by Ranae Rose
He began to rub, making small circles.
He fucked her slow and easy, so his hand wouldn’t slip. He’d go hard after she came.
As he continued, her pussy tensed from time to time, shrinking around his dick and telling him that he was making progress.
By the time she actually came, she was so tight around him that he moaned along with her, the breath torn out of him by a rising tide of lust.
He’d been right about how good it’d feel to be inside her when she came. The satisfaction went bone-deep, burning the sounds she made into his brain. Seeing and hearing her come was one thing, but feeling it was a different experience altogether. It pushed him to the edge, and when she stopped panting, he gripped her by her hips and fucked her harder than he had before.
She gasped, fell forward and gripped his shoulders.
He kept going until a climax hit him like a ton of bricks, granting him the explosive pleasure of coming deep inside her pussy.
The condom wasn’t enough of a barrier to erase the primal pleasure; he was still surrounded by her heat and tightness. Emptying himself while he was buried in her was the best thing he’d felt in recent history.
No, ever. Time had a way of blurring memories, but this felt too good to forget.
She lay down on top of him while he was still inside her, letting her breasts rest on his chest and her temple on his collarbone. It sent a last rush of desire through him, one he was too spent to let manifest in anything more than an embrace.
He did embrace her, though, arms circling her waist as he waited for his dick to soften. After a while, he pulled out, but she stayed on top of him.
“Ugh.” She raised her head, a stray lock of hair falling into her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe I almost missed out on this.” She laughed, her body quivering against his.
“All’s well that ends well, right?”
“Sure. But do you ever look back on something you did or almost did and wonder what the hell you were thinking?”
“You have no idea.” Memories tumbled through his mind, avalanching and cooling his pleasure.
“I hate that feeling.”
“Me too.”
The memories stayed with him, begging the question: what would she think about those things when she found out?
Dylan didn’t seem to think Ben needed to shine the spotlight on his demons from the get-go, and Ben couldn’t imagine putting himself through some sort of bizarre confessional, just to have it out of the way.
At the same time, now he had a taste of Hannah and had to live with the fear that she’d turn her back on him when she found out about his past.
CHAPTER 11
Hannah dumped half a dozen heaping spoonfuls of bold coffee grounds into her coffeemaker, then added a seventh for good measure. She liked it strong – hopefully Ben did, too.
A shiver of delight raced down her spine at just the thought of him. She’d snuck out of bed, leaving him asleep. The mattress was absurdly narrow for two people and after waking, she’d feared that too much tossing and turning would disturb his sleep.
It was a quarter ‘till eight on Saturday morning, and although she would’ve slept in later if he hadn’t been there, she didn’t regret rising early. She’d much rather be up making coffee for two than lying in bed on her own. It’d be nice to share breakfast with another person.
She wasn’t sure what her craving for company said about her. Had living with her ex for two years made her too soft – too weak to tolerate the silence of an empty apartment?
At times, she worried. Overall though, she relished the peace and freedom of living on her own. Maybe it was just that moving to a new city had pulled the rug out from under her feet socially. It wasn’t that she needed a romantic entanglement; it was just that she needed human contact.
Not that she regretted taking the relationship plunge with Ben. God, after the night before, how could she?
As the coffeemaker began to percolate, her mind whirled with memories: impossibly pleasurable sensations that’d stayed with her all night, making her skin tingle.
She really liked Ben. And the sex had been fantastic. So far, so great. So why did her heart beat a little too quickly, setting her nerves on edge as she pulled out a skillet and reached into the fridge for a carton of eggs?
Being in his company didn’t make her nervous. And although she’d been a little anxious the night before, she felt more confident in the physical aspect of their relationship now. But the nagging worry that he might somehow be too good to be true…
Well, that haunted her.
It wasn’t a conscious thought, more of a persistent sense of unease that tainted the high of a new relationship, only fully revealing itself for what it was when she focused on it.
“Hey.” Ben’s voice came from the other side of the kitchen.
Hannah startled before turning to face him.
He’d put on his jeans and nothing else. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought his mission in life was to make her burn herself on the stove, or at least distract her enough to burn the eggs while she stood staring. She let her gaze rove over his inked and muscled torso, taking in everything from his pecs to his defined abs and the lean ridges that arrowed down and under the waistband of his jeans.
“You snuck up on me.” She snapped her gaze back to his face and continued scrambling the half-cooked eggs with a wooden spatula.
“Didn’t mean to.” His dark hair stuck up at odd angles, mussed by her pillow, but she was distracted by his smile. “The smell of that coffee woke me up.”
“Oh? I guess I should’ve warned you: I like it strong.”
“So do I.”
She grinned. “Perfect. Feel free to pour yourself a cup. I’m making eggs. Do you like them scrambled?”
“Yeah. I’d think you’d know by now that I’m not picky.”
He started opening cabinets.
