by Hazel Kelly
And I knew which one it would be because I’d never wanted to taste someone’s pleasure more than I wanted to taste his.
“Stop,” he said, holding my head still by my hair.
I lifted my face and raised my eyes to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Come here.”
I crawled forwards until my breasts hung down against his chest. “What?”
“I need you to save your energy.”
I furrowed my brow. “For what?”
And then I felt him slide inside me again, felt his girth force me open until his dick pushed the air from my lungs and filled me up completely.
“For bouncing.”
I laughed and was startled by the way it made my body concentrate around him. “I couldn’t possibly bounce,” I said, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m lucky I even got you all the way in.”
One side of his mouth curled up. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”
I felt my cheeks flush but figured I was too red all over for it to be noticeable.
“Don’t bounce then,” he said. “Just do whatever feels good.”
I leaned forward and wrapped my hands around his shoulders, keeping my eyes on him as I moved my hips clockwise, crushing my clit against the base of his shaft.
“Don’t stop,” he said, lifting his chin like he was daring me to work his dick some more.
I grinded against him, relishing the way he hit a spot so deep it made sex feel like something entirely new.
Soon I had a rhythm going, and as my breasts moved between us, I used his dick to churn my insides until the heat between my legs was so intense I thought I might cry.
And when I knew I was close, I moved my hands to his face and kissed him, letting him slip his tongue in my mouth so I could be even more full of him.
“Come for me,” he breathed.
I could feel the carpet burning my knees, but I didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the fire inside me that was spurring me on.
“Come on, Carrie,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. “Wet my dick.”
His voice kept playing in my ears, daring me to burst over him.
And suddenly the pressure was too much, and my orgasm crashed through me like a train. I moaned and braced myself against Ben’s chest, my lower body shuddering as I poured over him.
For a moment, I thought he was going to let me catch my breath, but he rolled over me so I was on my back and started fucking the deepest part of my center where I was throbbing the hardest, never letting up on my clit until the pleasure was so intense my eyes started to water.
“Oh god,” I said, arching my back so my pussy clenched around him.
He locked his eyes on mine and came, staring at me as he sank balls deep one last time and emptied himself inside me.
“Fuck,” he said, coming to a stop over me.
And I had no idea if what I felt then was him throbbing inside me or me throbbing around him.
All I knew was that I was in love.
Chapter 16: Ben
I rolled onto my side next to her and watched the diamond pendant rise and fall on her chest as she tried to catch her breath.
She put a hand up to her forehead. “And to think I thought the fake snow was impressive.”
“Not as impressive as that fake orgasm you just had.”
“That wasn’t fa-”
“I know. It was a joke.”
She sighed.
“Are you comfortable on the floor or do you maybe want to get in bed?”
“Are we not in the bed?” she asked, the apples of her cheeks pink. “I didn’t notice.” She let her hands fall to her sides. “I can’t feel a goddamn thing.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She smiled.
I trailed a finger in swirls across her smooth stomach. “It’s not every day I fuck someone on the floor when there are two perfectly good beds in the room.”
“I know,” she said, shaking her head back and forth. “I’m afraid I’ll be able to feel that in my knees tomorrow.”
I leaned up and looked down. Sure enough, her knees were bright red and covered in little squiggle marks that matched the carpeting. “I didn’t think of that.”
“It’s okay. It didn’t seem important at the time.”
“Something to go with your snowflake souvenir.”
“I never made one,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows. “But the whole thing was your idea?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but Ella knew I was coming, and it sounded like a big enough project without having to make one more-”
I shook my head. “Not good enough.”
She leaned up onto her elbows. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s too late now anyway.”
“No it’s not,” I said, rising to my feet and walking towards the phone by the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
I hit zero and sat on the edge of the bed while I waited.
“Reception. How can I help you?”
“Paul. It’s Ben.”
“Hi, Ben. What can I do for y-”
“Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?”
“Merely checking on things at front of house,” he said. “What’s your excuse?”
I looked at Carrie and then back at the phone. “One of the bridesmaids got stuck in her dress.”
He laughed. “Good thing you were on hand to help her out of it, eh?”
“What can I say? I was in the right place at the right time.”
“One of your many gifts. What can I do to assist?”
“Would you send some wedding cake up to room 448?”
“Certainly.”
“And some champagne.”
“Of course.”
“And one more thing.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can you send up a pair of scissors?”
“Scissors?”
“Yeah, for cutting paper.”
“Right away, Ben.”
“Thanks,” I said, hanging up.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” Carrie said, crossing her ankles. “Though the champagne was inspired.”
