26 JANIE
JANIE
“Well, damn me to hell, they work both ways. Fitting punishment. I deserve it.” Benedict says, looking me up and down and then closing his eyes as I walk out of his really obnoxiously-lovely guest room into his equally obnoxiously-wonderful penthouse apartment.
It’s not cold or bland, not pretentious or sleek. It’s bright white, warm, inviting. Fun. Colorful. Him.
And I’m annoyed by that.
And oh—I’m in gray sweats. I’m wearing a matching cropped sweatshirt and joggers set we got at Ameri-Mart of all places.
Now he can’t look away from the inch of my midriff that’s exposed. I am just frazzled enough, angry enough to respond.
“Oh, jeez, come on. Seriously? You always overdo it. Every time.”
“Over do?” He frowns as I pass him where he stands at the edge of the living area, making no effort to hide how his gaze moves from my waist to my ass.
“Yes. So over the top with the possessive husband shtick back there which was just…it…I can’t even talk about that right now.
And I get it, okay, you think I’m attractive but I’ve also seen the supermodel types that you date.
We scrolled through them! Pierced nipples, the gymnast, the ballerina.
You don’t have to put on a show to make me feel better—”
“The hell?” He mutters, grabbing my forearm and pulling me around facing him. There he goes again…commanding, angry. I get a whiff of his spicy cologne and close my eyes.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
“Janelle,” he says, stepping into me, so forcefully so my eyes pop open.
I have to lift my chin to match his glare with my own.
We’re so close I can feel the heat of him through his undershirt, which he’s wearing with jeans.
And barefoot. Nope. Don’t think about it. I take a deep breath as he goes on.
“You think you’re like anyone else? You think I find you attractive? Attractive?” I start to open my mouth but he goes on, leaning even closer. “I find you unbearable. Painful. Brutal.”
“Okay, well—”
“Your gorgeous, ethereal face that I can’t kiss?
Those ghostly eyes that won’t hold mine for longer than a second?
A body made for all my best, worst, filthiest dreams that my hands can’t touch?
Then what, that wanker Theo can? He gets to hug you?
After he let something so precious fall through his clumsy fingers.
Fingers that are not all that talented by the way—”
“Benedict,” I say, trying to stop him.
“Honestly I knew, I knew you’d have to have helped him. There’s no way he would’ve made it anywhere without you, clearly.”
“Ben!”
“No, let me finish. So he can touch you, I can’t, when you’re right there, looking like that, and that’s not even the half of it, wife, the half!
Everything you say surprises me. You were supposed to be reserved and predictable and you’re mean and surprising and hilarious and so unfairly sexy, I mean, damn it, Janie, I think asking you to marry me may have been the biggest mistake of my life! ”
I can’t breathe.
I…
He’s panting.
The vein in his head is throbbing.
Don’t, Janie. Don’t do it…
His hands are clenched into tight fists and he’s towering over me, looking like a pissed Greek god and searching my eyes like they hold every answer he’s ever searched for and well…
Screw it.
I launch myself at him, full koala mode, smashing my mouth to his. And he is ready, catching me immediately. As he secures his grip around my thighs he moans. I moan back and he snaps, opening my mouth with his tongue and taking, taking, taking.
I vaguely feel my back hit a wall and hear a thump.
Wow.
This is not a kiss. This is a statement.
I…
I am not in charge here…
So, so hot.
He moves his mouth to my jaw, my neck, which I expose for him.
“Damn woman, you smell good. And how is your skin so soft?” He murmurs into my skin where he kisses and nips and sucks his way down. He groans and I whimper as I rub my hands up his back. “I want to touch you everywhere. I want to taste you everywhere.”
“You can.”
He freezes and looks into my eyes. “What?”
“You can,” I run my hands down his chest. “We need to scratch this itch, Ben, I’m going insane.”
“You’re going insane?” He starts kissing me again. “You’re going insane?”
“Yes, at the restaurant tonight, Caveman Ben? That was so hot.” He moves down my neck and I pull at his shirt. “That vest on Halloween.”
“Ugh, Halloween,” he says into my mouth, since our mouths keep coming back together like they can’t stop. “Every time I close my eyes I see you as Catwoman.”
“And look at you now, you’re in jeans and barefoot?! Shirt. Off.”
