by Ann, Natalie
His eyes were burning a hole right through her, the heat of it almost too much. She was running out of patience. Needing to get her hands on him again and feel him against her, his body inside of her. She did a few more twists with her hips, bent over just right here and there, flashed him the perfect angle of her naked assets, then climbed back on the bed.
It was time to have fun with another part of his body. She told him she was going to play, and she was. Leaning forward, she ran her tongue just over the tip of him, jumping back slightly when his hips rose, encouraging more of her. “No, no. When I want to do it, not when you want.”
He growled, actually growled at her. If she wasn’t so turned on, she would have laughed. Instead she leaned over and brought her tongue back to his tip, swirled it around some more, then up and down the length of him, finally taking him in her mouth completely.
His body was completely tense. He was keeping his word and not moving, and it was killing him, she could tell.
Taking pity on him, she leaned back, reached into the drawer, pulled out a condom, opened the wrapper and placed it over him. Agonizingly slow, she rolled it down. “Presley,” he moaned out again.
“No talking,” she reminded him. “You can moan, but no talking.”
Straddling his hips, lining herself up, and feeling him right at her opening, she slid down. Her eyes moved up to his and held his stare while she impaled her body on him, her muscles stretching as he filled her completely.
Placing her hands behind her on his thighs, she rose up on her knees, arched her back like a bow and started to ride him. Up and down, fast and then slow, starting and stopping, bringing him right to the edge of the cliff and stopping again. Doing everything to him that he had done to her that night when he made her beg. She wouldn’t make him beg, she wouldn’t do that to him, but she wasn’t going to make it easy either.
His hips started to rise and meet her, but she pulled back, trying to throw him off his rhythm and heard him swear. “No talking,” she said again with a chuckle. The situation was anything but funny to her, or to him, she would bet.
Up and down some more, she was cresting and couldn’t hold back, not one more minute longer. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his face, her lips over his. “Now Ben, do it now,” she demanded of him, then covered his mouth with hers, swallowing his shout while his hips lifted up hard, fast and eager, sending them both over the cliff that had them teetering for so long.
Tell Me
Shattered. Drained. Limp and relaxed, all at once. A contradiction to what she had experienced just now.
After a few moments, Presley lifted her head from Ben’s chest, her labored breaths finally diminishing, regardless of the pounding in her chest. Rising off of him, she took care of the condom—his hands were still tied together after all—then walked out of the room.
Returning moments later, her steps faltered when she saw Ben’s hands lying on his chest, satisfaction written on his face. She didn’t want to know how he managed to untie himself that fast, not at all. Because she had tied him tight and doubled knotted it. Some things were best left alone.
He was half covered under the sheet now, his torn shirt discarded, lying on the floor in a heap. She took a step forward and he moved the sheet aside for her to climb in next to him, tucking her under his arm, her head on his chest. Her heart was still pounding away, but his was nice and steady, a calm rhythm under her ear.
The touch of his hand on her head, smoothing her hair down, followed by his lips placing a gentle kiss on her head touched her deeply. More than she cared to admit. “Tell me about your family,” he said. And there went the relaxed emotions from moments ago.
Warily, she lifted her head and looked into his curious eyes that were patiently waiting for her. She held her tongue. He wouldn’t be deterred, it seemed. Rather, he reached over, pulled open her beside drawer, and her breath caught when she saw what was in his hand. The double-sided picture frame of her brother and parents when she was a child. When things in her life were normal, or as normal as they ever were in her world.
Gently, he opened the picture and placed it in front of her on his chest, traced the tip of his finger over her and her brother’s picture, and asked, “How old were you in this picture?”
“Eleven.”
“You look like your mother,” he commented.
She did, exactly like her mother. But that was the only thing they shared, ever. Nothing more, not one trace of their personalities. At least she hoped not. “Yeah,” was her only response. She was trying to figure out what to say, and what not to say. The basics, just keep it simple, she reminded herself.
He obviously sensed her reluctance and just asked another question. A simple one. “Tell me their names.”
She sighed. It wasn’t a big deal. “My brother’s name was Chad Bryant James. My mother’s Nicole Presley. You know that I was named after her maiden name. My father was Blair James. Yes, my middle name,” she said. “A little bit of both of them.” She would keep the rest to herself. He didn’t need to know that was about all they ever really gave her.
Ben ran his other hand up and down her arm, soothing her. “Where is your brother now?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “He died shortly after that picture was taken. He was fifteen, and he and my father were on a fishing trip. They were in a car accident on the way home. They died instantly.”
She had wanted to go on that trip too, but her father wouldn’t let her. Chad wanted her to go—the two of them were close—but their parents never let them do things together. Chad was the favorite. She knew that, he knew that, everyone knew that. Presley was just the “oops” that came along. And everyone knew that too, because her mother always made a point to say it. More so when she was drunk, which was often after her father and brother died.
