably saying too much, but her drunkenness prevents her from caring. Her frown deepens as she continues, “But out of all the interns, you give me the most grunt work. And I just keep wondering what it is that I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ben says, eyes wide and brow creased. “You’re—I think you’re exceptional at your job.”
Her brow furrows. “You do?”
Ben holds her gaze and nods. “I do.”
*
A thick stack of papers drops onto Rey’s desk from above, startling her. She looks up in alarm to find Ben Solo standing above her with a stern expression, dressed in his usual black and white suit ensemble.
“I need a sales data analysis for Resistance West,” he says without preamble.
“Excuse me?” says Rey, blinking once.
“A sales data analysis,” Ben repeats. “I believe you just completed one for Resistance East?”
“I—I did,” she stutters, scrambling to catch up.
“And now I would like one for the west branch. Within the next week, if possible.”
Rey blows out an exasperated puff of air before she can stop herself. The analysis for the east branch had taken her days of meticulous work to turn into something easily digestible. Didn’t the west branch have its’ own interns to dump this on?
But she can’t very well say no to her boss— much less the sales manager of the entire company.
“Okay,” she manages, kissing her weekend behind. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Ben nods, face impassive. “I’m sure you won’t disappoint.”
And then he’s off, disappearing on a trail of expensive cologne.
Rey scoffs—the nerve of that guy.
Meanwhile, Finn spins around from his side of their shared office to fix her with wide eyes. “Damn,” he says, sympathetic. “Solo really hates you. What did you do?”
Rey shakes her head, staring at the stack of papers on her desk with growing resentment. “I have no idea.”
*
There’s nothing left of the sandwich save for crumbs. Rey might have snatched them up at another time, but right now she’s too engrossed by how Ben’s jaw is working, slow and deliberate, across the couch from her.
“If I give you the most work,” he says evenly, “it’s because you’re the only one I trust to get it done right.”
Rey blinks, absorbing his words— and once she does, it’s as if everything is suddenly washed in a new light, shifting on its axis.
“You meant it, then,” she says blankly, “when you said you were sure I wouldn’t disappoint. You—you weren’t being condescending.”
Ben’s brows come together, and the planes of his face no longer seem intimidating or sharp— just painfully honest.
“Of course I meant it,” he says.
It’s a sobering revelation. All this time, Rey had been desperately vying for Ben’s approval, feeling as though everything she did only served to make him dislike her even more.
To learn that she’s always had it is— impossible. Stupefying. Exhilarating.
“But you hardly even spoke to me,” Rey blurts out, a little frantic in her confusion, “I tried so hard to get you to like me, and you brushed me off every time.”
For the first time that night, Ben looks embarrassed. “I just didn’t—” he stops to clear his throat, directing his eyes to his lap “—I didn’t want it to be obvious that I... that I might favor you.”
“Favor me?” she echoes faintly.
It can’t be true, she thinks. And yet, Ben’s expression is so earnest in this moment that it must be, and Rey can only wonder how on earth she could have missed it so completely.
*
“I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea,” Finn says to her. “Once, the coffee place put cream in his coffee and I didn’t bother to check before I gave it to him—he wouldn’t look at me for a month after.”
“It’s fine,” Rey assures her friend, even as she double checks the contents of Ben’s coffee to ensure that it is nothing but black. “I literally just got him a muffin. Who doesn’t like muffins?”
“If I had one guess, I’d say Solo probably doesn’t.”
“It’ll be fine,” she repeats, already heading toward Ben’s office. “And he’ll have no choice but to like me after this.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Rey rolls her eyes, stopping in front of Ben’s office and knocking on the door in quick succession. Her heart beats hard, a near-painful thumping in her chest.
Ben’s voice floats muffled through the door. “Come in.”
Rey opens it and steps inside his spacious office with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Solo,” she begins brightly. “I have your coffee here.”
Ben turns around in his chair to face her, mouth parting and then snapping shut when their eyes meet. “Thank you,” he says, promptly swiveling back toward his computer screen. “Just set it on my desk.”
She does, carefully setting the bag holding the blueberry muffin beside his to-go cup. The crinkling of the paper bag catches Ben’s attention, and he glances back, pausing at the sight of it.
“What is that?” he asks, stiffly.
“I got you a muffin, too,” Rey explains cheerfully. “I thought you could use something sweet. I hope you like blueberry.”
Ben stares blankly at the bag. “I don’t eat sweets.”
Rey’s face drops at once, embarrassment flooding through her in a hot wave. “Oh.” Then the panic sets in, and she hurriedly moves to snatch the offending bag back. “Right, of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll just take it back—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupts curtly, refusing to meet her eyes. She watches, heart pounding, as he studies the bag with a curious intensity, licking his lips slowly. “Just… leave it.”
