Chapter 15
GRACE
To say Ben has been on his best behavior is an understatement. Nearly from the instant I opened the bathroom door, he’s been almost comically mute.
For the briefest instant, I considered if Ben might pull one of those Fuck it moments I love in a romance novel.
Where the two main characters know it doesn’t make sense to cross the line, but one of them throws caution to the wind, crossing the room to pull the other into their arms. Then suddenly it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Ben’s lids had grown hooded as he stared at me with white hot fire burning in his gaze, our breathing the only sound between us.
Yet he seemed to gather his senses, the moment passing as quickly as it had begun.
I blinked wordlessly as he abruptly grabbed something from his duffel bag and swept by me in a rush.
Chewing on the tip of my fingernail, I glance over my shoulder at the closed door. I knew I should’ve kept my makeup on.
Stop, Grace. None of that. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re open to any monkey business. Okay, so maybe my body’s reaction to him is proof I’m subconsciously entertaining the idea. But he doesn’t need to know that.
Deciding to take control of this situation in whatever way I can, I pull back the covers on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom and climb in.
At least if something happens, I can grab my phone from the nightstand and lock myself in there until the police arrive.
Should I text Tuesday and let her know where I am?
But how the hell would I explain any of this?
My ridiculous thoughts are cut short as the bathroom door abruptly swings wide, and Ben emerges wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs and the most glorious set of abs I’ve ever seen in the flesh.
Covered in a light dusting of dark chest hair, his pecs are nothing to sneer at either.
It’s not until our eyes connect that I realize I’m staring. With my mouth open.
“Sorry. Forgot my shirt.” He gives me a bashful grin, which actually makes him even more appealing. Gah. As if this joker needs any help. He probably left his shirt out here on purpose.
Disappointment blankets me as he locates a worn white tee embossed with some sort of sport logo. He slides it over his head and reaches for his phone. “Six o’clock okay?”
My gaze flicks from his shirt to his eyes before I do the mental math. “Yes. Thank you. I really can’t be late to work.”
Ben drops his cell on the nightstand and turns to me. “I won’t let that happen, Grace. I promise. If I have to, I’ll drop you off at your job and go back and make the arrangements for your car.”
Biting my lip, I turn away so he won’t read the worried expression.
I’m not certain I’ve got enough credit remaining on my credit card to pay for whatever that car will need.
There’s no way I want to have that conversation in front of him.
This is embarrassing enough. Pulling the sheets to my chin, I lie on my side, turn off the bedside lamp, and will myself to sleep. “Goodnight,” I whisper into the dark.
“Goodnight, Grace.” I barely recognize his voice. The gregarious, playful man from earlier has gone. A reserved, almost shameful, dejected imposter in his place.
Ugh. Just stop. You’re allowing your thoughts to play tricks on you. Clear your mind so you can shut off your brain and get some sleep.
I take a few deep breaths, in through my nose, then slowly exhale from my mouth.
In for two, out for two. Normally, when I do meditation, I’m alone.
I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m hyperventilating over here.
Paranoia gets the better of me, and I roll slightly to ensure he’s not wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Yet it’s clear Ben managed to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Just like a man. Not a care in the world.
Forget the elaborate ruse today, the fact that he’s got to get up at the ass crack of dawn to get me to my car, or that he’s lying next to a virtual stranger in her underwear.
Then it hits me. He probably isn’t attracted to me.
Or maybe he’s actually a decent guy who was as down on his luck as I’ve been.
Not all men would put the moves on someone simply because they’ve got a vagina.
This thought has my shoulders relaxing as I roll away from him, back onto my side. I continue to meditate, breathing rhythmically, hoping I’ll drift off to sleep. Because tomorrow is going to be another long day.
Hmm. I moan, enjoying the warmth surrounding me.
My left cheek feels as if it’s being kissed by the sun.
The breeze ruffles my hair, a few runaway strands tickling the shell of my ear.
A smile crosses my face as I listen for the sound of the ocean.
But instead, there’s only more wind through the strands of hair at the nape of my neck.
I blink away the sleep and try to orient myself to where I am when I quickly realize I’d been dreaming.
The warmth isn’t coming from the summer sun, but the firm body enveloped around me.
And the breeze is apparently Ben’s heavy exhales against my neck.
The rugged, earthy scent I’ve been so attracted to is even more delicious up close.
It’s the perfect mixture of woodsy masculinity with a hint of orange zest.
A slight shift in his position brings a few more things to light.
He’s currently got one hand wrapped around my waist, his fingers precariously close to dipping inside my boy shorts.
The other is cupping my left breast. Yet instead of immediately putting distance between us like any sane person, I arch into him like the needy little harlot I am.
The movement causes his hand to dip lower over my mound, and his hips to rock into my backside.
Holy shit. He’s hard.
Big and hard.
I need to pull away. But god, he feels so good. And it’s been so long since anyone touched me this way.
Hell. Who am I kidding? Brad only pawed at me long enough to get hard so he could get off.
I swear the whole thing never lasted more than ten minutes.
Which is just as well since the encounters were more frustrating than pleasurable.
I’d given up hoping for an orgasm unless I was willing to take care of it on my own after he’d returned to snoring.
Another groan escapes, and I seriously consider interrogating him on his current behavior. That is, until I realize the keening sound came from me.
As Ben continues to grind himself against me, I bite down onto my lip to prevent emitting any other feral sounds. I mean, who is humping who here?
Unable to hold back any longer, I glance over my shoulder to discover he appears to be asleep. His exhales are heavy as they hit my cheek, stray tendrils of my fine blonde hair swaying in a rhythmic motion.
