by AC Netzel
“Yes, I want to be inside you. I want to be inside your head, so I know you think of me, the way I think of you. I want to be inside your heart, so I know you’ll always love me. And yes… I want to be deep inside you. I need to be close to you, to feel you, worship every fucking inch of you and your stubbornness because, despite that fact that you drive me crazy, I’ve never been so…” He pauses, snapping his fingers in the air like he’s searching for the right word. “Happy. I want to show you how much I love you.”
How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at him when he says things like that?
He leans in close to me, nuzzling my neck, kissing right behind my ear.
“Don’t go turning on the Martin charm. I’m mad at you,” I warn. I tilt my head to the side of the pillow allowing him easier access to my neck, surrendering to the exquisite feel of his soft lips brushing against my skin. It’s a battle between my longing for his touch and my despising him. There’s little doubt who’ll be the victor.
“Why?” he mutters, nibbling from my neck to my earlobe, gliding the tip of his tongue along the edge of my ear.
I frown; the ache between my legs has temporarily suppressed my memory. “I don’t remember. But I know I hate you right now.”
I’ve come down with a case of sex-induced dementia—Sexmentia.
“No you don’t,” he says smoothly, kissing down the side of my neck.
I close my eyes and moan. “Yes, I do.” I exhale a long breath. “I hate you.”
Even I don’t believe me.
“No, you don’t. You can’t resist me. Ask for it nicely and maybe I’ll give it to you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You want it… Ask for it.”
How the hell did he manage to turn this around?
“You can’t be serious.”
He leans on his side and grinds his groin against my thigh. His rock-hard erection is straining through his jeans. Slowly, he glides a fingertip around the curve of my shoulder and down the length of my arm making small circles on my skin. Goosebumps prickle up and down my arm at his touch. I melt into the bed, inhale deeply, taking in his Benessence, and I know I’m a goner.
“I’m very serious,” he murmurs seductively, the hum of his voice vibrating straight to my sex.
“Please,” I whisper faintly. My need for him is beyond my control. I knew it—and so did he.
I hate the cocky bastard.
“Please what?” he taunts.
“Please make love to me.” I’m weak. I’m weak. I’m weak.
“You want me to undress you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You want me buried deep inside you until you scream?”
“Yes,” I breathe, closing my eyes.
“You want to come, over and over again.” I don’t have to see him to know he’s smiling.
I crack one eye open and look at him. “Cut the crap, Ben.”
“I don’t know if you deserve it,” he teases.
“Fuck you.”
He frowns, but there’s a hint of humor hidden behind it. “Don’t you mean ‘Fuck me’?”
“Yes,” I sigh, exasperated. “Just fuck me, you smug bastard.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” He cocks his head and smirks.
“I still hate you.”
“Julia, right now… I don’t care.” He grabs the bottom of my sundress and pulls it over my head. I tremble as his fingertips skim across my skin. “Grab the cupcake on the nightstand,” he instructs.
“Hungry?” I ask, turning over to grab it. While I’m still on my side, Ben quickly unhooks my bra. The man has skills.
“Very,” he answers darkly. “Just lay back, Julia. It’s time for dessert. We’re not done until I lick every last crumb off you.” He slips my bra off quickly as I lay back down with the cupcake in my hand.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He gazes at my body appreciatively. His eyes are dark and hooded as he licks his bottom lip. The anticipation is killing me. I swallow hard, squirming and clenching my thighs together in effort to relieve this pent-up ache for him.
It’s not working.
He snatches the cupcake from my hand and dips his finger in the buttercream frosting. Teasing me by waving the icing in front of my lips, he puts his finger in his mouth and sucks it.
“Mmm, decadent and sweet.” He looks me up and down with a gaze so salacious, it makes me blush. “I see something else I know is decadent and sweet.” He dips his finger again in the icing and circles it around my nipple.
