Page 71 of Beni

Harder and harder and harder.

“Christ, you take me so good,” she heard him praise. “You’re gonna fuck me up so much, woman. Do you know that? Is that what you wanted—to ruin me?”

Thick pleasure curled through her.

And then he was coming, too. Hands tightening to her body, dark grunts falling against her skin, his weight pressing hers into the bed as their bodies fell to the mattress, and his thrusts stilled all at once.

“Fuck, August.”

He hummed against her back.

She smiled against the sheets.

“Did I?” she asked in the darkness of the room.

Beni swallowed audibly. “What?”

“Ruin you?”

“Sure fucking feels like it.”

Then, why did he sound like he liked it?

Then quieter, he said, “You should take that job here. Manic Media, I mean.”

August stilled. “Why?”

“How else are we going to figure this out? Seems easier if you’re here.”

“Nothing is that easy, Beni.”

“Why not?”

Yeah, right.

Why the fuck not?

The answer was easy.

He just wouldn’t like it.

Nothing was that easy.

There was nothing Beni hated more than to be woken up by the sound of a phone ringing—it almost always meant someone was going to drag his ass out of bed before he was ready. And yet, he found he didn’t mind at all as he rolled over in an unfamiliar bed to grab his phone where he had left it sitting on the bedside table the night before. If only because his thoughts were still filled with memories of the night before.

Of her.

August.

Her taste on his tongue.

The scent of her and sex.

Good dreams, you know.

His mind drifted back to the shower they’d shared before falling back into bed as he picked up the call without bothering to check the ID first. “Yeah,” he mumbled, running a palm down his unshaven jaw—someone was going to start bitching about that soon, he was sure of it. Made men and their rules, after all. “Beni here.”

“Just waking up?”