The Barbershop Girl

by Georgina Penney

  ‘I don’t know. You seem pretty marvellous to me so far. You know what would be even more marvellous though?’

  ‘No, what?’ Ben leaned forward to catch another kiss but missed when she ducked out of the way.

  ‘If you could set the table.’

  Amy watched, beaming with no small amount of eagerness and pride, as Ben took his first bite of the risotto.

  ‘Good?’ she asked, knowing what the answer should be. She didn’t have a wide culinary repertoire, but the things she did make – good stick-to-your-ribs food and hip-clinging desserts – had been mastered to perfection. Or at least Amy’s idea of perfection, which was to provide pleasure for the people in her life.

  She wasn’t disappointed.

  Ben groaned. ‘My God! Your talents are wasted. What are you doing with a barbershop when you can cook like this?’

  Amy flushed with pleasure. ‘Thanks, but you know, it’s what I do for fun and for friends. If I had to cook, I probably wouldn’t want to. It wouldn’t be fun any more. I make cake for the customers at work and they seem to like it, but that’s about it.’ She took a sip of the red wine Ben had brought along and nodded with satisfaction. It went beautifully.

  ‘Tell me more. We just covered me. I want to know about you,’ Ben said, before popping another forkful of risotto in his mouth and chewing with a satisfied smile.

  Amy waved a hand dismissively. ‘Not much to tell, really. I’m quite boring.’

  ‘I beg to differ.’

  Amy averted her eyes to Gerald, who’d settled himself next to the still-warm stove. The sight of his comically ugly face, smooshed against the floor next to a puddle of drool, helped her regain her composure.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ she asked Ben, who was watching her with a disconcerting intensity.

  ‘Everything.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Everything? You might regret that. How about I just give you a quick summary?’ She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her index finger. ‘I’m twenty-seven years old. I own my own business and the bank owns my house. I love my job most of the time. I have one older sister, Jo, who you saw earlier in the photos. She’s much more interesting than I am. She’s amazing, really. She used to work all over the world but now she’s setting up her own brewery with her fiancé. My friends are just as remarkable. You’ve already heard of Scott, right? So you know about him. Then there’s Myf, who does the most amazing paintings. Her work is selling like hotcakes. So really, compared to them, I’m not that interesting. I’m just a small business owner.’

  Ben set down his fork with a thunk. ‘You’ve just managed to successfully tell me nothing at all.’

  Amy shrugged a little self-consciously. ‘That’s because I’m not that interesting.’

  ‘I beg to differ. Tell me about your little thing for the nineteen fifties.’

  Amy ran her fingers over the stem of her wine glass. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘I like complicated. That means it’s an interesting story.’ Ben leaned back in his chair and loosely crossed his arms. ‘Spill.’

  ‘If you fall asleep, you’re not getting any dessert,’ Amy admonished, only to have him impatiently wave his hand through the air.

  ‘You’re still not talking.’

  ‘Okay, well, remember how I told that I used to live on a winery? We lived in this small house that only had two bedrooms and a combined kitchen and living room.’

  ‘Smaller than this place?’ Ben looked around the diminutive kitchen.

  ‘Probably half the size.’

  Ben contemplated that. ‘In that case you weren’t living in a house, sweetheart, you were living in a broom cupboard, but please continue.’

  Amy pursed her lips. ‘Anyway. I shared a room with Jo. Some nights were pretty scary—’

  ‘Why?’ Ben demanded.

  ‘Dad was an alcoholic. To distract me, Jo would get me to quietly sing all the songs I’d learned from the old daytime movies Mum liked. I didn’t know they were from the fifties. I just knew they made me happy. I loved the clothes, the hair, the shoes – everything. The women were so . . .’ She bit the inside of her cheek and looked out the dark kitchen window while searching for the right word. ‘Neat, beautiful. Together. I used to dream about being like them and the minute I got enough money to dress like them, I did. When I turned fifteen, Jo bought me an entire Marilyn Monroe boxed set from a garage sale. All her movies. They got me through so many hard times. Meant so much to me.’ Her eyes teared up when she remembered that her beloved films were now in the hands of whoever had broken into her house. ‘They were stolen last Saturday. What someone wanted with some old movies, I’ll never know but hey, that’s life.’ She blinked rapidly, forcing a smile. ‘The rest is history. A few years later Babyface and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes were born.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So anyway, there you have it. Not that interesting, really.’ She abruptly got up from the table, collecting dishes in one go and taking them to the sink.

