by Liz Durano
“Undress me,” he murmurs and my hands go up to his shoulders, pushing the shirt down his arms as he nudges me onto the bed. It takes mere seconds to get me lying on my back, Benny on top of me as I toss his shirt to the floor and tug his jeans from his hips. His gaze holds me like a prisoner as he helps along and within seconds, we’re both naked on the bed, his cock hard and hot against my thigh.
He squeezes one breast and I gasp, the tenderness surprising me. He pauses but only for a second before he moves down, trailing soft kisses down my neck until he reaches my breast, his tongue swirling around the hard nipple before taking it in his mouth. I cry out when he sucks, my fingers curling into the back of his head, but I don’t tell him to stop. I don’t want him to.
He takes the other nipple in his mouth and does the same thing, teasing it to a stiff peak with his tongue. His hand slides down my torso, pausing for a moment just below my belly button, fingers spreading before the tip of one finger touches my cleft. I say his name as he slides his fingers between my legs, feeling my unmistakable wetness for him.
His mouth loves lower, his beard scratching at the same time his tongue licks and sucks, two sensations that leave me wanting more. When he reaches my belly, he kisses the skin there, soft warm kisses that has me closing my eyes and letting go.
“Benny,” I sigh. “Please.”
I feel his fingers spreading me open for him, his tongue flattening against my folds. He pushes my thighs apart, his hands sliding under my legs as he holds me in place. A kiss here, a lick there, a teasing nibble of my clit. I sigh again, my hands digging into the pillows above me.
“Let me see you, Sarah. No secrets,” he says and I move my arms to the sides. He’s right. No more secrets.
Benny slips a finger inside me as he continues to lick and suck my pussy until my release comes like a wave that takes me with it, hard and fast, leaving me shuddering and begging him to fuck me.
As the head of his cock presses against my opening, he crushes his mouth against mine and I taste myself on his tongue, tangy and a little sweet. When Benny thrusts into me, his cock filling me in one long and hard stroke, stars explode from behind my eyelids as my fingers sink into the skin of his back. From here on, there is no more gentleness. Just rough hard sex, just the way I like it.
A claiming, an ownership of body and soul—mine and his.
But there is gentleness, too, as his thrusts slow and he takes his time, peppering my face and neck with kisses, leaving his mark on my skin with his teeth. When I come again minutes later, Benny silences my cries with his mouth, his cock still pounding inside me. No respite, not yet, not for me even as my orgasm claims me hard and fast again and again.
When I feel his cock swelling inside me, his movements becoming shorter, his breathing more ragged, I know he’s close.
“I’m coming,” he groans in my mouth as he comes, shuddering with his release, his cock buried all the way, filling me completely. It’s a coming home like no other and I whisper his name as he murmurs mine, telling me the words I always long to hear again and again from him. Twelve years later, I’ll never get tired of hearing them.
I love you I love you I love you.
Chapter Eleven
Benny catches me admiring my ring a few hours later. He plants a kiss on my shoulder as he wraps his arm around me, his warm hand settling over my belly.
“You really made it official,” I whisper. “I didn’t dream it.”
“No, you didn’t,” he says, his voice thick with sleep. “And I have witnesses who heard you say yes.”
“Are you sure they’re all reliable?”
He chuckles, nuzzling the skin at the back of my neck and I giggle. “Yes, I am. A hundred percent. And a few of them might have just filmed it, too.”
I groan. “You mean there’s no changing my mind.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “Is that what you’d like?”
I roll onto my back and look at Benny, his expression serious. Suddenly I hate teasing about something so important to him, but it’s my default setting, always has been. It means I don’t have to deal with the seriousness of things like being there for my patients only because they’re dying and leaving when they’ve moved on. Years of doing that had taken its toll and I didn’t even know it. But everyone else did.
“I’m sorry, Benny. I didn’t mean to be flippant–”
“It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to be.”
Suddenly I’m crying, the tears flowing down my cheeks and Benny pulls me closer, kissing my forehead as I tuck my face in the space between his neck and shoulder. I don’t even understand why I’m so emotional.
But why shouldn’t I be?
After I refused him the first time, I honestly thought he’d never ask me to marry him again and yet he did. And for a man as private as Benny, to do it in front of my family is a huge step.
“After my father died, Mother and I moved back to the rez,” he says quietly as he strokes my hair. “She didn’t want to, but she had nowhere else to go and she thought maybe her family would forgive her for running off with a white man. It took a while, but they did and she ended up marrying the man she’d been arranged to marry from the beginning.”
Benny pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing against my forehead as he swallows. “She was so filled with remorse for following her heart that she said nothing when he started beating me for every little mistake, for not knowing how to speak Navajo or for not being nitsídzíkees dzizlíí, someone who can think independently even if I was still a little boy then, barely seven. It was my grandfather who finally took me in, teaching me everything I knew until my mother got pregnant two years later. That’s when my stepfather stopped beating me.”
