by Lexie Davis
Lovely way to spend the weekend, she mused. Instead of going on a hot date, Marah worked. Work always seemed to find its way above all else in her life, dominating her schedule and goals. The interview at the Dallas Institute was her one shot at obtaining an intern position there. She couldn't pass it up for anything. The Institute was one of the most prestigious mental health facilities in the United States.
"Well, then, that makes you perfect for the next assignment.” Dan leaned to his side pulling a small piece of paper from his back pocket then handed it to her.
"A ticket? To the Darkfever concert?” She scowled at him. “Why the hell would I want to go to a Darkfever concert?"
"It's not about what you want. It's about where you'll find the great stories. Darkfever is coming to Tyler, Texas for their first-ever home reunion. I want you to cover the story and interview the band members."
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach when she thought about interviewing the band members, one band member in particular—Benjamin Hawkins. Surely her father knew Ben was the reason she'd left Tyler and started a new life in Houston. Surely he understood she didn't want to see Ben again. Ben had hurt her the way he'd left her high and dry after she'd told him she loved him. Surely Dan knew. So why was he acting as if he didn't care?
Ben Hawkins. The name alone produced angry tears of hurt and sadness behind Marah's eyelids. He'd always seemed to find his way into her life, screwing up all that she ever achieved or wanted for herself. In a heartbeat she would have given up everything to be with him, following him on the road with the band and being his general support. He knew she would, all he'd had to do was ask. But he hadn't asked. She'd pleaded with him to stay, and he'd left. She'd told him she loved him, and still he'd walked away never to see her again. How could she forgive him for that?
She wasn't about to revisit her old flame and watch the whole town burn down again, just like when they'd been stupid kids.
"Dad, that's Ben Hawkins's band. I dated him for a long time, and we didn't exactly part on good terms.” She blew out a breath. “I'd really appreciate it if you'd let Stacy or Rick cover the story."
"Marah, you said you're going to Tyler and the concert is Saturday. It would be stupid to send one of my other hard-working employees when you're going to be there anyway.” Dan shrugged. “Besides, they play good music. Go out and have a little fun for once in your life. God knows you deserve it."
All in the name of a story, she thought bitterly as she watched her father leave. Marah slammed the top down on her laptop computer and grabbed the ticket. This was just the perfect ending to a wonderful day. The entire band's picture covered half of the front with Ben posing shirtless, guitar by his side. His cocky bad-boy attitude was something she spotted a mile away. Admiring the picture, she noticed he needed a haircut. She shook her head. Of all things, she had to critique his hair.
Her gaze roamed, seeing he was the only one in the picture who wasn't smiling. He looked dangerous. Rock and roll stardom had affected him, though the tough-boy image still shined through.
Ben Hawkins had been dangerous, and everyone in Tyler knew it. He'd dated Marah, Ms. Goody-Too-Shoes as he called her. While her family had supported her decision to be with him, the town hadn't understood their relationship. He'd played football as the star quarterback, bringing home numerous victories in the four years he'd been on the team. It was no secret he'd slept with plenty of girls, creating a reputation for himself. But he'd always enamoured her.
She sat back in her chair, staring at his picture. The memory of their first time together flooded her mind—the time he'd come to her uncle's furniture store, and she'd propositioned him...
Ben had teased her constantly at school, playfully picking on her and her brain. She'd have been lying if she'd said she didn't like it, then he'd flipped her world upside down.
Uncle Lonny had taken the day off to buy furniture in Dallas, leaving Marah to run the store by herself. When Ben strolled into the store later that day, wearing his famous leather jacket with faded jeans and a grim look on his face, she should have feared being in the empty store with him, but she didn't. She knew him. She also knew he'd come for the coverlet his mother had ordered three days prior though it wouldn't have been that big of a deal to deliver it to their house. Marah knew where his family lived, and Lonny would have allow Ben's mother Veronica to mail him a check. Instead, Ben stood in the store hard-faced and distant.
