by Ryli Jordan
Ben reaches out and clicks off the TV, then looks down at me. He seems almost as surprised as I am that we're this close, and I watch the way his eyes go dark with lust. I need to pull away from him—I know what's about to happen if I don't—but it's as though I'm glued there at his side.
I'm expecting Ben to lean down and kiss me. I'm expecting him to push me back on the couch, to crowd into my space and work his way along my body. I'm expecting him to treat me like just another one of his conquests. And to be honest, I'm not sure that I would stop him, given the alcohol coursing through me and the way I can't stop thinking about the fact that he's naked except for those shorts, that I have been able to see teasing and tantalizing glimpses of his manhood all night. He's not even touching me in a sexual way, but I can already feel how damp my panties are, just from wanting him.
“I should get to bed,” Ben tells me. There's something there in his eyes, but he doesn't voice whatever it is that he really wants to say.
“Let me help you,” I suggest. I stand up and offer him a hand, maneuvering myself so that I'm under his shoulder and he can lean against me. He has the crutches, of course, and he's been hobbling around on those all evening, but… Well, to be honest, I hate the idea of breaking the contact between the two of us.
It probably would be easier for him just to use the crutches, I realize as we're about halfway up the stairs, both of us teetering back and forth in a drunken tangle of limbs. I giggle and manage to right us for about two seconds until Ben goes to take the next step and sends us both careening into the wall at the side of the stairwell.
“This wasn't very well thought out,” I admit, looking up at him.
Ben grins down at me and then scoops me up over his shoulder, so that he's now using the wall as support and hopping up the stairs one foot, with me just hanging there.
“Ben!” I shriek, a bit terrified that I'm about to go face-first down the stairs. But Ben is a professional athlete, and he knows how to use his muscles. He gets us easily to the top of the stairs and sets me down gently, still grinning at me.
And somehow, I'm turned on by that momentary panic, by the rush of adrenaline, and by my mind telling me that I can trust him. It's a strange feeling to have, but it's what fuels me to surge forwards, leaning up in an attempt to capture his lips. My movements are sloppy, though, and I end up missing the mark, kissing just the very edge of his lips.
Ben's arm loops around my waist, and his other hand comes up to caress my cheek, tilting my head to the angle that he wants it at. Then, he kisses me again. There's none of the urgency that there was in my initial movement, though. Instead, the kiss is sweet, gentle, and he doesn't try any of the stunts that he had previously tried. After a moment, he pulls away, and I practically whine with the loss of contact.
“Marissa, you should go home,” he tells me, giving me the out that I would normally be looking for at this point. I wonder what's happened to the man who took what he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
I cock my head to the side. “You don't seem like the macho man right now,” I tell him.
He grimaces and looks away. “I'm starting to realize that maybe I can't just take everything that I want,” he admits. “I had a lot of time to think things over when I was in the hospital, and...” He shrugs. “It means a lot to me that you were there for me.”
I wince a little. “I was the main press member covering your-”
“That's not the only reason you were there,” Ben interrupts before I can finish. And after a moment, I nod in agreement, because it's true. Maybe they wouldn't have let me into the hospital to see him if I hadn't been the person that Mark assigned to the story. But I would have wanted to be there, either way.
“Marissa, you should go home,” he repeats. He looks a little uncertain. “If you stay, I can't promise you that I'll be able to control myself.”
“What if I don't want you to?” I ask. But I bite my lower lip. “Ben, I'm a virgin,” I admit. “But I'd kind of like for you to...”
He stares at me, his eyes gone dark with lust. “Strip down,” he says, nodding towards his room. “Spread yourself out on the bed for me.”
Chapter Eleven — Marissa
I go into Ben's room, and even though I'm feeling a little shy, the alcohol keeps me moving. I strip down to my bra and panties and then hesitantly lay down on his large bed, wondering just how Ben wants me to lie there on his silken sheets.
When he comes into the room stark naked, I realize he doesn't care what I look like there on the bed. And I don’t care about the cast on his lower leg except for being curious about how he is going to maneuver. He knows he has a willing woman waiting for him, and he's ready to plunge into me.
But I'm surprised at the gentle movements that he meets me with when he makes it to the bed. He strokes his hands down my body as he covers my skin with his.
“You look incredible,” he tells me, and there's an honest note to his voice which surprises me.
I blush a little. “Thanks,” I tell him, ducking my head a little.
But he catches me under the chin, pressing lightly so that I have no choice except to meet his gaze. It's not for long, though, as after a searching moment, he kisses me again. It's another slow, sweet kiss, and he doesn't press too much. When he pulls away, I'm needy and a bit frustrated.
“Ben,” I complain.
He laughs a little. “What do you want?” he asks.
I bite my lower lip, unable to even say. “Please,” I just ask, my voice barely audible above the thumping of my heart.
Fortunately, Ben seems to get it. He reaches around behind me and unhooks my bra, pulling it away from my skin. He looks as though he wants to say something, but he refrains from it. Instead, he bends down until he can nip lightly at my breasts, kissing and sucking at the skin until both of my nipples are pert and firm against his ministrations.
