Chapter 19
Ben Bardot has got to stop being nice to me.
I tell him as much right before I kiss him. I’m pretty sure he mutters “no” but I’m choosing to ignore that. Because I’m not done with him tonight.
He’s laid back against the floor, hands pinned above his head. Ben is much larger than I am and could obviously change our position at any time. But he doesn’t. He continues to allow me to control the situation, even as my emotions are secretly unraveling with each passing moment.
Grinding down, I enjoy the press of his thick cock through his jeans. Relish that I’m making a mess of them as my bare pussy gyrates. The mess he’s making of me is internal, but the mess I’m going to make of him? I want visual evidence.
After a moment, I pull away, laughing as his mouth attempts to follow me up.
I tease him, yanking my top off over my head to reveal the sheer bralette I’m wearing underneath.
His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more friction.
I circle my hips, but his strong hands are instantly there to stop me.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to cum in my pants. Again. I would really, really like to be inside of you when that happens.”
Acquiescing, I stop my movements. He inhales deeply, trying to regain composure. I’m mesmerized by the flex of his jaw, the squeeze of his hands, the way his breathing remains labored.
My patience runs out rather quickly so I scoot myself down, maneuvering to where I can unbutton his pants, dragging the zipper down slowly until I can reach my hand into his boxers. When I wrap my hand around his dick, Ben sucks in a ragged breath. “Colette,” he warns.
“Sorry, sorry,” I reply, lifting my hands up in surrender.
“No, you’re not,” he laughs, slipping his legs out of his jeans before kicking them off to the side.
“No,” I agree. “I’m not.”
The boxers are next to go, and I finally get a look at the small tattoo that sits low on his hip.
It’s tally marks. Five of them… four in a row and then one slashing across, just like all of the marks filling the page of his journal.
The journal I was definitely not supposed to see, I’m sure of that now, but I don’t know why that’s what my gut is telling me.
My finger grazes across the ink, head tilting to the side and mind racing. “Interesting tattoo.”
Ben freezes for the briefest second. I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t sitting right next to him. “Lost a bet in college,” he replies, focused on pulling my leg back over him.
I drop it because honestly, I don’t feel like I have the right to pry. I might be fucking this man on my living room floor, but he doesn’t owe me anything.
“Still okay with not using a condom?” I ask, my mask slipping back into place.
He nods, biting his lip. His gaze is zeroed in on where I have the tip of his dick positioned at my entrance. His hips jump, right as I lower. I’m still so wet, I glide right down to the hilt. Ben’s cock fills me deliciously, and I pause to adjust to the feel of him inside me.
All thoughts of his mysterious tattoo disappear the second he bucks his hips into me.
His hands come back to my waist, holding me down as he plants his feet on the floor behind us and thrusts.
I waste no time stripping the last bit of clothing that remains between us.
My bralette discarded, I cup my breasts in my hands as Ben continues to push into me.
“Fuck, Red. You’re perfect. Look at those tits bouncing for me. ”
I tweak my nipple in one hand and reach between us with my other. My clit is swollen and ready, quickly sending me over the edge again. Ben is fast to follow, his entire body flexes, face scrunching in an admittedly adorable way as he pumps in and out a few more times.
When he slows to a stop, his hands come up to grasp mine, gently tugging me toward him. “What are you doing?”
“Shh. Just come lay on top of me for a minute.” He pulls down a little more firmly this time, sending me careening toward him. Ben catches me, his arms snaking around my back. My head rests in the crook of his neck, and we stay like that for several minutes, simply existing together.
“Are we… cuddling?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Depends. Are you enjoying it?” Ben murmurs.
“No.”
“Liar.”
I am a liar. And that’s enough of this feelings shit. Pushing away from Ben, I hear his deep sigh. “I’m going to—”
“Take a bath, I know,” he interrupts. “I’ll see myself out?”
Seems like our best course of action. “Yeah. Thanks for dinner and, uh, the sex.”
Ben props himself onto his elbows, his full naked body splayed out before me. “One day you’ll let me stay after the sex.”
“Probably not.”
Several minutes later I hear the apartment door shut as Ben lets himself out.
I remind myself that it’s easier this way, less of an opportunity to get hurt.
With the loss of my scholarship, my life feels out of control.
But here, I can control the narrative. A voice in the back of my mind tells me that’s not fair to Ben.
I tell that voice to fuck off.
Two surprising things happen in the next couple of weeks.
Actually, make that three.
First, Ben leaves me alone. He doesn’t text. He’s not at my shifts at the coffee shop. Shockingly, I don’t see him around town.
