The Secret Note

by Lauren Rowe

  “Ben.”

  “I want to take you someplace where I can kiss you. For a very long time. And in private. And not just on your mouth.”

  My clit pulses. “I live three blocks from here. And lucky you, I just so happen to be free all night long.”

  Ben stands and puts out his hand. “Off we go. I’ve been thinking about the student becoming the teacher for a bloody long time.”

  Four

  I slide my key into my lock, unlock my front door, and invite Ben inside my small one-bedroom apartment. He walks past me, a crooked smile on his face, and I shut the door behind us with a soft click. And that’s it. It’s on. He pushes me against the door with all six-foot-whatever inches of him, presses his hard-on into my pelvis, and kisses me.

  I slide my arms around his neck and press my body against his and return his kiss with enthusiasm, the movement of his tongue against mine sending shockwaves of desire straight between my legs.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper when Ben’s hungry lips move from my lips to my neck. “You’re so fucking hot, Ben.” I tug on his shirt, panting, and he takes the hint and pulls it off, revealing his ripped abs and chest. His ink. But there’s not much time to ogle, unfortunately, because, suddenly, my dress is being lifted up and off.

  Ben quickly busies himself with removing my bra. And then devouring my breasts like a starving man. Sucking them. Licking them. Burying his face in them. Caressing. Groping. Reveling.

  “Oh, God,” I blurt when he sucks hard on one of my nipples, making my knees buckle. “Oh, Jesus Christ, this is gonna be good.”

  Ben’s jeans come off. And then his briefs. And I literally gasp at the sight of his beautiful body. His glorious erection. He’s sheer perfection. He’s sexy beyond words.

  “Ben,” I breathe. But that’s all I’ve got. I’m too overwhelmed with arousal to say more.

  Wordlessly, Ben slides his large palms on either side my rib cage and begins kissing his way down my torso. When he reaches my belly ring, he slides the fingers of one hand between my legs and strokes me gently as he kisses me, his touch coaxing me to bloom for him . . . and I moan as my insides dampen and clench and prepare to open wide and release.

  As Ben’s fingers continue gently taunting my sex, his lips reach my clit and hover. His hot breath tickles me. Announces him. Finally, he kisses my clit gently, ever so gently—reverently, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. My knees buckle. My skin erupts with excited goose bumps.

  Ben tried to give me oral in that sleeping bag seven years ago, but it was a lost cause. The sleeping bag was too small and confining to accommodate him positioning his large body between my legs. And opening the sleeping bag to give him a wide enough berth to do the job was out of the question—it was just too damned cold that night to fool around uncovered. And so, I walked away from Ben seven years ago without having experienced the thrill of Ben’s lips on my clit. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dreaming about experiencing that particular sensation ever since.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting to taste you for seven years,” Ben says softly. He nuzzles his nose against my clit, sending shockwaves zapping between my legs. He kisses my folds gently, teasing me. Preparing me. Making me yearn. He licks at my folds. And all the while his fingers are gently teasing, coaxing, wooing—but not penetrating. Finally, without warning, he sinks several fingers inside me and swirls his warm, wet tongue against my clit, and instantly, an orgasm overtakes me.

  I moan and clutch Ben’s head to steady myself.

  “Ben,” I whisper. “Oh, God.”

  But he’s just getting started. He begins fingering me in earnest while eating me out with near-religious zeal, and my body jolts and bucks and surges against his fingers and tongue. Oh, lord. I fist his chestnut hair, not trusting my traitorous legs to hold me up through Ben’s delicious assault. He’s a man possessed. He leans my back against the door and props my left thigh onto his muscled shoulder, opening me to him, and I tilt my pelvis into his hungry mouth in reply. He shifts his fingers inside me and begins dragging his fingers across my G-spot with increased fervor. All the while, his tongue is swirling and licking me to heaven. I growl with pleasure. Shudder and buck. Until, soon, my pleasure is so acute, I feel almost tortured by it. I claw at Ben’s bare shoulders, gasping, mewing, gripping his hair feverishly, desperate for release . . . and, finally, blessedly, come, yet again, with a loud and guttural moan.