Rey nods, hastily backing out of his office without another word.
Finn must notice her paled complexion when she returns to their office, the embarrassment she feels likely mirrored all over her face.
“By looks of it,” he says, “that went about as well as I guessed it would.”
“Shut up,” Rey mutters as she takes a seat at her desk, cheeks burning.
Later that evening, just as she’s heading out for the day, Rey throws out a tissue in the bin by the lift. She glances inside it as she does, pausing when she spots a familiar paper bag at the top of the trash.
It’s the muffin bag she’d given Ben— and on top of that, the actual muffin wrapper, empty but for a few crumbs.
Rey scoffs, stepping onto the lift with a shake of her head. All of that fuss just for the sake of embarrassing her.
“Doesn’t eat sweets, my arse,” she grumbles and viciously presses the button for the bottom floor.
*
“I admit I might have gone too far in trying to seem… unbiased toward you,” Ben says now, wincing a bit. “But I never meant to give you the impression that I didn’t like you.”
“Well, you did,” Rey says, though not unkindly. “I wasn’t even aware you knew my name.”
Ben shoots her a deadpan look from where he sits at the other end of the couch. “Of course I know your name. You work for me.”
“You never said it!” she says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You hardly even looked at me when I was in the room—I was convinced you hated me.”
Ben rubs a tired hand over his face, and Rey briefly wonders what time it is— late, no doubt.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, dropping his hand and meeting her eyes. He huffs out a humorless laugh, all air. “But I’ve never hated you, Rey. In fact, that couldn’t be more opposite to the truth.”
It’s the way he says that last sentence— low and resigned and frighteningly sincere— that has Rey freezing in her place. Based on the stricken expression on his face, Ben seems to realize as well that perhaps he’s revealed more than he intended.
He stands abruptly from the couch, grabbing Rey’s dirty plate and heading for the kitchen before she can say anything in response.
It takes a few moments for the initial shock to wear off, but eventually Rey has enough wherewithal to stand and go after him, stopping just behind him as he rinses her plate in the sink.
“Ben,” she says softly. Meaningfully.
His broad back tenses, and he stops scrubbing the plate in his hands altogether. Rey inches closer with bated breath, heart thundering in her chest because if she’s wrong—
But no. Somehow, she’s certain she isn’t— everything is suddenly excruciatingly clear.
She places a hand at the center of Ben’s back and feels a shiver pass through him. She stands there for a moment, awed that such a simple touch could produce any sort of reaction from this big, powerful man.
“Ben,” she says again, a mere whisper, “do you… do you like me?”
Ben sucks in a breath, slow and tremulous.
*
Rey is exhausted. It’s close to ten at night and she’s just wrapping up at work.
She had been determined to finish the sales data analysis Ben had asked for before the weekend, which required her to stay extra late at the office that night. As far as she’s concerned, it had been worth it to finally be done with the stupid thing.
She hurries out into the lobby, dying to get home to her bed, but stops short when she sees Ben already standing at the lift, staring down at his cell phone. She’s ready to just turn around and wait for the next ride, but Ben looks up at the sound of her heels against the floor and glances back at her.
He frowns, and dread collects in the pit of her stomach. “What are you doing here?”
Rey tries not to flinch at the way his deep voice sounds—aggravated and impatient.
“I was working late,” she explains cautiously.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ben says shortly. “It’s way too late. Security isn’t even here anymore.”
Rey has to resist scoffing. Now he’s going to be angry with her for working too much? This man is truly impossible.
“I’m… sorry,” she says slowly, careful to keep the irritation she feels out of her tone.
The lift dings and its doors slide back. Ben holds them open with a long arm and gestures for Rey to step inside. She does, catching a whiff of his cologne as she passes.
They stand at opposite ends of the lift in silence, as far from each other as possible. Rey can’t help but peek at him as they descend, dressed immaculately in a black suit as usual. She takes in the planes of his profile— aquiline nose, plush lips, sooty lashes —and curses the way her stomach flutters at the sight.
Damn him.
She isn’t blind— she knows he’s an attractive man. Rey just tries not to dwell on that seeing as how it only makes him not liking her that much harder to swallow.
They arrive at the bottom floor, and Rey hurries out toward the building exit, desperate to escape his handsome face and delicious scent. She’s only just made it outside when she realizes that Ben is hot on her trails.
She whirls around, fixing him with a furrowed brow. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your car,” he says, as though it’s obvious. “Like I said, security left for the night.”