Marah greeted him with a warm smile. “Hello, Ben. You're here for the coverlet?"
He nodded, avoiding her eyes.
She pursed her lips. “Um, I guess I could have brought it to school today to save you the trouble. That way you wouldn't have had to make a special trip all the way over here."
His green eyes narrowed when he lifted them to hers. “Just get the fucking coverlet."
Her body tensed at his harsh words. She never allowed anyone to talk to her that way and get away with it. “Listen here, buddy. You might talk that way with your friends, but don't you talk that way with me. I was making polite conversation. Clearly you know nothing about that."
She stomped to the back room, grabbed the navy coverlet and threw it on the countertop. Trying to ignore Ben's curious expression, she pressed the register's buttons with brutal force. He tilted his head to the side, propped his hands on the counter with one holding his wallet and stared at her.
"Look, I'm not used to people being nice to me,” he said as a way of explaining his actions. “I don't know what to say back."
"$20.33,” she replied. She reached for a plastic bag and stuffed the coverlet inside.
He shook his head then handed a twenty and a one to her. For a brief second, her fingers touched his as she accepted money. Her body heated and her heart raced when his eyes rose to hers. Absently, she licked her lips, watching him stuff the wallet into his back pocket.
Sighing, she pressed the buttons of the register. “You could say you're sorry for the foul language."
His lips quirked upward, almost to a smile. “I don't apologise to anyone for anything."
Why didn't that surprise her?
"Oh, yeah? Is that part of the bad boy routine? You act all cocky as if you're better than everyone else, when in fact you're just the same. Does it really hurt your image that badly to admit you're wrong from time to time?” She handed him his change. “Sixty-seven cents. Thank you for shopping Lonny's Wholesale Furniture."
Her fingers lingered longer than necessary against his palm. She pictured him naked, teasing her hot body with his wet mouth and nimble tongue. She wanted him over her, in her, surrounding her until she screamed her throat raw with pleasure.
She smiled the fake smile she gave her rudest of customers as she handed the bag to him.
"So that's it? You're dismissing me just like that?” He grabbed the bag, twining the plastic handles around his hand.
"What else do you want me to say?” She leaned against the counter the same way he had earlier. She never considered herself racy in the fashion department, but the blouse she wore did produce a hint of cleavage in this position. His eyes dropped to her chest before meeting hers again.
"Fine. I'm sorry."
She knew saying those words didn't come easy for him. His deep emerald-green eyes filled with sadness, maybe even hurt. Instantly, the need to comfort him overwhelmed her. She'd heard rumours of his home life. His stepfather's beatings and his mother's drunken neglect. Everyone said to stay away from Ben, but Marah wanted to help him.
She walked through the cut-out in the countertop. “Are you okay? You look sad."
"Shit happens. Life happens.” Obviously, uncomfortable with her concern, he lifted his hand to rub his brow. “Uh, thanks for this. I'll see you around."
"Ben, wait.” She reached for his arm and he jerked away like he'd been struck. Cautiously, she lowered her hand, afraid to touch him. “I—I didn't mean to be stupid. I sometimes don't know when to keep my mouth shut."
He poked
his tongue in his jaw, closing his eyes. “It's nothing. And you're not stupid.” He opened his eyes, two beautiful emeralds staring back at her. “You're probably the smartest girl I know."
She went to him. She didn't know what it was. An urge? Desire? Temporary insanity? She couldn't comprehend what drew her to him like moth to light, but something was there. She didn't pity him, still she wanted to make his life better. Insanity probably described it best, but she wanted to be the one to make all the shit in his life disappear. She wanted to be the rock he leaned on.
Everyone needed at least one person in their life to show them they cared. And she did care for him, possibly always had. Her hands framed his face as she pulled his head down for her kiss. A simple touch of her lips against his. Finally, she knew what heaven felt like. Ben Hawkins was every girl's walking wet dream and the sweet taste had her seeking more. She wanted this man—this boy—more than she wanted anything else in the world.