Leaning down, he takes my nipple in his mouth and sucks it, swirling his tongue around it then licks the icing off. I moan softly at his touch.
“You know what they say… I licked this. That makes it mine.”
He dips his finger in the frosting again and decorates my other nipple. He looks quite pleased with himself, admiring his artwork. Then leans down and with a few long luscious strokes, he licks it clean. “Mine.”
I suck in a panting breath, watching him take a fingertip full of icing and swirl it around my navel. His tongue tickles my oversensitive skin as he savors me and the icing with each sensual stroke. He dips his tongue in my navel. My fingers curl in causing my nails to dig into my palms. “Mine,” he whispers.
I don’t know who the hell this possessive Alpha-Asshole Frosting-Licker is… but I sure as hell hope he comes back often.
He continues painting my body with frosting then licking it clean. I wriggle and squirm every time I feel his warm breath on my skin, each time I feel his velvety tongue glide effortlessly across it.
I’m going to orgasm any minute. He’s either going to succumb to a massive sugar rush… or fall into a diabetic coma if he doesn’t stop this sugary assault soon.
He hooks a finger around the side of my panties and slides them off. Finally, he’s positioned himself between my legs. He paints the frosting on my inner thighs, licks it, over and over and fucking over again. The combination of the friction of his coarse stubble rubbing against my skin and the silky feel of his warm wet tongue makes me quiver.
“There’s one last place I need to lick,” he murmurs. He works his way to my dripping wet center. I wriggle at first then relax and sink into the mattress, surrendering to all the sensations. He teases the opening of my swollen folds oh-so-lightly with the very tip of his tongue before flicking his tongue powerfully on my clit then softly. Holy fuck.
“You taste exquisite, like sugar and sex.”
I groan, my hips instinctively rise up to meet his mouth.
“And only I get to taste you.”
I inhale a deep breath and hold it. I’m two seconds away from losing it completely.
He senses it, stops and shakes his head. “No, no, no. You don’t come until I let you.”
Motherfucker.
He’s enjoying my frustration, and in some twisted way, I am too. I exhale and grab hold of the sheet before my palms start bleeding from my nails digging into them.
“Ben,” I breathe. It’s a plea. I need a release. I think he’s trying to kill me.
He looks up at me from between my legs with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He looks back down and sucks my clit, swirling his tongue in circles until I quiver. A few long delicious strokes are all it takes to bring me to the edge.
I groan in pleasure or maybe it’s relief. I’m not sure.
“Oh, oh,” I cry as a wave of sinful bliss washes over me. “Thank God.”
I surrender to this feeling, his mouth expertly bringing me to a place only he can. Ripple after glorious ripple of pure pleasure washes over me.
He trails feather-light kisses up my body. I want to swallow him whole.
Ben quickly takes off his jeans and boxers then climbs on top of me, spreading my legs wide with his. I wrap my legs tightly around him, flesh on flesh. Perfect.
He kisses me fiercely, his tongue warm and silky claiming me with a long, hungry, drugging kiss. He’s right; I do taste of sugar and sex. My love of cu
pcakes has risen to a whole new level.
“Is this what you want?” He thrusts deep inside me, stretching me, filling me with one swift motion, never breaking eye contact.
“Yes.” My breaths are shallow and fast.
“From who?” He plunges hard inside me, my back arches up meeting his thrusts. I want all of him, every hard luscious inch.
“You,” I pant. “Only you.”
“Damn right, only me.”
I pull my knees up, as he rotates his hips slightly and slams inside me. We never break eye contact as he thrusts deep inside me over and over and holy fuck over. My headboard is banging hard against the wall.
He reaches beneath me and grabs my ass, squeezing it hard. “You have a fucking perfect ass and it belongs to me,” he growls.
He owns me and he wants me to know it. I already knew, but if he needs to take me like this to prove something to me… or himself, I’m in.
Possessive-jackass Ben is dirty and rough. And dammit, I’m loving it.