  ‘Do you want dessert?’ she asked in the thickening silence.

  ‘Would you mind terribly if I said no?’

  Amy felt her stomach sink. Had she just been so boring that he wanted to go home already? ‘It’s apple crumble. I promise I won’t poison you.’ She grabbed a tea towel and pulled the crumble from the oven, setting it on the bench. ‘It’s from a recipe I’ve used for years. I’ve got it perfec—’

  She gasped when two warm hands grasped her hips from behind.

  ‘That does smell delicious, but I’ve got a better idea.’ Ben whispered in her ear.

  A shiver, part panic, part arousal, arced along Amy’s spine and she went rigid. ‘Yeah? Uhm, well . . .’ she began, and then paused when Ben gently pulled her back against his chest and smoothed his hands around her hips, splaying his fingers over her stomach.

  ‘Um, Ben. You don’t have to do that.’ She breathed out in a rush as he trailed a string of hot kisses up her neck to her ear before gently scraping his teeth over her earlobe.

  ‘Don’t I?’ he whispered in her ear. All earlier worries evaporated.

  ‘Hmm. Maybe you do.’ She rubbed her backside against the hard bulge in his trousers and was rewarded with a low murmur of encouragement. His hands drifted back up to her waist and gently, firmly, turned her around before she could protest.

  She found herself looking up into a pair of hungry feline eyes just before Ben’s mouth covered hers in a voracious kiss. It was all she could do to breathe as his hands clasped her backside and pulled her flush against him, his arousal pressing against her stomach, her breasts flattened against his chest. This was nice. Very nice. She moaned and darted her tongue out to meet his. He tasted like red wine and something extra, darker and quite yummy. She reached her hands up to clasp the back of his head only to be foiled when Ben pulled away.

  ‘I have a suggestion,’ he said huskily, breathing heavily.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Why don’t we relocate the rest of our evening to somewhere more horizontal?’

  ‘Oh. Hmm . . . Ben . . .’

  ‘That’s my name. I’ll assume you’re about to say, “Ben, horizontal is my favourite way to be,”’ he said before distracting her with another hot, consuming kiss.

  Maybe horizontal was a good idea. Her back arched as one of his hands worked its way up her side, coming around to cover her breast.

  ‘My bedroom is just off the living room.’ She bit the side of his neck, enjoying the way he purred in approval.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She reached around his waist, running her hands down to clasp his backside and squeezing, enjoying the feel of tight muscle under her fingertips.

  ‘I’ll drive, you navigate,’ Ben said against her lips with a chuckle, walking her backwards, across the kitchen, through the living room and into her bedroom before backing her against the wall just inside the doorway. A faint hint of stubble rasped against her cheek as he slid his hands down her hips, grasped the hem of her dress and pulled it to her wa
ist, cupping a hand between her thighs.

  ‘Bed?’ The heel of his palm ground against her clitoris, his fingers stroking over satin before he nudged her tiny G-string aside and slipped a finger deep inside her.

  Amy whimpered. ‘The bed’s right behind us.’

  ‘Hmm?’ His teeth scored a line down her neck, finding a pulse point and sucking while his finger began moving in a slow, lazy rhythm.

  Amy grabbed his head in two hands and slammed her mouth against his, clumsily rubbing her tongue against his lips, her hips moving in a shaky rhythm.

  Ben groaned against her mouth. ‘Sweetheart, let’s slow this down a minute. We haven’t got to the horizontal bit yet.’ He withdrew his hand and twisted them both away from the wall, taking the few steps towards the bed, coming down on top of Amy after a less than graceful stumble over a pair of her discarded shoes. They both laughed breathlessly.

  ‘Sorry. No finesse.’ Ben supported his weight on his elbows, his body pressed deliciously between her spread thighs.

