by Mae Harden
"Jesus, what now?" I mutter. I swear, I'm one car problem away from selling this thing and buying the ugliest, most practical thing I can find. I pull over, hoping it's just a piece of loose trim or a stick stuck under the bumper. In other words, something I could take care of myself.
Using the flashlight on my phone, I kneel and peer under the back side of the car. Nothing looks amiss... just a bunch of metal. I'm about to stand up when I swear, I see a blinking red light coming from behind the back wheel.
It's a bomb! My lizard brain shrieks. Except, when I take a better look at it, it's coming from a tiny black rectangle of plastic. In my admittedly very limited knowledge of bombs, that doesn't look like it could explode a Barbie Jeep, let alone damage my full-size one.
Gingerly reaching around the tire, I touch the rectangle with my fingertips. It pivots and makes a little rattle. Well, at least that's the sound identified. I grab it, trying to see if I just need to click something back, but it breaks off in my hand. No. Not breaks. It pries off like a magnet.
I frown as I look at it, turning it over in my palm. It's devoid of markings, just a tiny, dull, blinking light. It's covered in mud splatters and looks worn. The backside has one powerful magnet and a spot where another must have been glued on. I guess that's why it was rattling. I just don't understand why it would be attached with magnets and not wired in.
Cars are flying by and I don't want to hang out on the side of the road, so I hop back into the driver’s seat and toss the part over to the passenger side, making a mental note to message Asher and Lukas about it when I get home.
I pull into the driveway almost an hour earlier than usual and holy mother of god. The view is so good. My heart skips a beat at the sight of Ben, shirtless and glistening with sweat, pushing his lawn mower through my overgrown grass. He grins at me and my heart doesn't just skip. It sprints and trips, tumbling through my chest and rattling my ribs.
"Thank you, Jesus," I whisper to myself. He cuts the engine just as I hop out. I flip my sunglasses up on top of my head and whistle at him as he stalks over to me.
"You're early! This was supposed to be a surprise," he says before giving me a big sweaty hug and picking me up off my feet.
"Ew!" I laugh as I squirm in his arms. I don't really mind sweaty Ben. Given the right situation, it's hot as hell. Ben sets me back on my feet and cups my face as he kisses me. He smells like sweat, freshly cut grass, and gasoline.
"This shouldn't be doing it for me, but it definitely is," I tell him, running a finger over his sweaty chest.
"Glad to hear it." Ben can't contain his smug smile. "I know we said takeout tonight, but I have a better idea," he says.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, I'm going to finish up and shower. We've got a reservation at 7." A little thrill runs through me because god do I love it when he takes charge. The feminist in me is still trying to come to grips with it, but my inner sex kitten is all in.
"All right. I'll go get cleaned up," I say in a flirty voice. I smile to myself because I know exactly what I'm going to wear.
I shower and shave my legs, blow-dry my hair and put on a little makeup before digging in my closet for the dress that Sally gave me. It's impossible not to smirk as I lay it on the bed. As much as Ben appreciated it the first time around, he will lose his shit when he sees me in it with a decent bra and my hair done.
I'm ready by 6:30 and just slipping my shoes on when I hear a knock on the door. I peek through the front window to make sure it's Ben before opening the door.
Did I think he was sexy when he was dirty and shirtless? Because now he's all cleaned up in cream-colored chinos and a navy-blue linen dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and my tongue is practically on the floor. I never really got the whole "arm porn" thing until right this second. I think I'm officially converting to the Church of Muscular Forearms.
His normally unruly hair is tamed and styled, making him look even more handsome than usual. The icing on the cake is the intense, hungry way he's watching me from behind his glasses. He's like every hot nerd fantasy I've ever had, all rolled into one.
He looks me up and down, lust painted in his every feature. "You look good enough to eat, Lilah." His voice has that husky, I'm-about-to-give-it-to-you quality it gets when he's turned on, and at this point he's basically conditioned me to ruin panties when I hear it.