  The instant my orgasm ends, I want Ben inside me more than I want to breathe. And that’s exactly what I tell him.

  “Bedroom,” he commands, rising to standing, his dick beaded with arousal.

  “Through there,” I gasp out, indicating.

  Ben’s dark eyes burning and his lips slick and shiny, he grabs his jeans off the floor, fishes a condom packet from his pocket, and gets his impressive length covered—and then grabs my hand and practically drags me toward my bedroom.

  Once in my bedroom, I crawl onto my bed and flip onto my back and open my legs wide, inviting him in no uncertain terms to have his way with me, but he flips me over roughly, making me squeal, and guides me to my hands and knees like I’m nothing but his plaything. And I love it. Of course, I’m expecting him to plunge his covered erection inside me and give me a fuck to remember, but that’s not what he does. Instead, he shocks the hell out of me by eating me out from behind. No, not eating me. Consuming me in a way I’ve never experienced before. He sucks on my clit and folds and laps and nibbles at my delicate flesh, all the while fucking me with what’s got to be at least three fingers. Holy shit, this isn’t the boy who lost his virginity to me seven years ago. This is a man who knows exactly how to command my body without being told what to do.

  I’m on the verge, again. Which would be a first, even for a girl like me. Three orgasms? Impossible. But, yes, I can feel another one gathering strength inside me. I begin rocking back and forth on my hands and knees, moaning loudly, trying desperately to withstand the overload of pleasure I’m experiencing. Howling, I beg him not to stop. Tell him I’m close. Praise him like he’s God himself. Finally, he does something back there—something where he’s got his fingers inside me and pressed against my clit and inside my ass, all at once—and I can’t hold on any longer. In a sudden explosion of pleasure that literally takes my breath away, I come so hard my entire body convulses and collapses onto the bed like I’ve been electrocuted.

  As my womb slams up and down and my nerve endings surge and explode, Ben lifts my pelvis, grips my hips forcefully, and plunges his covered length inside me from behind—all the freaking way.

  I cry out at his shockingly deep penetration and he groans behind me.

  He begins fucking me. He reaches around to pinch my nipple. And then fondle the curve of my breast. He snakes his free hand around my pelvis and rubs my clit, still fucking me deep and hard. Thrust after delicious thrust rams into me, filling me up, until, soon, I’m coming, yet again—this time so hard I feel like my eyes are physically rolling back into my head.

  “Oh, fuck,” Ben says when my walls begin constricting around him. He yanks himself out of me. “I don’t want to come yet. Fuck.”

  He flips me around and crawls on top of me, his eyes locked with mine, slides himself inside me again, and proceeds to fuck me at this new angle.

  “Kaylee,” Ben whispers, his voice strained. He raises my arms above my head on the mattress, clasps his fingers in mine, and gyrates on top of me in a way that sends rockets of pleasure shooting all the way into my toes and scalp. “Kaylee. Oh, God.”

  “Ben,” I reply, my tone pleading, my eyes locked with his. “You feel so good.”

  “I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” he whispers. He lifts my thigh to his shoulder, manipulating my body into doing the splits for him, and then he fucks me with breathtaking gusto, his tip slamming into my farthest reaches. When Ben comes, he lets out a primal growl and snaps his hips forward—and then he collapses on top of me with a loud and sexy groan of relief that
makes me smile.

  Ben stays inside me for a long moment, panting. And I lie under him, gasping for air and feeling like I’m flying. Finally, he rolls off me and heaves himself onto his back next to me.

  “I owe you the world’s most amazing blow job,” I deadpan.

  He chuckles and pulls off his condom. “You owe me nothing. That was bloody fucking amazing for me.” He turns his head and flashes me a heart-stopping smile. “Still a live wire, I see.”

  “And a badass bitch.”

  He grins. “I’m not even close to finished with you, by the way. I was just too turned on to hang on any longer this go-round. But I want to go all night.”

  “Please do. Fuck me as many times as humanly possible.”

  He shudders with an aftershock. “Fuckin’ oath.”

  I giggle. “Let’s shower and then hang out in my bed for a while. Watch Netflix or something while you recuperate.”

  “Ace.”

  And off we go.

