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“Sweetheart, if you’re a nightmare, I never want to wake up.”
I laugh.
“And as far as getting to know you, that’s precisely why I invited you for drinks. To get to know you. Which I intend to do—inside and out.”
I blush. There’s no mistaking his sexual innuendo. “Oh. I thought you invited me to seduce me.”
“I’m multitasking.” He winks.
Heat floods my crotch. “You multitask quite well.”
“I do a lot of things quite well. Can’t wait to show you.”
I blush again.
Ben flashes me an outrageously sexy smile. “So what do you do for a living, Kaylee?”
“You don’t already know?”
“I do. I asked Carter. But I don’t want to come across as a creeper, so I’m pretending I don’t know.”
“Good thinking,” I say. I grin. “That strategy is totally working.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, I work as a fitness instructor at a boutique gym here in Santa Monica. Yoga and spin classes. And I’m studying to become a nutritionist.”
He asks me some questions about my job and aspirations and I answer him. He laughs whenever I tell a joke. We swap stories. Laugh some more. We order another round of drinks. More easy conversation follows. And I can’t stop staring at his lips the whole time. At the movement of his tongue when he swigs his beer. I’m dying to kiss him. And feel that sexy tongue and lips on my clit. He tells me about some auditions he’s had in Australia. The godawful ones and the successful ones. And we laugh and swoon and undress each other with our eyes. Clearly, this conversation is foreplay. He knows it. I know it. Tonight, Ben and I are going to fuck. Hard. Long. Deliciously. And I can’t wait.
Finally, our third drinks are drained. The food is gone. Our eyes are locked. And there’s a sudden and unmistakable lull in the conversation. Clearly, we’re both thinking the same thing. Let’s get out of here.
“You want another drink?” Ben asks, motioning to my empty.
“No, I’m good.”
Ben motions to the waitress for the check. She comes to the table and he quickly pays her. And then he shoves his wallet back into his jeans and smiles at me. “Kaylee.”
“Ben.”
“I want to take you someplace where I can kiss you. For a very long time. And in private. And not just on your mouth.”
My clit pulses. “I live three blocks from here. And lucky you, I just so happen to be free all night long.”
Ben stands and puts out his hand. “Off we go. I’ve been thinking about the student becoming the teacher for a bloody long time.”
Four
I slide my key into my lock, unlock my front door, and invite Ben inside my small one-bedroom apartment. He walks past me, a crooked smile on his face, and I shut the door behind us with a soft click. And that’s it. It’s on. He pushes me against the door with all six-foot-whatever inches of him, presses his hard-on into my pelvis, and kisses me.
I slide my arms around his neck and press my body against his and return his kiss with enthusiasm, the movement of his tongue against mine sending shockwaves of desire straight between my legs.
“Holy shit,” I whisper when Ben’s hungry lips move from my lips to my neck. “You’re so fucking hot, Ben.” I tug on his shirt, panting, and he takes the hint and pulls it off, revealing his ripped abs and chest. His ink. But there’s not much time to ogle, unfortunately, because, suddenly, my dress is being lifted up and off.
Ben quickly busies himself with removing my bra. And then devouring my breasts like a starving man. Sucking them. Licking them. Burying his face in them. Caressing. Groping. Reveling.
“Oh, God,” I blurt when he sucks hard on one of my nipples, making my knees buckle. “Oh, Jesus Christ, this is gonna be good.”
Ben’s jeans come off. And then his briefs. And I literally gasp at the sight of his beautiful body. His glorious erection. He’s sheer perfection. He’s sexy beyond words.
“Ben,” I breathe. But that’s all I’ve got. I’m too overwhelmed with arousal to say more.
Wordlessly, Ben slides his large palms on either side my rib cage and begins kissing his way down my torso. When he reaches my belly ring, he slides the fingers of one hand between my legs and strokes me gently as he kisses me, his touch coaxing me to bloom for him . . . and I moan as my insides dampen and clench and prepare to open wide and release.
As Ben’s fingers continue gently taunting my sex, his lips reach my clit and hover. His hot breath tickles me. Announces him. Finally, he kisses my clit gently, ever so gently—reverently, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. My knees buckle. My skin erupts with excited goose bumps.
Ben tried to give me oral in that sleeping bag seven years ago, but it was a lost cause. The sleeping bag was too small and confining to accommodate him positioning his large body between my legs. And opening the sleeping bag to give him a wide enough berth to do the job was out of the question—it was just too damned cold that night to fool around uncovered. And so, I walked away from Ben seven years ago without having experienced the thrill of Ben’s lips on my clit. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dreaming about experiencing that particular sensation ever since.