Rey blinks at him, entirely caught off guard. “Oh. Well, um. I’m parked right over there, so I should be good now... thanks.”
She turns back around, and this time there are no footsteps that follow her.
Rey’s stomach is aflutter as she walks across the lot, shocked and secretly delighted that Ben apparently cares enough about her to make sure she makes it safely to her car.
But then a thought hits her and abruptly dampens the feeling— he had probably just wanted to ensure that she was really leaving for the night. Interns technically shouldn’t be in the office without a supervisor there, especially not at this hour. That explanation makes infinitely more sense than Ben Solo caring enough about her wellbeing to walk her all the way to her car.
She has to hand it to him, though— he’s committed. She feels his watchful gaze on her back right until she gets into her car, locking it shut behind her.
*
Rey spreads her fingers out across Ben’s warm back, fingertips just barely brushing the ends of his shoulder blades.
So big, she thinks. He’d swallow me whole.
“Please look at me,” she whispers, feeling drunk on something other than alcohol. Her hand slides down, stopping at the small of his back just above the waistband of his jeans. She swallows at the strong muscle there before dropping it to her side.
A lengthy pause stretches out between them, and then she hears Ben set the plate in his hand down and slowly, slowly turn to face her.
Rey waits until it’s just his chest in her view, rising and falling steadily with his breaths that she’s sure are quicker than normal.
She raises her chin, and he’s right there, already looking down at her. His eyes are dark in the dim kitchen lighting— hesitant and guarded, but exceedingly gentle.
Abruptly, Rey feels the ridiculous urge to laugh— how could she have thought he was this bull-headed, disagreeable person? When it had been there all along, right in front of her, that he’s always been anything but.
With an unsteady hand, Rey cautiously reaches up and cups the curve of his cheek, running her thumb over the beauty marks there. Ben’s eyes flutter at her touch, mouth parting right away as if he’s been waiting forever for her to touch him like this.
It’s intoxicating.
She waits until he focuses his eyes back on hers before she whispers her question again, needing to hear him say it: “Do you like me, Ben?”
Her heart beats like a drum in her chest; her breath suspends in her lungs.
“Rey,” Ben says, just an exhalation. He shuts his eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is strained. “You have... no idea.”
A pleased shiver courses through Rey at his words, igniting something warm low in her belly. Ben must feel it too, because his eyes shoot open, and that same heat reflects in his irises, black as night.
She leans forward, breathing in spice and soap, and tilts her face up to brush her lips across his. They’re warm and smooth, framed by the pleasant scratch of stubble.
And they part for her so willingly, a small, low groan sounding from the back of his throat when she presses harder against them, running her tongue along his bottom lip.
More, her body immediately demands, and the fire in her belly burns hotter.
She is suddenly ravenous, appalled that she had gone so long without having kissed Ben Solo, without having felt his breath in her mouth, his taste on her tongue. She kisses him hungrily and without pause, hard and deep and needy.
But just as Rey is about to wind her arms around his neck and bring him closer, Ben wraps a hand around her wrist and pulls himself away.
“Rey,” he says, almost pained. His eyes are glittering black coals. “You’re drunk.”
She licks her lips and tastes Ben, blood singing in her veins. “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”
“But you are,” he insists, gently pushing her back. His large, rough hands come up to cup her face briefly, but he drops them just as quickly. Rey shudders at the loss.
He licks his lips, breathing in once as if to steady himself. “Go to sleep,” he tells her, bowing his head to place a kiss on her forehead. “See how you feel in the morning.”
Rey wants to argue, but she has a feeling it will get her nowhere.
And part of her, too, wants to keep this untainted— wants there to be no doubt between them, no more misunderstandings. They’ve wasted enough time.
So she tamps down the burning desire in her heart and nods her assent.
“Okay,” she says. “In the morning.”
*
Rey wakes on Ben’s couch, sober and miraculously free of a hangover. She affords this blessing to Ben’s late-night cooking, her heart fluttering at the mere thought of him. Of the sweet, burning kiss they shared.
She climbs off of the couch, dressed in just a sweatshirt he had given her the night before, and creeps up to the double doors of his bedroom. She slowly pushes them open to find Ben curled in bed, raven hair splayed across his sleeping face.
Her heart lurches. He looks softer when he sleeps— younger, less serious. Her big, bad boss.
Rey wants to ruin him.
Quietly, she draws closer until she stands at the edge of the bed, facing his curved back. She remembers how warm it had felt, pressed against her palm. Longing shoots through her like a bullet, a hot, tangible thing.
She climbs into the bed behind him, careful not to stir the mattress too much, and slots her body around his. It’s hardly practical; he dwarfs her in every way, but from this angle Rey can nuzzle into the nape of his neck with her nose, breathe in the scent of his hair.