He has an incredible amount of restraint tonight as he rides me harder and harder, faster, rougher, tilting his hips to hit me at the exact spot he knows will spiral me into a frenzy. My muscles spasm violently, I can’t hold back and I can see in his eyes, he knows.
“When you come, you’re going to look me in the eyes and remember who brought you there,” he growls, thrusting hard again. “Give it to me, Julia. Give it to me.”
I tilt my head to the side, looking towards the wall and catch a glimpse of Ben’s shadow fucking mine. Holy shit, we’re sexy. I look back at him, our gazes meet. I’m lost in him again. It’s intense and it’s all it takes for me to let go again.
“Oh,” I cry out, grasping his forearms. My muscles clench tight around him as I climax with soul-shattering intensity.
“Yes,” he hisses as he lets go, finding his own release. He closes his eyes tight and tilts his head back as he pulsates inside me. Our bodies are glistening in a thin sheath of sweat. I love sweaty sex.
Once he catches his breath, he stares down at me. I no longer see anger, jealousy or a misplaced ego.
All I see is his love.
And despite the fact that he just banged me like I was a cross between the creamy center of an Oreo and a whore, it was perfect. Dirty, rough, sticky and… strangely romantic.
“I love you,” he whispers as he brushes his lips lightly against mine. “I love you,” he whispers into my mouth. “I love you.” He kisses me softly.
I reach up and touch his cheek with the back of my hand. “I love you too. Only you, Ben. Only you.”
He looks down at me; his expression softens, and he smiles.
~o0o~
We’re lying in bed; Ben’s arms wrapped around me, spooning, my back to his front.
“I’m a sticky mess,” I complain. I feel his smile against my neck. “You know, you’re a jealous idiot,” I say, half-joking.
“I know.” He kisses the back of my head.
“But you’re my idiot.”
“That I am. Julia?” he asks quietly.
“Mmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For being rude to Pierce?”
“No. The bastard had it coming.”
“For what?”
“For hurting you.”
Yeah, the sex was a little rough and tumble, but he sure as hell didn’t hurt me. I turn around to face him and frown.
“Last winter. It’s my fault you invited him in. I’m sorry I hurt you. I wish I could take it back.”
I snuggle close to him, grabbing his arm and pulling it around me.
“It’s okay.”
He rolls on top of me, supporting his weight on his forearms, his expression serious.
“No, it’s not. I wasted weeks loving you from afar. There are times I close my eyes and remember the look of pain on your face when you left me. It kills me. You’re right, I should have manned-up and admitted my feelings. You are everything to me. I love you, Julia. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. I wish there was something I could do, anything, to make it up to you.”
“Oh Ben,” I reach my hand up and stroke his cheek. “You just did.”
He rolls to his side and pulls me back into an embrace. We lie together wrapped around each other.
“I never want to let you go,” he whispers.
“Then don’t.”
Chapter 5
After spending half the night and most of the morning jumping each other’s bones in various positions and on several different surfaces, reality has hit us like a cold splash of water. I glance at Ben’s carry-on luggage parked near the bedroom door. He’s leaving for Pittsburg this afternoon. This sucks. I’ve hardly had him here and he’s leaving again.
A cloud of steam fills his bedroom as the bathroom door opens. Ben walks out with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is towel-dried messy. A few droplets of water on his chest glisten when the sunlight filtering from the window reflects off them. Damp, delicious, and steamier than the steam around him.
Sundays are for cuddling in bed and making love in the afternoon, not watching Ben get dressed and leave. I wonder if we have time for a goodbye quickie. I’ll have a few days to recover from all the sex. I can pre-empt a UTI with the bottle of cranberry juice at my apartment. A quick wham-bam won’t kill me. I may walk a little funny— Fuck it; it’s a small price to pay for that towel wrapped, glistening, sex-on-two-legs man.
“What are you gawking at?” he asks, amused.
“You.”
“Oh? Like what you see?”
