What? Make love? Snap out of it! I don’t make love. I fuck. What is this guy doing to me?
Then…I feel it. The hairs on my body stand as a tingle runs through me. I feel that pull; that unyielding thump in my groin. It’s my Adonis. Come to make good on his promise of later.
CHAPTER 12
I open my eyes to see Ben staring at me lustfully from the door. How long has he been there? Was he knocking before? I am totally captured in his eyes, captivated by the intent in his stare; possessed by his look of raw carnality. My heart races and my throat is parched. I want to drink from his fountain. I want him to quench this hunger, this thirst I have for him.
He looks absolutely delectable. His body is draped in the doorway like an accessory. He brightens it somehow; like he belongs there…like he belongs here. Ben is wearing a white V-neck tee with a black leather jacket, blue jeans and black boots. He looks dangerous. And he has that dangerous, dark, hungered look in his eyes that makes my sex tighten. I am riveted by him.
Ben closes the door behind him. We still haven’t said a word to each other. He steps down and enters the living room space. Keeping his eyes fixed on me, he grasps me to him and I am whisked into a dance. Wow, he’s good.
My body fits into his as I unconsciously give him the lead, something I don’t usually do; at least not without a fight, if my and Jared’s constant tiffs until I relented were any indication.
I am drugged by Ben’s scent. The spice, manly body wash, hint of liquor – I can smell that from a mile away – and a unique smell that I can only chalk up to being him, makes my head swim and my body zap with desire. My head lulls against him, taking everything in. His hair is damp, making me feel insecure about how I look and feeling like I should’ve showered again and put myself a little more together, rather than throw on Pooh Bear pajama bottoms.
His even breathing picks up when I brush my lips against his neck and dart my tongue out in a light flick, tasting him because I have to. I feel he is about to speak even before he actually does. A low rumble vibrates me.
“You make Winnie the Pooh look good,” he admires in a deep, sensual voice, raking his fingers along my left leg.
I can’t speak. I am entranced by his presence; by this man. My pulse quickens as he caresses every curve of my body. I am in his thrall. Possessed by him. Possessed because of him. He throws my world out of order with his commanding presence. I had thought he was in a world of hurt by pursuing me, that I would damage him and his reputation. But, in this moment I can see how much damage he could do to me…maybe even more than I could ever do to him.
“Talk to me.” He cups my chin upward, searching my face. “What’s wrong?” Damn it. I am an open book to him.
“Hungry?” I ask, trying to throw off his bloodhound senses that seem to reach into the deepest recesses of my soul.
He shoots me a coquettish smile and something in his eyes gleam wickedly.
“You’re always hungry for that,” I murmur slapping his arm and pushing away from him.
“What difference does it make what “food” I’m hungry for? Both of them leave me very satisfied,” he muses, trapping me in his arms again. “What did you cook?”
“Sweet and sour chicken with pineapple chunks and lasagna.”
“Mm…sounds delicious,” Ben mutters. “Okay, do you want any help?”
“No, you can just make yourself comfortable over there.” I gesture toward the chaise lounge by the big window.
“Eating with a view?” He raises an eyebrow as he notices the setup.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Just thought I’d try to impress you.” I stroll into the kitchen and take the plates out.
“If you impress me anymore, Sullivan, I’m going to have to marry you,” he murmurs, flustering me with his admission.
I almost drop the plate from my hands, but I hope he doesn’t notice my flushed, flustered face. Marry me? Surely he must be joking.
“Are you okay?” He is in the kitchen and up against me in a matter of seconds. He did notice. Crap.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“I didn’t mean to make you freak out.” I should’ve known he’d know why I was so uneasy and borderline clumsy.
“It just came out, I’m sorry.” His breath warms my neck.
On impulse, I lean into him and grind my hips into his body. Ben grabs onto my waist and shifts a little so I feel his hardening bulge. Leaning closer to my ear, he blows coolly on my neck, causing the hairs to stand in response.
