CHAPTER 24 BOWER #2
“And the book club is taking off and she wants to sign on with a local bookstore that can help distribute the books.”
“That sounds—”
“And I want it to be you.”
My brow creases. “But I don’t have a bookstore.”
“Your book truck,” he says, looking like I’m the confused one here.
“Bennett, that’s just a dream. It’s not actually real.”
“But you can make it real. This is the chance, the opportunity you need to push you in that direction.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know about that. I’m not ready. There’s so much that goes into it and—” His fingers silence my lips.
“There’s always going to be reasons not to try, Bower, but you can’t let those cloud your vision. You know what you want, you’ve done the research, and you can make this happen. I know you can.”
“I don’t know. It all seems too quick and I’m not sure I really want to do this—”
“That’s a fucking lie and you know it. You’ve dreamed of this book truck for a while. You have the money for it, the capability, and the plans. You just need to take the leap and execute. Trust me.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “I wouldn’t push you to do it if I didn’t think you could.”
I bite down on my bottom lip and look away.
Could I?
Could I actually put this together?
I have the logo designed, the name, the truck even. I just have to make the leap.
“I can see you thinking about it,” he says, moving in close again. “Bower, I know you can do this. I fucking know you can. Gretchen wants it done in a week, but I know that’s too soon. I’m going to hold her off, because I want your grand opening to coincide with the book club.”
“That’s a lot of pressure, Bennett.”
“The kind of pressure that’s worth it,” he says as his thumbs slip under my shirt, causing my head to fall back to the wall. “This is what you’ve wanted for so long, so don’t be scared now that there’s an opportunity.” He swipes his thumbs across my hips. “And I’ll be here to help you.”
“You’re going on a long away trip tomorrow.” Just the thought of him being gone for ten days actually makes me feel sick. And that’s what should scare me the most, because have I really grown so attached to him that I can’t fathom him being gone for ten days?
This is bad, so freaking bad, and yet, as his hands play with me and he moves in closer, I don’t stop him. I let it happen, because I know, deep down inside, even though I know my friend would not approve, I want him.
I squeeze my eyes shut from that realization.
I want Bennett.
I want his hands on me.
His mouth.
His tongue.
I want to feel him, every hard, muscular inch.
I want to feel him near me, on me…in me.
I want to know what it’s like to be worshipped by him and not just in small pieces. I want all of him. I want to be controlled and possessed.
And the craving for it has grown each and every day, as well as the fear.
“Just because I won’t physically be here doesn’t mean that I still won’t be able to help.”
“Help in what capacity?”
“Any capacity you want,” he says, his thumbs hooking on the waistband of my shorts and tugging them an inch lower.
I suck in a sharp breath, my mind starting to go fuzzy again. Seems to happen whenever he gets this close. “I don’t know, Bennett.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I don’t know anything at this point,” I say, my hand on his chest. “And when you’re this close, it’s hard to think. It’s hard to even compute what you’re saying.”
“Do you want me to back away?”
Yes.
No.
But also yes.
But fuck…ugh, no.
“I’m taking your silence as an answer,” he says, tugging my shorts down another inch so that they’re barely covering my front now.
My mouth waters at the thought of what he can do, the ache inside of me growing so intensely that my legs feel wobbly and my core twitches, waiting for his touch.
“I’m so confused,” I say, finally finding my voice.
“Confused about me?”
I shake my head but then nod it. “I shouldn’t want this, want you. I know I shouldn’t. And yet…”
He wets his lips, his eyes going feral as he says, “But you do.”
Maintaining eye contact, I do the one thing I probably shouldn’t. I nod.
The smallest of smirks peeks past his lips before he whispers, “Good.”
And then he goes down to his knees and pulls my shorts with him, as well as my underwear, exposing me right in front of his face. He helps me out of my clothes, deposits them to the side, and then lifts my leg over his shoulder.
He looks up at me for a moment, hunger in his pupils, and he pauses, waits for me to tell him no, but for the life of me, I can’t.
I know I should, but I can’t.
I’m so desperate for him to make me feel alive again that I don’t say one fucking word.
And he runs with it.
He brings his mouth right up against my pussy, and he kisses me gently. Immediately, I grow wet, my arousal spiking with just one simple kiss. His hand smooths over the back of my thigh and up to my ass, where he grips it tightly, right before he parts me and his tongue slowly drags over my clit.
“Fuck,” I whisper as my hand falls to the top of his head.
He must enjoy the encouragement, because he pushes my leg open more, the one on his shoulder, and he moves his tongue in even deeper, applying more pressure and hitting me in just the right spot for the sweetest torture ever.
It’s heaven, feeling him between my legs, the scruff of his jaw over my sensitive skin, mixed with the warmth of his mouth and the soft, yet firm press of his tongue. It’s a dream, something that hasn’t been done to me in so long that I actually want to cry because I miss this.
I miss having a man lap at me, like I’m his favorite dessert.
I miss being desired like this, like he can’t get enough.
And I miss the feel of being taken, in the middle of the day, without a thought or a care of the time, what’s happening around us, and who could possibly disturb us.
This is hot.
Raw.
Sexy.
And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop him, because I don’t want to.
“Yes,” I moan, my body shaking from holding myself up with one leg.
His hand continues to squeeze my ass as his other hand travels up my thigh, just below his tongue, and then slowly he inserts what feels like two fingers inside of me, curving them up toward my G-spot.
“Fuck,” I squeak as my body convulses from the feel of his fingertips playing with a spot that has never been touched before. “Oh fuck, Bennett.”
My pussy clenches as he laps at my clit, over and over, his pace picking up as he swipes his fingers, creating a maddening feel of euphoria to build and build and build in the pit of my stomach.
Consuming and billowing and developing into something bigger than I ever expected. A feeling so overwhelming that my body grows wet with need. Sweat dots my upper lip, and my pussy starts to clench around his fingers, my orgasm imminent.
“Oh God, oh fuck,” I moan, my fingers digging into his hair.
His tongue grows stiff, now focusing on my clit, flicking over and over again, heightening my arousal until every muscle in my body turns to mush and the only feeling that exists is pooling between my legs at a rapid rate, stealing my breath.
My thoughts.
“Right there, Bennett,” I moan. “Please don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.”
He increases the intensity, faster, harder, matching each stroke of his tongue with his fingers until a shot of light bursts behind my eyelids and I tip over the edge, my orgasm ripping through me and tearing me into what feels like a million pieces.
“Oh my God!” I yell as my body convulses and I ride out my orgasm on his tongue, taking every last ripple of pleasure until there is nothing left inside of me.
After a few seconds of catching my breath, Bennett stands and then gently places a kiss on my forehead.
“Think about the book truck,” he says, bringing this full circle as I still try to figure out what he just did to me, how he just rocked my world within minutes.
And then he takes off, leaving me shortless and satisfied in my apartment.
I lower to the ground and press my hands to my face.
Bennett Brinkman just tongue-fucked me. I just came over his stunning face. How did that happen? And why the hell was it SO good? I’ve been with a few men. I love sex. But that? He hasn’t even kissed me, and yet, three times his only focus has been on giving me pleasure.
He knew what he was doing, all right. And good God, I so want that again.
God, I’m so fucked.
Because all I can think about is how desperately I want to return the favor.