It's all I can do to keep from moaning out loud.
"We can just stay in," I tell him, pointing my thumb over my shoulder at the couch. Two nights ago, he had me sprawled out in that exact spot while he ate me out. I would be so, so down for a repeat performance. I lick my lips and adjust the neckline of my dress, trying to coax Ben inside.
Ben gives me a dark, hungry look, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he steps over the threshold. He uses his massive frame to crowd me back against the wall so he has room to shut the front door.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tempt me to miss our reservation..." his deep, controlled voice sends a shiver right through me and moisture soaking my panties.
"Maybe I am," I say with a shallow breath.
His lips pull up in a smirk. "Naughty girl." He runs a finger under the neckline of my dress, following the dips of my breasts, making goosebumps rise across my entire body. He slides a hand behind my neck, holding me in place as he kisses me hard enough to make my lips tingle. He slips his free hand under my dress and strokes my white satin panties, growling and pressing a finger against the wet fabric to stroke my clit. My gasp is swallowed by his lips as he rubs gentle circles. Ben rests his forehead against mine, lips parted as he watches me melt under his touch.
"Yes," I moan. "Please, yes..."
And then the bastard takes his finger away and, casual as can be, checks the time on his watch.
"What the--?"
"Don't want to be late, Princess," he says with a self-satisfied smirk as he reaches back and opens the front door, gesturing for me to precede him.
"You suck," I say indignantly. He chuckles, his dimples on full display.
He leans in to whisper in my ear, "You started the teasing, but I promise I'll make it up to you later."
I'm tempted to whine about it, but decide it'll be more fun to make it hard on him to hold out. Pun intended. I smooth an imaginary wrinkle on his shirt collar, putting a sweet, innocent look on my face while running my fingernails over his chest.
"That's ok. I can wait. I got myself off in the shower anyway," I tell him, patting his arm and kissing him on the cheek. "Twice," I say before swishing out the front door, leaving him to cope with that mental image.
Chapter 25: Ben
Fuck. Me. Running.
I bite my fist as she sashays her way to my car, swinging her ass just for me. God, this is going to be so much fun.
Lilah tells me about her day on the way to the restaurant. She fills me in on each of the shops and restaurants that have already ordered coffee from her. There's a pause in the conversation as she looks out the window. "Thanks for mowing my lawn. You didn't have to do that."
"I figured I owe you. For all the times I woke you up and, you know, the head wound."
Lilah laughs, and the sound is like music. I love it. In that moment, as crazy as it sounds, I realize that I'm falling in love with her. "Besides, I know you don't have a mower yet. Being a new homeowner and all."
She grimaces, "I know I really need to get one. Would you believe that it never occurred to me that I would need one?"
I laugh. "Yeah, I could see that, but I don't think you should buy one. It's a waste of money when you can just let me take care of it for you."
"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you..." she trails off. "But maybe I could trade you something. How do you feel about cookies?"
I put a hand over my heart. "If you make me homemade cookies, I'll never let you go."
"Deal," she blushes. Cookies are a bonus, but I wonder if she realizes how much she's let her guard down with me. I've chipped thr
ough layers of stubborn independence, and I feel like she's finally letting me in. I have a moment of cold guilt when I think about the things I haven't confessed.
I work when she works and because she has no point of reference on how long my legitimate security work takes, she's never questioned what I do with the extra time. I told her all about the corporate hack I did on a major bank, and the weak spots I found that could have been used to leak customer info. She listened, mouth agape when I told her that my last phishing email test came back with 38% of the users not just opening them, but giving out personal information. It was enough to make me reach for a beer at three in the afternoon.
What I didn't tell her is that I also helped a woman and her child start a fresh life in Canada and anonymously reported their abuser to the Justice Department, handing over the entire contents of his hard drive and cloud storage. He may have also accidentally emailed all of his personal and professional contacts an audio file ranting about some of his favorite racist topics.