“I’m sorry, Presley.” He leaned down and kissed her head again, giving her a tight little squeeze. He tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort to be had. Her life had changed forever that day and was never the same. She had lost her best friend—her brother—and a father, who she was closer to than her mother, but it still wasn’t close enough. She was left alone with a woman who couldn’t have cared less and couldn’t go on without the two loves of her life gone. She filled that gap with a bottle, placing Presley even further down the list.
“It’s been a long time now. But thanks.”
“Are you estranged from your mother?”
She knew he would ask. She had always been estranged from her mother, but she wasn’t anymore. “No. She passed away eleven years ago. Shortly after my eighteenth birthday.”
His chest rose under her head. She turned and looked up at the sympathy in his eyes. “No worries. I’ve been on my own for a while. I’m used to it.” Again, he didn’t need to know that she’d been the child, the adult, the cook and the maid in her house. If she didn’t cook or clean, it didn’t get done. She spent most of her time caring for her mother, cleaning up vomit, bandaging cuts and scrapes from when her mother fell in a drunken stupor and didn’t even realize it.
As bad as it was to be left alone in the end, it was almost a relief to not have to care for someone twenty-four seven. Especially for someone who didn’t even care that you were doing it.
“Was she ill?”
“She had an… illness of sorts, yes.” She laid her head back on his chest and traced his abs with her fingertip. “So now you know why I don’t do the family thing well. It’s been a while since I’ve been around any type of family setting. And believe me, when everyone was still alive, it wasn’t the ideal family.” No need to say she was always left behind anyway. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
He pulled her up from his chest, gently touching his lips to hers. “Sure. And you don’t have to go on Saturday, not if you don’t want to.”
Blinking back tears, she said lightly. “No, I’ll go. Maybe it’s good for me to see how the other side lives.” She hadn’t expe
cted him to make that offer. But a deal was a deal, and she wouldn’t back down.
He didn’t return her smile. “You can change your mind at any point before Saturday. Just let me know.”
***
Later that night with Presley sleeping soundly on his chest, Ben looked at the ceiling, lost in thought. Not what he expected to hear when he asked her about her family. He really wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say. Could have been anything, just not that.
There was more going on, he knew. He could have gotten some of it out of her but didn’t want to push. He realized he had pushed her too much already. Not just tonight, but since the beginning. Her fear with the guns—which still made no sense to him—and now with him wanting her to meet his family.
But she was tough, and he knew she would go through with it. She didn’t back down. She had been facing her fears head-on and pushing through. That was what he loved about her.
He froze. Loved. He had never loved another woman before, not like this.
Conflicting emotions arose within him. Fear. Of course fear, first and foremost, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Ben Harper never feared anything. Ben Harper was tough as steel, hid his emotions well, no one ever knew what was going on in his head, and he liked it that way.
Only Presley knew more than anyone, he had seen that already. She had a way of seeing right through him when others hadn’t been able to. But like her, he had fears he didn’t want to share, not with anyone, not even with her.
Would it be enough, though? He didn’t think so. Love was never enough on its own, it had to be all or nothing. He didn’t think he could give her all that she needed. There were just too many parts of him broken now.
Guilt
“Relax, Presley.” Ben reached across the front seat of his SUV and patted her leg. “You aren’t meeting the firing squad here. It’s just my parents, and my brothers and sister, whom you’ve already met.”
“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. Turning her head to the backseat briefly, he caught her looking at her tray of cookies. “Do you think I made enough?”
“More than enough. You made three different kinds and a few dozen of each.” He chuckled. “My brothers will be thrilled, Kaitlin, not so much.”
“Why?” she asked, a distressed look covering her face. “Can’t she have sweets? I thought she could.”
Ben shook his head comically. He had never seen Presley act this way before. If he didn’t know she was truly nervous, he would be laughing right now. But instead, he was trying to calm her the best he could. “Yes, she can eat sweets. But she’s getting married in a few weeks, and sweets are her weakness, so I’m guessing she won’t appreciate the temptation. If I have to hear one more word about her not being able to fit into her wedding dress and that she shouldn’t have decided to get married right after the holidays, I’ll scream like a little girl.”
She laughed, just like he hoped she would. “I don’t think you could scream like a girl if you wanted to.”
“You never know,” he said winking. “And here we are.” He pulled his big SUV in front of the closed garage doors, shut off the engine, grabbed his phone out of the cup holder and palmed his keys. “I’ll grab the cookies,” he offered.
She held the front door open for him and went to take a step forward before he stopped her. “Take off your shoes, please.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down, embarrassment flooding her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anything of it. You never do it at your place.” She bent over and flashed him with her lovely rear end, making him wish he didn’t have to spend the next several hours with his family.
“Because I don’t care about it. But my mother is a fanatic about her floors. I don’t know why, but she is. It’s one of the top five rules in the house: Take your shoes off before you leave the foyer.”
“No problem,” she said, following him down the hall into the living room.
