Her soft gasp gives me the opening to dive in. I sweep my tongue across hers and she melts. And that’s not a euphemism. I have to use my right hand to cup her bottom to hold her upright before she can sink to the ground.
She tastes like sweet tea on a summer day. I hold in a sigh of pleasure. She moans and my dick makes a beeline in her direction. When she doesn’t slap my hand away from her ass, I use my fingers to gather up fabric so I can get where I want to without letting her go. I have a need to feel if she’s wet.
“Wait,” she says. “Anyone can see.”
Oh, but that would be half the fun … I don’t want to spook her though. Instead, I pluck the key from her and with my eyes half on her, slide it into the lock. Not giving her a chance to leave me on the other side of it once she gets in, I back her in and close the door behind me. I try my best not to lose eye contact for more than a second at a time.
“Ben,” she protests.
“Don’t, Sam. Can I call you Sam?” She nods. “We’re adults. I can see you want this as much as I do. Why deny ourselves?”
“Because I don’t know you.” Her words are strong but barely a whisper.
I step back giving her space to breathe. Her eyes are heavy lidded and her chest rises and falls with her rapid pulse. But even though my need for her is strong, I have no plans to force myself on her.
Pushing the curtain of hair back from her face, her desires are unmasked.
“So let me get to know you. What better way?” I flash a megawatt grin.
“I’m not that kind of girl,” she says finding her voice.
Sighing, I let her go and take another step back and scrub over my face. This situation is so different for me with all her mixed signals. I haven’t had a reluctant woman since early in my college days.
“I’m that kind of guy, but I don’t judge anyone else.”
She moves forward and reaches up. Within seconds, she’s pulling my hand free from my hair. When her eyes drop to my mouth, I take control of her hand needing her to understand what she does to me. She lets me and I cover it over my rock hard cock.
“I don’t play games. I want you. But I’m not going to force you to do anything. I’m also not going to lie to you either. I want to be inside you so bad. And I think you want me too.”
She bristles and slips her hand out of mine. “Ego much?”
There’s that stubbornness that makes me stupid as more blood rushes to my dick.
“Just honest. After being so close to you tonight, I know my hand alone won’t do.” She glares at me, but she hasn’t slapped me or asked me to leave. “Tell me to leave Sam.” I pause, searching her eyes. Seconds tick by without a word of protest from her mouth. “You won’t, will you? Because your nipples are hard under that dress begging for my mouth to cover them. Your skin is hot and flushed. Admit that you want me.”
She lifts her head in challenge and says, “People want many things, but you don’t have to act on them.”
I reach out and cup her cheek. She leans up and I gently bite her lower lip. Then I let my hand slide down the angle of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, and down her arm to grip her waist. “All you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. In fact, I’ll go slow giving you ample time to stop and not let this go too far.”
Leisurely, I slide my hand down her skirt-covered thigh to land on bare skin. “And I will.” I squeeze her leg for a second, but I don’t let go. “There is nothing wrong with wanting me, Sam. And make no mistake—I want you.”
Her hand clamps on my wrist, but she doesn’t try to pull my hand away. We stare at each other, neither of us giving in. I lean in needing another taste. She doesn’t fight me. In fact, she fiercely kisses me back.
I take a chance and gradually slide my hand upward under her dress. Her grip on my wrist tightens, but again she hasn’t stopped me. When my thumb reaches pay dirt and brushes over a spot on her panties, I groan. Pulling back, I meet her eyes.
“Sweetheart, you’re wet. Let me help you get where you want to go.”
While speaking, I rub my thumb across her swollen nub a few times. She sucks in a breath and I lean in and take her mouth prisoner again. Soon, her fingernails rake over my skull as she pulls me closer. I slip my finger underneath the barrier that protects her treasure, my goal. She’s so ready for me my finger easily sinks into her warm depths. Her eyes are lost as she angles her lower half to make contact where she needs.
“Please,” she begs.
“Not yet, honey.”
With my free hand, I cup her heavy breast as I continue to work her, pushing in another finger. I have to see her. So I slip the straps of her sundress down and push the material away to expose her bra. The thin material isn’t holding her beautiful breasts up. They are fucking perfect. So I shove that material aside freeing one perfect pink nipple. I don’t waste time taking it in my mouth. Her pussy clamps around my two fingers and I continue to pump them in and out of her until she’s boneless.
My dick is still granite and can’t wait to be inside her. I scoop her up in my arms ready to take this to her room. She looks so fucking sweet cradled against me.
“Don’t fall asleep, baby. The night is still young.”
His voice comes at me like a crack of thunder. I jolt in his arms, coming to my senses. What the hell did I just let happen? He just got me off—okay, an amazing vagina-quivering orgasm—but still. He’s not much more than a stranger. I met him in the produce aisle, for Pete’s sake. I never do anything like this.
“Ben, can you put me down, please?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
His footsteps falter. “What? Why?”
“I really need you to put me down.” There is no mirth in my tone. He sets me on my feet so now I am forced to look at him. And much the pity because the man should have sparks flying off him he’s that hot. Cliché, but he is.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“You might say that.” I have no doubt my face is the color of a bowl of cherries.