I realize that I have an overactive sense of justice, but I just can't let people like that go about their lives. It eats at me. It's not like I'm planting anything on them or creating something to use against them. It's all right there in their digital files. Every filthy, awful, incriminating thing that they think no one will ever see because they put a weak ass password on it.
It's starting to feel like I'm not much better, hiding so much of what I do from Lilah. Even knowing that what I'm doing is morally right, my methods might be ethically flawed. It's very much a gray area, and I've spent enough time with Lilah to know she often sees things a little more black and white. I can't hide this forever. I just have to put my faith in her affection for me.
I pull into a parking spot, resolving to come clean tomorrow because the last thing I want to do is ruin our first actual date. Weaving our fingers together, I lead Lilah inside. The hostess smiles brightly at us when I give her my name. Lilah leans her shoulder into me while the hostess collects our menus and I take advantage of the delay to kiss the top of her head, closing my eyes and inhaling the smell of her shampoo.
"This way," the hostess singsongs. I place my hand on Lilah's lower back just to touch her as much as possible. We follow the hostess through the restaurant to the small back patio.
"This is beautiful, Ben," she sighs. Little lights are hanging from giant oak trees, and a small fountain separates our table from the rest of the patio. I glance down at her and my chest constricts as she gives me an adoring look, her eyes bright and filled with joy. That look, that smile, is everything I need.
She is everything that is good and honest and joyful. When I’m with her, I’m reminded that the world isn’t such a dark and terrible place.
I hold her chair out for her and sit in the one next to her, but she's still too far away. Hooking my foot through the leg of her chair, I pull her closer. She makes a tiny squeaking sound as if surprised but rests her warm little hand on my thigh, clearly not averse to the closeness.
Lilah picks up her menu in her right hand, her left still on my thigh. Her fingers stroke little absentminded circles as she decides what to order. At least I'm assuming it's absentminded. That or she's intentionally trying to torture me. The little smirk playing on her lips as she reads the menu would suggest the latter. Thank god there's a tablecloth to hide my rapidly thickening problem.
I lean back and throw an arm around her shoulder, spreading my legs and letting her have free rein of my thigh. I have no shame when it comes to my attraction for her. If she's determined to turn me on, who am I to argue?
"What are you in the mood for?" I ask, throwing a pointed look at the front of her dress, letting her know exactly what I'm looking forward to. She blushes, pausing her petting fingers as a very bored looking waiter approaches. He gives us a rundown on the specials, all the while looking like he could not give less of a fuck.
He takes our drink order and Lilah orders the braised short ribs. I go with the steak, and hand our menus back. As soon as the waiter leaves, Lilah starts her teasing little fingers back up, moving ever closer to the tent in my pants of her own making. This feels like a game of chicken, but it's one that I have no intention of losing.
The waiter brings our wine, setting it in front of us, promising that our food will be right out.
I lean over to whisper in her ear. "I love it when you touch me like that but now all I can think about is how good you taste. How I want to spread you out on this table and lick your pussy until you can't see straight. I want to bend you over and fuck you so hard you forget your own name." She shivers and licks her lips, squirming in her seat.
"You're not going to be able to hold still now, are you?" I ask. "I bet I could slip a finger under your panties and you'd be soaking wet for me." Lilah moans softly, so quiet I can barely hear it, but I feel it seep through every inch of my body.
Suddenly I cannot wait any longer.
"Bathroom. Now," I tell her. She gives me a wide-eyed look but doesn't hesitate to throw her napkin on the table and stand up, walking through the back door of the restaurant. Through the window, I watch her pass through one of the bathroom doors. There's no patience left in my body as I stand and follow.
I hope that our waiter is as inattentive for the next five minutes as he looked.
I walk as casually as I can, but if anyone is watching, I doubt they'd miss the hard-on I'm sporting. I open the bathroom door, close it behind me, and lock it. Lilah is leaning against the far wall, her eyes burning with anticipation. I don't waste a second unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants. I've got my dick in hand and stroke it as she watches, licking her parted lips. She wordlessly holds up a condom between two fingers.
