Hungry Heart: Part Two

by Haze, Violet

  I text Benedict back with a sigh. “Yes, I’ll be there in a little while.”

  His reply is instant. “Good. I need a hug.”

  And just like that, my heart melts. I would need a hug too, but not sure my biggest reaction would involve drowning my pain in alcohol. However, I’m not him and I barely see him drink, so I’ll let him do it his way as long as it doesn’t get out of hand and comfort him the best I can.

  “Sooooo.” Ethan raises a brow at me, unable to speak since he’s chewing. “When you going to your family’s for dinner? Are ya taking Destiny?”

  “Usual time and no. I guess Len and Miranda are planning to tell his parents all their bullshit so it’s absolutely necessary she’s there.” He says the last few words with immense sarcasm and rolls his eyes. “Merry Christmas to me. I told her she’ll meet everybody at New Year’s though, so she’s pretty excited.”

  “You two are pretty serious.”

  “Says the girl with two boyfriends?”

  “I would say touché, but I’ve yet to meet either of their families, and I like it that way.”

  His head rears back, eyes going wide. “What? You’ve been with Nathan for how many years and you haven’t met the fam? That’s not cool, Caro.”

  “It’s no big deal, especially since I don’t want to meet them, and I told him so.”

  “Why? After all this time they probably think you hate them, or you’re a snob.”

  “Guess I’m a snob then.”

  “Caro…”

  I don’t need to explain it to him because he already knows, but every so often he thinks he has to try and make me admit I hate my parents for not being around. I refuse to say it because there’s so much more to it than that and I’m not engaging with him today, so I shake my head. Then, with a huff of irritation, I grab my stuff off the table and throw it away, turning to head toward the steps one that’s done. “Just drop it. I’ll go get ready and we’ll leave in like…ten minutes?”

  “Yeah,” he says in a strained voice. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

  I don’t even turn back to look at him before heading upstairs and barely a minute passes before the door slams behind him as he exits.

  5

  I send Benedict a text minutes before we arrive at his house, and Ethan waits while I walk up to the front door and ring the bell.

  The second the door opens, I’m staring at a half-dressed drunk and grinning like a fool Benedict, and it’s not much longer before Ethan speeds away. But I’m not paying attention to that; all my focus is on the gorgeous bare chest in front of my eyes.

  Oh, and the overwhelming scent of liquor.

  He steps back, extending his arm in invitation with a flourish, which causes some of whatever he’s drinking to slosh over the rim and onto the floor. Shutting the door behind me and locking it, I step toward him with my hand out and he frowns at me.

  “You don’t need that now that I’m here.”

  He hasn’t said a word to me yet, and I start to wonder how much he’s had to drink, even though he isn’t showing any signs of intoxication. The downturn of his mouth becomes more pronounced as it equals the pain in his gaze, but he places the glass in my hand with a curt nod.

  I set it down on the table by the entryway, take his hand in mine, and say, “Let’s go lie down.”

  He’s like a puppy, following me without question with his hand tight on mine, and I know he’s drunk for sure now. The fact he hasn’t said anything, not one word, has me worried. His demeanor, which is usually lively and commanding, is subdued and…well, heartbroken I guess. It’s possible I could lead him to a slaughterhouse right now and he’d let me, which is fucking terrible.

  As we enter his bedroom, I’m wishing I could punch both Miranda and Len in the face for what they did. Shit, for what they’re still doing. Anger at the way they’ve treated him when he loves them both boils inside me, seeking an outlet even though I don’t have one, and I stomp it down like I’ve had practice doing for so long.

  I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t notice Benedict’s let go of my hand until the door is clicking shut and I jerk back to the present as Benedict grabs me. Whirling around, he imprisons my body against the door, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He seizes my mouth with his own as it opens on a gasp, his actions leaving me in a desperate bid for air after he steals my breath. It’s not even a split second before his tongue swoops in and gives me no rest, tangling and toying with mine at the same time his hands find my wrists and he’s raising mine above my head, holding them there with a strong, firm grip of one hand.