He shifts us in two quick steps to the kitchen island, setting me down and standing in between my legs. “Scratch the itch, eh?”
“Yes, this is just kickboxing.” I quickly tug my top off. “Your turn. Off.”
He stares, then bends. “In a moment,” he mutters as he kisses my sternum. He moves down, kissing and then licking my cleavage as he pushes his hands on the outsides of my lace bralette. But he’s not actually grabbing, not moving the cups out of his way, not doing any of the things I want him to do.
“Ben,” I plead with him, but he ignores me, nibbling right along the edge of the fabric.
Fine, then. I’ll take over.
I whip the bra off too.
He freezes, staring. I smile, lean forward and finally pull his shirt up so he has to take it all the way off.
Wait.
What the hell?
“What the hell?” slips out as I stare. Because Benedict Clark is jacked. I remember from the wedding at the beach, he was tall and firm, lean, cut like a runner. This man is not a runner. This man is a freaking beast. Defined abs, bulky chest, much bigger biceps than I realized. Huge.
But he doesn’t even hear me. He finally reaches up and takes hold of me, gingerly, like he’s in awe.
Chills break out across my skin and he watches my chest harden for him.
But his thumb is gentle, teasing. I whimper and lean back to offer myself to him and sigh when his mouth meets my skin.
But again, his soft lips and searing tongue travel in an excruciating circle around where I want him most.
“Ben!”
“Private conversation,” he teases into my skin.
“Please,” I can’t believe I say.
He pulls back to look at me, staring into my eyes with a look I don’t recognize, studying, watching for—
“Oh!” I shudder as his eyes watch mine and his hand unexpectedly pinches me, hard. Then his mouth is there, licking, sucking, soothing. “Ben, yes, yes.”
He kisses across to the other side, bites, then soothes again.
Then more teasing, light touches, licks, chuckles into my skin on the sides, until he finally sucks so hard I buck off the counter top.
I’m moaning, gripping his hair, writhing, I’m a mess.
Just from him playing with my tits. This is… I can’t…
He must sense it because he kisses his way back up to my mouth.
“You are so perfect, it’s excruciating,” he says, his voice soft but pained. I kiss the end of the word out of his mouth. Needing more, I grab hold of his gorgeous face but he takes over the kiss anyway, pulling my ponytail.
Pulling my ponytail?!?! So hot!
I whimper again and his free hand drags a knuckle from the base of my throat down, down.
“Janie,” he says into my mouth. I make a noise. I think. “Say it again.”
“Hm?”
His fingers are tucked into the elastic of my sweat pants, teasing back and forth. I can feel his long fingertips at the top edge of my panties.
“That I can touch you.”
“Yes! Yes, please.” I sound desperate and I don’t care. He kisses me again, owns my mouth with his as he moves his hand down into my panties slowly. Too slowly. I grab him at the nape of his neck. “If you keep teasing me any more I will end you.”
He laughs, “End me? Bloody hell, I thought you were going to say ‘end this’ not end me.”
“Yeah, well, I said what I said,” I say, scooting forward involuntarily, pushing myself into his hand.
He runs his nose along mine and grins as his fingers barely make contact. “Suddenly so needy.”
“Ben, I swear if you—oh!” He thrusts two fingers into me without warning, watching my reaction, then kissing my moans from my mouth.
He pauses for a beat to ask, “This all for me?” And I nod, because I am a dripping wet mess and yes, it’s totally because of him, for him, all about him.
One happy nod and he’s back to moving and watching. He plays my body like a violin, slow, deep, perfect thrusts of his fingers with long, hard kisses to match. He adds pressure with his thumb right when I need it.
“Let me see you, Janelle,” he says, his voice like gravel. Then he commands, “Come for me.”
And…
I…
do.
My back arches and I cry out his name, feeling white hot waves of pleasure like I’ve never felt before. He holds me through it, drawing out the sensations and studying me, his mouth open. Like he’s entranced. Like he’s in awe.
Finally, when I’m able to think and breathe and hold myself upright, he pulls his hand away and makes a show of…
Licking his fingers?! How? How is he so hot right now?
“Ugh,” he says. “What am I going to do now?” I frown at him and he smiles. “There’s not enough cardio in the world to help me. I’m done for.”
“I can help,” my voice comes out as shaky as I feel.
