by Lindsay Becs
“Girl, your heart-shaped, perfect ass looks hot as hell in these pictures!” Dave gushes, walking up to us and breaking us apart.
Benton slowly moves his hand from my hair, his knuckles running down the side of my face. He gives me a sexy little knowing grin as he steps away. I raise a brow at him and take my stance as the hard-ass I’m known to be. There we stand in a face-off of who will buckle first in their line of defense against the other.
We press on with the rest of the shoot for another couple of hours. If anyone saw us kissing or suspected anything between us, they didn’t anything or let on. Much like before, I’m sure these out-of-studio shots will be a hundred times better than in. Seems Benton and I have a way about us. Maybe that will change now. Maybe we’ll just be now.
We left the track in different directions, but when I get back to the studio and into my dressing room, my journal is open to a fresh page again, sitting on the vanity. It looks like last time when he left me his number. I let myself smile for a second before reading it. Dinner tonight. Room 601. 7:00. You’re dessert. I roll my eyes and close my sacred journal. I want to be mad at him for being so forward and crass, but I can’t be. I like it too much.
I’m showered, shaved, lotioned and potioned up. I only applied a few swipes of mascara and some lip gloss, and my hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. I put on a pair of my favorite stretchy skinny jeans and one of the new Royal King tanks. I feel comfortable and sexy and confident.
Until I knock on the door and he opens it wearing nothing but a pair of low-hung jeans. His hair is dripping water from the shower he obviously just finished, down his sculpted chest. Mother Teresa, this man. One look and he turns on the faucet between my legs. Damn. Even his pierced nipples are turning me on. I didn’t even know I liked that!
He grabs my hand and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me. I can’t hold in the squeal and smile that erupts from me. He captures it all with his mouth on mine. His tongue doesn’t wait for an invitation but pushes inside, claiming every inch of my mouth as his. He pulls the band from my hair, letting my locks fall around us. His hands, one at the nape of my neck, the other on my ass, pull me into him harder. I feel his own arousal pressing into my stomach.
He pulls back, his head on my shoulder, his breaths ragged. “Sugar, I’m sorry. I can’t hold back any longer.” Lifting his head, he looks into my eyes. Our blues meet and burn together in the hottest part of the flame between us.
My teeth rake over my bottom lip, and his eyes spark, watching the movement. My hand on his chest dances over the ripples of muscle on his skin covered in colors and artwork. When I get to the waist of his jeans, I grip his hard cock in my hand. A groan comes from the back of his throat as his eyes hood over in lust. I place a feather-light kiss on his bottom lip and feel him twitch in my hand. “I don’t want you to hold back any longer,” I whisper against his parted lips.
He closes the short space between us, our mouths devouring each other. Pulling me up, he wraps my legs around him and walks us into his room. He throws me onto the bed and looks down at me with a smile spreading. I let my own pull on my lips.
He makes quick work of pulling off my jeans, trailing kisses up from my feet, bending my knees on his way up and spreading me wide. See, I came ready for this. I wasn’t wearing any underwear; that would only be in the way. He drags his nose over the apex of my legs, and I feel him inhale followed by his hot breath over my sensitive flesh. It’s been over a year since I’ve been with anyone, and everything he does is pushing me to the edge faster and faster.
He looks up my body, and our eyes meet for a second before I reach down and pull my shirt off, leaving me completely naked. My hardened nipples stand up, aching to be touched. I smile down at him as I cup my breasts, pushing them together and rolling my nipples between my fingers. He watches and emits a growl like someone is playing with his favorite toy.
He stands and lets his jeans fall. He, too, came prepared and was going commando. I let my eyes take in all of him now. His thick cock, standing tall. And I was right; he’s pierced there, too. I’ve never been with someone like him before. I can’t wait to feel him, all of him, around and inside of me.
I raise a brow at him, and he gives me that knowing smile. Both of us are ready to fuck and give ourselves over to the other.
