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Rey Niima stared in horror at the massive jack-o’-lantern display in front of her.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she muttered under her breath, her fury building with every second she stood before the wall of carved pumpkins. The lights flickering inside them revealed an intricate carving style she recognized on sight.
The Batuu Annual Pumpkinstravaganza was the premier pumpkin-carving event in the nation and attracted carvers from around the world. Rey’s biggest competition, though, happened to be her next door neighbor: Ben Fucking Solo.
Ben Fucking Solo was 6’2” of absolutely delicious exterior and absolutely enraging interior. He had shampoo-commercial-worthy hair, full lips, and muscled forearms that Rey couldn’t tear her eyes away from when he was carving. But he also had an ego to match his talent and a tendency to fly off the handle and smash perfectly innocent pumpkins when he was upset with something. He communicated mainly in sarcasm and grunts, and over the last few years of their carving rivalry, he’d made it very clear he didn’t like a single thing about Rey.
Well, Rey didn’t like a single thing about Ben Solo, either, forearms aside. Her dislike for the man wasn’t the reason for her current rage, though. No, the subject of Ben’s jack-o’-lantern display was the problem.
“Like it?” the devil himself purred beside her, his rich baritone sending a shiver down Rey’s spine.
She turned, bracing herself for the sight of him. Thankfully, his David S. Pumpkins suit—a loud jumble of jack-o’-lanterns on a black background—distracted from his ridiculously handsome face. “You,” she spat, drilling a finger into his chest.
Ow. There were some real muscles under that pumpkin tie.
He smirked down at her, raising one eyebrow slightly. “What’s wrong, Niima? Intimidated by my display?”
“More like furious at a blatant display of creative theft.”
His forehead creased as a thunderous scowl overtook his face. The effect might have been more potent if he were wearing his normal dark wash jeans and black T-shirt, rather than an outrageous pumpkin suit, but it still made Rey’s heart rate increase. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Rey pointed at his display. “Look.”
They stared at the offending display together. It was admittedly magnificent, with rows upon rows of Star Wars scenes carved with breathtaking detail. The imagery was all related to the Dark Side: a squadron of Imperial Stormtroopers, a Star Destroyer, Darth Maul charging towards Obi-Wan and Anakin, and more. Other pumpkins showed the Imperial insignia. Darth Vader loomed in the middle, carved into the largest pumpkin, and the sharp lines of his helmet glowed eerily in the gathering twilight.
“The rules specifically allow us to carve scenes from popular media,” Ben argued, turning back to Rey. “There’s nothing wrong with a Star Wars display.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Ben’s hot gaze raked her from head to toe, and Rey shivered, regretting the “sexy pumpkin” costume her best friend Rose had convinced her to wear. She felt far too exposed in her tight, strapless jack-o’-lantern top, frothy orange tutu, and over-the-knee black heeled boots.
Ben leaned in, his breath puffing hot over her cheek. Looming over smaller people was another annoying habit of his, and Rey squirmed as her stomach tightened with a knot of what she was going to call pure, unadulterated hatred. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Niima,” he said. “Care to clarify?”
In response, she grabbed his hand and tugged him after her, practically dragging him down the lines of carving displays. He made a sound of surprise when she touched him, but he didn’t protest her manhandling. They passed a Little Mermaid display, a vampire display, and an intimidatingly good M.C. Escher display Rey would need to check out later, winding down the crowded aisles until they stood in front of Rey’s creation.
She released Ben’s hand and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “There. What do you have to say for yourself?”
He stared at the lines of pumpkins for long minutes. Rey watched him take it in: the Millennium Falcon, an Ewok bludgeoning a Stormtrooper, Luke battling his father while the emperor looked on. She had a Leia and Han pumpkin, an X-wing pumpkin, a destruction of the Death Star pumpkin. Pumpkins with the Rebel insignia and pumpkins with the Jedi symbol. The largest pumpkin showed the Force ghosts of Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Anakin. Overall, it was an ode to the Light Side of the Force.
“Huh,” Ben said.
Rey cast him a withering glare. “Yeah, huh. I suppose it’s just a coincidence that you decided to do a Dark Side display when I was obviously working on a Light Side display in my backyard?”
He matched her glare. “You think I spy on what you do in your backyard?”