It’s freaky.
It’s like he’s… intentionally avoiding me? Or maybe he’s out of town. I think it’s the longest I’ve gone without seeing or talking to him since he moved back to town.
Second, Dr. Winthrop, my advisor, called me to let me know that a new grant opportunity became available.
She said this grant was specifically for second year grad students going into forensic psychology.
The grant would not only cover the amount I needed after losing my scholarship, but also is meant to completely cover full tuition.
Meaning I can keep the money I was saving up for school costs as a fallback and quit my job at the coffee shop.
The relief I felt after that call rivaled the orgasmic high I was on after my last encounter with Ben. I almost cried. Almost.
Finally, since Ben has disappeared off the face of the planet, out of boredom one night I swiped through my dating app until I happened upon a different Bardot brother. I instantly opened up a chat with him, my curiosity getting the best of me.
Gabriel Bardot. Fancy seeing you here.
Gabe
Oh God, Cole. PLEASE don’t tell anyone you saw me on here.
I mean… you also saw me here.
Gabe
I know. It’s just… I’m trying to forget someone.
I can understand that.
Gabe
What are you doing on a dating app anyway? I thought you and Ben were…
Were what, Gabriel?
Gabe
Who the fuck knows with you two.
Where is he? I haven’t seen him in a while.
Gabe
He’s been holed up in his room working on something. He’s being very secretive about it.
I think I know what could get him out though…
What?
Gabe
Hear me out.
And that’s how I end up on a date with Gabriel Bardot.
“This is a bad idea.”
Gabe sits across the table from me at Louie’s and shrugs. Shrugs!
“Gabriel. What if he doesn’t come? This is a small town! People talk!”
He chuckles. “Yes, Cole. That’s the point. There’s no way at least five people in here haven’t already told someone they know that we are here together. It will get back to Ben. I give it twenty minutes, tops.”
I groan, my head flopping down until it’s almost hitting the table. I slide a napkin in front of me and then proceed with the headbanging minus the gross table germs. Why am I doing this? Why do I care if Ben sees me on another date?
Other than being nervous that Gabe’s plan will backfire, I’m actually having a good time.
There’s no karaoke tonight so I don’t have to worry about listening to mediocre singers while I eat my plain burger and fries.
And conversation with Gabe is easy. Probably because this isn’t a real date so I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be having fun.
“Fine. But you have to distract me. Who are you trying to forget?”
Gabe’s eyes narrow. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? Is it someone I know?”
He thinks for a moment. “I don’t think so…? I’m not sure when your paths would have crossed.”
“Then I think you can tell me. It’s not like I have anyone that I’m going to tell.”
“What about Ben?”
“What about Ben?” I repeat.
“You won’t tell him?” Gabe clarifies.
I scoff. “Ben’s on my shit list. I won’t tell him.”
Gabe takes a slow sip of his beer. I can see the moment he decides he’s going to let me in on his secret. “She’s one of Bex’s friends.”
“I see.” I don’t see. “And Bex wouldn’t want you to date her?”
“It’s not that. I don’t think? I’ve never really asked Bex, if I’m being honest.” He fiddles with his glass, rolling it between his hands. “We almost—”
Just then, the door to Louie’s slams open. Benoit Bardot stands there, backlit in the dim bar. I try not to smile when Gabe mutters, “That was quick.”
Ben storms over to our table, grabs Gabe by the collar and utters a sentence I am simultaneously turned on and mortified by. “What the fuck are you doing here with my wife?”
“Your what?!” Gabe and I ask at the same time. Well, Gabe kind of chokes it out because Ben has such a tight grip on his shirt.
I jump out of the booth and start smacking Ben on the arm. “Let him go, you lunatic! It was a joke!”
Gabe’s hands are up in surrender as Ben continues to stare at him. His grip slowly loosens until Gabe shoves him the rest of the way off. “A joke?” he asks in a daze.
Gabe looks at Ben as if he has three heads. “Yes, Brother. A joke.”
“I told you this was a bad idea,” I say to Gabe.
Ben stands there for a beat, looking between the two of us. Finally, he turns toward Gabe. “We’ll talk at home. Sorry about your shirt.”
Then, he turns toward me. His eyes are full of mischief as he closes the gap between us. “If you wanted my attention, Red, all you had to do was ask.”
Before I can respond, Ben bends down, throwing me over his shoulder. He lands a smack on my ass that I’m one hundred percent sure everyone in the bar sees.
But Ben doesn’t give a single fuck. And he carries me that way all the way up to his apartment.
We both enjoy my punishment.