His questioning expression quickly morphs into a cocky smile and he stands there, all full of himself, like he’s the greatest prize ever. And honestly, he is. But I’m not quite ready for this yet. He rubs his chin and flashes a sexy smirk.
“Hmm. You sure seemed okay a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, boy. You had to go there, didn’t you?” This is such a weird combination of awkwardness and regret. I don’t know quite how to handle this.
His forehead crinkles and a tiny V forms between his eyes. Why are men always so damn clueless? Do I need to spell it out?
“I guess I wasn’t quite ready for that step we just took.”
His jaw opens. For a second he says nothing. “Maybe the fact that you let me get you off, and from the sounds of it, enjoyed the hell out of it, gave me the wrong idea.”
And I can feel his growing annoyance.
“You’re right. I take responsibility for that and it was great, I admit. But that’s as far as it’s going for now. I barely even know you.”
His eyes narrow for a second before he lets out a chuckle. “It was your choice. And you’re lying to yourself for some self-righteous reason.”
God, why does he have to act like such an ass? Lying to myself? He’s right about one thing; I’m starting to feel self-righteous.
“Is that so? How many women have you done that to that qualifies you as an expert in this field?”
Any amusement on his face has totally vanished and his gray eyes darken. “Enough.”
“And that makes you an expert?”
“I didn’t say anything about being an expert.”
“No, you didn’t. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”
“So what’s going on here?” He motions between us with his finger.
Isn’t that a good question?
My hand reaches for my forehead. This has been one hell of a weird night. “I don’t know. I think we may have gotten a bit carried away, but I think it’s best if you go.�
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He drops his head and that’s when we both notice the tent in his pants. He half laughs while adjusting himself.
“You know what? I think you’re right. I don’t have time to play games with little girls.” He gives me a circling salute, which almost reminds me of the you’re crazy gesture. “Have a goodnight, Samantha.”
His exit is hasty and the door slams making me wince. Games? I wasn’t playing any games. Things just moved so fast I didn’t have time to react until it was too late. I need lessons on how to deal with men. Why don’t they have classes for this somewhere? Fuck!
This night certainly turned into a disaster of epic proportions. The first thing that calls to me is the shower. Washing away the touch of Ben Rhoades might help me with the second, which is sleep. Maybe I can dream away tonight.
I crawl into my bed and curl up into a tight ball, trying not to relive the awkward night. But it’s impossible as thoughts of Ben making me come as hard as I ever have keep playing in my mind like a video stuck on replay. At one point I find myself so completely turned on I almost have to take things into my own hands. The only thing that stops me is I know if I do, all I’ll think of is that messy-haired gray-eyed devil. And he’s the one I’m trying my damnedest to forget.
“Ugh,” I groan, pulling the covers over my head. He’s cursed me for life. Even Trevor didn’t spell me up like this. I never had the feels for him this much and the sex didn’t come close. Fiddle-fucking-tastic fingers, I can’t imagine what a whole night of Ben Rhoades would be like. Probably couldn’t walk the next day. Well, no worries on that one. I’m sure I’ve blown any chance of ever seeing him again.
Shoving the covers off, I climb out of my haven and march into the kitchen for a glass of milk. It’s two thirty in the morning and I’m exhausted with no chance of sleep in sight. The glass is now empty and I stare at the bottom of it. About four feet away is the wall my hands were pressed against only a few hours ago as I moaned out my pleasure in the form of one hell of an orgasm.
Stop, Sam. This is getting you nowhere, other than obsessing about BenSex!
“What are you doing up?”
Lauren’s voice scares the hell out of me and I let out a scream.
“What the hell, Sam?”
“You scared me.”
“I thought you heard me come home. Sorry.”
“No, I didn’t hear you. I couldn’t sleep so I got up to drink some milk.”
“Why can’t you sleep and how was the date?”
Those are questions I don’t want to answer. But she’ll wheedle the answers out of me so I might as well get it over with. “Trevor is a jerk and so is Ben.”
“Wait, what?”
“Are you drunk?” I ask her.
“Only a little.”
“Sit. This is gonna take a while.”
After I finish with Sam’s saga, she sits there with her jaw sagging. “That’s all so fucked up I don’t even know where to start.”
“Thank you.”
Then she gets that sinister look in her eye. “So, he got you off, huh?”
I hit her with pillow. “Is that all you can think of?”
“Admit it. Isn’t that all you’re thinking of?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know anything about him.”
Her eyes resemble a flying squirrel’s. “Where did he do it?”
I point to the far wall. “There.”
I can see the muscles move as she swallows. “Holy hell. That’s hot.”
“Yeah. Why do you think I can’t sleep?”
“What about your rabbit?”
“I thought about it, but weirdly enough, I keep having this vision of dark messy hair, a set of gray eyes, with my legs draped over his shoulders servicing my lady garden in the produce section at Whole Foods. No thanks. I’m trying to get all that out of my head.”
“Jesus, Sam. You really are a sick person. Do you think he’ll call again?”