“I’ve seen those curtains twitching, Solo. You probably love spying on me to steal my ideas.”
His face looked flushed even in the dim, flickering light of the Pumpkinstravaganza. The crowd of happy families wandering the aisles with caramel apples and warm cider parted around them, most people giving them a wide berth as the tension between the two carvers increased.
“That’s not why—I mean, I don’t need to spy on you.” He raked a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture Rey knew well. Admittedly, she knew it because she also had a bad tendency to watch him from the upper floor while he was carving in his backyard, although she rarely noticed the particulars of his designs. “I have enough talent without needing to rely on the puerile attempts of some nobody from nowhere.”
“You jackass!” Rey planted a hand on his chest and shoved, but he barely moved.
“Language!” a passing father admonished, covering his child’s ears.
Rey ignored the censure, reserving all her focus for Ben’s stupid face and stupid voice and stupid heartbeat racing under her palm. She was standing way too close, and for some reason her hand was still planted on his chest. “Jakku may be a dump, but you being raised in Coruscant like some fucking prince doesn’t make you better than me. We’re both in Batuu now, and as I recall, I’m leading our carving rivalry three trophies to two.”
“I have way more trophies than you,” Ben said in a pompous voice that raised Rey’s hackles. “I’ve been doing this for decades, little girl—”
“Little girl?” Rey’s voice rose into a high-pitched shriek. She clenched his pumpkin-patterned tie in her hand and tugged hard, forcing him to hunch over to avoid being choked. “I was winning pumpkin-carving competitions in Jakku when I was eight, you insufferable git.”
“I won my first competition at five!”
“Oh, well aren’t you fancy, Mr. Heir to a Pumpkin-Carving Dynasty? Some of us get where we are through talent and hard work, rather than being raised with carving tutors!”
“What, this last year training with Luke Skywalker doesn’t count as you having a carving tutor?” His cheeks were definitely red, and he was breathing hard. His breath smelled vaguely of pumpkin spice from the latte he’d been sipping earlier, and Rey wondered for a wild moment if he’d taste like pumpkin spice, too.
“You worked with Luke way before I did,” Rey countered.
“Yeah, and then you poached him. Stop pretending you’re some sweet, innocent angel whose precious ideas are being stolen by big, bad men like me. You’re a vicious little hellbeast, and we both know it.”
Ben’s rage was intoxicating, rolling off him in palpable waves. Rey felt hot all over, the exposed skin on her chest flushed. She bit her lip, and Ben’s eyes immediately dropped to her mouth. The heat between them flared, and Rey had the sudden, mortifying realization that this argument was making her wet.
“So what, you just came up with the idea of a Star Wars display all on your own?” she asked, trying to refocus her thoughts away from Ben’s mouth, muscled forearms, and big, dexterous hands.
“It is one of the most popular franchises of all time,” he said, snark back in full force. “You aren’t the only one allowed to like it.”
“Yeah, but choosing one side of the Force to commemorate is an original idea. You blatantly stole it from me.”
“For the last fucking time,” Ben ground out, ignoring yet another passing parent’s horrified exclamation, “I didn’t steal shit from you. I don’t need to steal shit from you. I’m going to win on my own merits.”
Rey’s hand was still clenched on his tie, and her fingers twitched with the desire for action. She could pull him closer to her and headbutt him, or maybe seize those plush lips with her own and bite him into submission…
Wait, no. Not that. What was she thinking?
“So why have you been spying on me all month?” Rey asked, forcing her attention away from his lips. “I’m serious about seeing your curtains moving.”
Ben mashed his lips together. Then, to Rey’s shock, he dipped down, lodging his shoulder against her stomach and wrapping his arms around her thighs and lower back before standing up and hoisting her over his shoulder.
Rey shrieked as she was upended. “Put me down!” she said, hammering on his back with her fists.
“Not a chance,” he said, stalking away from the jack-o’-lanterns and into the night. When Rey wriggled in an attempt to escape, his hand came down firmly on her ass, holding her in place. Rey froze, processing the feel of that massive paw spread across her backside. She could feel the heat of him even through the layers of tulle, and a shiver wracked her entire body.