  ‘Don’t let me stop you from continuing,’ Amy said solemnly, her mouth twitching as she slipped her hands beneath his light wool jumper, running her hands up and down his sides, lightly scoring him with her nails. She was rewarded when his nostrils flared.

  ‘I intend to,’ he murmured, leaning down to gently bite the pale skin of her breast, just above the neckline of her dress, before giving the other one similar treatment.

  Amy made a low humming sound.

  ‘You like that.’ It was a statement, not a question. He lightly kissed the spots he’d bitten, inhaling deeply. ‘Apples,’ he whispered. ‘Who needs apple crumble when they’ve got you? Do you taste like this all over?’ He shifted lower.

  ‘Apples?’ Amy felt a tug on her underwear.

  ‘Fuchsia,’ he said with a satisfied purr. ‘And frills. I expected no less.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘These.’ He nipped her through the lace of her underwear, his breath warm, unbelievably erotic.

  ‘Ohhh.’

  ‘Lift up, sweetheart. As lovely as they are, these really have to go.’

  Amy obliged, closing her eyes with a wide smile when Ben’s hands ran down the outside of her legs, taking her underwear with them, only to skim up the insides, pushing her thighs apart. Anticipation curled low in Amy’s stomach. She felt Ben’s thumbs delicately parting her hypersensitive folds and then . . . nothing.

  ‘Ben? What are you doing down there?’ She hiked herself up onto her elbows to look at him in the faint light coming from the open bedroom door. He was sprawled between her legs, studying her with a wide grin.

  He sighed theatrically, keeping his thumbs right where they were. ‘You’re not going to be difficult, are you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Amy asked, wiggling her hips, hoping he’d get the message.

  ‘One should never rush dessert. It’s an insult to the chef,’ he said solemnly. ‘Now go back to what you were doing and leave me in peace.’

  ‘What? Ohh.’ Amy collapsed backwards on the bed, her hands gripping the duvet as he leaned forward and flicked her clitoris with a delicate lick, and then another before he really got to work. He sent her insane, exploring every inch of her, delicately at first and then more aggressively, his stubble rasping against the insides of her thighs, his tongue lashing, pushing inside her, his breath heated. He elbowed her legs wider, murmuring in appreciation when her whimpers turned to plaintive cries that filled the room.

  ‘Oh God,’ she wailed, her body taut, muscles straining.

  ‘Yes?’ He spared her a smug grin before doing something naughty with his tongue. ‘Move your legs wider, sweetheart. That’s better.’

  She gripped his head, pulling him against her, trying to get closer as rippling sensation pooled between her thighs, condensing and crystallising with every movement of his tongue, as every growl of satisfaction he made in reply to her nonsensical pleas vibrated against her throbbing little clitoris. Her back was arched into a bow, legs wide apart, shaking and trembling as a feeling of acute pleasure-pain solidified.

  ‘Come for me. You’re so close,’ Ben rasped as he slid two fingers inside her in one deft motion, hooking them upwards, hitting just the right spot.

  Sensation intensified and Amy panicked; it was too much, too scary. She’d never felt like this before. Never felt this out of control. She abruptly jerked her body up the bed out of Ben’s grasp, chest heaving, nerve endings electrified. ‘I want you inside me.’

  ‘I want that too, sweetheart, but I want to see you come first.’ He watched her with narrowed eyes, his features taut.

  ‘Inside me,’ Amy repeated, tucking her legs together, begging him with her eyes. ‘Please.’ She pushed herself upright and scooted forward to where he was still kneeling at the edge of the bed. She leaned forward and gave him a hungry, frantic kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

  ‘Come inside me.’ She pulled at the hem of his jumper, anxious to feel his skin against hers. He resisted for a minute until she reached down and put her hand over the bulge in his trousers.

  Ben didn’t need any more persuasion than that. He impatiently pulled his jumper over his head before deftly unbuttoning his pants and coming back down onto the bed next to her, pulling her against him.

  ‘Condoms?’ he asked huskily, running his hands through her hair and holding her head in place as their tongues duelled. The taste and smell of their combined arousal surrounded them and their rasping breathing filling the room.

