by K. V. Rose
Where she’ll stay. And I won’t ever let anyone else get in there like that again.
Twelve
I wake up in the middle of the night, and tiptoe back to my room, disentangling myself from Mom’s arms. She’s asleep, and I’m not sure where Dad is but I peek outside and see his car back under the carport.
I knock four times, softly, on my own bedroom door.
Seconds later, Benji unlocks and opens it. His face looks grim, like he’s seen a ghost and he’s pissed about it. For a moment, I wonder if I woke him up, but a quick glance at his eyes, and he seems wide awake. Just irritated.
Whatever.
I push past him and he closes and locks the door behind me. I see my pillows rearranged on the bed and smile to myself, knowing he at least tried to sleep.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says unceremoniously, swiping two pillows from the half-dozen of them on my bed.
I laugh. “We’ve already had sex,” I remind him. “It won’t be a crime for you to sleep on my bed.” Besides, I kind of want someone next to me. The tears dried on my face, but my heart is still breaking in two, and I feel like if I think about it too long, I might fall completely apart.
I’m saving that for after Mom goes.
She doesn’t need me blubbering like a baby.
He shrugs. “Okay, but I sleep in my boxers.” He doesn’t even have a smile on his face with those words, whispered in the dark.
“Same,” I say, plugging my phone in to charge. And without looking at him, I face the bed and pull my shirt over my head, and my jeans down. I unhook my bra, and then dive into bed, yanking my covers up to my chin.
He’s staring at me, looking too big for even my big room.
His eyes are hooded, and I see his fists are clenched. My blood seems to ignite with that look, but he’s made it pretty clear he’s only here so I don’t get murdered by some unknown suspect. He was about to go home with the waitress, I remind myself. Or worse, bring the waitress to his condo. Where we had sex.
I force myself to turn over and face the wall and close my eyes. The lights are already off, the only light that from the street lamps leading up to our driveway.
I feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind me. For a second, I think he isn’t going to touch me, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’m still thinking about Mom, and about the fact Benji is in my house while Dad is just down the hall, and then there’s Dumont and whoever Benji and Caden seem to think is trying to kill Riley. Because why else would she need an escort right to her classes? She’s probably my age or younger, but Benji and Caden are definitely older. They’d only spend their time following her around if this was serious. Even though, somehow, it doesn’t feel serious with what’s going on with Mom.
Either way…
It’ll be better if Benji doesn’t touch me.
And yet…
When I feel his arms come around me, pulling me against his chest, I feel relief. Relief, and warmth spooling in my core. Especially as I feel him against my back. But even though he’s got a hard-on, he doesn’t say anything or make any move. He just holds me in his arms, as if I’m going to be able to sleep so close to him without touching more of his skin.
Without turning, I trail my hands over his arms around me, hardened muscle beneath smooth skin. I wonder what his tattoos mean, when he got them. I can’t see them very well in the darkness and from the angle of our bodies, but I know they’re there. He still doesn’t speak or move as I reach behind me, my hand over his boxers as I stroke him, softly at first until he presses further against my hand and then I grip him tighter.
A soft groan escapes his lips, against my neck, and his hands come to my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“We really don’t have to,” he starts to say, but I reach my hands into his boxers and stroke him, relishing in the stiffness and the size of him, wanting him in me. He stops talking and I’m glad.
He lets me keep going for a minute, but then he yanks my hand away and pushes me over, so I’m lying on my stomach, my hands by my sides. He keeps one hand on my back and then climbs over me, pressing his cock against my ass. He’s still got his boxers on and I’ve still got my underwear, but otherwise, there’s nothing between us.
He fists my hair and leans down, his weight pressing me further into the bed.
“You sure about this, Princess?” he whispers against my ear. “You’re not worried your Daddy might hear you?”
I twist my face to glare at him, but he yanks my hair harder, preventing me from seeing him behind me.
“I’m sure,” I manage to gasp out as he presses against me again.
He lets go of my hair, runs his hand down my bare back, to my underwear. He pulls them down my legs, lifting off of me only to slide them all the way off. When he positions himself back against me, I feel he took off his boxers, too.
He rubs his cock along my bare ass, his fingers running through my hair, one hand on my low back.
“Fuck,” he whispers, grinding against me. “You feel so fucking good.”
I try to lift my hips, to give him easier access, but he presses me back down, like he knows where I want him and he wants to drag this out a little more.
He leans down, his hard chest against my back, his lips on my neck. “Not yet, Princess,” he says quietly against my skin. Then he trails open-mouthed kisses down my neck, my shoulder, my back, until his tongue is on my ass.
I moan and clamp a hand over my mouth, bucking my hips, wanting him to touch me there.
He lifts my hips, putting me on all fours. One hand runs up the length of my slit while his other hand comes over my mouth, fingers digging into my lips.
He slips two fingers inside of me and I hear him laugh, the sound husky as he teases me, moving slowly, in and out, his thumb brushing against my clit. I bite the skin of his fingers and he shoves them down my throat, making me gag for a second.