  Twenty minutes later, our skin squeaky-clean from our sexy shower, we crawl into my bed naked. We pull up the Netflix menu on my computer . . . and then get distracted talking and never bother to actually start a show. We talk and talk. And laugh. We flirt. And that leads to making out. And making out leads to me taking his cock into my mouth and giving him the most outrageously enthusiastic blow job I can possibly muster. And then we lie in my bed and talk some more.

  “It feels the same as back then, doesn’t it?” Ben says. My cheek is on his chest. His hand is gently stroking my back. And strangely, despite the hour and the physical exertion, I don’t feel the least bit sleepy. He continues, “It feels like it’s been a lifetime since we were together, on the one hand, but also like a week.”

  I sigh happily. “Exactly.” And it’s the truth. This man next to me is an uncharted territory. A mysterious, sexy new mountain to climb. And yet he simultaneously feels so familiar. So right lying naked next to me. Like déjà vu.

  “So you really never deflowered anyone else?” he asks, continuing to stroke my back.

  “I never did,” I say. “Such a pity.”

  “A pity?”

  “Hell yeah. After you, I totally wanted to devirginize someone again. I couldn’t stop thinking about how exhilarating it was. How much fun we had. How perfect we were together. How enthusiastic you were. I wanted to relive that night again and again. But how? Post some kind of ‘virgin wanted’ ad? I wanted it to happen by chance again with someone I wanted to fuck, regardless. The great thing about you was that I’d been so damned attracted to you and then you happened to be a virgin. That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, as it turned out. Never to be repeated, unfortunately. Plus, as a practical matter, when I turned twenty-one and started having sex with guys I met in bars, the chances of meeting a virgin in that crowd were as likely as getting struck by lightning.”

  “Good.”

  “Good what?”

  “Good you didn’t have that same experience with anyone else.” He pulls me to him and kisses me—and after a moment, his hard-on pokes me in the belly. I reach down and stroke him and he moans his appreciation in my mouth. He slides his fingers between my legs and massages my hard tip as he kisses me. And soon, I’m coming against his hand.

  The moment I emerge from my blissful haze, I push him onto the bed and take his hard cock into my mouth. He moans his appreciation and runs his hands through my hair as I devour him greedily.

  “Sit on my face,” he murmurs.

  I don’t hesitate. I rearrange myself until my pussy and ass are in his face, and then I lean over and suck him off as he devours me.

  When I come, it’s hard. So hard, liquid dribbles out of me into his waiting mouth.

  I grab a condom off the nightstand and roll it onto his erection and then I sink myself onto him and ride him until my walls constrict and shudder around him, coaxing him to an orgasm inside me.

  I’m spent. Utterly exhausted. And yet, euphoric. I crawl off him and flop onto the bed on my back and exhale loudly. “Holy shit, Ben. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.”

  He doesn’t reply. He’s breathing hard. His entire body is covered in sweat.

  “You okay?” I finally say, turning to look at him.

  “You’re better than I fantasized you’d be.”

  “So are you.”

  He turns to look at me. “You’ve fantasized about me?”

  “Many times.”

  “Don’t just say that.”

  “I’m not. I’ve fantasized about you many, many times over the years.”

  His face lights up. Clearly, he likes that admission.

  “And you were right, by the way,” I say.

  “About what?”

  “Your skills are waaaayyy better than seven years ago.”

  He laughs. “Well, fuckin’ oath. I hope so.” He props himself up on his elbow and touches my face with his free hand. “Kaylee, I can’t believe I’m here with you. I’ve thought about being with you again so many times through the years. I’ve stalked Carter’s Instagram for photos of you. Literally dreamed of you. Wacked off thinking about you. I’m not trying to creep you out here, okay? But you’ve been my sexiest fantasy for a very long time.”

  I bite my lip but remain mute.

  Ben twists his mouth like he’s mulling something over. “Am I freaking you out?”

  “No.”

  “Can I be totally straight with you?”

  “Please.”

  “When I’ve been with other girls, I’ve always compared them to you. Every fucking time. And I always, always wish they could be more like you. Wished they had your confidence. Your take-no-prisoners attitude.” He grins. “Not to mention your unbelievable body.”