Ben’s fingers dip lower, and I nearly draw blood at the force of biting down on my cheek to stifle crying out. How is he slumbering through this? I’m sure my panties are soaked.
Suddenly, his hand is flexing over my breast, his fingertips searching for my nipple, and I realize he must be awake. Yet instead of scolding him to keep his hands to himself, I inadvertently push back into his steely erection before I can stop myself. This need is shrouding my judgment.
“Grace?” His voice cracks as the deep timbre tickles the shell of my ear.
“Yes.”
“Is this okay?”
I should say no. Tell him I need to go. But instead, my words tumble out in a staccato cadence. “Um, yes.”
He stiffens, his fingers halting all movement. “I didn’t mean to take advantage. I’m—”
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t.” And I’m almost certain it’s true. But I’m much more confident that I don’t want what he’s doing to stop.
As if this is the green light he was looking for, his talented fingers dip into the waistband of my underwear and—“Oh, fuck.” The feel of his firm cock rocking against my backside while his fingers graze my clit is melting my brain.
“Your pussy’s so soft and wet.” Now it’s his turn to moan.
He slides a thick finger inside. My hips are suddenly rolling back and forth against his hand. The shameless hussy.
Ben adjusts slightly, placing his mouth on my neck.
The coarse stubble against my overheated skin causes me to shiver.
“Grace? Can I?” He slides a second fingertip inside me before withdrawing and pulling his fingertips up to his mouth.
He lets out a deep, throaty groan that reverberates straight through to my core. “Can I please taste this sweet pussy?”
Oh. My. God. How would anyone turn that down? No man has ever offered to do that. Like, ever. “I’m not… I don’t…”
He starts to pull away. The realization my one and only chance to experience this may be flying out the window, so I blurt, “Yes. I don’t think sex is a good idea, but—”
“We don’t have to have sex. Just let me take care of you, Grace.
” There’s no need to say more as Ben abruptly moves from behind me to slide to the foot of the bed.
Reaching behind him, he removes his T-shirt in one practiced move.
I can practically feel the moisture pooling between my legs as his sinewy arm and back muscles flex like a scene from Magic Mike.
Leaning forward, he grips the sides of my boy shorts in each hand and carefully glides them down my legs.
He lifts them to his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a deep inhale.
My eyes instantly roll back in my head. This is akin to something from a movie.
The kind you imagine is complete fantasy because no mere mortal could do the things to women they do.
Oh, but he does.
My thoughts return to the here and now as I feel the swipe of Ben’s tongue across my clit.
He wastes no time burying his face between my thighs, devouring me as if he’s literally been starving for it.
I manage to lift my head enough to observe him and nearly come apart at the seams at the spectacle.
It’s more than the aggressive nature of his ministrations.
I lay awestruck as that phenomenal ass moves up and down, clearly enjoying this so much he’s now humping the bed.
My head flops back against the pillow, knowing I won’t be able to withstand the lashes of his tongue against my swollen flesh much longer. Add in the sight of his pleasure at giving me oral, and I’m a goner.
Surges of pleasure build and build between the apex of my thighs.
His fingers glide inside me just as he clamps his gifted mouth around my clit and sucks.
His groans vibrate against my achy center as he continues to slurp and lick my delicate, swollen flesh.
Unable to help myself, I peer back down at him to find his muscular hand wrapped around his shaft, tugging firmly as he continues to pleasure me.
“Ben,” I pant.
“Yes, baby girl. That’s it,” he practically groans into my sex. “I can’t wait to taste you coming all over my tongue.”
The combination of his dirty words, the feel of his stubble against my over-sensitized skin, and the fact I’m already teetering on the edge has me free-falling.
“Ben. Ben. God, I…” My head starts to thrash as a wave of euphoria threatens to swallow me whole.
One more tug against my clit with just the right amount of suction, and I’m drowning in my release. “Ben.” I cry out.
I can barely make out the sound of his release over the loud thrumming of blood in my ears. He steps away, a chill taking over my flushed skin in his absence. I pull my legs closed and into my chest as I roll on my side and attempt to control my breathing.
“You okay?”
Looking up, I find Ben at the end of the bed pulling a different T-shirt over his head. My eyes fall to his navy boxer briefs, the bulge contained within them not nearly as prominent as it had been moments ago.
“Um.” I hesitate for a moment before deciding to go all in.
“Did you?” How does one ask if the man who gave me the most incredible oral sex of my life just came in their shorts?
I guess it’s really none of my business.
Yet the thrill at the prospect his going down on me could’ve elicited such a result is too tempting.
Heck, no man I’ve ever been with has volunteered to take care of me in such a way.
Much less, offer it without any pressure for reciprocation.
“Did I…?” He cocks a brow teasingly before continuing.
My face flushes.
“Did I come in my pants at the taste of you? Yes, ma’am.
Yes, I did.” His admission is bold, but one of the most gloriously self-satisfying statements I’ve ever heard.
Add in the boyishly bashful grin upon this obviously experienced man’s face, and I think I might finally understand the whole swooning thing in books now.
My cheeks burn in response to his admission. Biting down on my lower lip to keep from squealing, I burrow my face into my pillow.
His hearty chuckle envelopes me like fresh morning dew clinging to the grass at the start of a new day. Ben climbs over my body, over-exaggeratedly bouncing the bed. “Proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” I giggle.
“Come here.” Ben rolls to his side, pulling me into his arms. I relish this rare carefree moment in time. Enjoying the unexpected intimacy as the post-orgasmic haze lulls me back into slumber. One last thought crosses my mind as I drift off.
How do you protect yourself from repeating past mistakes when a man like Ben waltzes into your life?