Chapter 8 Sophie #2
“Pretty sure if you look up the definition of winner in the dictionary, you get a picture of me.” I flash him an annoying, smug grin.
Benny smiles. Actually smiles and fuck if it’s not the sexiest sight next to Matthew’s glow-up beach bod or Elijah’s warm gaze. “We’ll see about that,” he says, turning around, leaving me to bask in my victory with my brother and our friends.
“We should probably head back to get ready for dinner,” Sam says with a sigh.
“And drinks,” Raegan says with a grin.
“Right, a round of drinks for the winners,” Sam says, high-fiving Matthew.
“Dinner’s at seven, so we’ll meet you down there at quarter ’til,” Raegan says as Tiffany slurps her margarita. I notice Tiffany’s gaze shift to Matthew and instinctively I move closer, sliding my arm around his waist. He nearly jumps off the ground.
“Sounds great, we’ll see you later!” I say as she purses her lips, turning around with her margarita and taking off with the other bridesmaids.
Raegan grabs my brother’s hand and pulls him in the direction of the resort, leaving Elijah, Matthew, and me alone once more.
“You uh…want us to walk you to your room?” Matthew asks.
I find Elijah’s stare, feeling flushed underneath his gaze.
“I think I’d like that, actually,” I say, and Elijah nods, motioning for me to lead the way.
I walk in between of them, Elijah on one side and Matthew on the other.
I’m acutely aware that they keep looking at me, though it’s obvious they are trying not to.
I also know that both of them know the truth about me and Keaton, and I’m still not sure how to feel about Elijah spilling my secrets and feelings to Matthew. Accident or not.
Though at least I don’t have to hide the truth, which is a relief.
When we finally get to the elevator, I regret my decision to let these men walk me back, because the minute the doors shut, the heat between us is like a damn fire.
I fight not to look at them. At Elijah and his sun-kissed skin, his chest speckled with thick, dark hair.
At Matthew and his Ken-doll physique that reminds me with every glance he is all grown up in every way possible.
When the elevator opens, I don’t waste a second as I race out and head down the hall.
“I got it from here, guys, thanks!” I say, not bothering to turn around and look at the two deliciously hot men who have my heart—and my damn pussy—fluttering like a damn hummingbird. Being stuck between Elijah and Matthew was not something I had on my 2025 bingo card, for sure.
“See you at dinner,” Matthew calls out as I turn the corner and head toward the room. When I swipe my card, I expect to see Benny, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
And then I hear the sound of the shower running.
Part of me feels like maybe I should leave, go back down to the the front desk and ask if there’s some way a magical room has opened up, but I also know it’s a pointless pursuit.
I’m just feeling anxious, out of sorts. What I need is to push those anxieties aside and…let loose. Have a little fun.
Like this afternoon. I had a blast playing cornhole with the guys, laying out in the sun, sipping margaritas and even going in the water a bit to cool off.
With my brother’s wedding in a few days, there’s never been a better time to soak up the Paradise air and just…relax.
And then I hear it. Or rather, I hear him. Benny lets out a curse, and the way he breathes the word fuck, I just know.
I freeze, time stopping and moving all too fast at the same time.
“Oh, fuck,” he bites out. “That’s it, so close…” He moans. “So fucking full.” He lets out a heavy grunt, and it’s like a train wreck. “Gonna fill you up with my cum and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk without my cum dripping down your thighs.”
As if his words alone could render me immobile, I realize I can’t move my damn legs.
I let out out a heavy breath of my own, trying to still my breathing. Because I swear, I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head now.
“Gonna fill you up with my cum and fuck you until you won’t be able to walk without my cum dripping down your thighs.”
It takes everything in me to stifle the moan that wants to escape me, because Benny’s bitter masturbatory musings are like my fantasies come to life.
I hear the faint sound of wet skin slapping and his grunts come quicker.
I know what I should do. I should turn around and walk out of here, and just come back later or something. I absolutely should not be standing here listening to Benny masturbate in the damn shower. For one, it’s an invasion of privacy. And it’s wrong. On so many levels.
