by R. J. Lewis
I did. I wanted to. Hell, I imagined myself being taken right then and there on that couch. But…
Abruptly, I stood up, breaking the contact of his touch. Shit, what the hell was I doing?
“Did you want me to get you anything?” I asked him, not meeting his eye. “Something to drink and eat or…?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him run a hand through his hair. “Uh, sure. Whatever you have will do.”
I nodded and took off to the kitchen. I’m a chicken shit. I felt scattered, opening cupboards and peering in. My mind was distracted by him sitting half a room away. I ended up stopping to watch him. His back was to me and he was leaning over now, leafing through a magazine on the coffee table.
Why did I freak out so much?
Returning to the task at hand, I pulled out a box of crackers. Was I seriously going to make him a platter of crackers and cheese? What the hell was wrong with me? My hands were trembling, and I had to pause and breathe slowly through my mouth. I was trying to play hostess to a questionable man I hardly knew in my house at quarter to midnight. To top it all off, I couldn’t stop repeating his words in my head.
You’re incredibly beautiful. Was he blind? Or was he just a liar?
He’s blind, I decided. Had to be.
“Is everything alright?”
My body went rigid. He sounded close. Very close.
I turned my head to him. He was standing at the entrance of the kitchen, looking at me concernedly. Was he pitying me? Is that what this was about?
I threw the box of crackers down on the counter and faced him. “What do you want from me?” I asked out of frustration with my arms slightly raised. “I don’t get it. Why are you really here?”
He went still. Even his breathing slowed as he watched me with lips parted. I waited for a response, feeling like I was going mad. The man was gorgeous. He could be anywhere right now. Yet he abruptly re-entered my life and it made absolutely no sense to me!
“Do you want me gone?” he asked cautiously.
No! No! No!
“I just want to know what you want,” I replied.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he stole my breath away with the look he was giving me. That same heat from before crackled between us; it was a connection that flowed like the particles of an electric current, the kind of charge you felt deep in your bones. Never before had I wanted someone as badly as I wanted him. Nine months of pining for a stranger I never thought I’d see again, and I was ravenous for his company. And the best part of all was I knew he felt it too.
His tongue lightly lapped his bottom lip as he stared down at my mouth, and I had a distinct idea what he was about to do.
I was right.
He took two steps forward and crashed his mouth to mine.
Chapter Six
Look at me
I stood still as Ben’s hands rested on each side of my face. He kissed me without restraint, moving his soft lips harshly against my own as though he never would have the chance to again. I shut my eyes and kissed him back with equal fervour.
My mind was mute, and my body was all feeling. My hands gripped his shirt as I angled my head up for a deeper kiss. The second I felt his tongue seeking a way in, I opened my mouth and accepted it. My body shook at the taste of him and his breathing picked up as his body pressed against mine. My back hit the kitchen counter, and his hand drifted down my neck and along the front of my body. He gripped my hip and squeezed it gently. I felt the press of his bulge against my stomach and lightly moaned into his mouth.
“I want you,” he panted against my opened mouth. “That’s why I’m here. It’s the only reason I’m here, beauty.”
I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. I felt an ache already. The need to be touched. To be close.
His hand on my hip moved lower. His fingers trailed the hem of my dress before dipping beneath the fabric. Withdrawing from my mouth, he gave me light kisses along my jaw line and stroked the back of my thighs. I tilted my head up higher so he had access to my neck. I felt his heated kisses move lower as he lightly caressed my skin with his tongue.
“Do you like this?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head.
“What do you want?”
“You,” I puffed out, “and this.” So much more of this.
He picked me up and settled me on the kitchen counter. My legs spread apart and he stepped between them. My other hand drifted down his back and pulled him closer to me. I inched closer to the edge of the counter, seeking the friction between my legs to quench the pulsing ache that was growing there.
He rested each hand over the top of my bare thigh and kissed me, deeply and thoroughly, until I was groaning for more. My hand slowly drifted down his torso, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. It settled on the bulge in his pants. One rub and he pulled back instantly.
Panting hard, he said, “I don’t… I’m not here for that.”
I stared at him for a moment and nodded. I tried to rationalize his words and tell myself he was right. That… this was stupid. It was wrong, and we could wait –
I gripped his shirt and pulled him back to me. Fuck all that rubbish. I wanted him. So damn much, I was shaking.
Breathing hard against his mouth, I said, “My bedroom is upstairs. First door.”
He tensed and went still for a second, not even kissing back as he thought about my words. And then all at once his hands gripped the back of each thigh again. He picked me back up, and I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist. He kissed my mouth lightly on his way out of the kitchen. His chest was moving rapidly against my own as he took me up the stairs and to the first bedroom. He opened it and stepped inside.
His eyes stayed on mine as he rested my feet back on the floor. He took a step back and said, “Take your dress off. Now.”
I quickly did as he said, unzipping it from the side and letting it fall to the floor. All the while he was languidly unbuttoning his dress shirt and watching me with hooded eyes. He threw his shirt off before undoing his belt.