An awful sounding laugh bursts out of me and then it morphs into a case of ugly tears. And boy, do they ever flow. I don’t consider myself a crying sort. In fact, the last time I cried was when I caught Trevor slurping up that chick’s tongue. I’m not sure why I’m crying now, other than I think I’ve just overdosed on too much shit for Sam to take in one night.
Lauren throws her arms around me and shoulders my tears. “Aww, it’s gonna be all right, Sammy girl. Trevor is an asshole and we need to figure this thing out with Ben.”
I raise my head from the refuge of her body and say, “But that’s the point. All I seem to get are assholes. What is it with me? Why can’t I attract a decent guy? Someone who genuinely cares about me and not my vagina, for once?”
“Gee, just think about it. You must have one kick ass vagina. Be proud of that thing!” she says.
“I’m serious!”
“I know, sweets. He’s out there. I know he is. And when you find him, he’ll be the most awesome guy in the universe.”
“I’m not asking for the universe. I’ll take the world, thank you.”
The next morning a gorgeous June day greets me. The sky is crystal clear and the birds are chirping like nothing’s amiss. If only. When I get to the bathroom sink, I look in the mirror and want to curse. Dark purple half moons are sitting below my eyes. Too bad it’s not Halloween—I already have the zombie look started, and with a bit of makeup, I could be there in no time. Good thing I don’t have any plans today. After a few splashes of cool water on my face, I brush my teeth and twist my hair into a messy bun. Then I stomp into the kitchen to put on the coffee. After I think about it for a minute, I decide a triple latte is in order, so I throw on some shorts and running shoes, and get ready to make the quick run the Starbucks. Only I’m caught up by the coffee and bag that await me on my porch.
“Damn it, Trevor,” I murmur to no one. I snatch the goodies up and turn to go inside when I notice the note. As I plop on the couch I almost choke on my bite of scone.
I’m sorry if I acted like an ass last night.
I was way out of line. I hope I didn’t blow any chance
I had with you over my stupidity.
I hope you’re ready for breakfast.
Trevor
A couple of minutes later my phone buzzes. When I check it, I see it’s him. I’m not really sure I want to answer it. But then my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Hey.”
“How’s the latte?”
“Latte-ish.”
He laughs. What used to warm me only makes me want to end the call now.
“And the scone? I suppose it’s sconish?”
“Not at all.”
“No?”
“Look, Trevor, I appreciate the gesture. It was nice. But after last night, I’m not quite ready…” I can’t finish before he cuts me off.
“I’m sorry I scared you off last night. I really fucked up and I’m sorry.”
“I guess you and I are sort of running on parallel roads here.”
He’s quiet for a short minute, then says, “Maybe I’m hoping for too much, too fast.”
“Probably.”
“So do I have any chance at all? And Sam, be honest with me.”
I don’t know what to say, so I do what I always do because, even if I have to sacrifice my own, I hate to hurt anyone else’s feelings. “Yes, Trevor, you have a chance. Just don’t come on so strong, okay?”
“Okay. Would it be too much to ask you to dinner again?”
“No, but can you give me a week?”
“You’ve got it. I’ll call you next week. And Sam, I just want you to know that you’re worth the wait. Every single minute.”
He ends the call and I groan, wanting to sling my phone across the room. I’m such a sucker and a dumbass.
“What’s that all about?” Lauren asks, walking in from her bedroom.
I give her the scoop and she laughs. “When it rains it comes down in buckets, right?” She pats my back and adds, “Don’t worry. It’ll all work
out the way it’s supposed to. What we need is a girl’s dinner out. Like maybe this week.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Then my phone rings again. “Jesus, I bet it’s damn Trevor again. He’s so persistent.
But when I answer, it isn’t Trevor. It’s someone else entirely that shocks the hell out of me. My hand automatically reaches for Lauren’s and she winces as I crush it in a vise-like grip while I listen to the person on the other end.
Pressing my temples, I try to stop replaying Friday night with Samantha in my head knowing she isn’t for me. It’s been almost a week and I’m still scratching my head over her reaction. After every opportunity to stop things, she decided she wanted to continue. But after she got hers, she left me with a stiff dick and only my hand to use instead. And fuck me if my damn traitorous cock doesn’t stand in protest every time I think about her.
I shift in my chair when my office door opens after a quick knock. Glancing over my monitor, Lisa is coming towards me. She doesn’t stop until she’s right beside me. I focus on my computer screen because I should be going over my presentation one last time before the meeting.
Her hand dislodges my own from my hair. “You’re going to lose all this gorgeous hair if you keep yanking at it.”
I glance away from her expectant face and glare at my hand. I hadn’t realized what I was doing until she’d freed my death grip. “I should cut it all off, or shave my head.”
Her fingers run through my hair. Her nails graze over my scalp and I can’t help that it feels nice. “Don’t you dare, Ben Rhoades. Your hair could be famous if you’d leave it be.”
She works some magic I’m unable to see. Her face however tells the tale as she grins and steps back to admire her work.
“You look good. Ready for the Sadlers. They are in the small conference room. I was sent to tell you.”
Her eyes hold me in place and I have the sense she wants me to say something. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of golden hair. I whirl in that direction, but see nothing.
“What?” Lisa asks.
A Mess of a Man Page 8