“Later…I want you on the sofa, spread out for me. I want you for dessert,” he breathes, his voice as needy as his thickening, pleasure-riddled manhood is.
I nod, unable to utter a word.
“Let me hear you,” he urges, grinding his hips into my rear.
“Yes,” I pant. “Yes.” I am his to control. His to give pleasure to and derive pleasure from.
“Good.” He nips my right earlobe, sending the tingle through my body. “Now…feed me.” He slaps my behind and runs before I can hit him with the spoon I grabbed.
We sit facing each other on the chaise after serving up our dinners. Ben takes a nervous bite of chicken and lasagna together. He moans, in appreciation I hope, at the taste attacking his taste buds.
“I need to stop giving my money away to these restaurants,” he comments, his mouth partially full.
“I think so too. Why pay them when you can pay me?” I joke, cutting into my lasagna.
“Hmm, I really need to start re-thinking where I throw my money, especially when I can get it for free here.” He shoots me a boyish grin, accentuating the dimples in his cheeks, and I roll my eyes at him in response.
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” he asks, taking another fork of food to his mouth.
“Rae and I…” I stop mid-sentence at Ben’s glare. I can’t understand why he hates me calling my best friend by that name. I make a mental note to ask him one day then continue, correcting myself, “Rachel and I have lived together on our own since we were 18. We had to eventually learn how to cook and it so happens that we learned to do it well.” I answer, taking a sip of wine.
Ben stares off into space, as if having a nostalgic moment. He is absolutely handsome while pensive. His brows knit together, but his lips are relaxed – pink and supple lips that call to me, begging me to kiss them. But he seems on the verge of revealing something and so I stop myself from launching at him and pulling him into a raunchy kiss.
“This is what I miss about being home,” he says. “A home-cooked meal. My mom always had one prepared for us. Sunday dinners were the best. I do have someone who cooks for me now, but nothing like mom’s cooking, you know?” I nod, a small smile playing across my lips. I know exactly what he means.
Emotion catches in my throat as I think about my mother back in New York, probably worrying herself to an early grave about me. I clear my throat and my head of those memories and speak on.
“I’ve noticed you and your brother are quite fond of your Mom.”
“Oh, yeah. We were the center of her universe. Still are, I think. Diana Hayes,” he reflects, lost in memories of his wonderful mother, I guess. “She’s like an angel.”
“So…your dad?” I ask, wincing as I have no idea if he will answer, since he hasn’t mentioned his father or talked about him in the same endearing way.
“Dad…Mr. Roman Hayes,” he recites grumpily. I can tell he doesn’t see his father the same way he sees his mother. There seems to be some tension there. While he has his mother on a pedestal, his father, on the other hand, seems to be at the foot of her pedestal.
“My dad is…a great man,” he says after a beat. Whoa. Didn’t expect him to say that.
“He’s rich. He owns a lot of real estate around Pennsylvania and Philly. So, in terms of stature and influence, he’s a great man.” Now I get it. “I think he gave us the drive we have to succeed, though. He crammed success down our throats and always impressed upon us that we needed to earn success; t
hat it wouldn’t be handed to us like spoiled rich kids. He would tell us that the only way to be successful in this life was through hard work, not trust funds or entitlements. I guess that’s all well and good, but I always just hated the way he went about telling us we had to earn it. He never really paid us much attention as kids, but once we turned sixteen, forced Matt and I to get jobs to “start making our way into society”.” He air quotes the words as he says them with disdain.
“We were like fucking employees or something to him,” he explains in between bites and sips of his wine. I see where Ben gets it from then.
“It’s a good principle though,” I say, biting through a piece of chicken. God, this food is good. “I hate spoiled rich kids, especially the guys. They’re douchey, bratty, entitled pieces of shit,” that I enjoyed taking advantage of, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Ben coughs as he laughs, “Don’t hold anything back. Please.”
I laugh with him scraping up the last of my dinner and washing it down with some wine.
“Ahh,” I make out, satisfied with dinner.