Then he lets go, moving away from me, and I feel only cool air where he was inside of me a second before. I turn around to look at him, feeling frustrated, my clit throbbing.
But before I can crane my neck back, he flips me around, dragging me to the edge of the bed. He’s standing, and he grabs my ankles with one hand, putting them over his shoulder. With the other, he reaches for my throat, his eyes gleaming on mine in the faint light streaming in through my window.
And then, without using his hands, he pushes against me, his cock grinding against my opening, teasing me.
I open my mouth to moan. The way he’s got my ankles together doesn’t leave a lot of room, especially for him, but his fingers clamp down against my throat, preventing me from making a sound. His eyes darken as he presses harder, and I see every muscle in his core flexing, the muscles in his arm coiled as he grips my throat even tighter.
Finally, he’s able to get the tip in and a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. Without warning, he shoves himself inside of me and I gasp, him letting up the pressure on my throat, almost as if he wants to hear me now.
He moves in and out, roughly, his eyes half-closed, his lips parted. I close my own eyes, relishing in the feel of him, pain and pleasure all at once. His hand moves from my throat to my breasts, running possessively over both of them as he brushes his thumb over my nipples, one at a time.
I’m panting, trying to keep my moan in, and he moves faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in my quiet house.
In my parents’ quiet house.
My eyes find his again and that thought slips from my mind.
He palms my breast roughly, squeezing me as he moves faster, in and out, and I bite my lip so hard I swear I taste blood.
I see his chest rise and fall rapidly, feel his motions getting more frantic, and a low groan is building in his throat.
“Where do you want me to come?” he manages to ask me on a gasp, his hand around my ankles tightening.
His other hand is back around my throat, holding me lightly.
I d
on’t answer him immediately, the sensation of him overwhelming my thoughts, and he starts to pull out, but I clench around him, shaking my head, desperate.
“No,” I say quietly.
He stares at me a second, not moving, but then he starts again, and his eyes hold mine as he finishes inside of me, gripping my throat tight again as we stare at each other.
When he’s done, he drops to his knees, spreading my legs as far as they’ll go.
I throw my head back, but his hands are still on my thighs, and I start to feel warmth rush over my face as he takes me in. Then his fingers peel me apart, and he runs his tongue over my entire slit, seemingly not caring he just finished inside of me.
I shake under his touch, putting my hand back over my mouth.
He pushes two fingers inside of me, and then his mouth finds my clit in a sloppy, wet kiss. I squirm and his tongue flicks against me, over and over in circles, his fingers going deeper on each thrust.
I feel my orgasm building and then when I’m almost there, fingers digging into the sheets, he stops, his fingers still in me but his mouth inches from where I need him to be.
What the fuck?
I crane my neck up and find him looking at me.
“Benji…” I gasp, needing him back where he was.
“I want you to look at me when you come,” he commands.
I nod quickly. Anything to get his mouth back over my clit.
He dips his head, his tongue working me back into a frenzy, but his eyes are still on mine.
And then I feel it, right there, and I have the sudden urge to close my eyes because the intensity is fucking overwhelming, but his eyes darken, as if he’s warning me he’ll stop again.
Struggling, I keep staring at him as he makes me burst, and I can’t stop the loud, guttural moan that comes from deep within my throat.
“Benji,” I whisper, gasping on his name.
His expression doesn’t change, his tongue slowing as my climax dies off into an echo, and finally, when I’m buzzing from what he did to me, he lifts his head, still staring at me, his fingers still inside of me.
“Hope that’ll help you sleep well.” He kisses the inside of my thigh, slowly pulling his fingers out of me. And then he swings my legs around, climbs into the bed, and pulls the covers over both of us, pulling me close to his chest again.
I close my eyes and drift into the best sleep I’ve had in a long, long time.
Thirteen
Two weeks pass too quickly, and Caden is back in Toronto while I’m still keeping my eyes peeled for Rolland. After his vague threat about Ava at Exile, I haven’t heard a fucking thing from that motherfucker.
I’ve relaxed the reigns on Ava a little, but not Riley, because she’s the main target and we both know it. I stopped dropping her off at the curb completely and walk her into the English building for class. She complains the entire way there, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder and give her a goddamn knuckle sandwich because I get it. It’s annoying. Who wants to be chaperoned around their own college campus?
But even though I feel for her, I’m not going to not do it.
I won’t make that mistake again. Putting my guard down.
Felix tells me Rolland hasn’t come back to Canada and I’ve got to trust that he knows what he’s talking about even if he missed his flight the first time. He’s getting antsy for more work. But I can’t negotiate any deals from a country away and I can’t leave Riley or Ava without Rolland Virani dead in the ground.
Caden’s father being alive is bad for my business.
And for me.
Because it means I’m spending much more time with Ava than I should be.
And when I see her English professor, Dr. Dumont, walk into the building as I part ways with Riley, it takes everything in me not to deck him in his stupidly punch-able face.
He’s wearing glasses and I can just imagine the sound they’d make if I drove my fist into them. He’s not an ugly guy. In terms of fucking married professors, Ava could do worse, but he’s just so…polished.
Is this the kind of guy she’s into?