She feels it when he wakes up. His lax body stirs and then abruptly stiffens, no doubt made aware of her pressed up against him.
Rey drops a soft, slow kiss to the back of his neck, followed by one to the first notch of his spine, and relishes in his answering shudder.
“Rey,” he says, voice rough. She feels it right between her legs.
“It’s morning,” she says quietly, a little breathless, and presses another kiss to his skin.
She hears the soft exhale of breath. Ben turns over slowly, just as he had the night before, until they’re face to face, mere inches apart.
“It is,” he murmurs, and his eyes are soft and so, so hopeful.
Rey kisses him. She has no interest in dragging it out— she knows what she wants.
His tongue finds hers and she sighs dizzily into his mouth, pressing herself closer to mold against his front.
They stay like that, kissing long and deep and languid until Ben’s hands find her waist and pull her on top of him.
Rey is happy to oblige, settling her legs on either side of his hips and whimpering when she feels the hard, insistent press of his cock against her center. It’s just the thin material of their underwear between them, which does little to mute the burning heat of their skin.
She drags herself up his shaft slowly and Ben lets out a groan, low and strangled, and breaks away from their kiss with a fierce squeeze to her hips.
She bends her head down, peppering kisses across his jaw. “I want you,” she murmurs by his ear, “do you want me?”
“Yes,” he breathes, hips thrusting up involuntarily, chasing her warmth. “God, yes, Rey. Please.”
What a rush, to hear his voice steeped in desire— to hear him beg for her. That same desperation wells up inside of her, thrashing within her heart.
*
“Ben,” Rey sighs.
Ben is above her, around her, thrusting into her, the drag of his cock deliciously hot and unyielding.
She’s so full— Rey has never felt so full in her life, stretched out and fit to burst. She can’t get over how satisfying it is to be this stuffed, pinned down by Ben’s broad frame, unable to budge. She feels almost drowsy with pleasure, a dark fire coursing through her veins and growing wilder with each pump of his hips.
She pants, bending her head forward to rest it on the round of his shoulder. “God, you feel good,” she breathes, running her hands down his back.
“Yeah?” Ben rasps, nudging his nose against her ear.
Rey nods vehemently, mouth dropping open when he pulls out and slowly pushes back in, cock brushing a spot inside of her that makes her hips lift off the mattress. The flames under her skin lick higher.
“Good,” he continues in a low, smoldering voice, “because you feel fucking incredible, Rey.” She whimpers, and he snaps his hips into hers, a man possessed. “Even better than I thought. And I thought about this all the time. Did you know that? I thought about fucking you every day, Rey.”
Rey moans, eyes fluttering shut and rolling back in her skull.
“Drove myself crazy,” he growls, licking up the column of her throat. “Thinking about how wet you’d be for me—” another thrust, hitting that same electrifying spot “—how tight.” A hot, massive hand brushes up her side and envelopes one of her tits, holding her down as he fucks her. “How pretty you’d look coming on my cock.”
Ben pinches her nipple on that last part, grinding his hips into hers and brushing that bundle of nerves between her legs in the process.
It’s all she needs.
Rey falls apart with a gasp, nails biting into the flesh of his back as her body trembles furiously beneath him. Her back arches up, nipples brushing his chest as he thrusts through her orgasm, pressing whispered praises into her skin.
She comes back to herself just as Ben begins to shudder and groan, his skin painted gold by the early morning sunlight.
*
Afterward, Ben is curled around her back, their bare skin pressed together.
“I was thinking,” he murmurs into her hair.
“Hm?” Rey can’t bother with more than a hum, eyes shut and utterly blissed out within the circle of his arms.
“You shouldn’t stay at your apartment anymore,” he says seriously. “It’s not safe.”
Rey snorts a little, even as she warms at his concern. “And where exactly should I go? You’re talking to the girl who couldn’t even afford an Uber last night.”
“I was thinking you could stay here.”
Rey freezes, eyes shooting open. She keeps silent, processing his words. She can feel how tense Ben is growing behind her but can’t make herself move just yet.
“Just until you figure out what you want to do,” he adds hurriedly, tightening his arm across her waist. “The option is there, if you want.”
His voice is nervous— so unlike him, and so terribly endearing.
Rey lets the offer sit for another moment, marveling at the way it seems to worm beneath her skin and grow, glowing warm in her bones and taking root.
She rolls over, meeting Ben’s anxious gaze with a small smile.
“I want,” she says simply.
Ben smiles back at her with his teeth, the first time she’s ever seen it, and it thrills Rey to find that it tastes just as good as it looks.