“Everything,” he then demanded in a hard tone, nodding his head to my bra. “Take it all off.”
I shakily unclasped my bra and slid my panties down. I’d done this song and dance many times before with guys I’d spoken less words to, but we were usually not sober.
I kept my arms to my side as I stood before him completely naked. It helped the room was dark, but the butterflies in my stomach reminded me of how long it’d been since I was with a guy. And this guy was something else. He was over six feet of sexy male goodness.
Keeping his gaze on my body, he took his clothes off at a leisurely pace. He was lean, tall, and strong. His broad shoulders were thick, his chest was wide, and his stomach was curved beautifully with pronounced abs.
He wasn’t overly muscular, but right in the middle between thick and lean. A perfect combination that made him appear all the more ripped. My eyes lapped him up and down, until I was wetting my lips and staring heatedly below his V-line.
He was long. Thick. Hard.
Clothed and naked, Ben Costigan was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.
“On the bed,” he ordered. “Rest on your back.”
There was a kind of buzz at being ordered what to do. It wasn’t some drunk make-out session followed by a rushed session of sex. Ben was direct and demanding.
I lay down on the bed and waited tentatively for his next move. He approached the bed and loomed over me. His eyes skimmed my body from head to toe, and my breathing slowed when his hand wrapped around his length. He pumped himself once, twice, before he asked in a low voice, “How long has it been since you’ve been with a man, beauty?”
My eyes were glued to his slow movements when I weakly replied, “A long time.”
“How long?” he pressed tightly. “Be specific.”
“Nine months.”
I looked up at his face just as he nodded. “Good.”
The bed shifted as he climbed on. The anticipation was killing me. His movements were slow and unrushed. He looked at every part of me, and it was difficult not to feel self-conscious. My body had changed dramatically in nine months. My muscle tone had gone. The curves of my hips had shrunken. And my breasts…well, each could easily fit into the palm of his hand.
“Are you on birth control?” he asked, positioning himself on his knees.
I nodded. I’d been on birth control since I was fifteen.
“Good. Now spread your legs.”
I did as he asked, keeping my vision fixed on him. I spread my legs apart, feeling the cold air drift between them. He took my legs with each hand and skimmed up them. Once he reached my inner thighs, he spread them further apart.
“Like that,” he whispered.
I felt vulnerable and completely open to him. He stared between my legs with parted lips and a hand still wrapped around himself. Then he glanced back up at me, and a wolfish smirk formed his lips as he said, “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
Startled by his request, I blinked helplessly at him. For a few seconds there was a hesitant silence. Sure I’d been with many men, but I wasn’t technically experienced. They’d been drunk moments that lasted minutes. And I certainly never pleasured myself in front of someone before.
Ben took my limp hand and rested it between my legs. “I want to see how you do it. Show me how you fuck yourself.”
While we’d long adjusted to the darkness, I was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see the blush heating my cheeks. Trembling, I stroked myself. Too nervous, I didn’t feel the usual sparks when I was turned on. It sort of felt numb as I moved my fingers in random directions. I couldn’t relax while being closely observed like this.
He seemed to sense this too and frowned. “Do you like what you see, Claire?”
I nodded.
“Speak.”
“Yes.”
“Stare at my body. Hell, look at my damn cock and see how hard I am for you. This is what you do to me. You leave me completely pining to be inside of you. Pining to fuck you silly. I’m hard as a rock.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his length and I sucked in a breath. Fuck, this was hot. “See? Now relax and enjoy yourself. Because it’s just you and me, beauty. This is between us, and it’s going to feel good when you’ve let go. So, let go.”
He moved my hand back between my legs. I relaxed like he told me to and feasted my eyes on his body. His length was what got to me the most. He was hard. For me. And I felt it. He liked what he was seeing, and he’d like it even more if I touched myself.
I rubbed myself again, slowly running circles along my clit. A thunderbolt of pleasure ran up my body and I gasped at the feeling. He watched me closely, stroking his erection as I continued to pleasure myself.
I shut my eyes as the tingles began to multiply. It felt naughty being observed. I moved faster, arching my back. I felt the mattress shift, and his warmth drew nearer. I moaned lightly, already lost in my movements. I wanted to get there and I wanted him to see and enjoy it.
“Stop,” he suddenly told me.
I almost whimpered at the loss of pleasure, but I obeyed. I stopped rubbing myself and waited.
“Open your eyes.”
I opened them and looked into his.
“Put a finger inside you,” he instructed, “and look at me while you do it.”
Holy hell.
My body felt like a ball of fire. Any second now I’d disintegrate into a cloud of smoke. But I was too turned on to stop. I stared at him as I slowly edged my finger into my entrance. I resisted moaning at the pulsing feeling of pleasure shooting up. His eyes stared hard at me, but his chest moved faster, a sign that he was not as composed as he let on.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “All the way in.”
Shaking, I slid my finger inside.