It wasn’t comfortable: his shoulder was digging into her gut, and her head throbbed as blood rushed to it, but when his hand squeezed the slightest amount, lightly massaging her ass, Rey abruptly didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. God, it would be so easy for him to slide that hand under her tutu and between her legs…
“What are you doing?” she choked out, dizzy from more than just being upside down.
He was breathing hard, either from exertion or the adrenaline of their fight. His long legs ate up the ground, carrying them away from the revelers and towards the street where their homes sat side-by-side. “Showing you why I spy on you,” he said in a vicious tone that sent goosebumps racing over Rey’s exposed skin.
“So you admit it. You’ve been stealing my ideas.” Her voice wasn’t coming out right; she sounded breathless and eager, rather than outraged that her pumpkin-carving nemesis had just abducted her.
“For the love of—” His fingers squeezed tighter, pressing imprints into her ass cheek. “Will you just shut the fuck up for once?”
Rey gasped in outrage. “Where do you get off, Solo, thinking you can give me orders—”
His hand lifted off her ass, then came back down with a sharp smack. She couldn’t contain the moan that poured out of her then, resonating loud and lewd in the empty street.
“There,” Ben said with vicious satisfaction. “That’s where I get off.”
Rey sputtered, unable to think of a sufficiently good comeback. She was mortified to have made that sound, and for Ben Fucking Solo, of all people. Then he started massaging her ass more purposefully, and Rey had to bite her lip to stifle more desperate noises. Shit, this was turning her on.
He jogged up the steps to his front porch, jolting Rey, and then the arm banded around her upper thighs to stabilize her lifted, and she heard the jingle of keys. Within seconds, they were pushing through the door, Ben barely taking time to flick on a light before he carried her to a large black couch and tossed her down.
She bounced on the plush cushions, a flailing tangle of arms, legs, and tutu. Her hair fell across her eyes, and she shoved it back, then got briefly distracted by the elaborate pumpkin carving kit resting on a coffee table beside the couch. She trailed covetous eyes over his knives and candles, then remembered she was upset and didn’t like being manhandled. She snapped her gaze back to Ben, but before she could push upright to launch herself at him and do... something... Ben crawled on top of her, settling a firm thigh between her legs and bracketing her head with his arms.
“You,” he said, glaring at her from mere inches away, “are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”
Rey opened her mouth to insult him back, but then Ben pressed his mouth to hers, and all of Rey’s thoughts flew away like a flock of startled crows. She wrapped her arms around his torso, moaning at the feel of his lips stroking hers. He bit and ate at her mouth like he was starving, alternating deep kisses with sharp nips, and Rey kissed him back just as hungrily.
It was a different kind of fight, the kind composed of grasping hands, jerking hips, and desperate sighs. Rey’s knees lifted and parted more, and Ben took advantage, sliding closer until his muscled thigh was pressed hard against her crotch. He rubbed against her, and it felt so good that she groaned. She rocked up against him frantically, chasing that sharp, heady pulse of pleasure through the layers of her tutu and his pumpkin-patterned trousers.
“Fuck,” Ben said, pulling away to mouth down her neck. He nipped at the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, then covered her breast with one massive hand and squeezed, plumping the small amount of tit available over the neckline. “You feel so good.”
Rey’s anger had morphed into flaming hot need. She covered his hand on her breast, squeezing to force him to grip her tighter. “More,” she choked out.
He grinned, a feral expression that sent Rey’s arousal skyrocketing. “Looks like the pumpkin princess doesn’t despise me so much, after all.”
“Fuck you,” Rey said, bucking to shove him away from her. Unfortunately, she’d just bucked her hips, which rubbed her pussy against his thigh all over again.
Okay, maybe that had been a conscious choice. Still, Rey was mad at him. She ground her clit against his thigh to let him know just how mad she was.
“If you want me to fuck you,” Ben said, massaging her breast, “all you have to do is ask.”
Rey shrieked in fury, then delved beneath his stupid pumpkin tie to get at his shirt buttons. She tried unhooking them, then gave up and just tugged at the fabric, feeling a rush of glee when the threads gave way and his shirt tore open under her hands.
Ben made a pained sound, halfway between a grunt and a moan. Then he started tearing at his tie, unknotting it before flinging it across the room. By that time, Rey had his buttons undone and his shirt pushed halfway off his shoulders.