“I can’t decide where to start with you,” he rasps, climbing onto the bed with me. “I want to taste every part of you. Drink from your pussy, suck these pretty pink nipples, lick every inch of your soft, pure skin. You are so fucking beautiful, Tatum.” My breathing picks up with every word he says, and when he finishes, he kisses me. This time it’s soft and sensual and almost loving.
He kisses down my body, stopping at my breasts to lick, kiss, and suck them. His cock is rubbing against the side of my thigh and that alone is turning me on, but all the hard and soft push and pull of my nipples is making me want to explode. I greedily try to turn my body to line his length up between my legs, where I want him.
“Oh, you need attention down there, Sugar?” he asks while looking down at me. I’m so turned on I can’t form words, but I nod my head.
He continues his path of kisses down my body, stopping to kiss my hip bones. He kisses down each side, making me moan and arch wanting more. He inhales me again. “You smell like my favorite meal,” he says before I feel his tongue drag from back to front. A loud moan escapes me as my hips buck in response. “Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined,” he says before diving into my center. Mere seconds and I’m coming all over his tongue.
He looks up at me, his lopsided grin shining with my arousal. My own sated grin looks back at him and I nod, letting him know I’m ready for more. He reaches for one of the condoms on the bedside table. Sheathing himself, he strokes his impressive length a few times before nestling between my legs. He rubs through the wetness there, coating himself and making me hum more already. I feel the extra metal he has, hitting me just right.
He kisses each of my nipples, between my breasts, my throat, my chin, and finally my lips. Then, with practiced, slow precision, he slides into my tight, wanting pussy. A deep, guttural groan comes from his lips into my mouth. He slowly, too slowly, slides out and in, groaning each time. His response, his sounds, to me and what my body is doing to him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s erotic and sensual and sexy as fuck. Not all men will let their own cries out when pleasure finds them.
He picks up his pace little by little, and little by little my body begins to ignite again. With all the sensations, from having his size fill me to his apadravya piercing, I’m going to be done sooner rather than later. Our mouths close over each other, our sounds and cries of pleasure being passed from one to the other through our parted lips.
“Fuck, I’m so close, Benton,” I manage to moan out in a squeaky, needy voice.
“Me too, Sugar. Let go with me, yeah?”
I nod my head and our eyes meet. He’s in and out, in and out. I gasp, brows pulled together as my stomach tightens, sparks light, and my body tips over. As I clamp down around him, he pushes back in and lets out a deep-throated growl. He keeps slowly, jerkily, thrusting in and out until we’re both liquid lava after erupting together.
He slowly leans up on his forearms and kisses my shoulder, collar bone, and then my lips. “Promise me we can do that again,” he sighs with a small laugh. “I knew I liked you and wanted you before, but now I don’t want to ever let you go.”
“I think you were right. You just became my favorite,” I tell him with a small, sated grin.
He kisses me, and before long we’re giving and taking more. We never did eat dinner, but I think it’s safe to say we were both left satisfied with dessert.
I wake up hearing my phone buzz in the distance. Confused at first, I soon realize I fell asleep with Benton. My head is on his chest, leg over his. The ache between my legs reminds me of the night we had. I bite back my smile before letting it take over my face. Slowly, I try to sl
ide out of bed to turn off my alarm and leave without waking him.
“Where do you think you’re going, Sugar?” His deep, raspy voice is even more so this morning.
“I was turning off my alarm, but I do need to go. I have to be at the studio in an hour,” I tell him, walking to the living room space of his suite. Locating my phone, I turn off my alarm and walk back into the bedroom to find my clothes.
“A man could get used to waking up looking at you, yeah?” he says with a growing smile as he looks at my naked body.
I don’t shy away from his predatory gaze. No, I sweep my hair up in my arms and turn in a circle, swaying my hips for his pleasure. I smirk at him over my shoulder when I bend to pick up my jeans. I hear his groan behind me as I slide them on. I can’t find my shirt, though, so I look around, coming up empty. I hear him clear his throat, and when I look up at him, he’s got it, holding it up to his chest.