  I can’t help breaking into a wide smile. “Thank you.”

  He continues, “In the back of my mind, I thought my fixation on you had to be because you were my first and nobody could ever compare to that thrill. That makes sense, right? But now that I’m here with you and I’m feeling this . . . I dunno . . . this incredible spark . . . Honestly, you’re blowing my mind all over again, Kaylee. And now I know it has nothing to do with you being my first. It had more to do with you being you.”

  I put my hand on my heart. It’s racing. “Okay, yeah, you’re starting to freak me out just a little bit.”

  His features tighten.

  I put my hand on his muscled forearm. “Thank you for telling me all that. Don’t feel like you need to take it back. It’s amazing, Ben. Seriously, it is. But let’s just take this slow, okay? You’ve been fantasizing about me for a long time. I’ve turned into a fantasy girl without flaws. But I’m far from a perfect fantasy girl. I’m very real and flawed. There’s no way but down from here. I’m going to disappoint you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I will, Ben. What girl could live up to seven years of you thinking of one night? Let’s take it really slow and get to know each other. Let’s slowly let the fantasy give way to the less-than-perfect reality.”

  He shrugs. “I agree we need time to get to know each other. Of course. But in the meantime, I don’t see the harm in me laying my cards on the table. Why play games? I’m attracted to you in a way I’ve never felt with anyone else—and trust me, I’ve had my share of fun. Eventually, just being honest here, my intention is to date you and only you, whenever you’re ready to give it a whirl.”

  My lips part in surprise. “Well, that escalated fast.”

  “Are you currently dating someone else?”

  “No.”

  “You want to keep looking? Keep your options open in case someone better comes along?”

  I’m speechless. Honestly, I can’t fathom wanting anyone else for the foreseeable future, but agreeing to exclusivity after one amazing night would be unthinkable. Crazy. Pure insanity.

  “Well, let’s start with this simple question,” Ben says, filling the awkward silence. “Are you interested in seeing me again?”

  I scoff. “Of course.�
��

  “And if our second date goes as well as this one, would you be interested in seeing me again after that?”

  I can’t help smiling broadly. “Yes.”

  “Okay, then we don’t have to call it dating. We’ll just keep seeing each other until it’s not as great as this. One date at a time. Does that sound doable?”

  I bite my lower lip. “Yes.”

  He sighs with relief. “See? That wasn’t scary, now was it?”

  I shake my head.

  “Now, can I please ask you one simple favor?”

  I wait.

  “While we’re going out on dates—not dating, mind you, because we’re not going to call it that—but while we’re still going out on dates and fucking—if you happen to meet someone else you want to fuck more than me, and we haven’t had any kind of conversation where you’ve told me you never want to see me again, could you please hold off on fucking that guy unless you’ve first let me know you’re not into me anymore?”

  I blush and smirk. “Sure.”

  “Thank you. And I’ll do the same for you. But just to be clear: unless you come to me and say, ‘Hey, Ben, I’m gonna fuck someone else,’ then I’m gonna assume I’m the only man in your bed and in your life. I’m gonna count on that.”

  I nod. “Sounds fair.”

  “In other words, don’t tell me after the fact you’ve fucked someone else, okay? Tell me we’re done before you do it. Give me a chance to win you back.”

  “Ben, I understand. I get it. Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I think you think I’m a hell of a lot more promiscuous than I am. In point of fact, I haven’t had sex with anybody for two months. I’ve been going through a bit of a hermit phase since a bad breakup.”

  His face lights up. “It’s been a couple months for me, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugs. “I couldn’t be bothered. I saw a photo of a certain yoga instructor on the beach and I couldn’t get her out of my head.”

  I study his earnest face and suddenly have this distinct thought: this guy actually thinks he’s in love with me. Jesus Christ. It’s written all over his face. “Ben, listen,” I say. “Just don’t dream too big when it comes to me, okay? I’m not a girl who dreams of white picket fences and fairytales. My parents divorced when I was five. My dad took off and never came back. My MO has always been to stay for as long as the relationship is good and take off when things turn to shit. Life’s too short to do otherwise. So, please, let’s just take it day by day.”