by Ann Lister
Before she left his side she spit on him. “I hope you rot in hell,” she yelled, and walked toward her limo. She saw a look of utter shock registering on Mike's face as she passed him.
“Is it true what you said about Billy?” Mike asked her.
“Do you think I'd make up a story like that?”
Mike shook his head. “I suppose not.”
“Let's go get Ben.”
Simon clapped his hands together when she got back into the car. “Where the hell did you learn moves like that? And, more importantly, what the fuck do you have against Billy Iris?”
Sydney crossed her legs and turned her gaze out the side window. “Shut up, Simon.”
By the time they arrived at the police station, Ben was already being released. Sydney saw him in the hallway and immediately ran to him. The right side of his face was smeared with blood from two cuts, one above his eye brow and the other on his cheek.
“Are you okay?” she asked Ben, and embraced him.
“Not too tight, Syd. I might have cracked a rib,” he said, and grimaced.
“We'll have Mike take us to the hospital so you can get checked out.”
“No hospitals, Syd,” he replied. He took the envelope containing the contents of his pockets from the police officer and drifted toward the exit. “The only place Mike is taking us is back to our hotel.”
They helped Ben into the back seat of the limousine and began the trip back to the hotel. Mike had the privacy window divider down between the front and back making it possible for everyone to talk.
“Laura called,” Mike said. “Tonight's show has been canceled.”
“Fine by me,” Ben replied, turning toward Simon. “I still don't understand why Billy dropped the assault charges.”
Simon started laughing. “Why don't you ask Syd.”
Ben looked at Sydney. “Did I miss something?”
Sydney shook her head, her eyes glued to the traffic passing them on the street.
“Syd had a little run-in with Billy in the parking lot and, lets just say, Billy was on the losing end,” Simon said with a smile.
“What did you do, Syd?” Ben asked her.
“I finished what you started.”
“Are you okay?”
“Never been better.”
Sydney sat in silence for the rest of the ride, caught in her own private thoughts. Ben sat beside her chatting with his brother. It was a small victory for her, seeing Billy flopping around on the pavement in agony, but still, it felt empty. She hated the fact Ben had been dragged into her mess and, in the process, hurt.
CHAPTER NINE
They arrived at the hotel and took the elevator. Sydney was still silent, content to listen to Simon and Ben talking. The elevator stopped at Sydney's floor first and she stepped out.
“Wait up, Syd,” Ben said.
Simon held his brother in place and prevented his exit. A sly smile formed on Simon's face and his grip tightened on Ben's arm.
“Well, big bro,” he said. “I'd say by the looks you two keep exchanging and all the hand holding I've seen, I must owe you some money for our little bet.”
Ben slammed his forearm against Simon's throat.
“I told you a long time ago, there is no fucking bet, so shut your mouth!”
He gave Simon another shove and jumped from the elevator before the door closed, then ran down the hall towards Sydney's room. He managed to catch up to her just as she was unlocking her door and followed her into the room.
“Are you mad at me for something?” he asked.
Sydney tossed the pass key onto the dresser. “I'm emotionally drained, that's all.”
“You didn't get hurt, did you?”
“No, but that's more than I can say for you,” she said, and turned on the bathroom light.
“Does it look bad?”
“Why don't you sit and I'll get a cloth to clean up your face.”
Ben sat on the edge of her bed and waited. She returned a few minutes later with two aspirin and a glass of water.
“Take these first,” she said, and handed Ben the pills. “I'm sure by now you have a monster of a headache. If not, you will soon enough.”
Ben swallowed the pills and set the empty glass on the table beside the bed. Sydney returned from the bathroom a second time carrying a cold, wet face cloth and a dry towel. She tossed the towel to the end of the bed and stepped in front of Ben. Then carefully tipped his head and began cleaning the blood from his face with the cloth.
“Simon thinks I sent you into the press room to fight my battle for me. Is that what you think?” she asked.
Ben slid his hands around the back of her thighs and pulled her between his knees. “I don't think that at all. I had no intention of fighting Billy when I first went into that room. Then I saw his smug-ass smile and snapped. Next thing I knew, the fists were flying and we were on the floor.”
Sydney gently dabbed at his bruised skin.
“No one has ever fought for me,” she said quietly.
Ben saw tears shimmering on her cheeks. “Sydney, please don't cry. That piece of shit deserved everything he got today. It's over and we're both okay.”
“I feel bad because you got hurt. That shouldn't have happened.”
Ben stood up and pulled her against him, his hands resting on her butt. “Forget about it. I'm fine,” he said. “Besides, the show got canceled and that means I get to spend some more time with you and that's always a good thing.”
Her hands went to his chest. “It looks like you got blood on your shirt,” she said, then she noticed a tear in the fabric. She pulled open the neck of his shirt to examine his skin and found another one inch laceration just below his collar bone.
“Let me get another cloth,” she said. “And I'll clean up that cut, too.”