  My body responds while my brain tries to catch up, his now free hand slipping between us and underneath my skirt, pushing aside the silky material of my panties and slipping one finger followed instantly by another inside me. I whimper into his mouth as he strokes me just right, getting me nice and wet until I’m sure I’ll have no issue taking his cock into my body, and his hand leaves just as quickly as it arrived.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters against my mouth before invading it again while I feel his hand fumbling between us to undo his pants. I count one, two, three before he moves the fabric aside once more and the head of his cock is pushing inside my pussy. He grabs hold of my ass, his voice raw and gravelly, and full of desire as he drags his lips away to speak. “I need you. I can’t wait.”

  He slams into me, swallowing my cry with his mouth once again while thrusting into me over and over, so fast I’m not even sure if I’m breathing anymore. However, I feel everything even as my arms go numb from the way he’s holding me, as if all the feeling in my form is floating toward where our bodies are connected.

  I’ve marveled on his strength before but the way we’re standing, the way he’s holding me, and the way our bodies match perfectly even at his pace is nothing short of amazing to me. The hand gripping my ass keeps me angled in a way I’m protected from hitting it on the wall and getting bruises, yet I know I’ll feel the effects of this tomorrow.

  When he releases my arms with no warning, they fall to my sides as if I’m a rag doll, and his hand slides down until it’s squeezing my other ass cheek. He rips his mouth away, resting his forehead on my shoulder, but if I even think for a second it gives me a chance to say something, it doesn’t. His new hold gives him extra power to lift me as he draws out before entering again, the long hard strokes hitting me just right when he yanks me down, over and over.

  “God, Caroline.” He moans into my neck, pressing rapid kisses up and then down it as his grip tightens to an almost painful level. “You feel so fucking amazing. You always feel so fucking incredible.”

  I don’t know what it is about what he said, but my eyes fly open at realizing what we’ve done. What we’re doing, with no fucking protection, but it’s too late. The words to tell him to pull out on the tip of my tongue get stuck as my orgasm rolls over me swift and strong, my fingers digging into his shoulders while my whole body tightens all over and around him. With a final thrust he comes, his fingers holding onto my ass as if it’s a lifeline, a long throaty moan emerging from his mouth as he stills.

  I shove at his shoulders. “Let me down.”

  He doesn’t respond and I’m about to repeat myself when he finally lowers me to the ground, making sure my feet are touching the carpet before releasing me with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “We broke the rules, that’s what’s wrong.”

  I can practically see how what I’ve said sends his sluggish thoughts whirling, going through the rules to see which one we possibly broke, and the subsequent widening of his eyes as it hits him.

  “Shit!” He steps away from me and glances down, then back at me with a mixed expression of horror and disbelief. “I didn’t mean—I’m clean—”

  Holding my hands up palms out, I interrupt him. “Stop. I’m on birth control, we’re both clean. That’s not the point and you know it.”

  He stares at me until the insane urge to wiggle as if I’ve done something wrong
shoots through me, and then he shoves a hand through his hair and shrugs. “Well, go on and do whatever you’ve gotta do now that we broke the rules. Actually,” he says with a quirk of his brow, “what’re you supposed to do if this happens?”

  “Tell him.” I whisper this, and I’m not sure why, but he smiles as if he finds this funny.

  “Really?” He laughs. “Well go ahead then. Text him and say, ‘Merry Christmas, Benedict was drunk and forgot to use a condom while he fucked me against a door while I was fully-dressed. Sorry!’ But you’ll have to call for a ride if you need to go home now, since I can’t drive.” As my mouth drops open, he whirls and stalks off to the bathroom, slamming the door.

  I pull out my phone, yet I’m hesitant to send a message to Nathan. Benedict didn’t do it on purpose and it wasn’t like I wasn’t at fault too. Not really sure why he suddenly has an attitude about it though. The rules have been clear from the beginning.