“Give me my shirt,” I say, tilting my head as I give him a disapproving look. He shakes his head no as he licks his lips, staring at my chest. “Benton!”
“Come and get it, Sugar.”
We have a stare-off, but I need to go, so with an eyeroll I climb onto the bed and crawl on my hands and knees up his legs until I’m straddling his lap. We both slept naked, so if he’s going to be an ass, so will I. I rub against his hard dick and reach for my shirt. But he’s too fast and his hand goes to my back, pulling me to him. His mouth lands on my breast, closing over my nipple. I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the feel of his tongue as it makes circles over the pebbled flesh.
“Shit. OK, you win,” I tell him, leaning into him more, and I feel his smile against my breast. He’s such an ass. I smack his shoulder and climb off the bed. He’s laughing, arms behind his head, not trying to hide the fact that a small child could camp out under the tent he’s making with the sheet over his lap.
I pull on my shirt and pile my hair up on top of my head. Leaning down, I squeeze his cheeks in my hand and peck his lips. “Bye, asshole!” I tell him as I turn to go.
“Tonight, yeah?” he asks, wanting a repeat.
“We’ll see.” I blow a kiss at him and throw in a smile while I’m at it. This whole thing is out of character for me, yet feels so right with him.
“We will see! I’ll see your pussy tonight!” he yells as the door closes behind me. Asshole.
Chapter 10
Benton
Tatum and I have a good thing going. Not just the sex, although that is pretty fucking fantastic, but we also bring out this happy, playful side in each other. We don’t act on it when we see each other during “work hours,” as she calls it. But then that door closes, with the world locked away, and it’s just us. I never thought I’d be the guy to get married, but spending time with her makes me begin to think maybe I could do it with her. And all of a sudden, I don’t want to keep her hidden anymore. I want everyone to know that she’s mine and mine alone.
We’re a couple months into the race circuit and getting closer to my home track in the UK. It’s one most racers dread because as its reputation stands, it is usually raining. Rain and race tires on a motorcycle aren’t exactly a good pair. For me and Alfie though, we’re used to it. Those other fuckers can suffer and be scared if they want.
We’re in Italy this week, the home track for Moretti. Travers is still an ass, and with the battle for the top spot still strong, it’s looking like the three of us will be the ones duking it out at the end of the season. Moretti and I have a respect for each other. We’re competitors, but we still show the basics of respect out there on the track when it’s dog eat dog.
Travers, on the other hand, doesn’t give a shit about respect or sportsmanship. That dickwad will clip, tap, or straight up knock you out if he wants. He’s the dangerous kind of racer. Riders like him keep the race alive and fans on their feet, but to his fellow racers, he’s a shithead who no one can stand.
I’m walking up to get my good luck glimpse of my Sugar when I spot said asshole talking to my girl. “Don’t touch me. I’m not one of your girls. Get. Off.” I hear Tatum snarl and it sets my blood boiling.
“She said get off, motherfucker!” I seethe, walking up to block her from him.
“I simply wanted a picture. She’s beautiful, no?” he says with his French accent.
“She is. She’s also mine. So back the fuck off.”
His eyes widen for a second, and then he relaxes into a laugh. “Oh. Traveling pussy must be nice.” He eyes her up and down, and it grates on every one of my nerves. I take a step forward, ready to fight him to the ground, but I feel her hand on me. I see her shake her head from the corner of my eye, telling me to stop and not make a scene.
“Don’t,” I grit out with my finger in his chest. “Don’t talk to her, look at her, think about her. Or I will destroy you.”
“Perhaps she wants a winner at the end. I cannot forget then, no?” He smirks, winks at Tatum and then leaves.
I move to go after him, but Tatum stops me again. “He’s not worth it. Don’t ruin everything you’ve achieved because he’s an ass-eater pussy.” A laugh bubbles out of me from her insult on him.