But I’ve also thought of this scenario so many times, and now that I know what he sounds like…it’s impossible to ignore. Impossible to turn away.
My heart picks up its pace in my chest, my insides twisting with familiar desire. I suck in a breath, forcing myself to sit on the bed and breathe. I suck in a breath and count to ten, trying to not focus on the deep moans and cursing coming from the shower or the heavy grunts and moans.
And then those grunts turn to growls. I press my thighs together, closing my eyes as I try to focus on my breathing, but the tightness of my thighs does nothing to quell the ache in my core.
I squirm on the bed and my bathing suit bottoms dip into my crack, so I shift to move them, but soon find my fingers wandering to the front of my suit.
My legs part. My fingers slip through my pussy and I realize how wet I am.
How swollen my clit is already, and all I’ve been doing is listening to him.
“That’s it,” he breathes, his voice echoing in the space. “Show me that pretty pussy.”
I close my eyes, pretending for just the briefest moment that it’s me he’s talking to. I spread my legs, sliding my fingers along my wet, warm seam. Grains of sand stick to the insides of my thighs, harsh against the warm softness of my skin.
I can be quiet, I tell myself. It won’t be the first time I got off to the thought of Benny Anderson knowing he’s in the room next me.
I bite my lip as I slide one finger inside of myself, if only to quell the moan that wants to escape me.
“Such a good girl,” he says, his voice strained and high-pitched. I’ve never heard him like this. Ever. It’s strangely hot and terrifying.
“I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice bordering on desperate. “Take it,” he growls. “Take all my fucking cum.”
I slide another finger inside, pumping rapidly as I imagine him filling me up just like he says he will. Until his cum is dripping down my thighs.
His feral growl of “Fuck, I’m coming!” throws me over the edge and I turn over on my stomach, forcing my face into the pillow to keep from screaming as my insides spasm and my orgasm hits me.
I’m coming too.
Harder than I’ve come in the last year with Keaton’s fingers or cock stuffed inside me.
I fight to regain my breath and my sanity as I realize he’s quiet. The shower is still running, and I realize it won’t be long until he gets out.
Oh shit, what have I done?
I need to move. I need to…
I need to make it look like I just got here, like I didn’t just listen to my temporary roommate slash former crush get off. That I didn’t just get off listening to him…
Oh, fuck.
I decide now’s as good a time as ever to find something to wear for dinner tonight—and drinks, since my brother and his team are buying—so I throw my suitcase open and get on my hands on knees, pressing my thighs together to try to stifle my pulsing pussy and my orgasm aftershocks.
I’ve just started pilfering through the piles of clothes I packed when the unmistakable scent of soap fills the air.
I turn to look over my shoulder, and Benny is standing there. In nothing but a towel. His dark hair is all wet and hanging in his face, and his hard, tattooed body is on full display. I can’t help the sound that escapes me, a cross between a moan and a curse.
Because fucking hell, Benny looks like sin itself.
I have a new image to add to my Benny Anderson fantasy file, for sure.
“Didn’t hear you come…in,” he says, gripping the towel.
The words echo in my brain along with the sight of him—with nothing but a towel slung seductively around his waist—and I have to fight hard to focus on finding words to speak.
“Just got here,” I lie. Benny looks me up and down almost like he doesn’t believe me, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.
“Shower’s open if you need it,” he says, holding my gaze. My fingers grip the fabric of some piece of clothing in my suitcase, but I don’t know what it is. Nor do I care at the moment. Because all I can see is him.
“Yeah, shower sounds good,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I forcibly turn away and grab a dress, some panties, and my bra. I hold them tight to my body as I head for the bathroom, scooting past towel-wrapped Benny whose gaze follows me like a haunted painting in a library.
When I get into the bathroom, I shut the door quietly, and only then do I breathe. I turn the shower on, as hot as I can get it, hoping to wash off the lies, the secrets, and the remnants of my own arousal from my skin.
Thank God there will be drinks tonight, because I think I need one. Or two, just to get through this damn night with Benny and make it out alive.