  Marching after him, I stop in front of the bathroom door and smack my palm against it a few times before yelling through to him. “No need to be a dick, Benedict!”

  The door flies open and he glares at me. “Stop shouting.”

  “Stop being mad at me for—”

  “I’m not mad at you; I’m furious with Len and Miranda. As for right now, I’m fucking annoyed.” Lifting a hand to his head, he rubs his palm right above his left eye as he speaks softly, the pain back in his voice. “And I have a headache. I need to lie down.”

  He turns the light off and brushes past me, shedding what little clothes he’s wearing on the way until he’s naked, and then climbs into bed. I go into the bathroom and clean up. I’m not in there longer than five minutes, but when I come out he’s snoring and I’ve no desire to lie down next to him right now.

  I go back downstairs to find something to do only to end up discovering copious amounts of liquor bottles, making it evident Benedict’s probably been drinking since last night and hadn’t slept at all until now.

  For the first time since Frank warned me about Miranda, I’m wondering what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into while acknowledging it’s too late for such a thing.

  Especially since I’m falling in love with him, which means even if I did tell Nathan what just happened, I’m not sure I’d break up with Benedict if he wanted me to.

  And just like that, the lines around the rules blur, and I’m not sure what the right thing to do is anymore.

  So, in the end, I don’t say anything at all.

  6

  “Who are you when nobody’s looking?”

  Benedict’s question is random, coming out of nowhere really, as we sit on the couch later in the evening. The TV isn’t on, he has the fireplace going, and we’re simply enjoying each other’s company along with some delicious wine.

  After cleaning, I’d gone into the living room and lain on the couch while watching TV, but must’ve passed out. It was six p.m. when Benedict woke me, having just gotten up himself. After a kiss and an apology for earlier, he made dinner, and what happened wasn’t mentioned.

  I don’t know if he thinks I messaged Nathan and doesn’t want to ask to avoid pissing me off or something, but I don’t bring it up either. At this point, it doesn’t matter really, because I want to keep him as much as I want to keep Nathan. And for me, that means letting a little slip up go, because I know he didn’t meant to forget, and I’m not blameless.

  “Um,” I answer when he gives my shoulders a squeeze, bringing my attention back to the present. “I’m always just me. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

  “Never? Not even to impress someone?”

  “No.” He lets go of me as I sit up and set my glass on the table, then snuggle into his side again. “I often thought my parents put up a front as I was growing up. Doing whatever they needed to try to fit in, to make sure I fit in, and they weren’t true to themselves. They tried to buy my love like every other parent they knew did with their children.”

  “Is that why you don’t like gifts?”

  Pulling back a little, I stare up at his face in surprise. “How did you know I don’t like getting gifts?”

  “I didn’t,” he answers with a grin, setting his glass on the table as well before shifting me to straddle his lap while facing him. “Lucky guess after realizing just now how you didn’t receive any birthday gifts. Problem is…”

  “Is?”

  “Well.” He grimaces, lifting his hips a little to dig into the pocket of his lounge pants, and pulls his hand out, clenching whatever it is in his fist. “I bought you a Christmas gift.”

  My stomach drops, along with the smile from my face, but he prevents me from getting up with a strong hold on my hip.

  “You should see what it is before you freak out.” His grin is playful even though his eyes are serious. “I’m not trying to buy your love, Caroline. Or even your like. I saw it and thought of you, that’s all.”

  “Benedict…”

  “You might hate it and dump me,” he teases, giving my lips a soft kiss as he holds up his hand. “Do you want to see it or not?”

  I hate how hopeful he looks while we sit here, staring at one another, my heart racing as if I’m being chased. It’s just a gift; an innocent token of affection. It shouldn’t hurt, shouldn’t burn my chest the way it does as the anxiety weaves its way around inside me, yet it does. I want to see it at the same time I don’t. Years with Nathan and I’ve never let him buy me a gift, but he’s also never offered one out of nowhere. He took me at my word that I didn’t like receiving them and so as to not upset me he’s never bought me one. But what do I do in the face of being presented with a gift by Benedict, who bought it simply because it made him think of me?

