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“Sweet girl, you are not sleeping alone. And not just because I plan to get in you again after work, which I do, in fact, fully plan on doing. But also because I know who Johnny is. I know you’re in trouble. And I know from what I saw last night you’re going nowhere without me for a while until we figure this shit out.” My stomach sinks.
He’s not wrong.
This whole thing has gotten out of hand.
But still . . .
“Ben, I’ve got this under control. I appreciate your help yesterday and whatever . . . this is. . . has been . . . fun, but—”
“Fun?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“This?” He mimics the hand wave I made before.
“Yeah. You. Me. Sex. It’s been nice. But—”
“Oh, sweet girl.” His hand comes to my face and holds me there, looking at me like I’m a child who doesn’t understand something. “You don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“You’re mine now.” I feel my eyebrows come together in confusion.
“I’m . . . yours?”
“You’re mine. This is not just me and you having fun. Not just relieving stress from the fucked-up situation you got yourself into. This is weeks and fucking weeks of tension building up and finally giving into it. This is me not being able to avoid you since you moved in, no matter how much I tried—and babe, I really fucking tried.” That tweaks in me for some reason, like the thought of him intentionally avoiding me hurts, regardless of the fact that I did the same. “So tonight, when you clean up and do your thing, you’ll come over to the shop. I have appointments, so you’ll hang out in the shop with Hat and me until I’m done. Then I’ll take you back up to my place or your place or wherever the fuck, and I’ll make my sweet girl feel real fuckin’ good again, and we’ll both sleep good, knowing you’re safe with me.”
And before I can argue, which, trust me, I really fucking want to do, even if my mind is stuck on the wordssafe with me, he’s kissing me once on the forehead before he’s walking out the back door and heading up the stairs separating our homes.
And all I can think is, what in the fuck just happened?
Thirty-Two
-Ben-
At 6:00,I can see from the front window her lights have flicked off.
Closed for the night.
I expect Lola to walk over any minute.
I’ve texted her a few times today, checking in to make sure she was safe and that her day was going well. Each reply was a mix of sweet and snarky, but each confirmed that she was headed over as soon as she closed.
I can’t help but wonder if that pushback is Lola or if it’s a special part she holds just for me.
If you’d have asked me three days ago, I would have said it’s annoying, a mark against her.
But now? It’s my favorite part about her, especially when I found out that part of her doesn’t disappear when I’m buried inside of her.
My cock hardens just at the mere thought of it.
Minutes pass. My eyes shift continually from the piece I’m working on to the front door to the back door. I’m not sure which she’ll be coming through, but I know she's coming over here as soon as she’s done.
There’s no way she’s not listening to what I told her to do.
After you close, you come here. Stay in my booth, and then we’ll leave together.
I want to know she’s safe. I fuckingneedto know she’s safe. After walking in on that fucker cornering her, I know for sure the bruise on her wrist was not from heavy bags.