“The coffee cups are above the microwave.” She only had four, which she’d picked up during a frenzied Target shopping spree. After moving across the country, she hadn’t had a single coffee cup to call her own, and fixing that had been a priority. The ones she’d chosen were green with a swirly yellow floral design – pretty and delicate, something her ex would’ve loathed.
She loved them.
Ben took two from the cupboard and started pouring coffee. “Should I leave room for milk and sugar in yours?”
“No thanks.” She enjoyed a little sugar in her coffee but was trying to make healthier choices. Since coffee was delicious no matter what, cutting out sugar there seemed like a no-brainer.
“I like it without too,” he said. “I think drinking it black is the one healthy habit I have.”
“Please. All it takes is a glance at you to see that you have lots of healthy habits.”
She rolled her eyes. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine, and he had to know it. Physically, he was nothing less than perfect. Still, she had to admit that his modesty was part of what attracted her to him.
“How can you say that?” he asked. “You’re my partner in crime now when it comes to cheesesteaks. Although honestly, I didn’t eat them as often before I met you. You make the temptation irresistible.”
“Right. Well, I apologize for being such a temptress.” She laughed.
She’d noticed that some of the muscle-bound guys at the gym seemed to spend half their workout time worshipping their own reflections in the mirrors. They always looked like they wanted to kiss their own muscles, although they were definitely too bulky to have the flexibility to reach most of them.
Ben was nothing like that. And he wasn’t too bulky either. He was ideal.
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I love it.”
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she pretended it was from the stove.
“Breakfast is served.” She scraped the eggs onto two plates – also purchased during her Target shopping bi
nge – and set them on the table before grabbing ketchup from the fridge.
As far as she was concerned, scrambled eggs with ketchup and fresh coffee were the holy trinity of breakfast foods. Well, omelets were a step up, but she rarely took the time to make those.
“Thanks.” He striped his eggs with ketchup and immediately dug in.
“Damn,” he said after a minute. “You weren’t kidding when you said this stuff was strong.” He set his coffee cup down, his fingers resting against the floral-patterned ceramic.
“Too strong for you?” she teased.
“Never.” He took another sip, as if to prove his point.
By the time they were done eating, her mind had wandered beyond breakfast, presenting her with visions of where they might go from here. Would he want to go out – spend Saturday doing something together?
Or would he want to stay in? Her pussy tightened as she remembered how it’d felt to finally feel his hard cock thrusting inside her. The night before had left her with a lingering sense of pleasure and a rising sense of expectation. She was glad he’d stayed, willing to suffer through a night on her narrow bed just to be close to her.
“I was thinking,” she said, “maybe we could get lunch together today. We could be adventurous and try something other than sandwiches.”
She left the morning hours between now and then open to suggestion. If he was ready for more sex, so was she. Especially considering the way he sat across from her at the table, shirtless with his tattoos on display.
“Okay.” He set down his coffee cup. “When would be a good time for me to pick you up – around noon?”
She blinked. “You have somewhere to be this morning? I didn’t realize.”
She knew he had off work, and had figured that meant he was free.
“No, I just need to head home for a little while. But I’ll be glad to come back.”
She tried to ignore the way her heart deflated. Why did he need to go back to his apartment? She was perplexed, but it wasn’t like she needed to question his every move just because they’d slept together once.
Still, she’d taken his shirtless breakfast appearance as an invitation, or at least a sign of his intentions. Didn’t he know what kind of effect his walking around like that had on a woman?
“All right,” she said, trying to sound like she wasn’t disappointed. “But I have to be at work by three. I’ve got a consult then and a couple sessions with new clients after that.”
“Is noon still okay?”
“Sure.”
That’d give them two and a half hours to spend together. She should’ve been satisfied with that. But she ached for another taste of what they’d had the night before, and she didn’t want to wait.
She didn’t say that, though, or ask him why he needed to leave. The last thing she wanted was to seem clingy, when really, she was just horny.
Well, that was mostly it. There was also the fact that being around Ben made her heart feel like a helium balloon – light, free and heaven-bound.
* * * * *
Ben reluctantly climbed the stairs to his apartment, wishing he was still at Hannah’s. He’d been optimistic about the night before, but he hadn’t planned on staying until morning. Once he’d gotten into her bed though, he hadn’t wanted to leave. Staying had felt surprisingly natural.
That feeling had lasted through the night and faded away with the first rays of sunlight. Upon waking, a fully-justified sense of anxiety had replaced it, reminding him of how he’d screwed up.
He hadn’t brought his medication. He hadn’t brought anything, other than a couple condoms. Going without his mood stabilizer was out of the question. He took it as soon as he woke up every morning, and had never missed a dose.
A cold, gripping fear took hold of him whenever he imagined what might happen if he did. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out.
For several months now, he’d been doing better than he’d imagined he’d ever be able to. His moods rose and fell, but they didn’t spike or plunge. He existed in a state of relative normalcy, and didn’t do anything weird enough to clue anyone in on what was wrong with him.