“Holy shit,” she said, staring at the expanse of muscled chest that was now visible. His skin was pale, dotted with moles, and it was stretched tight over the best pectorals Rey had ever seen. She planted her hands on his chest and trailed them down, salivating over his taut abdomen.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” Ben said. He flipped her over onto her belly, then started working on the zipper of her dress.
“Wait,” Rey said, and Ben’s fingers stilled.
A devilish idea had taken root in her brain, and she couldn’t resist the temptation. Her heart rate accelerated, and she squirmed, rubbing her thighs together as arousal raced through her. She reached towards the coffee table next to the couch and grabbed a knife—one of the big chef’s knives used for initial cuts into the pumpkins.
“Use this,” Rey said in a low, throaty voice that didn’t sound like her at all.
Ben hissed in a breath. “Holy shit. Are you sure?”
Rey nodded frantically, looking over her shoulder to watch as he took the knife from her hand. He looked so sexy like this, his shirt gaping open and his abs flexing deliciously while he held a knife just inches above her skin. “Please,” she said.
Ben swore foully, then placed the chef’s knife back on the table. Rey felt a surge of disappointment, but then Ben flipped her onto her back again and retrieved the blade. He knelt on the floor beside the couch—presumably to get a better angle—then touched the hollow of her throat with the tip of the knife and trailed the blunt top edge lightly over her skin. “You want this to stop, say stop,” Ben said. “Anytime.”
Rey’s skin prickled with goosebumps as the cool metal barely brushed over her chest. “I want it,” she moaned.
“Filthy girl.” Ben started again just under her chin, tracing a sinuous line down the column of her throat. The thrill of danger intensified every sensation exponentially, making Rey excruciatingly aware of the scratch of her costume, the cool brush of the blade, and the wetness between her thighs.
At the swell of her right breast, Ben shifted the knife slightly and applied a tiny bit more pressure at the tip, scratching a faint pink line over her skin. “Yes,” Rey gasped, struggling to stay still so she didn’t accidentally buck up into the knife and do herself serious harm. “Shit, that feels good.”
Ben let out a pained noise. “You like it to hurt a bit, don’t you?”
“I do.” Rey’s pussy fluttered as he traced another faintly stinging line over the swell of her left breast.
“You like it to feel dangerous.”
“Mmhmm.” Rey closed her eyes and focused on the sensations he was giving her—faint, cool passes of the blunt edge of the blade mixed with light scratches. She wasn’t afraid he would hurt her; Ben was an expert pumpkin carver and could wield knives with incredible precision.
The knife slipped beneath the neckline of her dress, blunt-edge down. Rey’s eyes flew open just in time to see Ben tug the blade up sharply, slicing through the gaudy orange fabric of her costume. She gasped as he slid it lower, the metallic edge gliding over her belly as he positioned it again. Another quick movement, and he split the fabric all the way down to her waist.
Ben scratched a line from the top of her abdomen down to her exposed belly button, then circled it lightly, his eyes following the path of the knife reverently. She felt like a piece of art he was crafting, those big yet dexterous hands pulling forth sensations Rey had never experienced before.
“You’re perfect,” Ben breathed as the blade brushed back and forth. He slipped it just under the waistband of her tutu, letting it rest with menacing promise on the soft flesh of her lower belly.
Rey shivered, overwhelmed by waves of excitement, arousal, and residual anger, along with an invigorating hint of fear. She had already been keyed up from their argument; now it felt like a tempest roiled in her chest and lower.
“I thought you hated me.” The confession was pulled out of her. She couldn’t fathom telling him anything but the truth with his eyes burning her up and his knife resting just inches from her pussy.
Ben shook his head, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I never hated you,” he said. “You’re obnoxiously talented and you can be annoying as shit—”
“Hey!” Rey interjected.
“—But the thing that drives me nuts is that I can’t stop thinking about you.” Ben lifted his free hand to stroke gently over her chest, tracing the same path to her navel that his knife had just taken. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years—wondering what you taste like, what you smell like, sound like…” He groaned and leaned forward to press a kiss against her belly, right between his hands. The knife under her skirt shifted, and Rey shuddered as the tip snagged on the lace of her panties.