I take it, sheathing myself as quickly as I can. Her breathing is fast and shallow, making her tits heave at the front of her dress.
"Turn around," I demand gruffly. She faces the wall and places her palms on it, bending forward slowly, making her dress hitch up, inch by tantalizing fucking inch. She watches me while I sink to my knees behind her. I toss the bottom of her dress up her back, out of my way, and strip her soaking wet panties to her ankles.
She gasps as I press a finger into her core and immediately add a second. She's so hot and slick that my mind goes blank. I can't think about a single thing beyond the need wracking my body. Grabbing her hips, I bury my face in her pussy, focusing all of my energy on the area around her clit. She tastes so fucking good, tangy with musky desire. I pick up speed, practically assaulting her clit until she's shaking and whimpering and so fucking needy that I can't wait anymore.
My cock is aching. Throbbing with need. I stand, and in one rough thrust, sink deep in her pussy. Lilah lets out a low moan, her eyes glazed as she watches me over her shoulder.
"Yes. Oh, god. Yes. Please," she whispers.
I wrap my forearm around the front of her shoulders, pulling her back into me as I pet her clit with the other hand. She feels so fucking good.
She's trembling, her body like bowstring, ready to snap. I cover her mouth and whisper in her ear, "You like that cock, don't you?"
She moans against my hand, her pussy gripping me like a hot fist. I'm desperate to come, but I won't do it until I make her lose control. "I need to feel you come. Be a good girl and come on my dick. I need to feel that tight little pussy strangle my cock."
Lilah's so wet, I can feel her juice on my balls as she comes, cunt clamping down on me like a fucking vise as she screams against my hand. I come hard with a grunt, muffled in her hair. We sag against the wall, catching our breath, but there's no time to hold her like I want to.
Stripping the condom, I tie it off and wrap it in a paper towel before tossing it in the trash. Lilah hurriedly wets a paper towel, handing it to me with a blissful grin. We clean up quickly, aware that our waiter might be missing us by now. Lilah is holding her panties and looking like she's not sure what to do with them.
"They touched the floor," she says, looking truly grossed out. I snatch them
and tuck them into my pocket.
Without a word, I kiss her and duck out of the door. I make it back to the table without seeing a single person. Lilah rejoins me a minute later, looking very smug as she takes a sip from her wine glass. Just as she sets her glass back on the table, the waiter arrives with our food.
"Sorry about the wait, folks," he says dully. "Kitchen got a little backed up. Dessert is on the house tonight." He's gone before either of us can respond.
"I already had dessert," I say under my breath, and Lilah giggles.
Chapter 26: Lilah
I cannot believe I just did that. Scratch that. I cannot believe we got away with that.
"I've never had sex in public before," I whisper to Ben once the waiter leaves us alone. He gives me a huge, dimpled grin.
"Me either. But I'm game any time you are."
I don't know how all of this will play out, but I'll be fantasizing about the way my hands hit the bathroom wall as I bent over for him when I'm 80. The rush I felt when he walked into the bathroom and locked the door, eying me with a predatory focus. I try to contain the blush rising in my cheeks as I think about it, but it's a losing battle.
With my need for Ben satisfied, at least temporarily, we share a quiet dinner. We pick a trail to hike and a winery to visit on Saturday before family dinner at Gran's. Ben fills me in on his sister's latest assignment in Nova Scotia and her relief at leaving D.C. behind.
Every now and then, I catch him putting his hand in his pocket. The one where he stashed my wet panties. He smirks a little and the thought of him rubbing them and thinking about me makes me wet all over again. Did I say I was satisfied? I lied.
We finish our complimentary dessert and I almost feel guilty about it. It's not like we were waiting miserably for our food. The waiter brings the check and Ben snaps it up before I can even reach for it.
"You should let me pay for it!" I try to take the bill, but Ben holds it out of reach. "You keep paying for everything."