  Shifting my focus to his hand, I notice I can’t see anything, which means whatever it is, it’s small.

  He moves it to right in front of my face, murmuring as his burning gaze holds my anxious one, “If you don’t want it after you see it, it’s okay. I’ll understand. But you should at least look. It won’t bite you.”

  I square my shoulders and give him a nod. “Okay. Show me.”

  Opening his hand, a thin silver necklace hangs from his index finger, and I follow it down until my eyes land on the item dangling on the end.

  A little silver muffin-shaped charm.

  My lower lip wobbles while my eyes fill with tears at the thoughtfulness of the gift and when I lift my gaze back to his, he frowns. “No? Should I have gotten the one that said ‘eat my muffin’ instead?”

  His question sends me into a fit of unexpected laughter, which he joins in with, and after they fade away I throw my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his warm, naked shoulder. His arms embrace me without hesitation, one around my waist while the other cradles the back of my head, and he chuckles.

  “Guess this means I’m not gonna be dumped for buying you a present?” When I shake my head but don’t lift it back up, he laughs again. “Let me put it on you then.”

  “All right.” Once I’m sitting up, I take both of my hands and lift up my hair so it doesn’t get snag in the clasp of the necklace, and as he puts it around my neck, I ask, “What about you?”

  He slides his hands down to my shoulders once the necklace is on and smiles at me. “What about me what?”

  Dropping my hair, I snatch up the muffin charm in one hand and roll it between my fingers while staring at him. “Who are you when nobody’s looking?”

  “I’m like you; I don’t like to pretend. I’m the same whether someone is looking at me or not.”

  “So you don’t have any deep dark secrets?”

  He glides his hands down until they rest on my bare thighs, one on each side with palms down, and toys with the edge of my skirt. “No. I think you do though.”

  “I don’t!”

  With a flick of his wrists, he tosses the skirt up, baring me to his eyes for only a moment before covering me once more, and laughs. “You do with these skirts. I’ve never seen you in a pai
r of jeans. You’re always wearing a skirt. Do you even own pants?”

  “Other than pajama pants? No, but that’s not a secret.” I think he expects me to say of course I have jeans and such, but I don’t. So when his eyes widen and his mouth drops open, I shrug and explain. “My mother always dressed me in skirts, even when I was a kid. I never, ever wore jeans or yoga pants or anything like that. Then, I went to all-girl schools up until high school, but even then, the uniforms had girls in skirts. I suppose it’s habit more than anything else now.”

  “Well, it’s a hot habit. Every single time I see you, all I can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and fuck you with little to no effort.” Trailing a finger on the soft skin of my inner thigh, he slips his hand under the material, and then between my legs where he discovers I’m not wearing panties, which has his soft smile turning into a wicked grin. “Or, like right now, discovering you have nothing on under that skirt makes me want to lift you into the perfect position and thrust into you so fucking hard you scream.”

  Other than the grin, he’s looking at me the way he did the day I saw him across the cafe, and my body’s instant arousal has me involuntarily clenching my legs, which I know he feels because the hand on my thigh contracts a little as if he’s trying to control himself. With the hand between my leg, he keeps all but one finger still, sliding it between my labia, spreading my wetness around before slipping the digit inside my pussy as deep as he can go. It’s not long before he has two fingers in me, and his thumb is manipulating me on the outside.

  He uses his other hand to bring us close as we can be with me sitting on his lap, and I drop my forehead to rest on his shoulder, closing my eyes to enjoy the pleasure he’s giving me. I feel him reaching between us, sure he’s freeing himself, and take a quick peek to see that’s exactly what he’s doing.

  Then, I feel him turn his face to the left, his lips brushing against the top of my ear, which he takes between his teeth and nips a little. The bite is followed by him sucking on it, then licking around the edges until I shiver, and he removes his hand from my body, leaving me feeling empty.