“Tell me about your parents,” Ben requests laying his empty plate on the windowsill. He perches his elbow on the wall and leans his head in his hand, looking at me in anticipation of what I have to say. Sorry to disappoint, but I have nothing to say.
“My parents?” I repeat, trying to come up with something – anything – that I think he would be satisfied with.
“Yeah, are the Beal’s married?”
“Um…my parents are cool, you know?” I stutter nervously. “They love me very much.”
Without looking at him, I gather the plates and take them into the kitchen, trying to get him off the subject. Ben follows me with the wine glasses.
“So, if they love you so much, why move out when you’re 18?” He delves deeper. God, he’s relentless.
“Um…it’s complicated.” That’s all I can say, and really, it is.
How do I tell him that I’m running from the cops without him running for the hills? I couldn’t.
“So are you,” Ben grunts, holding the glasses out to me.
I take them, confused as to why he said what he said, the way he said it. I ask him, “Why’d you say that?”
“Because you are a difficult, complicated woman, that’s why, Sullivan.” He runs a hand through his gorgeous mane, disheveling it in a sexy way. “Here I am trying to get to know you and really all you’ve given me is your name and the fact that your parents are “cool”.”
“Ben, it’s complicated.” I bite my lip, wincing at my insistent use of the word.
“There’s that word again.” He walks away from me in frustration.
I wish I could be sure that he wouldn’t walk away from me if he really knew everything about me. I’ve never had to tell anyone but Rae and Jared about who I really am. And really, aside from my family, Rachel and my therapist are the only ones who know everything about me. Just when I was opening up to Jared and I felt I was ready to tell him about my childhood abuse, he died.
I follow after Ben who drops in the couch and swipes up the remote control, turning the TV on. I sit beside him. I really didn’t want to ruin the great night we had been having, but some things I just can’t talk about. Not now, not ever. I can’t allow anyone to get that close to me.
“Ben, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t get you. It’s like you don’t want me knowing anything about you. Do you know I could’ve done a background check on you?” he reveals. I blanch at his revelation. Holy Shit!
“I was tempted. But I said to myself, ‘why do that when I can get the answers first-hand?’ Now I’m re-thinking not doing that background check,” he asserts, pouting like a petulant child, which I find cute and funny.
“You think I’m funny?” He glares at me, drying up the smile on my face.
“I don’t. Sorry,” I apologize like an errant child.
Thank heavens he decided against the background check. He wouldn’t have been pleased with what he’d find. Nothing.
“Ben, please bear with me. I’m not used to this whole talking about myself and my family thing. I’ve never done that before,” I tell him, giving him insight into my previous relationships – as close a step as he’ll have into my past. “I’ve never had to do it and I was good with that. Those other guys never cared enough to ask and I sure as fuck didn’t care enough to divulge. I was there to make them look good. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand why any man wouldn’t want to get to know you. What kind of guys have you been dating?”
“Douchey, bratty, entitled pieces of shit,” I answer, repeating what I had said earlier.
He laughs and I look away grimacing with embarrassment. He can laugh all he wants, but I bet if he knew the reason I chose to date guys like that, he wouldn’t be. I’m not proud of my reasons, but that’s what I had to do to get by.
Without warning, Ben pulls me closer. I gasp in surprise as he slides me underneath him. Biting his bottom lip, he gazes at me with that look – that panty-wetting look and, of course, my body responds to him.
My chest expands as I inhale a shaky breath. My breasts enlarge and my nipples stiffen under his gaze. I melt when he presses his lips to mine. His moans ignite me and I start writhing beneath him. He glides his hand up my torso and over my breasts, cupping and kneading. His index finger traces over my nipple and I groan in sexual excitement at the contact.
“I could make you come like this,” Ben says assuredly, now running his fingers across my stomach. My core clenches helplessly, my body twitches and my nipples harden the more. I am helpless to his touch. “But I won’t. How did I say I want you on this sofa?” he whispers, his breath washing over my face.
“Spread out,” I say softly.
