It's Been Awhile

by Lexie Davis

  "Marah, stop, I'm..."

  "I know,” she said, drawing him between her lips. “That's the point, isn't it?"

  His hands fisted in her hair. She saw the effort he put in to holding back, but she won their little battle. His eyes never left hers when he came, his hot cum spurting down her throat.

  When the last spasm ceased, she licked him dry with a few swirls of her tongue and crawled up his body. “Are you okay?"

  "I don't deserve you,” he said, smiling up at her.

  No, you don't deserve me, which is why this is all we'll ever be. She smiled back, leaning down to kiss him. The room smelled like sex, his scent mingled with hers. Other men never provoked any kind of feelings within her—not the way Ben did. In such a short time, a little conversation and great sex had her mind reeling. She broke the kiss and then moved from the bed to the chest of drawers and pulled out a pyjama set. She didn't need her mind confused. Focus on the job and get the hell out of here before he breaks your heart again. Even as she thought it, she knew the chances of leaving unscathed were nearly impossible.

  "What are you doing?"

  "It's interview time.” She shoved her legs in a pair of snowflake pyjama bottoms. “I need to get the questions answered, the article written and then I'm off to Dallas."

  "So what was this? Payback?” He sat up, shoving the blankets aside.

  "Ben, please.” She pulled the tank over her head. “You knew what this was before we started. I made my intentions perfectly clear."

  She scooped her hair into a ponytail on the top of her head, securing it with a band. Standing before her dresser, she stared in the mirror at herself. No makeup, plump lips, tussled hair—she looked thoroughly debauched. She wanted to wipe the stupid smile off her face but couldn't. When the band saw her, they'd know what she and Ben had been doing for the last hour and a half. Question was, did she care?

  "So one fuck and I'm out of your system?” He pulled on his boxers, annoyance dripping from his tone.

  "Don't go all girly on me, Ben. You're the one who didn't want more. I'm the one who told you I wouldn't settle for anything less. Hell, you told me not to settle for anything less. We agreed. One time. That's all this was."

  "I'm not acting girly,” he spat. “Since when do you listen to me—or anyone for that matter?"

  "I've grown up, Ben.” She stood with her hands on her hips watching him dress with his back to her. “It's what happens over time when you learn from your mistakes."

  "And what mistake would that be, Marah?” He zipped his jeans and turned. Grabbing his shirt, he pulled it over his head before meeting her eyes again. “Perfect Marah never made mistakes. Or was it fucking trailer trash you regret? What would your social class say to scum like me having his way with an angel like you?"

  "You know what? You're an ass. Even after all these years that fact hasn't changed."

  "No. I've just perfected it.” His eyes were cold, his jaw tight as he stared at her. “Call your dad and tell him there's no story. I really don't give a shit about the excuse. Make up something, lie—I don't care."

  She scowled. “Midas already promised an interview, so like it or not, Darkfever is giving an interview."

  "I don't have time for this shit."

  "Really? Got something better to do?” Scoffing, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Journalism is my job. It's how I make money. It's how I'm going to pay for college. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? No, because you have the whole fucking world bowing down to kiss your ass. You don't have to worry about how you're going to make rent or how you'll pay the butt-load of tuition bills threatening to take everything you have. It's my job. I have to get an interview."

  Before he said anything, the doorbell rang.

  Marah glared at him. “Stay up here, or come join us—I don't care."

  She left the room wondering how the hell she would handle losing him a second time around.

  Chapter Five

  Ben sat uncomfortably in a recliner across the living room from Marah while she conducted the interview. She asked general questions about their music, writing and influences over the years. The guys took turns answering, David included, while Ben sat passively, avoiding them.

  He'd really messed up things with her. His damn hormones had overruled his clear thinking and pushed the only woman who'd ever truly cared about him farther away. A simpleton could see that was an idiotic mistake.

  "Okay,” Marah said, finishing up. “I think that just about does it. Thanks for cooperating guys."