Then, he moves lower, leaving a heated trail from my breasts down to my navel. He puts his mouth on the outside of my panties, and I can feel his hot breath through the fabric. It's enough to have me shivering with desire. I don't think I've ever been this wet before, and I just need him to-
He slips his fingers around the fabric and plunges them deep inside of me, making me gasp and spread my legs even wider. “Oh Ben,” I moan, pressing down onto his fingers.
He grins up at me even as he swirls his fingers inside of me, making me nearly breathless with lust. “I bet I could get you to come just like this,” he says, his voice gone deep with his own desire.
“You could,” I admit, rocking my hips down against him. “Oh Ben, you could, I swear that you could...”
“Do you want me to?” Ben asks, his gaze keenly focused on my face.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Please.”
And so he proceeds to work his fingers against me. After a moment, though, he pulls them away, leaving me whining with the emptiness. But then he tugs my panties down and off so that he has better access with both his fingers and his mouth, which comes to suck lightly on my mound. And in the face of that, I'm helpless, sprawling wantonly across the sheets. More here
“I want you to blow me,” Ben says, pulling away.
I blink up at him, barely able to process the words because I'm so far gone into bliss already. “Okay,” I agree after a moment, tilting my head to the side.
I've never done this before, but I hope he doesn't realize that. I want this to be good for him, and I'm trying to remember everything that I've ever heard about giving a blowjob, using my hand to reach everything that I can't fit into my mouth and trying my best to use just the right amount of pressure to stimulate him.
I can feel his member grow beneath my ministrations, so I must be doing something right—and that makes me more daring. I press my tongue against the underside of his penis, surprised to hear him groan a little.
“Just like that,” he tells me. “Oh fuck, Marissa. If you only knew what you do to me...”
I'm blushing, but I try not to fa
lter in my rhythm, and I can tell that Ben appreciates it from the way that he shifts his hips a little—and maybe it's my turn to make him just a little needy as well.
I smile a little at the thought and continue moving my mouth along the underside of his thick cock, until he pulls away from me. “Jesus,” he mutters, closing his eyes briefly as I try to get my mouth back on him. “If you keep doing that, this is going to be over before it's even started,” he warns me.
I blink up at him and then smile sweetly. “That would be kind of flattering,” I admit to him.
“Not to me,” he says seriously, shaking his head. He pulls further away. “Turn over,” he tells me, and I obey without asking a single question.
With his hands at my hips, gripping me tightly, he guides me until I'm on all fours in front of him. I can feel his member pressing against the entrance of my hole—but he's not inside of me yet.
“Are you sure you want this?” he whispers, his breath hot against my shoulder blade. He's draped over me, his body pressing against mine, and I can't help but feel safe like this, as though he would never hurt me. I know I'm not the first girl that Ben Price has ever had in his bed, but at the same time, I can't help but feel special, cared for.
“Please, Ben,” I ask. It might be my first time, but this just feels right. I'm honored that he's asking me if things are okay, if I'm sure about this. It really feels like he cares for me, in ways that I never expected from him, of all people. I can't help but smile against the sheets.
But Ben continues to hesitate. “I want to film you,” he tells me, his voice raw with honesty.
I tense up; I know what he does with those videos of his. And although there's something undeniably hot about Ben Price wanting to make me just another one of his conquests...this is my first time, and I don't want to be just another notch in his bedpost. I feel tears sting at the corners of my eyes at just the thought of that. It's a bit of a turn-on, sure, but it's also...humiliating, if I'm being honest. I make to pull away from him, but Ben's warm, reassuring hand is there at my lower back, keeping me in place.
“Not like that,” he tells me. “I'm not trying to make you just another...” he trails off, seeming uncertain about the phrasing that he wants. “Fuck, Marissa, you're not just another girl for me. I just want us to watch together later,” he tells me, and I can still hear that note of honesty in his voice. I hope it's not just the alcohol talking.
“Later?”
“Ever since I saw you, that first day in the hallway, there have been so many things I've wanted to do to you,” he confesses. “Just, I know this is special for you—I know that this is your first time. And I think that maybe if we...”
I can feel him blushing—I can feel the way his chest lights up with heat, from where it's pressed against my back. And I can't help but crane my neck around to see him. Everything that I'm hearing in his voice, everything that I'm seeing in his gaze, makes me want to trust him, and I can't deny him. If he wants to video me… maybe I’m a bit tipsy. I think of his other video exploits and my clit throbs.
“Okay,” I say quietly, even though my brain hasn't given any conscious decision to my mouth. “Okay.”
Ben's face lights up with a grin, and I don't regret my decision for a moment. It may just be because I'm sprawled naked underneath him, but I have the feeling that in that moment, I would do anything that he asked of me.
Ben pulls out his phone and moves it over to the bedside table, tapping a few buttons on the screen and then propping the whole thing up against his alarm clock, so that the camera is angled towards us.
I duck my head, unable to look out at the viewer, whoever that might be—but any protests that I might have are lost as Ben resumes tracing his fingers along my curves, sliding them into my slick hole.