Ben eases from on top of me and takes his shirt off. I find the strength, snapping out of my entranced state, and strip off my pajama bottoms. I lie back in the chair and spread my legs along either side of the arms of the sofa. I am so very exposed.
Ben kneels in front of me, leaning in between my spread legs. He inhales deeply, moaning in appreciation. I am unlike any woman out there. Call me insane, but I hate when men go down on me. Ben, though, has me wanting it every time he comes around.
“You smell absolutely enchanting when you’re turned on. I can see the wetness gushing out of you.” He slides a finger inside me and I whimper. “Mm, so good,” he moans.
I want him desperately. “Please, Ben. I can’t take the wait,” I plead with him.
He chuckles, amused with my needful plea. “Shh…I’ve got you.” Ben leans in and blows coolly on my hypersensitive sex.
My body jerks and I close my legs. I know what he wants to do but, really, all I want is to be fucked real good.
Ben looks up at me, tipping his head to one side. “Oh, I was so hoping that you’d close these legs. Stay,” he commands and he rises and heads for my room. The bite of his command sings through my body and I am riveted.
A few minutes later he’s out of my room. He saunters to the bathroom and returns in a moment with the belt from my bathrobe.
“Huh? What do you need that for?” My voice squeaks in curiosity; my interest peaked.
A wicked smirk shadows his face, his dark, hungry look sending shockwaves throughout my belly.
“This is a part of me only few women know about. I don’t want to scare you,” he says, an undercurrent of fear in his voice.
Scare me? “Never,” I announce, my breathing ragged and needy. I’d known going in that he was dominant, but I had no idea how far it went.
Tingles shoot through my pussy as I watch him stare at me with a dark hunger in his eyes. This man wants to possess me and I am finding it harder and harder to deny him.
“I’m going to tie your legs, Sullivan. I don’t want you running from me. Have you ever been tied up?” he asks, his voice deep and lustful. That voice…it does things to me.
“Um…yes,” I breathe in response, my h
eart rate spiking at the interesting turn of events. Jared was a kinky motherfucker, and I loved the shit we did. I don’t want to talk about it, so I hope I didn’t upset him; but he glares at me, so I know that I have.
“Hmm…we’ll talk about that another time. But for now…” he pauses and sinks to the floor. “Spread. Them.” His voice is soft but demanding, and it turns me on more than any other voice ever has.
I spread my legs immediately and watch him carefully as he takes one foot. He trails kisses from the inner thigh down to my toes, nipping my instep. Ben ties the belt around my ankle then secures it to the foot of the couch. He then does the same to my other leg.
I am breathing so hard now. I want him. I want whatever he’s going to give me. The moans that escape me are whines as I swivel my hips and bite down on my bottom lip.
He kisses my inner thigh, licking and sucking and I can’t stop myself from thrusting my hips upward into him. Ben trails a finger up my leg straight to my sex. It constricts in anticipation, quivering sweetly. Inserting the same finger inside me, we both release a fevered moan. Quickly, he inserts another finger, thrusting inside me with lazy strokes.
“Harder, please,” I beg, needing relief. My pussy is swollen, thumping, and needy.
He smiles salaciously at me, burying his face into my center. His tongue flicks around my clitoris, jolting me, and I’m writhing. A sensation of color dotting my eyes as I squeeze them tightly shut. I try to move my legs, but that is a failed attempt. I clutch Ben’s hair tightly as he sucks on my engorged clit.
“Ah! Ben! Shit!” I scream as I am ambushed by his fingers grinding into my sweet spot and his sucking ever so softly on my clit. “That feels so good!”
I hear a whir and Ben produces Jerry, my vibrator. My eyes widen. That’s what he went in my room for!
Taking his fingers out, he slips Jerry in. Oh my! He shoves the vibrator into me with force, growling and sucking harder on my clit. Oh…my!
“Yes! Oh, my God!” I cry. Both sensations create a heady mix and I feel a climax building. I’m convulsing under his sensuous assault. I’m clenching…climbing. Almost there.
Tainted Love (Book 1) Page 12