I look at up at him. “But he left marks on you.”
“He did, yes.”
“He was cruel.”
Benny shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly a good little boy either. I don’t think I really understood my real father was dead. I kept asking my mother when we were going home, back to Roswell where we used to live and where all my friends were. I really had no idea what was happening.”
“You were too young.”
“I was only six, so yes, I was too young. But despite what my stepfather did, he taught me how not to raise my own son… and how to keep it all inside, your feelings and your weaknesses all bottled up,” he says. “And then I met you.”
I frown, waiting for the punchline but none comes. “I’m not quite sure if that’s supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing given the context of this conversation.”
“You helped me realize I can’t bottle everything up, not with you. But even when I slowly learned to open up with you, there was this. I kept this for myself.” Benny takes my hand and guides it toward his back where my fingers trace a scar, one of many he never allowed me to touch. “But I can’t do that anymore. No more secrets, Sarah.”
“No more secrets.”
He closes his eyes as I trace the indentation of one scar, one that crosses onto another… and another. My chest tightens and I kiss the hollow of his neck, needing a connection that roots me back to the present, not from his past. I lick the skin there and lower.
Benny takes my wrist again and guides it the space between us where his cock is pressing against my belly. His nostrils flare as he watches me, his breathing turning ragged when I squeeze him, hot and thick in my hand.
“Lay on your back,” I whisper, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me with him so I’m on top of him. I don’t speak and neither does Benny as I guide his cock inside me, setting the rhythm as I make love to him, gently this time.
As his cock fills me for the second time, I know this is exactly what we both need right now. One moment it’s us coming together all rough and hard and other times, gentle and slow like right now. And through it all, there’s that connection, a bond that needs no words—only us.
His hands cup my breasts as I ride him, before moving down my waist and then my hips
where they stay, guiding me, his own hips thrusting upward to meet mine until we both find our sweet release and I collapse on top of him, panting and out of breath. I might just need to start doing squats again.
For the next few minutes, I stay on top of him, not moving. I take in his scent, of earth, sage, and sweat, the sensation of his fingers tracing circles on my back bringing me back from my stupor.
“Benny, I’m pregnant,” I whisper as the circles continue, shifting to straight lines along the center of my back, along one side of my spine all the way down my tailbone and back up.
“I know.”
I look up at his face, the light of the coming dawn filtering through a slit in the blinds. I prop my chin on my hands resting on his chest and I frown. “How on earth would you know?”
“Actually I didn’t know. But my app does,” he says and my frown deepens. What app? Then my eyes widen in surprise.
“The cycle one?”
“The PMS one, remember?” He says, smiling. “You told me that in my case, it would come in handy so I’d know when to leave you alone when your moods hit. My own personal PMS tracker. Pack My Suitcase.”
“Oh my god, Benny. That was five… six years ago. You mean that app is still going?”
“Yup. Automatic updates and all. I even rated them five stars because they kept sending me notifications.” He grins, his fingers playing with my hair now. “How do you think I know when to stay out of your way?”
I playfully hit him on the shoulder and he yelps dramatically. “Be serious, Benny.”
“I am.” He cups my face between his hands and kisses me before I can reply. “Besides, you’ve been moody the last few weeks, and you haven’t been using your, um, feminine products. At first, I thought maybe the stress of managing the agency was just throwing you off but then…”
“But then what?”
He becomes serious. “You missed your second month this week. And you taste different… before I left and today.”
I stare at him. “I what?”
He glances down. “Your pussy tastes different.”
My face burns with embarrassment at the revelation, but I’m also curious. “How on earth can you tell that I taste different down there?”
His gaze drifts down my mouth before he lifts his eyebrows knowingly. “Let’s say I’ve had twelve years of practice.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“With the new flavor?” he asks as I playfully hit him on the shoulder again. “Oh, Sarah, of course, I’m okay with it. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. We should have talked about it.”
“Talked about what? Did you plan it?”
I shake my head. “Of course not. It must have happened when I had that round of antibiotics two months ago.”
“Then we’re talking about it now and I couldn’t be happier,” he says. “You?”
“I’ll be cranky again,” I say. “And you won’t have the app to tell you when to steer clear of me.”
“Like I needed that app to tell me how to handle you,” he says cockily. “But there is something we need to talk about though.”
“What?”
“Our home. We can’t do this ‘his and hers’ arrangement forever, Sarah. Even Dyami wants us all under one roof. I heard him tell his grandfather that.”
I don’t answer right away. It’s no secret I love where I live, in the same house I was raised where Nana can grow her herbs and Dyami and his cousins can ride their bikes a short distance to the park. It’s where Dad can work in the back house discussing money and investments whenever he’s in town. But as much as Benny loves to hang out there and often spends the night, I’ve never asked him if he’d like to live there with me and Dyami permanently. With my family.