  ‘Just wait.’ Amy pulled back. She twisted around and flopped onto her stomach so she could reach into her bedside table drawer, fumbling around blindly until her fingers connected with a small foil packet. She tried to turn over again but found herself pinned to the bed with Ben’s hot breath on the back of her neck, his arousal nudging her bottom.

  ‘I want it this way,’ he said against her ear. ‘You have no idea how sexy you look spread out like this.’

  ‘Okay,’ Amy said shakily as he took the condom out of her hands and reared back for the few seconds it took to put it on, before his body came back over hers.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ he murmured, ‘we’ll dispense with the niceties.’

  He reached down to position himself, then thrust inside with a sharp snap of his hips.

  ‘Oh.’ Amy’s back arched at the sensation. It had been a while for her and the feeling was pleasure and pain combined. Her internal muscles clamped around him, although whether it was to push him away or hold him in she couldn’t tell.

  ‘Do that again,’ Ben groaned, pulling out slightly and then pushing back in hard. Amy buried her head in a pillow and moaned loudly.

  ‘Yes. Just like that.’ Ben bent his head and fastened his mouth over the skin at the curve of her neck, biting, sucking hard enough to leave a mark as his hips maintained an even rhythm, pushing himself deep inside her over and over again.

  It felt so good, so primal. Sensation began to build again. Amy’s breasts felt heavy, constrained, and she resented the fabric of her dress between them as she pushed against Ben, widening her legs to receive his thrusts, wanting to take more of him, moaning louder as his movements got faster, deeper.

  Groaning, his breath rasping, Ben hiked her hips higher. The angle catapulted her to the same terrifying stage she’d approached before, her entire body quivering on the edge. She tensed, internal muscles bearing down hard around him.

  ‘Oh God. Amy, sweetheart, I’m not going to last if you do that,’ Ben ground out through gritted teeth, making an effort to slow down his pace, obviously intending to last until she came. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to feel this out of control. She wanted to feel him. This. Now.

  Amy answered by slamming herself back against him. She was rewarded by a low, rasping groan as Ben’s body went rigid, muscles straining, his cock pulsing inside her before he collapsed, knocking the air out of her lungs as his breath rasped in her ear.

  Squashed under Ben’s weight, Amy’s body felt li
ke someone had plugged it into a light socket. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples were aching and a hot, hungry feeling roiled through her lower body but she did her best to ignore it, instead basking in what she and Ben had just shared. She’d never felt this close, this connected with a man before. Inexplicably, the thought brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘That was incredibly devious of you, pulling my trigger like that.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Ben withdrew and pushed himself off her. She rolled to face him, propping her head on her hand and giving him a tentative smile.

  His harsh features were softer now, almost classically handsome, but his eyes were scanning her face intently. He seemed to come to a conclusion before he looked down her body. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I didn’t even get you out of this dress. As sexy as it is, I really wanted to see you naked. Care to oblige?’ He raised his brows.

  ‘I don’t have any energy right now. You wore me out.’ Amy yawned massively to disguise her roiling emotions.

  ‘Of course I did. Lethargy is a known side effect of good dessert. Even if you didn’t finish all of it. Stubborn woman.’ Ben’s eyes lit with humour. ‘Where’s your bathroom?’

  ‘Do you mean my shower or my toilet?’ Amy asked, reaching out to stroke a finger down his chest.

  ‘Toilet.’ He looked puzzled.

  Amy reluctantly sat up. ‘Just wait – I’ll get you a towel.’ She pushed herself off the edge of the bed, smoothed her dress down her trembling thighs and teetered off to the bathroom with Ben’s exclamation of confusion following her.

  She returned moments later with a pink towel, a flashlight and a cheeky grin.

  ‘Follow me.’

  ‘NO, I’M NOT SICK, so give over. You’re being a total ball ache.’ Ben held the phone away from his ear, wincing as Ross’s booming guffaw of disbelief echoed around his study.

  Only ten minutes before, Ben had filed not one, but three columns’ worth of copy, freeing him up from the onerous task of meeting his weekly deadline for nigh on a month. Not even the knowledge that Marcella’s tell-all interview was plastered on page three of the Enquirer today could put a dent in his mood. He was, quite frankly, on fire. However, Ross seemed to think he was, quite frankly, going potty.