Perhaps she'd always wanted him.
With little encouragement, he gave himself over to her mouth, stroking, probing, and licking his tongue alongside hers. She'd kissed boys before, but kissing Ben became the most erotic thing she'd experienced.
His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her head to the best angle while his tongue explored. He tasted delicious, erotically male. And he kissed her thoroughly as if he wanted to make love to her using his mouth alone.
"Wait.” She pulled away from his lips, detaching herself from his embrace. “I need to lock the door."
She hurried to the entrance and flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before she clicked the lock in place. Her mind buzzed in a sexual haze while her body tingled from head to toe. She licked her lips tasting him on them. How would she ever survive after having this man?
"Marah, we can't do this,” Ben said when she came back to him.
She had every intention of taking his hand and leading him into the back room to complete what they started. She knew the perfect place for them, private and generally cosy. She grabbed his hand and tugged leading him to the back room.
"Marah, do you hear me? Girls like you don't sleep with guys like me. You're better than me. I'm no good for you."
Surrounded by odds and ends of mixed furniture, she spotted the ugly green and plaid couch. No one in Tyler really wanted the thing so Uncle Lonny put it in the break room for employee use. Quite surprisingly, the couch was comfortable. Turning to face Ben, she backed toward the couch until her knees bumped against the plush cushion.
"Girls like me, want guys like you whether it's good for them or not."
She pulled him down on top of her, enjoying the heat from his body as he surrounded her. His mouth found hers like a magnet drawn to metal. He was warm and hard, yet gentle and sweet. She wondered if anyone but her had classified him with those terms.
She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, while he broke their kiss to rid himself of his shirt. Marah gasped at the faint black spots covering his chest and arms. Red welts popped up from his skin. So the rumours were true. Ben's alcoholic stepfather abused him. Fury raged through her.
He saw her expression and immediately pulled away. She didn't know whether to reach out to him or leave him be.
"Shit,” he said, sitting back on his heels.
She lay between his legs completely free of his weight. Keeping her mouth shut went out the window. Again. “Those aren't from football."
"No.” He watched while she looked him over.
Small cuts scarred his chest. Bruises marked his abdomen. Red abrasions highlighted his arms. Doesn't he feel any pain? She remembered how he'd jerked away from her touch. She'd heard the rumours but never understood how a large guy like Ben could allow someone to beat him. Wouldn't he fight?
"Did he do this to you?” she finally asked, her voice raspy with her own emotion.
"Does it matter?” He didn't show any of his usual cocky persona. He didn't try to be defensive. His eyes softened, and she saw his need for help.
"I wish you'd trust me enough to tell me.” Everyone knew she wanted to be a psychologist. She'd done studies in Dallas as part of field trips and fallen in love with the profession. She loved to help people. She needed it.
"It's not about trust.” He looked away as if embarrassed, holding his shirt against his stomach. “It's about not being able to do anything about it."
She sat up and forced him to look into her eyes. The last thing she'd ever do is judge him. She didn't know the circumstances, but she wasn't like the other girls he knew. She wanted to help him, to show him not everyone in the world was evil. She wanted to be his friend.
She shook her head and grabbed his shirt. “I can do something about it, Ben."
Whatever response he might have made ended when her lips touched the biggest bruise on his chest. Right above his left pectoral muscle she kissed him, so soft and gentle. His harsh breaths turned to hisses. Not from pain she decided as she stopped to gauge his reaction. From shock.
"Does it hurt?” she asked, moving to another bruise and gently kissing it the same as she had the other one. “Because if it does, we don't have to do this. I understand."
"No. Don't stop.” He ran his hands through her hair. Marah attended to each of his bruises, kissing them with tender care. She understood him better now. He'd filled his life with extracurricular activities to avoid his stepfather. Football, Darkfever, girls—he'd done it to avoid his life at home.