“No, I didn’t mean—” he starts as I hop off the counter but I quickly pull my sweatpants off which shuts him right up.
“Damn.” The word is a whisper as his eyes travel up and down.
He really does love my legs, I guess. They’re long and muscular, too muscular I’ve always thought. I guess he disagrees.
I smirk as I slowly, slowly sink to my knees. His mouth falls open in awe again. I unbutton and unzip his jeans and pull them down, taking my time. He is large and hard as a rock in his black boxer briefs. I gingerly tuck my fingers in the waistband and pull those down too.
I slowly wrap my fingers around him. And. Large was an understatement. “Okay, I get it now.”
“W-what” his voice is totally garbled.
“The swagger. The confidence.” He can’t even respond. I start to tease him back with light touches, a couple gentle licks. He hisses. “Not so fun being on the receiving end, huh?”
“N-not having fun?” He laughs but it’s strained. “I’m having the best night of my entire life.”
Oh.
I snap, my restraint out the window. I go absolutely feral on him. He has to grab the counter for support. He whispers every expletive I’ve ever heard and—was that Italian? French? Hot. I can’t help but moan around him, watching him unravel.
“I can’t, it’s too…I can’t hold off.” I smile around him.
It’s only been like three minutes! “Wife, if you don’t want me to—” Wife.
I suck harder and he lets go. I watch every second, just like he watched me.
It might be the sexiest I’ve ever felt, to see him, Mr. Casanova, Bunny Boy, the gorgeous, smooth-talking billionaire, totally lose it. Over me.
When he stills, I stand and put his boxers back. I’m about to gloat but he pulls me into him. He holds me tight, one arm locked around my back and a hand cradling my head.
“Janelle. That was…”
“Better than a kickboxing class?”
He laughs. “Absobloodylutely.” I release him but he tightens his hold on me. “Don’t run away.”
“I wasn’t.” I was.
“We need to eat.” He pulls back to look down at me but doesn’t let me go yet. “Favorite burger place?”
“Five Napkin.”
“Brilliant,” he says.
“Benedict.”
“Hm?”
“Both your hands are on my ass.”
“ Finally.”
I laugh and pull away and he lets me go, then pulls up his jeans.
“Look, we, this…this probably shouldn’t be a regular thing,” I say as I bend to grab my bra.
“I passionately disagree.” He smirks, watching me get dressed, bulging arms crossed over his bare chest.
I steel myself. “I mean, obviously we have to make it a whole year, so when we get desperate for release, we can.”
“I’m desperate for release.”
“Ben! I’m serious, we can’t do this all the time! You just had release.”
“Yes, well, normally I can last longer than one measly minute. I need to redeem myself. Also. You’re in the same room. So.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes and he flinches, like he was about to reach for me but stopped himself.
“Only when we’re dying, okay? Sex just makes everything messy.”
“A secret contractual marriage for money isn’t already messy?” He shifts to lean against the counter, flexing everywhere as he goes.
“Can you put your shirt on?” I ask, which was a mistake. Because holy spreadsheets, the gloating. The absolute glee on this man’s face. “Yes, yes, you’re super hot. Happy now?”
“Not hardly. Woman, all you ever tell me is ew and gross . Let me have this.” I try to walk away and he follows me.
“What was that about jeans and bare feet? And you liked how I went all alpha on that twat tonight? Can do again. Nigel looked at you once. He’s fired. Also should I get more weighted vest—”
I squeal as I jump away and close my door in his gorgeous face and call out, “Just drop my burger at the door, I’m not eating with you!”
“Fine, fine, I’ll get my shirt,” he says through a smile, walking away, it sounds like.
I laugh and slump against the door.
Looking up at the ceiling to catch my breath, the panic sets in.
Because…
What in the actual hell just happened?
Has Benedict Clark always secretly been the hottest man alive and I didn’t see it under the “darlings” and the jokes?
I’ve seriously never exploded like that.
And him. I don’t think he took his eyes off of me for a second, watching like I was the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
He exploded too, so fast, so completely.
It was all so…honest? Is that the word? There was no showing off or excessive charm.
He can’t exactly fake being that turned on. I mean, two minutes?
What even was that?
And…
Why am I already eyeing my tiny polka dot shorts over there, eager to make it happen again?