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“I never knew.”
Mal struggled with her next statement, but finally she released the words. “Benson, what the hell were we doing? Why didn’t we talk? I feel like we talked all the time.”
“And we talked a lot about being honest.” He grimaced. “I’m a hypocrite.”
“Actually, that’s a good point. You are a hypocrite.”
He glared at her, and Mal smiled, though it was shaky. “If you are, then I am too.”
His low-voiced, raw statement broke the brief silence that had descended. “Mal, you said you loved me. Past tense.”
Mal dug her fingernails into her palms.
“But for me… It’s present tense. I never stopped loving you, even when I hated you. Even when I did everything I could think of to avoid you.” He looked up, and his expression was so vulnerable and open that it took her breath away. “I accepted that I would die loving you.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. Mal scrambled out of her seat and threw herself into Benson’s arms.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
“Shhh, darling, shh. I’m sorry too.”
He wrapped her up, let her cry against his neck. The catharsis was intense and by the time her sobs quieted, it felt like hours had passed. She was exhausted, but strangely on edge.
He apparently felt the same. His lips rubbed against her hair, and then his voice puffed against her ear. “Open for me.”
Mal parted her thighs. For the first time since they started the game, Benson’s fingers dipped into her pussy to touch, tease, and please.
He removed the faux piercing, massaging her clit as she whimpered through the slight pain of removal.
“If you thought I was lying when I said you’re mine…check the charm.” He laid the faux piercing on her palm.
The small silver disk dangling from the wire was stamped with the letter B.
“B for Benson,” she whispered.
“I called in the order because I didn’t have time to get something online, and the person on the other end misheard me. I asked for a P, for this fucking game, but when I got the B, it felt right. It was a good excuse—someone else gave me the wrong letter—and that’s what I’d planned to tell you. But when I put it on this sweet clit…”
He stroked her with two fingers, scissoring them around her clit. Mal arched up into his hand, desperate for his touch.
“I was staking my claim. Because this—”
His fingers dipped down to her entrance, into the slick lubrication before gliding back up to work her clit in a tight circular pattern.
“—belongs to me.”
She’d been too aroused for too long. Even with the emotional upheaval, or maybe because of it, she was primed and ready.
“I’m going to…”
“That’s right, darling. Come on my fingers.”
She orgasmed, body huddled into him rather than arched away.
She was still pulsing when he shifted her back, making space to untie his leathers. She helped him, and their fingers were clumsy with anticipation. But together they got them undone, and she drew out his cock, the tip already wet.
When he passed her a condom, she slid it down his cock, stroking and playing with him, until he hauled her hands away and shifted her on his lap.
Mal cupped his face and lowered her mouth to his. The meeting of lips was a relief so sweet, the pleasure eclipsed what she’d just felt when he’d played with her clit.