When he lines up his tip against my entrance, all remaining resistance gives way inside of me, and I collapse forwards against the bed, glad for Ben's fingers against my hips so that I can remain at least partially upright.
Ben thrusts into me, his length a searing heat inside of my tight, virgin hole. He works me open, using his girth to slowly push into me, touching every bit of sensitive skin that he can find. I'm helpless against him, moving half-heartedly to meet his thrusts—but really, I'm just falling down and down and down into more and more feelings of bliss, which crash over my mind and keep me from really noticing anything except for his strong arms around me and his easy weight against me.
It's on a particularly deep thrust that I finally come, opening myself up to a man for the first time in my life. And oh my god is it intense. I can hardly separate myself from him, can hardly process the incredible feeling of lust and bliss and everything else.
When I finally come back into myself, I realize that Ben is coming as well, shooting hot, white streaks into the condom that he put on at some point—I hardly realized that he had done it, but I'm relieved that he did.
He falls heavily against me for a second before dragging himself off to the side, looking nearly as dazed as I feel.
I want to curl into his arms, but I'm not sure if that's something I'm allowed to do. I know how guys like Ben work; I know that he's surely just looking for an easy one-night stand. It would be best if I got up now, started putting on my clothes and got myself home. Because otherwise, I'm probably going to fall asleep here, and I already hate to think of how pinched Ben's expression will be when he wakes up next to me in the morning.
But when I make a move to leave, Ben's hand shoots out and he catches my wrist. Then, he carefully pulls me back against his chest. He reaches out with his free hand and shuts off his camera, but with his other arm, he's pulling me easily against his chest. When he lightly kisses my hair, I'm forced to realize that he really means it, that he's really here for me.
I blink out into the darkness of the room. “Do you want me to...” I begin, trying to offer him that in case he's just worried about offending me or something.
“Stay,” he murmurs against the soft skin at the back of my neck, his lips brushing tendrils of sparkling pleasure down my spine. “Just—stay. For tonight.”
I settle against him and close my eyes, smiling to myself.
Chapter Twelve — Marissa POV
Sleeping with Ben was exhilarating, but I have to put it out of my mind as soon as I go back to work on Monday morning. There are things that need my full attention—the paparazzi have been all over us since Ben's injury, wondering what the coach is going to do about his missing quarterback—and besides that, there are a bunch of other functions and things coming up now that we're in the busy part of the season.
I don't have time to focus on Ben, but I find myself doing so anyway.
I crept out of his room before he was really awake on Saturday morning, and I haven't heard from him since. It kind of bothers me: given how sweet Ben was being the other night, when we'd had sex, I had kind of thought that he might...at least send me some sort of a message about the thing.
But instead, it had been silence from him, and I was forced to come to the realization that Ben hadn't actually cared about me through all of that. He was probably sweet to all the girls that he brought home with him; it didn't mean that there weren't a whole parade of us.
Despite it all, I felt surprisingly okay with the thought that I was just one in a string of women that Ben had brought home, though. Not that I didn't think I was attractive; I knew I could get guys, if I wanted, with long legs like mine. But Ben Price…
Anyway, it was those thoughts that were distracting me, come Monday at work, and when Mark called me into his office towards the end of the day, I figured he must have something to say about my productivity (or lack thereof). I wasn't too worried.
Until I enter his office and see the very serious look that he fixes me with as he gestures me towards a seat.
“Marissa, is there something in your contract that you didn't understand?” he asks me gingerly, with no preamble.
I frown at him and shake my head. �
�No,” I tell him.
He looks even more angry at that. “Then do you want to explain this video to me?” he asks, turning his computer screen around so that we can both see it.
I recognize the website: it's the one that Ben uses to upload videos of his conquests. Even as Mark starts the video, I can't believe what I'm seeing. The video has a cheesy headline—“Big Ben's Down but Not Out!”—and I think it must be Ben and another of his floozies. I'm a little hurt since, wow, it hasn't taken him long before he's found someone else to amuse him.
Then I realize that the person carefully looking away from the camera, the person with long brown hair in her eyes in most of the frames, is definitely me. This is Ben and I having sex in his bedroom on Friday night. This is the video that he tricked me into taking, the one that he promised he would never show anyone else.
Here it is, up on TMZ, Twitter, and probably every other major new channel in the world—because this isn't just Ben with some random floozie, this is Ben in bed with one of the press agents at the Chicago Knights, as is written directly into the comments on the video.
I feel my face burn, and even though it's less than a minute before Mark unceremoniously closes out of the video, it feels like a lifetime. “Mark, I can explain-” I say, even though I haven't got the faintest idea of how I'm going to explain to him that yes, I'm there on that video, having sex with the Chicago Knights' precious quarterback, when I know that there's a clause in my contract that calls for my immediate termination if I should have any sort of relationship with one of the players.
I remember that morning when I had first come to work here, when Mark had warned me about this. I feel sick to my stomach, and I'm not sure if I'm angrier with myself or with Ben.
“You do realize that I have no choice but to...” Mark says, but his voice fades into the background. My eyes are still glued to the screen, and even though I can't see the action anymore, I can still see both of our faces there, clear enough for me to recognize.