He’s more like Caden than me, which means I am definitely not her type.
I realize I’m still scowling at his back as he goes through the double doors at the top of the stairs to the classroom where Ava will sit in front of him as he drools over her when I feel someone tugging on my arm.
I look down, and there she is, grinning up at me, her eyes flitting from the doors closing behind her professor, to me and the anger that must be apparent on my face.
I clear my throat and smooth my features, angling my head as I look down at her. Her hand is still around my arm. A few students nod in her direction, someone calls her name and she waves, but her eyes stay on mine.
“Why do you look like you want to kill Dr. Dumont?” she asks innocently. Because she has no idea that I know. How could she know that I can tap phones with only their number, hers included?
She couldn’t. She can’t know that.
I slip my hands in my pockets, trying to get the image of them fucking on his desk out of my head.
“I always wanna kill someone,” I answer easily. It’s not even a lie. “How’s your mom?” We went on a proper date last week after she had a gym session with her friend, Tess.
I learned that this girl is obsessed with clothes, and rather than being put-off by the way she called out every single thing I was wearing by brand, I was into it. Into her.
I shouldn’t be.
It’ll only make this harder for her. And me. This is nothing and will never be anything. We live in different countries and lead very different lives. Her father would kill me, and I never want to meet him.
Her face falls and she lets go of my arm. I almost wish I hadn’t asked, but the woman is dying. I’m sure, no matter how good of a façade she puts on, that Ava is thinking about it all the time anyway.
“Not good,” she answers, looking at the floor as she adjusts the strap on her backpack. She’s wearing a grey skirt, white blouse tucked in, almost like a schoolgirl except ten times hotter. Half of her hair is even pulled back in a black bow.
I tear my eyes from her pink lips and the freckle just above the top one, wanting to actually focus on what she’s saying and not imagine bending her over and fucking her right here in this stairwell.
“But she’ll never be good, will she?” she asks me, her those ocean-blue eyes on mine.
I take her hand gently, rubbing my thumb along her palm. “No,” I answer honestly, because from what she’s told me and what I know, she won’t get better. Her mom is going to die and pretending she’s not won’t do anyone any good.
I see her swallow, but she keeps her gaze on mine and I like to think she appreciates the honesty, but maybe she’s actually thinking I should go fuck myself.
Then I remember.
Something that will make this shit all the worse.
I drop her hand and her brows pinch together in confusion and maybe annoyance. I slide my hands back in my pockets.
“Tomorrow, Riley and I have to fly up to Toronto. Caden is buying a new house,” I roll my eyes at the absurdity, “and wants her to see it before they close on it.”
She frowns and glances at the top of the stairs, where her sleaze-bag professor is somewhere in a classroom down the hall.
“When will you be back?” she asks quietly, shifting her gaze back to me.
“Tomorrow night,” I answer. We’re taking my plane from RDU’s airport, which means we won’t miss our flight. I can’t afford to miss any or have any delays. I don’t even want to leave Ava alone like this, but Caden is a persistent asshole and Riley deserves to see her new home before he buys it. Half of his money will be hers soon enough anyhow. It already is, just not legally.
Ava looks down at her grey boots.
“Okay,” she says, nodding. She turns to go up the stairs. I know she’s going to be late for class, but I grab her hand anyway, stopping her.
�
��Come with me,” I say hurriedly, not knowing what the fuck I’m thinking. “You have a passport? Come with me. We’ll be back before your dad is even in bed,” I promise her. What the hell am I doing?
She chews her lip. “Yeah, of course I have a passport but…”
“Then come.” I let go of her hand. “Stay at my place tonight.”
I’m an idiot. I am the world’s biggest dumbass. I’ve known this girl just over a month and I want to fly her on my private plane to my hometown because I am clearly not very smart. It’s not that Toronto is a bad place to spend the day. It’s a great place, actually. The problem is the demons I’ve got there. And if I’m there, I’ve got to check in on some of them.
I open my mouth to take back my invitation because clearly I didn’t think this through very well, but she frowns at me.
“Benji, I’d love to but…I just can’t.” And then she heads up the stairs, taking them two at a time, not looking back at me once.
Fuck you, Dr. Dumont. Fuck this shit.
Fourteen
My phone rings as Tess and I head over to the treadmills. She likes to lift, I like to run, so we each do both. Together. That’s what friends are for, right?
I glance at the screen as I straddle the treadmill, feet on the sides. Beside me, Tess glances my way, curious.
Riley’s name lights up on the screen. I think about not taking it. I don’t want to deal with Benji’s drama. Not tonight. He’s probably pissed I’m not getting on a damn plane with him tomorrow, but that’s not really my problem.
Come to think of it though, it’s not really Riley’s either, so maybe that’s not even why she’s calling.
I sigh, accept the call, and hold the phone to my ear, plugging my other ear with my finger so I’ll be able to hear her over the music in the gym.
“Ava? I’m sorry to bother you,” she says in a rush, “but Benji is...” I roll my eyes, not really caring what Benji is. It’s pretty clear Benji is giving her shit for me telling him No. It’s like he’s never heard the word before.