He needed that normalcy. He didn’t like knowing that his mental stability was a synthetic miracle contingent on whether he took his medication on time every day, so he tried not to think about it. He took his pills and went on with his life, each day an X on an imaginary calendar that marked how far he’d come after fucking up everything so royally that he’d moved to another state to escape the shame.
One day, it would seem faraway. He hoped.
Now that he had Hannah, the drug he relied on was more important than ever. He couldn’t fuck this up, couldn’t spiral out of control and be that person again.
Because that person was the state he’d revert to without chemical intervention, and no matter how much he regretted his last blow-up, one thing was still true: he’d rather die than be that version of himself.
* * * * *
Hannah and Ben had lunch at a café that specialized in panini and soups. Ben said he’d chosen it because it wasn’t too far from Hot Ink, and he’d heard it was good.
He was right – the food was good.
“What are these again?” she asked, sitting across from him at a small corner table.
“Pierogi. Trust me, you’ll like them.”
She glanced down at the basket of pierogi Ben had ordered for them. There were half a dozen little half-moon shaped dough crescents, which turned out to be filled with potato and cheese.
Ben was right again; they were delicious.
“Is this a Pittsburgh thing?” She’d never had them before.
“Uh-huh.”
He reached for one and she studied his handsome face, her mind drifting to the memory of it pressed against her pussy.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she took a drink of her water, curiosity getting the best of her again. Was he thinking about it too?
The night before had been intense, and she knew not every guy was ready to go again the next morning. Especially after a performance like his. Hell, maybe he’d gone home simply because he’d wanted to shower and change clothes. It wasn’t like he’d brought any of his things to her place.
The thought showed her how ridiculous she was being, stressing over why he’d left after breakfast.
The waitress – a petite girl with a voluminous blonde ponytail and a lot of eyeliner – appeared, a pitcher of water in hand. “Can I get you a refill?”
“Sure,” Hannah said, glancing at her nearly empty water glass. “Thanks.”
But the waitress didn’t seem to hear her. She was busy beaming at Ben, whose glass was more than halfway full.
She topped it off anyway, making a cutesy remark about the weather, her back turned to Hannah.
“These Pittsburgh springs feel more like winter, don’t they?” she asked him. “I’m just here for college, so I’m used to a warmer climate. March is a lot nicer in Florida.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Ben said, “but I’m from Jersey.”
“Ooh, Jersey! I’ve never been there. What’s it like?”
Hannah rolled her eyes, her gaze resettling on her empty glass.
Ben shrugged. “Chilly in March, just like here.”
The waitress laughed like he’d said something hilarious. Hannah was pretty infatuated with Ben, but even she didn’t find the revelation that Jersey was cold during early spring funny. Her irritation increased. Couldn’t the girl see he was on a date?
“Excuse me,” Hannah said. “Can I get a refill too?”
“Oh.” The waitress turned, barely taking her eyes off Ben. “Yeah.”
A little water splashed on the table as she poured. She didn’t seem to notice, let alone clean it up.
“Thanks,” Hannah said, struggling to keep from snapping. If the girl got any ruder or any more obvious, she’d set records in both those departments.
“If I were back home, I’d probably be at the
beach right now.” The blonde picked up where she’d left off, facing Ben again. “They have beaches in Jersey, right?”
“Yeah, but they’re not warm this time of year.”
“Right. But—”
“Excuse me,” Hannah said. “That customer over there is trying to get your attention.”
It was true – a middle-aged man at the next table over was holding a coffee cup in one hand and waving with the other, trying to flag down the waitress.
He’d only managed to catch Hannah’s attention, but she was happy to let the girl know she was wanted elsewhere.
The waitress glanced at the other customer and frowned, her ponytail whipping the air as she turned back to Ben.
“Just let me know if you need anything else,” she said, and was gone.
Hannah realized she’d clenched her hands into fists beneath the table, and consciously uncurled them. She shouldn’t have let the waitress get under her skin, but—
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, freezing with a hand in the pierogi basket.
She tried to smooth her expression, which apparently was more reflective of her feelings than she’d realized.
“I’m surprised how rude that waitress was, that’s all.” She picked up a napkin and sat it on top of the water spill next to her glass.
“Yeah, she was pretty chatty.”
“Only to you.”
He shrugged. “I’m one of those people other people feel comfortable talking at. Hell if I know why.”
Hannah arched a brow and tried to resist a smirk. “I think I can enlighten you: it’s because you’re hot.”
He looked like she’d just suggested that they follow up their lunch with a trip to the moon.
Hannah’s irritation was tinged by an exasperated sense of bemusement. “Do you mean to tell me that you knew I was annoyed just by my expression, but you didn’t realize that girl was flirting with you?”
“I was paying a lot more attention to you than her.”
He picked up a pierogi, and Hannah blushed, feeling petty for being jealous.
Ben wasn’t Zander. There was no need for her to get her panties in a bunch just because some waitress was overly-friendly with him. If she’d been a waitress, waiting on Ben would’ve been the highlight of her day, too.