“You’re right.” I drop my voice then so only she can hear me. “I want to kiss your pussy now, after hearing you say the word.”
“Perhaps I do want a winner at the end of the night,” she says, mocking Travers’s words while batting her lashes. “You’re due a win. Maybe if you place, I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight.” And then she’s gone, and I’m left with a boner and the biggest reason ever to win today.
I’m starting in the fourth position. Alfie is in third in front of me with Moretti at second and Travers at first. Alfie and I share a head nod of luck after our warm-up lap. The light changes to green, and we’re off. I have a good start and manage to get around both Alfie and Moretti from the start. We have twenty-four laps at this track, and this early, anything can happen. I never try to get too comfortable or cocky early on. A lot happens in these laps. Comfort settles in around halfway, and then as we near the last ten, everything shifts. Everyone speeds up, paces change, leaders change, more passes and advances happen. Everyone is out to gain as much as they can.
I’ve been sitting at second behind Travers for a while. I feel someone gaining behind me, and if I don’t make a smart move at the next curve, they’re going to take me. From the board at my pit, I think it’s Moretti. Fuck! I go wide and he takes advantage, getting past me. I’m pissed at myself for letting that happen. I gun it trying to gain on him again to make a move and squeeze through where I can.
Racing isn’t just about being a good driver and fast racer. It’s also about being smart and watching the others. It’s about learning their tells and habits and taking advantage of those. It’s part of what makes me a good racer. Just like Dad always says, “Be smart. Be wise. Be fast.” There’s a lot of truth in those words.
I see an opening and push it, passing Moretti. He’ll be pissed later that I got through, but he’ll be a good sport about it. Now, I just have to hold him back these last five laps. Maybe I can take Travers in the meantime. It’ll be close, but I wouldn’t be a good racer if I gave up. I’m giving all I can, trying to get around him, but he’s blocking me at every try. Him doing that is slowing both of us down. Moretti could easily try to push there while we fight it out.
Then, I see it. I see the break I need to take over Travers. I push the throttle and gun it as hard as I can. I feel the sweat rolling down my face, my heart pounding as adrenaline fires through my veins. I’ve got him! I pass him and smile, knowing how that’s going to taste to him.
BAM!!
I hear it before I feel it, I think. I’ve crashed plenty of times before. It’s a huge part of being a racer. Almost as normal as brushing your teeth every day. We’re taught how to crash in the safest ways.
But this time my leg gets pinned under my bike and I spin with it across the track, skidding into the gravel. Then it flips, my leg caught with the tire
for a second. Pain radiates up my leg. I lie there breathing. Thank God, I’m breathing. I haven’t had a crash like that in a long time. Typically, I can gracefully slide off the track and be fine. Guess my number was up on this one.
Paramedics get to me, and I know my leg is broken. I think I might black out from the pain. They carry me on a stretcher and I remember them placing me in the ambulance, but after that, I pass out.
Tatum.
I see her face. That’s all I see. I see that smile she tries so hard not to show anyone. I’m in and out of consciousness, but I stay focused on her.
I hear her voice. “Benton, I’m here.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “Are you awake? Oh my gosh, Benny. You awake?” her frantic voice asks.
“I’m here, yeah?” A laugh pops from her. “Do it again, Sugar. I was dreaming of your smile, but your laugh is even better. It’s more of a rarity than a smile.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” she says, brushing the hair from my face. I finally open my eyes to see her blues watching me. It looks like she’s been crying.
“Were you crying?” I ask, reaching up to cup her face. She nods in my hand. “Don’t cry, Sugar. I’m OK.”
“I know that now. But watching you crash like that and then get carried off. I was freaking out.”
“Shhhh… it’s alright.”
“I told your dad about us.”
My eyes widen then. “I’m still living, so he was good with it then, yeah?”
“It was the only way he’d let me in to see you. He said he thought it would happen.” She smiles. “Gosh, I was so worried.” She kisses my head.