“Hey, Dad,” Ben said to his father, who was lounging comfortably in his favorite recliner. “This is Presley. Presley, my father, William Harper.”
William pushed his chair down and stood up, but Presley waved him back down. “Please don’t get up. It’s nice to meet you.”
His father leaned right back as he was instructed and smiled. “Nice to finally meet you too. You aren’t letting Ben get away with too much, are you?”
Presley laughed, and Ben was happy to hear the sound, and even happier that his father was trying to put her at ease. “No, not at all. It’s a challenge, but I’m up to it,” she said and gave him a sly knowing look.
His mother came rushing into the living room. “Ben, honey.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, like she always did, and then moved quickly and grabbed Presley’s hand, pulling her forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek too. Ben was trying hard to hold the laughter back. Presley was in total shock but hung in like a trooper. “I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Isabel Harper said.
“Presley, this is my mom, Isabel.” Ben pulled Presley over to him. “You can let go of her hand now, Mom, she isn’t going anywhere. Here, why don’t you take these cookies, since I know where I put them won’t be right,” he said with a teasing glint in his eyes, then tossed his phone and keys on the coffee table in the little sitting area outside the kitchen door.
“Look at these beautiful cookies. Oh, peanut butter, my favorite! Did you make all of these?” Isabel asked Presley.
“Yes, I did. I like to bake.”
“That’s nice. You and Kaitlin have that in common. Ben, why don’t you get whatever you’re having to drink. Everyone will be here shortly.”
Ben walked into the kitchen behind his mother, opened the fridge, grabbed a beer for himself and a soda for Presley. He knew by now she didn’t drink much, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t drink today.
“Ben, don’t leave the kitchen just yet,” his mother said, stopping him in his tracks at the doorway. He turned, knowing what was coming, and plastered a fake grin on his face. He was good at grinning, even when he wasn’t happy. She didn’t always do what she was about to, but he had a feeling she would today. “Let me see,” she said, holding out her hand.
He handed his beer and the soda to Presley, who had followed him into the kitchen. He then bent over, lifted his pant leg, unclipped his gun, showed his mom it wasn’t loaded, and then returned it. “All set now?” he asked with a big smile, covering up his embarrassment over his mother monitoring him.
***
Two hours later, Presley had to admit she was having a good time. Ben’s family was nice. His parents were sweet and caring and loving, and—shocking to her—they didn’t show any favoritism. Nothing at all. Each one of their children equally received the same amount of attention, focus, questioning, mothering, loving and busting from both his parents. How they did it, Presley didn’t know. She would have liked to, though. Her parents hadn’t been able to spare even a little attention for her.
Right now the boys were all in the front family room watching some sports on TV. Isabel was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner, after having pushed her and Kaitlin out, stating she didn’t want them underfoot and could clean up faster without their help. She and Kaitlin were relaxing in the little sitting area off the kitchen.
“Not much time left now, just a few weeks. Are you ready?” Presley asked Kaitlin.
“I won’t be if I eat another one of these cookies. Thanks a lot,” Kaitlin said, but there was no heat behind her words, only laughter.
That was another thing, Presley thought, all the siblings were always picking on each other, yet there was love behind each jest.
Presley heard the pots rattling around in the kitchen again. “Are you sure your mom is okay in there? She doesn’t need our help?”
Kaitlin nodded. “She’s good. If she wanted our help she would have said so. There are very few things my mother is strict about, and one is her kitchen and where things go.”
“And her floors, right?” Pres
ley said, not able to resist the joke.
“Ben told you about that, did he?” Presley smiled, but didn’t comment. Then Kaitlin added, “Besides, she wanted me to talk to you, which is why she pushed us out.”
“Oh,” Presley said suspiciously.
“Don’t worry,” Kaitlin said, reaching over and patting her leg, similar to what Ben did in his SUV. “Nothing serious. I just wanted to tell you that Ben looks… rested. He looks good, better than he has in a while. Like the old Ben in some ways.”
Presley felt a bit of unease, unsure of what to say and where to go with this conversation. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Kaitlin said, finishing off the last bite of her cookie. “And don’t let me eat any more of these or I’ll never fit into my wedding dress.”
Presley forced a smile but nodded in agreement, then addressed her other thought. “I’m confused. I can’t tell if your mom approves or disapproves of Ben having a gun on him in the house.”
“Ah. She made Ben show her his gun to prove it wasn’t loaded?” Kaitlin asked.
Presley frowned. “Yeah. At first I was stunned, then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and said ‘just checking.’ So she does approve?”
Kaitlin sighed. “No, she doesn’t. I asked her about it once. She said that even though she doesn’t approve, she would accept it as long as it makes him feel safe. Until he doesn’t feel the need to have it all the time, she will let it go for his sake. But in accepting it, she asked that he doesn’t keep it loaded in the house.”
“What is the use of having it on him if it isn’t loaded?”