I tap a finger on my cheek a few times and purse my lips. “I’m undecided. Drop the towel and I’ll make a more informed decision.”
He tilts his head slightly and smiles. Unceremoniously, he drops the wet towel on the floor and stands in front of me in all his glorious nakedness.
Someone should declare a national holiday every time he drops a towel. I squirm a little, my nerve endings tingling as my teeth sink slowly into my bottom lip. He’s scrumptious.
“Well?” he asks, amused.
“So far, I like what I see. Why don’t you turn around and flex that ass of yours for me? Then you can come back to bed and stick that bad boy inside me. He looks depressed. I know just how to perk him up.” I jut my chin toward his crotch.
“Flex my ass?” he asks, shaking his head. “That will never happen. Anyway, I have a plane to catch. Didn’t I give you enough over the last twelve hours to hold you over?”
“I want more,” I murmur.
“You’re insatiable.”
“You made me this way. Come on, big boy.” I pat my hand down on the empty spot on the bed next to me. “I’ll be gentle.”
“You know, you haven’t taken your eyes off my dick since I dropped this towel.”
“What can I say? It’s awfully pretty.”
He tilts his head back slightly and laughs. “Well, my pretty dick and I have to go. You’ll have to wait until we’re back. And no touching yourself while I’m away.”
“Sorry, Ben. I’m not abiding by that insane request. You sex me up with your dirty talk and flirty texts while you’re gone and leave me no recourse to soothe it. I’m using my fingers, BOB, the showerhead, the washing machine… whatever I can find to get off while you’re away.”
“Washing machine?” He frowns as he slips on his boxer briefs.
“Don’t ask. Just come back soon. You haven’t left and I already miss you.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his arms out toward me. “Come here.” I scoot in close to him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I already miss you too.”
“How many days will you be gone this time?”
“Three days/two nights. I don’t want to be away too long…” Aww, that’s sweet; he’s rushing to get back to me. “With my grandmother’s health the way it is.”
Time for me to swallow a humble pill. Ben’s entire life doesn’t revolve around me.
/>
“She’ll be fine. Try not to worry.”
“There’s so much shit on my mind. I wish I could delay this trip but baseball season is only so long, and as you know…” He arches a brow. “I have deadlines.”
I don’t like his tone. The deadlines aren’t my fault. You want to blame someone, blame my boss. I’m just the messenger.
He continues. “On top of that and my grandmother’s health issues, when I fly back I’m meeting with my father and his lawyers.”
“For what?”
“To get my grandmother’s estate in order. And likely listen to more digs about me wasting my life.”
Talk about morbid. She’s still breathing, and they’re acting like she’s six feet under already.
“I’m sorry. Is that photographer on the same flight as you?”
“No. She’s flying out from Charleston. She had a family wedding or something down South. She’s meeting me at the hotel.”
“Okay.” I nod, looking down at my lap, and hugging myself, feeling a sudden burst of emotion.
Ben lifts my chin up to meet his gaze with his index finger. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I know what’s going through your head, Julia.”
“I told you, I’m going to miss you.” I look away; unable to make eye contact.
“That’s not what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about what Marcello told you about the photographer.”
I swallow hard and shrug a shoulder. The only information Ben knows about my Ex is that he was an asshole. I’m too embarrassed to admit to him that I was stupid and blind to all the cheating and lies.
“My only interest in her is her photography. I don’t care what her reputation is. I don’t care if it’s true or not. It’s none of my business. It has nothing to do with you and me.”
“I know. I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know why the rumors Marcello gabbed rattle me so much,” I lie. I know exactly why. I’ve been burned before—Burned to a crisp. And the fact is that this man-eater prefers taken men… I have to stop thinking and trust him.
“You are the sole owner of my heart, my soul… and my pretty dick.”
I smile and manage a small chuckle.
“There’s that beautiful smile.” He smiles back at me, his love shining from his eyes. “I love you, Julia.”