She was wetting a fresh cloth in the sink when Ben filled the doorway. He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off his broad shoulders and dropped it beside the sink. She turned to face him and froze. She had seen him shirtless countless times, but the fire she saw in his eyes made the moment feel decidedly more intimate than all the others combined. She swallowed hard and stepped toward him with the cloth.
“How does your rib feel?” she asked softly.
Ben removed the cloth from her hand and tossed it into the sink. “I'm not thinking about my rib right now,” he said. He embraced her, his lips slowly floating across her face without making contact.
She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, his pelvis pressing against hers, then finally his mouth opened, searching for hers. Her arms circled his waist and her body flooded with desire.
Without breaking his embrace or the seal he had on her mouth, Ben began walking them backward toward the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress and set her in his lap. His mouth opened wider, his tongue teased the tip of hers. She felt the vibration of his moan in the back of her throat. He reclined onto the quilt and pulled her down beside him. He eased her onto her back and slowly began to position himself on top of her. His kisses becoming more urgent; his sex swelling against her. The arousal she had felt seconds earlier was now being replaced with the panic of losing control.
“Ben, please stop,” she said, and recoiled beneath him. When he didn't immediately respond, she gave him a second command. “I said: stop!”
She pushed against his chest and rolled away, sitting upright on the edge of the bed. Nervously she ran her fingers through her hair. “I still get panic attacks when I get into situations where I feel trapped.”
“That wasn't my intention, Sydney.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was laying on his side supporting his head in his hand. “Thankfully, it doesn't happen very often,” she said. “The last time was on the subway in New York. Another time I was in an elevator.”
“I understand, Sydney. It's okay,” he said with a shrug. “How about you sit back here with me and we'll talk?”
She smiled at him and slowly shifted toward t
he pillows at the headboard. “I bet you've never had to work this hard to get a woman into bed.”
“I've never met a woman that was worth the extra effort,” he smiled.
Sydney touched his face. “Benjamin Gallo, you always seem to know just the right thing to say.”
He laughed and reached for the remote control to the television. “Would you like to watch a movie?”
“I suppose.”
“What are you interested in: comedy, drama, romance…or how about some porn?” he teased.
Sydney made a sour face.
“All right. No porn,” he said, and changed the channel.
“Does anyone ever call you Benjamin?” Sydney asked.
“My mother does, but only when she's really pissed at me.”
Sydney's fingers touched the heart tattoo on his chest. “Did you get this for a girl?”
“Yes, my fiancée.”
“You're engaged?” Sydney asked, and pulled away from him.
“My ex-fiancée,” he said with a grin. “Her name used to be in the center of the heart, but I had it covered with the ribbon after we broke-up.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About five or six years. It was short-lived.”
“What happened?” she asked. She began tracing the blank ribbon of the heart inking with her finger.
“This is going to sound worse than it was, but, I caught her in bed with Simon.”
“Are you joking?”
“No joke, Syd. We'd all known each other since we were kids. For some reason, I ended up with her, but it was Simon she really wanted. Only problem was, he didn't want her. How's that for irony?”
“That guy is positively evil.”
Ben ran his thumb over Sydney's lips. “Simon did me a favor.”
“You call that a favor?”
“In this case, it was.”
Sydney slid her fingers onto the muscles of his stomach and through the soft hairline that naturally led the eye from his belly button to his groin.
“I think I like this tattoo the best,” she said thoughtfully. She began outlining the letters in his ‘Reckless’ inking with her index finger.
Ben sat up slightly on an elbow and watched her fingers move across his bare skin. He wondered if she was aware of what her touch was doing to him. Sydney's hand was precariously close to slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans and the proximity to his groin was making him sweat.
“Do you have any other tattoos besides these?” she asked, her fingers fanning across his lower belly.
“No, that's it, but it's nice to know you're looking.”
Sydney raised her eyes to meet his and smiled. “It would be impossible to miss your body art, Ben. You're not exactly shy about taking off your shirt.”
Ben's gaze became heavy with lust and his expression turned serious. “I’m not shy about taking off my pants, either, Sydney. Just say the word, and they’re gone.”
Sydney settled beside him on the pillows.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.
“Blue. The same shade as your eyes. That’s my new favorite color,” he said, and rolled closer. His hand moved behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her gently.
“Speaking of tattoos,” he said. “The one you have on your lower back is sexy as hell. It drives me to distraction whenever I'm lucky enough to get a peek at it.”
Sydney tipped her head back and studied his expression. “When did you see that?”
“Well, now that you've thankfully lost the lumberjack attire, I get a glimpse of it every time you bend over - and trust me, I'm looking,” he grinned. “Do you have any more?”
“I have three. They're all pretty small. The one on my back is the largest, then I have this one on my bicep. It's rose buds on a string of garland.”
His hand skimmed across her stomach. “Where's the third?”
Sydney's face blushed hotly. “I can't tell you that.”
Ben raised an eye brow. “Hmmm, sounds intriguing. I'll have to set up a one-man expedition party to seek out the location of that one.”