“You wanted me?” Rey asked, letting her arms fall above her head in surrender as he kissed up to her chest, his free hand roving to explore her exposed skin.
“Oh, Rey, you have no idea.” He nudged the split fabric of her dress aside, revealing her breasts. “Gorgeous,” he breathed before sucking almost the entirety of one into his mouth. Rey jerked, and the knife poked sharply against the sensitive skin just above the waistband of her underwear.
“Sorry,” Ben said, immediately withdrawing the knife from beneath her clothes. “Shit, I didn’t mean to do that.” He dropped the blade on the table with a clatter, then tugged her tutu off and studied her lower belly with worry.
“It’s fine,” Rey said. “No blood. See?” She rolled her hips, spreading her legs wider. There was nothing but a faint pink mark where the knife had slipped against her skin—nothing worthy of interrupting the trajectory of this incredible evening.
“God, if I’d hurt you…” Ben’s brows crashed together, and then he lurched up from his place kneeling beside the couch and fell on top of her again. His lips possessed hers urgently as he settled his hips between her thighs. He rocked into her with seeming desperation, kissing and fondling her as if they’d been parted for centuries, not minutes. “Rey,” he moaned against her mouth. “Tell me you’re all right. Tell me I didn’t ruin this.”
Rey’s heart did a weird clenching thing, and she felt an uncontrollable urge to soothe him. “I’m all right,” she said, stroking his hair, then gripping his cheeks to force him to look at her. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t ruin this.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “Thank fuck,” he breathed, then tackled her mouth again.
Rey went with it, kissing him and rolling her hips to press her pussy against the erection that strained his pumpkin-patterned slacks. Reminded of what, exactly, he was wearing, she tugged at his waistband. “Off. All of it.”
Ben complied. Within moments, he was totally nude, the David S. Pumpkins suit thankfully gone. Kneeling between her legs, he helped Rey strip off the tatters of her pumpkin top, then tugged her underwear down and removed her boots.
His dick was… wow. Yep, that about summed it up. Rey stared at it greedily, already anticipating how that thick column would feel in her hand, her mouth, her cunt…
Ben seemed equally distracted, staring at her exposed pussy with awe. He trailed a finger over her labia, making Rey twitch. “I can’t wait to taste this,” he vowed. “Finger it and fuck it. Make it mine.”
The words tugged low in her belly. Rey stretched her hands over her head and arched her back, presenting her breasts to him. “Then come here and do it.”
Ben shook his head, a look of mischief lighting his face. “You like when it hurts a bit, right?”
Rey bit her lip, intrigued. “Yes?”
He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a lighter. A moment later, a tall pillar candle flared to life. Ben held it in his hand as he turned back to her, and the flame cast devilish reflections in his brown eyes. “Want to try wax?”
Rey was already nodding before he even finished the question. Her gaze was glued to the tall white candle. She’d always wondered about this, wondering if it would feel as oddly satisfying as it had to dip her fingers in hot wax as a child.
“Let’s let it melt,” Ben said, putting it back on the table. He scooted down to the edge of the couch, slinging her legs over his shoulders, and Rey knew exactly what was coming. Still, it was a pleasant shock when his mouth covered her pussy, hot and wet. He kissed her deeply and firmly, wasting no time on hesitation.
“Ben,” Rey cried, sinking her hands into his hair. She nudged her hips against his face, making a pitiful noise when his nose bumped her clit. “I’ve wanted this for so long…”
She hadn’t meant to say that, but the filter between her brain and her mouth was gone. She would tell him anything, so long as it meant he would keep doing that thing with his tongue.
“Yeah?” Ben asked as he brought a hand up to toy with her entrance. “Tell me more, pumpkin princess.”
She hissed in irritation at the nickname, but the sound broke into a gasp when he nipped her inner thigh. “I watch you too,” she confessed. “In your backyard.”
He hummed against her clit. “Stealing secrets?”
“Fuck!” Rey jerked as his tongue circled the sensitive bud. “No, I just watch your hands… your arms…” She moaned. “Sometimes, when it’s hot out, you take off your shirt.”