  "Wait a minute.” Taye pointed to Ben. “He didn't answer one question the entire time. I think it's only fair that you ask him something since this is an interview with Darkfever the band. Not a few members of Darkfever."

  Ben slouched in the chair, narrowing his eyes at the only woman in the room. “Hit me with your best shot."

  Licking her lips, not easily threatened, Marah glanced at the list of questions she'd prepared for their meeting. “What's the worse part of being in a band?"

  "Losing the only woman who ever meant anything to me."

  Not taking the bait, Marah continued, “Do you get stage fright?"

  "No. The only thing that frightens me is losing her again. I made that mistake once, and I refuse to step aside and let it happen again. I won't."

  She glanced up at him. “What? Your groupies don't keep you entertained?"

  "My girl used to be Darkfever's biggest fan and she kept me very entertained a few hours ago."

  She flushed, stumbling for words. The band sniggered, their eyes darting back and forth between Marah and Ben.

  "Especially when I made her scream my name. I enjoyed that immensely."

  Her eyes darkened, her voice coming out harsh and raspy. “I think I've had enough. If you'll excuse me."

  She pursed her lips, gathered her papers, and left the room without looking back. Ben watched the door, until she left his sight before turning to his four friends who glared at him. “What?"

  "Way to go, dickhead.” Midas shook his head. “You just embarrassed the hell out of her, in front of us, no less. What the hell's wrong with you?"

  "Mind your own fucking business, Midas.” Ben pushed away from the chair, heading in the direction Marah had gone. This woman is going to be the death of me.

  * * * *

  Marah stood in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. How could he do that? It wasn't what he'd said, but the way he'd said it. How could he humiliate her in front of their friends like that?

  She spit out the toothpaste, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He was right. Maybe that's why it bothered her so much. She was their biggest fan.

  "Marah, can I come in?” Ben rapped his knuckles against the wooden door of the bathroom.

  "Go away.” She didn't want to think, nor did she want to feel anything for him again. She reached over and turned the faucet on full blast, steaming up the room while she undressed. She wanted to wash his scent from her skin and rid him from her mind.

  "Marah."

  She ignored him, closing the glass door to enclose herself in the shower stall, alone. She reached for the loofah, poured a generous amount of her favourite shower gel on it and started to wash her already reddening skin. She'd made it to her arms when Ben opened the shower door and stepped inside. Naked.

  "What are you doing?” she asked when he took the loofah and began scrubbing her back.

  "Scrubbing your back,” he murmured as the hot suds slid over her skin. “Turn around."

  Without waiting for her to comply, he pushed her shoulders gently for the best angle.

  "Stop playing Neanderthal man. I'm pissed at you."

  "I'm sorry,” he mumbled, his lips next to her ear. A slight shiver raked over her body. “You have every right to be pissed, but I want you to know something. You were never just a fuck, Marah. Then or now.” The loofah slid to her butt where he teased a little longer than necessary.

&nb
sp; "I want to help with college. I know you didn't tell me that for pity or anything stupid I'm sure you'll try to proclaim once I'm through talking, but I wanted you to know it's there if you want it."

  He turned her around. “I'll pay for you to get your doctorate. And before you get defensive, it's not about earlier. I know you're a hard worker and you've earned everything you've ever achieved. It's not about that."

  He offered her the doctorate she didn't know if she was able to get. He offered her part of the life she'd always dreamed of achieving. As much as she wanted—probably needed—to take him up on his offer, she couldn't. She wanted his love more than any stupid degree, but that was something that wasn't part of his offer.

  "Don't try to buy me, Ben.” Though she said it, she couldn't deny his offer touched her.

  He tossed the loofah aside, grabbed the shower gel, and lathered his hands. She stared at him, as he smoothed his soapy hands over her breasts, gently caressing her tender skin.

  "I'm not trying to buy you. Why can't you give me an inch, Marah. I'm trying here."