He kissed her again, doing his best to restrain himself and maintain some sense of control over his behavior. Though, with every passing second, that was becoming increasingly more difficult to achieve.
“Who's your favorite band?” he asked, temporarily releasing her mouth.
“My all-time favorite is Thrust.”
Ben pulled back sharply and laughed. “That was a test, Sydney, and you failed miserably. You were supposed to say my band.”
“I only started listening to your music a few weeks ago. I'm still in the process of getting familiar with your material.”
“I thought you said you didn't listen to the music during our shows?”
“I don't,” she said. “I bought two of your CDs a couple of weeks back and I've been listening to those.”
“I don't believe you.”
“It's true. Check the backpack beside the bed.”
Ben rolled to the edge of the mattress and reached into the bag beside the bed. He pulled out two CDs and read the titles.
“I could have given you copies of these for free - had you asked. This disk is old, one of our first,” he said, holding up the CD titled Dragonfly. “What's your favorite track on this one.”
“Is this another test?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“I liked the title track, Dragonfly,” she said.
“Really? I'm surprised.”
“Why?” she asked.
He returned the CDs to the bag and rolled back against her, his mouth quickly finding hers. “Do you have any idea what Dragonfly is about?” he asked.
“It's about sex, but not the romantic kind,” she said. “It's about raunchy sex with a stranger. And I don't want to know where the inspiration for the lyrics came from, so don't go offering the information.”
Ben snickered against her lips. “It's a generalization, Sydney, coming from several different sources and situations - most of which, I wasn't involved.”
“Is that why you have the dragonfly tattoo on your shoulder?” she asked. Her breathing was becoming labored, his kisses more intimate.
“That song was our first big hit. I celebrated by having the symbol inked on my back.”
He maneuvered his leg between hers and slid his hand down her throat and onto her chest.
“What did you think of the Carnivores CD?” he asked.
His fingers began undoing the fist button of her blouse. Sydney fought hard to control her panic and the reflex to make him stop. Truth was, she didn't want him to stop. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on the calming timbre of his voice.
“I liked the song, ‘Finger On The Pulse’”, she said. “I thought the imagery was beautiful.”
“What do you think that song is about?” he asked. His lips softly brushed over hers, then covered her mouth.
“Well…it's completely different from Dragonfly,” she said. “‘Finger On The Pulse’ is about love - you loving a woman and wanting her to love you back.”
“This woman is special though, isn't she?” he asked.
He unfastened the second button on Sydney's shirt, his hand disappeared beneath the fabric and moved across the fullness of her breasts.
Sydney's hand quickly covered his, almost stopping its progression. Her hesitation was no more than a heartbeat, then she squeezed his hand and helped him massage her breast.
“She is your ideal of the perfect woman,” she said. “You've got your finger on her pulse, like you're doing to me now, and you can see your life passing across her eyes like the clouds in the sky.”
Ben smiled appreciatively.
“You're reciting lyrics now,” he said. “I'm impressed.”
His fingers eased beneath the satiny lace of her bra and touched bare flesh. Her breath caught and Ben momentarily paused. He studied her expression, almost afraid to move.
“It's okay,” she
whispered.
He shifted her against him, his thumb and index finger pinching the thin strip of satin at the center of her back and released the bra into his hand, finished unbuttoning her shirt and eased it off her shoulders. His hands covered her breasts, lightly thumbing her nipples and bringing each to perfect rosy peaks.
Sydney pressed herself to him. The friction his body was creating against her bare skin was blissful. The wetness of his mouth, the way he moved his body, and the skill of his hands were making her crazy.
He pulled her on top of him and straddled her across his hips. She sat upright at first, staring down at him.
“Am I going too fast?” he asked.
Sydney shook her head. He watched her eyes slowly close and gently pulled her down to him. He hugged her tightly, enjoying the motion of her breasts against his. It was almost more than he could take.
She tipped forward and began rocking on him, her face pressed to his neck. Her breath was hot on his skin. His hands gripped onto her waist and helped articulate her rotations over his groin. Her mouth found his; their kisses built in intensity with her circular movements. He bent his legs at the knee and spread his thighs slightly, creating a better saddle.
With each shift of her hips, she was pushing him closer to orgasm but he didn't want her to stop. It felt too good. Sydney arched forward in his arms and sighed his name in a way that made it sound almost lyrical. Her head fell to his chest and slowly her hips came to rest.
“That was the most erotic lap dance I've ever had,” he sighed.
Sydney kissed his chest and slid off his lap.
“Another ten seconds and I would have…” he started to say, then he noticed her flushed face. He pushed the hair off her forehead and kissed her.
“I'm guessing by the look on your face, you didn't need the extra ten seconds, did you?” he said, and teased her lips with the tip of his tongue.
His fingers skimmed across her stomach and onto the front of her pants. He cupped her crotch and squeezed, then moved higher to the button of her jeans. With little effort, it released in his hand. Her eyes sparked and Ben held his breath, waiting for her to stop him, but she didn't. He toyed with the zipper and slowly inched it down.