Working her way to his shoulder then up his neck, she planted kisses along his cheek until she came to the edge of his lips. Her fingers linked with his when she pulled back. She hoped to encourage him, to prove she didn't judge and wouldn't preach. Though she didn't accept his abuse, she decided to show him some people did care. She cared and wanted him to see it.
He made quick work of her clothing, ridding her of everything. He touched her with curious hands while their mouths fused together again. Now, it was his turn to drive her wild. She parted her legs, seeking his touch, grateful when it came. He slipped a finger between her dewy folds, finding her clit, and rubbed small circles around it.
"You taste so sweet,” he said, his lips grazing the soft skin of her neck. “You're too good for me, Marah."
"I want you inside of me.” She cried out as he thrust a finger deep inside. He worked his mouth to her belly, kissing every little inch along his path. He cleverly avoided her breasts while his mouth and hands played her body better than a drum. She gripped his shoulders, holding him tighter to her body. “I want you. Now."
He pulled away, long enough to shuck his shorts and jeans in one swift motion. Hard tan thighs came into view as he leaned over and grabbed a condom from his wallet. He didn't waste any time donning it. Her head swam when he settled himself between her thighs and pushed his cock against her entrance.
"Last time, baby. Are you sure?” He bent down to lick her nipple, rolling his tongue around it. He pulled back, and a small whimper of protest escaped her throat. His eyes bore into hers, waiting for her answer. “If not, tell me now."
Most boys her age wouldn't have cared whether or not a woman really wanted this once they had a her naked beneath them. Ben Hawkins was one of those guys, or at least, Marah had thought so. He didn't treat her like the only other lover she'd had—that being a huge mistake. Ben treated her like a human being. He treated her like a woman, and she liked that. He made her feel beautiful, and she didn't know how or why.
"I'm sure. Please, now!"
In one swift but precise movement, he entered her body. From the look on his face, she knew she was tight. She'd only been with one guy and he'd taken her virginity—something she wished she still had up until this moment.
Ben bent forward to rest his head against her breasts, his hot breath dampening her skin."You're perfect,” he mumbled. “God, if I move I'll come and ruin everything for you."
Even the bad-boy had a heart. She smiled to herself, stroking the hard muscles of his back.
After a few sec
onds, he lifted his head. She smiled hoping he'd realise it was okay. Everything was okay right now, just the two of them together. His lips came down on hers as his hips started to move. The long, thick length of him slid in and out her pussy, a delicious friction that had their bodies sweating from the strained control.
His lips never left hers, when he lifted and tilted her hips for better penetration. He kissed her throat, her ear, her nose silently giving her the encouragement to let go.
"Oh,” she moaned.
He reached between their sweaty bodies to rub her clit. She'd never felt like this, never known sex could be like this. She closed her eyes when he licked her nipple and white-hot flashes of light erupted behind her eyelids. Her body surrendered to its pleasure, her back arching completely off the couch. Her muscles squeezed him, milking him until he came with hot bursts of cum inside her body.
They laid together, limbs entwined, until he finally kissed her gently and extracted his body from hers. She was shameless to his roaming eyes as he stood above her naked body. She'd had the most amazing sex with this man and was too damn prideful to be embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, Marah. Don't ever forget that.” He reached for his clothes, silently pulling them back into place. She watched him dress, wondering why such a wonderful person hid his true identity from the rest of the world.
"You don't have to rush off.” Feeling vulnerable, she grabbed her clothes and began to dress.
"Yes, I do,” he replied. He pulled on his shirt then reached for the coverlet. “Promise me something, Marah. Promise me you'll never sell yourself short again. I don't deserve you. You know you can do better than my trailer-trash ass."
She stared, wondering why he thought she was such a goody-two-shoes. “I didn't sell myself short. And you being an ass isn't going to push me away. I know what I want, and usually I get it."