“I can rent this place out,” Benny says as if reading my mind. “Daniel says it would do great as a nightly or weekly rental since it’s close to the gallery and other places. I can have someone manage the details for a fee.”
“But you like this place.”
“Not as much as I like being with you and Dyami,” he says. “This is more like a bachelor pad, Sarah. And I’m not a bachelor. Not since I met you. Not since we had Dyami.”
“We were fine with it for twelve years,” I say, needing him to be sure about any decisions he makes, post-sex bliss and all.
“Is that how you’d like the next twelve years to be?” Benny asks. “His and hers?”
I shake my head. “No. Definitely not after we’re married. Or after… you know, the baby. Whichever comes first.”
“I’ll marry you today if you say the word, Sarah Drexel.”
“What about Noelle?” I suddenly ask, remembering her name flashing on his phone courtesy of his mother. But just as quickly as I say it, I realize I’ve just let him know that I peeked. “I’m sorry. I… I saw the notification when you were in the shower.”
“My mother tries only because she’s spent half of her life regretting her decision to follow her heart instead of her clan’s. And I get it. It’s why she married my stepfather, not only because she was a widow with a young child but because she knew she was being a good daughter by doing so,” he says quietly. “But she also knows how much like my father I am.”
“Your real father,” I say and he nods.
“I’m named after him. Benjamin Callum Turner. It’s what my stepfather wanted so desperately to beat out of me because I reminded him of my mother’s… first choice,” he says, tracing my cheek. “But the day I told you that you were the only woman for me, Sarah, was the day any hope that Noelle and I would ever get back together again died. I only have room for one woman in my heart, my soul, and it’s you.” He touches the tip of my nose with his finger. “Not to mention the biggest argument we had over Noelle had me away from you for three months.”
“I remember that. I heard you were miserable.”
“Nídin sélį́į́ shijéí bináká hoodzą́,” he murmurs. Missing you left a hole in my heart. “And I never want to feel that way again, shiʼáád.”
“Me neither,” I whisper. “I was miserable, too. But we can both be too stubborn. I think we drove Nana crazy using her as the contact point.”
He grins. “Then we’re even.”
“So what happens now, Benny?” I ask. “What’s next for us?”
He rolls me onto my side facing him and rests his hand on my belly. “This is next for us, shiʼáád. This. Our baby.”
“It’ll change everything,” I say quietly. “The things we do. The… you know.”
“Yes, it will,” Benny says. “But all things change. The things we do when we’re alone… it’ll always be there. Maybe a little different but it won’t change the way I feel about you. Don’t forget that.”
“And the wedding?”
“How soon do you want to get married?”
“I don’t,” I blurt out and his brow furrows. “I mean, not right away. I want to make it special, Benny, one that represents part of your heritage, not just mine. Because you do know how the Drexels will take over everything and before you know it, it will be green chile everything.”
Benny grins. “I hope not.”
I stroke his jaw, his beard tickling my fingers. “I know how important your mother’s family is to you, Benny. Even though you hardly talk about them, they’re a big part of you.”
He thinks for a few moments. “Then that will take time to plan, shiʼáád. My family is quite traditional. Well, my mother’s side, that is. My grandfather may even gift your family a horse.”
Benny pulls me to his chest and I nuzzle my face in that favorite spot just below his collarbone. “But I’m in no rush, Benny. I have all the time in the world. I have you and Dyami.”
“And our baby.”
I nod, loving the way the words sound as they leave his lips. “And our baby.”
I can hear his chest rumble against my skin as he chuckles, the warmth of his mouth pressing on my forehead. “We have us.”
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Every Breath!
I hope you enjoyed Sarah and Benny’s slice-of-life story!
Every Breath is also part of a multi-author project called Steamy Sensations Holiday Love. Check out other steamy stories here.
If you’d like to learn more about my upcoming books, please join my mailing list at lizdurano.com/subscribe
And if you’re on social media, check out my Facebook Reader Group:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/librarycafereadergroup/
Other Books by Liz Durano
A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOVE
Everything She Ever Wanted
Falling for Jordan
Breaking the Rules
Friends with Benefits
Every Breath
HOLIDAY ENGAGEMENT SERIES
The Replacement Fiancé
The Reluctant Fiancee
The Last Minute Fiancé
CELEBRITY SERIES
Loving Ashe
Loving Riley
CALIFORNIA LOVE
Finding Sam
In His Heart
FIRE AND ICE
Collateral Attraction
About Liz
Liz grew up devouring fairy tales and her mother’s book collection (don’t tell her!) that included Harold Robbins, James Clavell, and Colleen McCullough. Although she studied Journalism in college, she discovered that she preferred writing fiction and so these days, that’s what she does. She writes women’s fiction and romance and lives in Southern California with her family and a Chihuahua mix who keeps guard of her writing space.
You can follow Liz’s book adventures by visiting lizdurano.com or follow her on Facebook at @lizduranobooks.
Let’s Connect!
https://lizdurano.com
[email protected]