“So do you, you fucking tease.” Ben thrust two fingers into her, curving them hard into her G-spot in a way that made Rey see stars. “You in your little sports bras, carving your pumpkins…”
“I’m not a tease,” Rey protested, even though she could barely think. “I get hot when I’m carving, and it’s my backyard, and—”
“And you see my curtains twitching,” Ben finished. “You know I see you. Be honest: you take your shirt off when you know I’m watching.”
“No!”
Ben pummeled her G-spot harder, his fingers making lewd slapping noises as he fucked her with them. Rey whined and squeezed his hair tighter as the tension built in her cunt.
“Don’t lie to me,” Ben said. “Not if you want this to continue.” He sucked her clit into his mouth, the sloppy suction adding to the carnal noises filling the air.
“Oh, shit.” Rey’s torso jerked, and she curled up around his head, desperate for just a little more… “I do it on purpose,” she babbled, needing to come more than she’d ever needed anything. “I do it to drive you crazy.”
Ben’s guttural grunt coincided with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. “Well, it works.”
Then his lips were wrapped around her clit again, and Rey was gone. Vanished. Obliterated. Her entire existence was focused around the pulsing between her legs and the sharp pleasure radiating through her belly. She screamed, unable to help it as her pussy throbbed and a gush of liquid poured over Ben’s fingers and lips.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled. “Come on my face, beautiful girl.”
Rey kept shivering and jerking, her body working its way through the spasms of pleasure. Finally, she collapsed back on the couch, shoving his head away feebly.
Ben knelt between her legs again, grinning so cockily she would have been tempted to slap it off his face if she weren’t so utterly enamored of him.
Wait, not of him. Of his orgasm-giving skills. Of his generous mouth and low voice and that mop of black hair and his soft yet intense eyes and…
Oh, fuck it. Rey was enamored. Of him.
“Mmmnnnnngh,” she said eloquently.
Ben’s grin widened. “You up for more, pumpkin princess?” He reached for the pillar candle on the coffee table, and even though Rey’s limbs felt like mush, she nodded eagerly.
“Yes, please.” The words came out slurred, so she nodded again to emphasize just how up for more she was. Very up. All the way up. Just as soon as she could manage to prop herself up on her elbows to watch what he was doing.
She finally managed it. “Do it,” she said, nodding at the candle in his hand. It had been burning long enough that a decent pool of wax ought to have formed.
He held the candle over her belly, tilting it slowly, and Rey sucked in her stomach unconsciously, anticipating the sting. When the wax finally dribbled over the edge and splatted in white drops on her abs, Rey keened with shock and joy. It stung so good, hot little sparks of pain that drove her insane.
“More,” she demanded as the wax cooled on her tummy.
Ben grinned. “My little jack-o’-lantern.” He dripped more on her, drawing a line from her sternum down to her navel.
Rey jerked and hissed, clenching the edge of the couch to hold herself still. “What is it with you and stupid nicknames?”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Ben said, dribbling more wax onto her lower belly. “What was that?”
Rey couldn’t answer, too busy swearing and gasping at the hot sting. Each jolt of pain caused a corresponding quiver in her cunt, as if a taut thread stretched between her hyper-sensitive skin and her clenching pussy. She couldn’t explain why she liked the burn so much; she just did. She was practically dripping with how much she liked it.
By the time Ben finished decorating her with wax, Rey was nearly sobbing with need. She stared down at her trembling belly, transfixed by how lewd the white splashes looked against her reddened skin. “It looks—”
“Like I came all over you?” Ben set the candle back on the table, then ran his fingers over the hardening wax, leaving a few smudges in the most recent drops. “Yeah, and it’s fucking hot.”
“I’m clean,” Rey whispered. “And on birth control. If you want to...”
“If I want to what?” Ben asked, stroking her stomach as his dark eyes burned into her soul. “Say it.”
“If you want to fuck me.” Rey’s voice trembled with the words. “If you want to come in me.”
Ben swore and lunged for her mouth, plastering her to the couch with his body again. His erection was trapped between them, a hard, hot length against her wax-spattered skin. “I want,” he said. “I definitely want.”
“And you’re...”
He drew back to look down into her eyes. “Clean? Yeah, I am.”
Rey nodded, then reached between them to run a thumb over the broad head of his erection, smearing precum over it. “Then do it, Ben. Fuck me. Come in me. Make me scream so loud they hear it all the way back at the Pumpkinstravaganza.”