  He trailed his hands to her stomach, before sliding them over her hips.

  "Because you'll break my heart again, Ben.” She whispered the words, stopping his hands from moving any lower on her body.

  Their eyes met and held a long moment before he said, “I want you to come to the concert. Can you at least do that?"

  She hesitated. “I planned on writing the article and e-mailing it to my dad before I left for Dallas."

  He bent down, the shower's spray hitting his back as he took the bottle of shower gel and streamed a path from her hip to her toes. His hands worked the soap into a thick lather massaging her body as he washed it. God, his hands were hypnotic.

  Marah leaned her head back against the wall while he rinsed off her leg and went to the other. He pushed her thighs apart, his soapy hands stroked her gently as he stood to his full height. “At least, think about it. If you come, I want you to sit in a special place at the concert. I want to see you when I look out into the crowd."

  His fingers played with her clit meeting her eyes with his own. Her nails sank into the corded muscles of his arms. “Ben, please."

  "Please what?” His simple question came as a whisper across her lips.

  Please stop. Sleeping with him—having sex with him—was a huge mistake. He thinks a simple ‘sorry’ solves everything. He thinks his offer to help me with college will win me over. Logically her mind contemplated the pros and cons of continuing. But I want him. Plain and simple. Just as much now as I did ten years ago. No matter what he's done, I still want him.

  "Please don't stop."

  He smiled wickedly. “Wouldn't dream of it."

  But he did stop. Pulling his fingers away from her, he replaced them with his cock. He always made sure her pleasure overrode anything standing between them, making all the bad shit disappear. It wasn't the sex, she decided, although it was great sex. It was him. He simply walked into the room and took her breath away. He took her breath away again by touching her with his eyes the same as if he was stroking her with his cock. She loved him, and it hurt deep inside to admit he'd never love her back.

  He kissed her neck, raising her legs and wrapping them around his hips. His rhythm was slow and steady, driving her mildly insane. She clawed his back, not caring if it left marks. She needed him buried inside her, making her scream her release. She clenched her inner muscles around him, hoping he'd speed up. Slow and sensual was for lovebirds on their honeymoon. She wanted him hot, hard and fast.

  His hands gripped her ass as he started to pound his flesh against hers. “Marah,” he rasped with a hoarse shout as he came.

  As hot spurts of cum filled her body, she came. Her orgasm hit hard, squeezing him deep within her as if she'd never let him go.

  At some point, the water turned from boiling to warm. She wrapped her arms around Ben's neck revelling in the heat he provided. Shower sex was fun, but when the water started turning cold, it became a hassle.

  "You're beautiful, baby.” He kissed her shoulder. “Please say you'll come see the show tomorrow before you leave."

  She breathed in his scent, unable to keep up the fight anymore. She loved him. The kind of love that would never fade no matter what happened. The kind of love that could have them sitting together in matching rocking chairs some day, watching their grandkids play. She loved him, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't deny it anymore.

  "I can't."

  Ben sighed as he stood with her in his arms. He bent back slightly to shut off the faucet. After stepping out, he pulled a clean towel from the rack, and covered the toilet then sat with Marah in his lap.

  "So this is it?” Was that hurt in his eyes? “Our last night together?"

  She buried her face in his neck, refusing to look at him. “It has to be, Ben. We live two different lives. And right now, you need your sleep and I need to get the article written."

  "All I need right now is you in my arms.” He kissed her cheek. “Can you just stay in my arms for a while?"

  She rubbed her cheek against his chest, feeling a sudden onset of tears forming behind her eyelids. “Yes, Ben,” she whispered. “That's where I want to be right now."

  He carried her to the bed then crawled in beside her. He lay back against the soft pillows and tucked her into his body, securing his arms and legs around her. His lips pressed against the side of her neck, nibbling lightly.