“I know. And wait until you try the cake. Ella let me help pick it out. There are three different kinds and they’re all tastier than the last.”
“I bet.”
“Are you planning on eating it naked on the floor?” I asked. “Cause I’m cool with that, but I think the bed might be getting a little jealous.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I swear I’m going to get up any minute now. Just as soon as I can feel my legs again.”
I smiled and walked to the closet where our complimentary robes were hanging. I slipped one on, carried the other over to where she was still sitting, and extended my hand.
She kicked her heels off before letting me pull her to her feet.
I draped the white robe over her shoulders.
She stuck her arms in while I tied a knot at the front.
Then I scooped her up and plopped her on the high bed.
She ran her hands over the comforter and backed up against the pillows. “This is such a decadent place. Are all the guests staying here?”
“I think only the out of towners and anyone staying for brunch.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I suppose we’re expected at brunch?”
“I should think so.” I opened the desk drawer and pulled out the hotel stationary so she could make a snowflake. “Unless you want to start a scandal?” I asked, raising my eyebrows in the mirror.
She cocked her head. “Would it really be a scandal or would people just think we got too drunk and didn’t get up?”
I pursed my lips. “Good point. Though if that’s what you want to do, I’m all for it.”
She smiled. “Actually, I think I’d prefer to remember how much fun today has been.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, leaning on the d
esk and admiring the way she looked in her robe on the fluffy white bed. “But I won’t judge you if you decide to throw caution to the wind and get hammered.”
“Good to know.”
“That is what weddings are for.”
She craned her neck forward. “Getting hammered?”
“Oh please. Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten so drunk you threw up at someone else’s wedding.”
She shook her head. “Can’t say that I have.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Me neither,” I said, lying through my teeth as I made my way to the door. If anything, I’d never been so sober at a wedding before, but I guess Carrie’s company was entertaining enough that I didn’t feel the need to drink the bar dry.
I opened the door to a familiar member of the wait staff. “Evening, Mr. Abbott.”
“How many times do we have to go through this, Carl? You can call me Ben.”
He nodded and lifted the tray on top of his trolley.
“I can take it from here. Thanks.” I heard the door click shut when I was halfway across the room, and as soon as I set the tray down carefully in front of Carrie, I grabbed the champagne bucket and the glasses and moved them to the bedside table.
“That is some good looking cake,” Carrie said.
I slid the champagne from the bucket and tilted it over each skinny glass. “You can have some as soon as you make your snow fla-” I turned to face her and saw that her cheeks were stuffed with cake.
She lifted her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
I smiled. “Or you can make it after.”
She nodded.
“Which did you go for first?”
She pointed towards the third of the plate piled with thin chocolate slices.
“I think the lemon one is the nicest,” I said, sitting up on the bed and tearing some off with my fingers.
She swallowed. “I suppose the white cake with the strawberries is the most traditional.”
“I don’t know why. I’d love to rock up to a wedding and find out they were doing Dairy Queen ice cream cake or chocolate with Reeses layers for a change.”
“Well, you can have whatever kind of cake you want at our wedding.”
I raised my eyebrows. “In that case, how about one that you jump out of?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s something everyone would enjoy.”
I passed her one of the glasses of champagne. “I don’t really care. And nobody else should mind either. After all, it’s supposed to be my day, right?”
She squinted at me. “I think it’s supposed to be the bride’s day actually.”
I took a sip of champagne and enjoyed the bubbles popping on my tongue. “Then there’s no problem with that plan at all.”
“How’s that?”
“Cause you know you want to jump out of a cake for me.”
She cocked her head.
“You’re always going on about it.”
“I am not.”
“That’s only because you haven’t tried it yet,” I said. “If you did it once, it would be your new favorite thing.”
“How do you figure?”
I smiled. “Because I’d lick the icing off every inch of you, and I wouldn’t stop until I got to your cream filled center.”
Chapter 17: Carrie
I couldn’t remember the last time I stayed up so late talking to someone.
Okay, yes I could. It was the night I went out with Brook a few weeks ago, the night I left my card at Nomu, the night before I kissed Ben outside the grocery store. Or rather, the night before he kissed me. On purpose.
Or so he said.
But maybe he just said that because I was naked with his cock against my stomach. Everyone knows guys will say anything in a situation like that. Then again, it was so random, and there was no reason for him to lie about that.
Not now when I’d already given it up.
But it was kind of unsettling to think that’s what started all this pretending to be together. Cause it was one thing thinking the game had been a game the whole way through, but it was quite another to think the game was built on the back of an urge that hadn’t been pretend at all.