“Good. Now take it out.”
The second I withdrew my finger, he grabbed my wrist lightly and brought my hand up to his face. My breathing thinned as he took my finger all the way into his mouth and slowly sucked it from end to tip. Oh, my God, if I wasn’t drenched in lust before, this had done it.
He set my hand back down to my side and brought his body over mine. I knotted my fingers into his hair as he kissed me hard. He stroked his tongue against mine, urgently spreading my legs wide to accommodate himself between them. I lifted my hips and felt his hard length near my entrance, brushing against my core. I brought my hands down to his lower back and tried to pull him down to me.
I was so turned on, I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t care how desperate I looked either. I just wanted him. I wanted that need to be quenched. I wanted to feel the warmth of him like it was all that mattered in my world.
“I’m not a gentle man,” he suddenly whispered into my ear, “but I’m going to be gentle this first time. Okay?”
I nodded. I could feel the impact of those words, insinuating to me there was more to come. It excited me. He wanted me, and not in the way most others have.
He looked down between us as he rubbed the head of his cock against me, coating himself with my wetness. His breathing was hard and strained as he pumped himself outside of me a few times before settling back to my entrance. He leaned down and, with a kiss as soft as satin, he finally pushed into me. I stifled a moan and went to close my eyes when his hand gripped my chin suddenly.
“No,” he breathed against me. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked just as drunk with pleasure as me, but he kept his eyes on mine as he continued his slow trek within me. It’d been so long, and the feeling of fullness had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Look at me,” he repeated softly.
When I did, my chest squeezed and a strange feeling soared through me. It was hard looking at him. It felt too… personal. I wanted to close my eyes and just drown myself in the feeling, but he kept his hand cupped at my chin and my face directed at him. He moved in and out slowly, as if savouring every inch, and when I made to close my eyes again, he paused and waited for me to open them.
So I kept them directed at him, even though it was hard. While I felt the pleasure of his thrusts, I was too distracted by the personal invasion of his gaze. I felt stripped bare and he could see all of me.
He brushed his tongue against mine again before his lips roamed my face. My breathing stopped entirely when his mouth made contact with my scars. He kissed every individual one delicately, like that part of my face deserved to be cherished. Pain shot through my heart, and I was terrified he could see it in my eyes.
This was too much. I wanted him to stop. I couldn’t bear to be touched there.
But I only found myself gripping him tighter and fighting back the tears that surfaced behind my eyes as he continued to move into me. His breaths turned to pants as his thrusts quickened. He gripped my ass above the mattress and sent sharper, harder thrusts into me. He groaned at this, pulling my lower body a few inches up so it was elevated. His thrusts went deeper this way and I shook suddenly at the pleasure that I was edging toward.
How did he get me there so fast?
I moaned loudly as I began to approach the crest.
“That’s it, lovely,” he growled. “You feel incredible. The way you’re hugging my cock right now, it’s killing me.”
I dug my nails into his skin and frantically kissed him. It was more breath than kiss, though.
“That’s it,” he repeated. “Get yourself there.”
I trembled and cried out. Oh, the pleasure. On and on it went. On and on he went. It built and built and…
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. “Oh, my God.”
The orgasm that rocked my body was sudden and bittersweet. It stretched on, a buzz that seemed to flow as fast as my bloodstream. I shook and rode it out as Ben gripped me tight and followed with his own release. Eyes still locked with mine, he grunted against my m
outh. I felt his cock jerk inside of me, and his body quaked as he came.
For a split second his walls went down, and I saw a vulnerability in him. I felt his melancholy before he panted and buried his face into my neck, as though he didn’t want me to see.
The minutes that followed were silent as a grave. I felt the pounding of both our hearts against each other’s pressed chests, and I wrapped my arms around him. I held him close, and stared up into the darkness. I found myself asking the same question over and over again.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Seven
I’m very picky
He moved off of me. For a split second I expected him to get out of bed and start to get ready to leave. That had been my reality when I’d started bedding men: screwing someone and getting out of there minutes after it ended. Like a quota that had been filled, you were of no more use.
I watched Ben closely as he ran a hand through his hair and rested on his back. He was still catching his breath when his arm reached out and found me. To my astonishment, he pulled me to him, until I had my head over his chest and my front body against his side. We were sweaty and we smelled of sex, but beneath all that I still caught the whiff of his unique scent.
I relaxed after a tense few moments. He absently ran his fingers up and down my spine, and I couldn’t help but feel like one of the many heroines I read about in my books. The way they felt safe and warm in the hero’s arms, I understood that feeling now. Ben was the first guy that bothered to bring me close after he got what he wanted. But unlike the other guys that came and went, he’d looked after my needs too.
I felt cherished.
“Why’d you ask me how long it’d been since I’d been with someone?” I wondered out loud, breaking the silence.
His fingers paused at my lower back. “Because I didn’t want to be another number to you,” he answered bluntly.
“You? A number?” I nearly laughed.