  "I meant what I said in the interview. The worst thing about being in this band is losing you, Marah.” He kissed the tender skin where her neck met her shoulder. “I also meant the part about letting you go. I don't deserve you one bit after the way I've treated you, but I don't want to let you go."

  I don't want to let you go either, Ben. “Shhh. Get some sleep."

  "Are you going to be here when I wake up?"

  How could she not with the way he held her? “I'll be here. Go to sleep."

  When his breathing came rhythmically and a soft snore filled the silence, she couldn't be strong anymore. Though she'd put up barriers, he'd knocked each and every one down. She'd promised herself he wouldn't steal her heart again, that she wouldn't care for him but that too failed. Marah pressed her face into the pillow, her heart shredding more with each breath she took. She couldn't help falling in love with him again, and it was harder now than it'd been as a kid. He hadn't changed. He was still the little boy inside that fought against the world. He didn't know how to love her—not the way she needed. He'd had plenty of opportunities to tell her and he hadn't taken advantage of one. She'd wanted him to come back for her, to say he'd made a mistake in leaving and regretted ten years passing without her in his life. And then she'd woken up to reality and found he'd never say that. He didn't feel that. With that knowledge, she finally allowed her tears to fall.

  * * * *

  When Ben woke, the annoyingly bright sun streamed through the windows. Marah sat in the corner of the room typing rapidly on her laptop, unaware of the world around her. She'd dressed in a bulky sweatshirt and loose cotton pants with her hair pulled high on her head, secured with a band. She wore her glasses, looking both sexy and smart. Totally oblivious to his gaze, she nibbled a strawberry Pop-Tart as she reviewed what she'd typed on the screen.

  "Did you get the article finished?” Ben scratched his stubble-covered jaw.

  "Most of it.” She looked up from the screen. “I got up early to say goodbye to Mom before she left and decided to work since I couldn't go back to sleep."

  He wanted to ask her to come back to bed. To forget their plans today, and spend their time talking and having sex. He knew she wouldn't agree to it, though. Marah was in her work zone and unless she'd changed, that would mean she'd think of nothing but work.

  "Are you hungry? Mom didn't go to the grocery, but I could probably find something to fix if you want."

  "I'm fine.” His stomach growled proving him a liar.

  She laughed, scooting her computer to
the side, and grabbed the extra Pop-Tart. “Here. I know it's strawberry and not cinnamon and brown sugar, but it's food.” She climbed in bed beside him.

  "I can't believe you remember what kind of Pop-Tarts I like."

  "I remember more about you than you think.” To his surprise, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “But there's plenty about you I don't know."

  He took a bite of the food. “What do you want to know?"

  She scoffed, shaking her head. “I don't know. Something you've never told anyone before."

  "I'm pretty much an open book, sweetheart. If you want to know something, ask specifics."

  "Tell me why Bobby ran you out of town."

  Ben stopped chewing and met her eyes. She waited patiently for his response while he contemplated what to say. When they'd dated, he'd told her little about his life. He'd never told anyone how his stepfather had denied him real food or a nice place to sleep. Or the beatings he'd received by just falling asleep. Half the time, he'd snuck into Marah's bedroom and curled up in her small bed beside her to escape the torment of sleeping in that house.

  "Tell me what it was like,” she finally said.

  He lowered his head again, staring at the foil wrapper that surrounded the remains of his Pop-Tart. “Well, I never could get a decent night's sleep. In the middle of the night, he'd come into my room in a drunken stupor and I had no defences. It was always something stupid, too. My mom never said anything. She'd simply turn her head, while a big man beat her son. A son she'd never cared about since I was just the product of one of her fuckings."

  Suddenly, he had no appetite. He sat up, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. It'd been seven years since he thought about Bobby. Ben didn't care that Marah had asked the question. He didn't mind answering. What he hated the most was that he'd kept it inside for so long.

  Marah scooted beside him, cautiously wrapping her arms around his body. He always shied away at initial contact, but she made him accept her comfort. She forced him to let her hold him.