Ben kissed her, long and lingering, then lifted off her slightly so he could get a hand between them and guide himself into place. Rey helped, her fingers tangling with his around his thick shaft as she tilted her hips up to take him.
The head notched in, and both Ben and Rey took deep breaths. “Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.”
He pushed inside her in one smooth motion, filling her up so suddenly that Rey cried out in surprise. She clung to him, panting against his shoulder as her body adapted to the massive intrusion. He stretched her so wide, filling her up so perfectly that every minute shift of her hips made her slick inner walls clench around him.
“So big,” she moaned.
He braced his forearms on either side of her head and dipped down to kiss her. “So wet,” he murmured as he pulled out, then thrust back in slowly. “So tight.”
Rey wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, clutching him tightly as he set a firm rhythm. His muscled back shifted, and his ass flexed below her heels as he pressed his cock inside her in long, rolling waves. His body was a masterpiece, a symphony of muscles performing together as he fucked her with single-minded dedication.
“Shit,” he said, burying his mouth in the hair just above her ear. “Rey, I can’t go back to the way we were before, I need this—”
“Shh.” She turned her head, shifting a hand to grip his hair and force his mouth to hers. “I need it, too.”
They kissed for as long as they could, Ben gentling his thrusts to avoid jostling her mouth away from his, but eventually, the passion between them grew to be too much. Ben's lips broke away from hers as his rhythm accelerated. His cock pistoned in and out of her, a hard, merciless possession that left Rey gasping and crying out for more.
“Rey, please—” Ben sounded desperate, and by the way his hips were jerking hard and fast, Rey knew he was close.
She was, too. Rey slid a hand down her belly to rub her clit. “Do it, baby,” she urged as the tingling pleasure built. “Come in me. Make me scream.”
“Shit.” Ben started hammering into her, fucking her harder than she’d ever been fucked. The near-pain of his brutal thrusts sent Rey’s pleasure skyrocketing. Her body tightened, her muscles clenching before the explosion, and then a particularly hard thrust broke the tension. Rey screamed as she came, body spasming beneath him in uncontrollable waves. She clung to him, riding the pleasure out while he grunted and thrust like a madman.
Then Ben’s rhythm stuttered, and he pressed deep a final time before releasing the filthiest moan Rey had ever heard. His massive frame shook from the force of his climax, and Rey felt a surge of triumph at having been the one to do that to him.
Ben Solo was hers—she’d claimed him and marked him as surely as he’d marked her.
They quivered together for long moments, breathing in frantic gasps as they clutched each other close. Eventually, Ben pulled out, then shifted onto his side next to her, burrowing his back into the cushions so they could spoon. Apparently he didn’t care about semen staining his black couch.
Rey hummed in happiness and snuggled back into him, closing her eyes. She would need to use the bathroom soon, but for now, she was content to be held just like this. Idly, she wondered how soon Ben would be able to go again, and if she’d have to pick a fight with him again to unleash his passion. Maybe he would be willing to fuck her all the time, now that the dam between them had broken.
It was official: her greatest nemesis was now her greatest carnal obsession.
“What a docile pumpkin princess,” Ben murmured, rubbing his nose through her tangled hair. “Why can’t you be like this all the time?”
Rey snorted, but she was too fucked-out to manage any actual outrage. “Pumpkin prick,” she mumbled.
Ben’s laughter shook through both of them, and Rey couldn’t help but giggle in response. “The prick and the princess. I like it.”
Rey liked it, too. She blamed the sex endorphins for her next words. “Are we still enemies?”
Ben hummed consideringly. “Not sure. I should probably fuck you another dozen times to figure it out.”
Rey lazily swatted at him over her shoulder, and Ben laughed again. She really could get used to that sound.
“And no,” Ben whispered in her ear. “We aren’t enemies. I’m not sure we ever have been.”
Hours later, after another round of sex—in a bed this time—they lay cuddled together on the couch, watching The Empire Strikes Back. Ben had lent her some pajamas, and although Rey was swimming in the massive garments, she’d never felt cosier.
“Who do you suppose won?” she asked drowsily as she sank into the comforting warmth of Ben at her back. “The carving competition.”
She felt Ben’s smile against her head, and then he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’d say we both won, sweetheart.”
