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“Close your eyes.”
I did as he asked, and his hands roamed over my body; up my legs, over my ass, across my belly, and to my breasts. The touch of his hands sent a shiver up my spine, causing my entire body to shake in an uncontrollable shudder.
“What do you see?”
“You,” I whispered. “I see you.”
He unhooked my bra then pulled both it and my shirt from my body. “What do you feel?”
“Your hands.” I stuttered out the words as he pressed a kiss to the small of my back. “Your lips.”
The last time we’d had sex, he’d promised to fuck away the memory of every man who’d ever touched me. And I could say with great certainty that he had. Because there was only one man I saw when I closed my eyes. There was only one man who knew how to touch me, how to work my body with such precision that I could probably come without the slightest caress to the good parts.
I watched over my shoulder as he undid his pants and let th
em drop to the floor, with a clink of metal on his belt. “Me,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot and heavy on my skin. “Everything is me.”
Next, his boxer briefs hit the floor. He sat down, completely naked, on my couch and I watched as he sheathed himself with a condom, throwing the wrapper beside him.
He waved me back and I slid between his legs, lowering myself onto his cock. We both groaned as I eased myself down, and when my ass was flush with his pelvis, his big hand pressed against my chest, pulling me back against him.
He didn’t start slow. Immediately he penetrated me with sharp, quick thrusts, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing in synchronization.
I was not in control. I could barely move. Could barely keep my balance as he thrust inside me. His grip on my upper body was too strong, and despite my hands finding the cushion of the couch, I couldn’t lift myself up.
Waves of pleasure washed over me and instead of fighting it, I embraced it. I let him fuck me into oblivion. Every thrust brought me closer to orgasm, but I was still helpless to move. Helpless to fully get myself there, because his grip on my body was so tight I couldn’t even wiggle.
But I didn’t have to, because he had no problem achieving the task. With steady movements against my clit, he continued to hammer into me and suddenly I was flying. My body contracted, and although I didn’t think it was possible, somehow he picked up speed.
My orgasm exploded from my core, traveling out to my limbs and numbing my entire body. Even my brain. I felt him tense beneath me, heard him groan in my ear, and he grunted with one last thrust and came.
I collapsed on him as his hands fell away from my body and flopped onto the cushions beside him.
I didn’t know why I felt safe enough to let down my guard, but I did. And I’d needed it. Being with Ben was the only time I didn’t have to think.
Besides, I couldn’t let him down again. He hadn’t been prepared enough before. I hadn’t pushed him hard enough with the tough questions. We had spent way too much time doing dirty, sexy things, and I had failed him. At the next speakers session, he was going to be prepared.
As for sex, I needed to commit every movement, every touch and feeling to memory, because there may not be a next time. Our relationship, if you could call it that, was volatile. One sudden movement and the wind would topple the house of cards we were so carelessly living in.
I should be nipping this thing in the bud, but I was enjoying it too much. It felt too good. Too right. And I’d take all the right I could get, because I had no idea if I’d ever find it again.
Chapter 15
Ben
Grace had slipped out of bed much too early this morning and with Arnold Schwarzenegger at my side I’d watched her get ready for work. I’d watched her dry her body with a white towel after her shower and then dress and put on her face, although she was more beautiful without makeup.
Before she’d left, she bent over me on the bed for a kiss on the lips, and I’d done what I had to do. I’d turned my cheek.
I had been raised by a mother who didn’t give a shit about me. A mother who took what she’d wanted when she’d wanted it, without any regard for other people and how it might affect them. Later on, I’d been raised by the Levins and taught that it was okay for me to take things, too.
Until a few months ago, I hadn’t realized how volatile that mentality really was. There wasn’t anything I didn’t get. I used my money and good looks to take it, and I never looked back.
I’d brought Grace into that dysfunctional web. I’d wanted her. So I’d taken her. But that simple action of bending over to give me a goodbye kiss this morning had been a wake-up call. I was getting too close. She was getting too comfortable, and I had to nip it in the bud before I gave her enough power to crush me. I’d already known that things between us were fleeting, but last night when she’d told me she wanted Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet, it had become even more apparent.
Grace was just killing time with me until she found the man who would give her the fairy tale. Everyone knew I was no one’s Prince Charming.
So then why does that make you feel like shit?