And as I watched him sleep with his handsome face crushed against one of the fluffy hotel pillows, I almost didn’t want him to wake up. Because then we’d be even closer to the end of our little game. And it wasn’t just the sex I’d miss- though thinking of going without that now that I’d had it was beyond depressing.
But I liked his company, too. Honestly, Simon and I never stayed up talking like that. He was always tired from red eye flights or needed to sleep before an early shift the next day. Or maybe he was just tired from all the sex he was having behind my back.
Regardless, with him it was the comfortable silence we could share more than the ease of conversation that I enjoyed. I liked knowing he was convinced of my good companionship without me having to fill the air between us with witty anecdotes and stories that made me sound interesting and intelligent.
But with Ben, it wasn’t that the silence was uncomfortable. It was just that he asked me so many questions, and I did the same to him. Not only because I found him interesting but because I loved the sound of his voice, the way his jaw flexed when he spoke, and the comforting tone of his deep laugh.
Anyway, it seemed a shame to call game over after today. I mean, we made a good couple.
Though I felt guilty for even thinking it.
Because I should’ve still been mourning the end of my relationship with Simon. That was the rule, wasn’t it? Didn’t I need half the time we were together to heal?
If that were the case, I was supposed to be broken and sad- presumably with my chastity belt on- while I binge-watched chick flicks and sang “All by Myself” along with Bridget Jones for at least twenty-two months. Only then could I possibly be ready for something real again.
Of course, at that point, I would have to go on a lot of bad dates, probably set up by friends whose genuine affection for me I would be forced to question after seeing who they thought I’d make a good match with.
And then eventually, after years of being on the verge of throwing in the towel, I would start to wonder if maybe I should just be one of those women who gives up on men entirely and falls into a series of loving relationships with women. Cause while they might also break my heart, at least they would do it kindly and respectfully because of their more compassionate brains…
Then again, something told me if I started dating women, my dad would have the kind of heart attack you don’t come back from.
The point was, what if I was ready now?
What if Ben was the guy for me and I was on the verge of fucking it up because I felt guilty for having such strong feelings for someone so recently after my broken engagement?
I mean, it was possible. I was sprung enough to write a freaking R&B song about him. I wasn’t going to because it would be terrible- not to mention a terrible waste of time- but the feelings were there.
And it wasn’t like we’d explicitly agreed not to fall for each other, not that I could recall anyway.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say anything. It was too sad. He’d just think I was one of those pathetic women that fell for anyone she slept with, anyone who showed her even a scrap of attention.
And then he’d have no choice but to assume that I was days away from turning into a clingy mess, which I wasn’t. Still, as a result, he’d be forced to consider whether he could really bear being around me for the duration of his club building project, a project I desperately needed.
I sighed.
He looked so young with his eyelashes closed against his cheeks.
Ahh, the blissful sleep of a man…
Was there a woman on Earth who ever had a night’s sleep as peaceful as even the most sleep apnea ridden man? I doubted it. A man at rest was pretty much the image of restfulness.
No wonder they aged better. They got better
beauty rest.
Suddenly, Ben’s eyes opened. He smiled when he saw me. “Morning,” he groaned.
“Morning,” I said softly. “How did you sleep?”
“Great,” he said. “You?”
“Good. Once you finally stopped yapping anyway.”
“Me?!” He lifted his head off the pillow enough that I could see where it had left creases on his cheeks. “You’re the one who wouldn’t shut up.”
“Lies.”
He reached over and pulled me close.
I threw a leg over him.
“Did I snore?” he asked, squinting.
“If you did, I didn’t notice.”
He smiled.
“Why?” I asked. “Do you normally?”
“Only at weddings.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You mean only when you’re hammered?”
“Yeah, which is code for at weddings.”
I wondered how drunk he’d been last night. He seemed okay, but it would be just my luck to fall for a guy who didn’t even remember sweeping me off my feet.
“What time is it?” he asked.
I shrugged.
He rolled over, looked at the clock on the nightstand, and rolled back towards me.
“Well?” I raised my eyebrows “What time is it?”
“Time to get ready to go down for breakfast.”
I pursed my lips.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Shit,” I said, sitting up. “I should’ve-”
“Oh no you don’t,” he said, pulling me back down and wrapping his arms around me.
“But I don’t want your family to wonder if I’m a lush.”
“Don’t worry, dimples,” he said. “When I’m done with you, they won’t have to wonder. It’ll be written all over your face.”
Chapter 18: Ben
Needless to say, we were a little late for brunch.
Not that I cared. I liked Carrie’s company better than that of anyone’s who was going to be there.
However, we did work up one hell of an appetite, and I’d never been so delighted to come around the corner and smell the breakfast buffet.