Chapter 30
TEN DAYS LATER
It was late Sunday afternoon when I pulled into town, but the address where I resided wasn’t where I was headed.
In the weeks since I’d been away, I’d come to realize while home had a definite comfort to it, there was a loneliness that abided there—a loneliness I’d unwittingly stowed away and took with me as I traveled from one town to the next.
A loneliness I didn’t want to carry anymore.
‘You can fly, baby—and the door is open. It’s always fuckin’ open.’
I slowed down as I pulled into his neighborhood. I had no way of knowing if he would be home. No assurance that what he said more than a month ago still held true. But whether he still wanted me or not, I owed him this much.
For seeing me.
For believing in me.
For setting me free.
I eased into his driveway, shifted into park, and killed the Bronco’s engine.
I drew in a deep breath, my stomach in knots, then willed myself to make my way to his front porch.
Only, once I was there, I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell.
I was too afraid. I thought I understood my feelings for him; but standing there, my longing was so immense, I felt like it might swallow me whole.
The possibility of his rejection immobilized me.
‘… the door is open. It’s always fuckin’ open.’
Then, suddenly, it was—quite literally—open.
I couldn’t stop my bottom lip from quivering as my eyes welled with tears.
My heart ached at the mere sight of him.
He stood there, staring at me—his broad, tattoo-covered chest and arms bare and on full display.
He was in a pair of jeans, and something told me that was all he’d bothered to put on for the day.
‘You’re a Phoenix. And the woman who has risen from the ashes is everything .’
He thought I was everything. Or, at least, he did. But, in truth, it was him who was everything. He was my everything. Or, at least, I wanted him to be—which meant, there was one more truth he needed to know.
“When I was twenty-two, I got pregnant,” I confessed instead of hello.
“Sean made me get an abortion. And, at the time, I convinced myself it was smart. I was young. He was… him . But…” I paused, swallowing the knot trying to lodge itself in my throat, then continued, “It wasn’t until after it was over, um…
that I realized it wasn’t my choice. It hadn’t been my choice.
I said yes, but—but only because I wanted him to love me. ”
I couldn’t stop crying now, but I needed to finish. I needed him to know.
“I want to love you,” I hiccuped. “I want you to love me. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And I want—I want a family. I want one with you —even—even if maybe I don’t deserve it.”
I barely got the words out before he stepped outside and pulled me into his arms. He held me tight against his chest, reaching up with one of his hands to bury his fingers in my hair and squeeze the nape of my neck. But it was when he pressed his lips against the top of my head that I knew.
I was home.
“I think, maybe, I need a therapist,” I cried.
He pressed another kiss in my hair, barely pulling away as he mumbled, “We’ll get you one, sparky.”
I wrapped my arms around his middle, giving him some of my weight. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re home, baby. That’s all that matters now.”
We stood there for an indiscernible amount of time.
He let me cry, soaking his chest in my tears, his patience and his tenderness more than I knew how to handle.
When I finally started to calm down, he pressed one last kiss atop my head then began to let me go.
I sniffled, lowering my chin, embarrassed of what I must have looked like after my crying fit.
Ben didn’t miss a beat as he took me by the hand and led me inside.
He shut the door behind us then guided me toward the living room where he snagged a discarded shirt from where it lay over the back of the couch.
Letting go of my hand, he butted a curled knuckle beneath my chin, lifting my face. He used the worn, cotton garment to dry my cheeks and wipe underneath my nose. When he was finished, he tossed the shirt onto the floor and asked, “You hungry?”
I shook my head no .
“You sure? Cause I’m tellin’ you now—I’m takin’ you to bed, I’m strippin’ you naked, and chances are good we won’t come back out today. Hell—might be a week before I let you out of my sight.”
Truth be told, I couldn’t remember the last thing I ate, but food was the last thing on my mind. Pressing up onto my tiptoes, I reached for his shoulder with one hand, slipping my fingers up his neck and into his hair with my other, silently begging him to kiss me.
His mouth crashed down on mine a second later, his tongue plunging between my lips as I gasped in excitement.
He groaned, and I swear I tasted it. Salty-sweet and perfect.
I whimpered in reply, trying desperately to pull my body closer to his.
Fuck—how I missed him. My whole body trembled with my need.
Benson broke our kiss just long enough to hoist me off my feet.
He leaned down and grabbed hold of the back of my thighs, and I opened my legs, circling them around his waist as I clung to his shoulders.
When he began to carry us toward the back of the house, he nipped at my bottom lip and licked it, making my sex clench.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he muttered into my mouth.
Reflexively, my limbs tightened around him as I whispered, “I was trying to find my way back to you every moment.”
“I know you were, baby.”
No sooner had we made it to his bedroom than he was tapping the side of my thigh, encouraging me to unlock my legs from around him. My feet hit the carpet, and the next thing I knew, my shirt was on the floor, my bra soon to follow.
He paused, taking a moment to palm my naked breasts. My hardened nipples rubbed against the palm of his warm, calloused hands, and I could feel my arousal as it began to leak out of me. I wanted to touch him. I needed to taste him. To thank him. To show him.
Shaking with my impatience, I reached for the button of his jeans and freed it. When I had his fly open, I dove inside the denim and grasped hold of his hardening length. He squeezed my tits, freeing a soft grunt at my touch, and I knew it was time for me to make my next move.
He let me go as I dropped to my knees, yanking his pants down as I went. I then grabbed hold of the base of his glorious cock and took him into my mouth.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, burying his fingers in my hair.
I sucked him hard, swirling my tongue around his tip, and his hips jerked in response. This was for him, but he tasted like mine ; and as he grew harder, I could feel my swollen pussy pulsing with desire—the warmth in the pit of my core on the verge of catching fire.
So lost in the pleasure of what I was doing, it took me by surprise when he yanked at my hair, pulling me away from him. He then bent over, slammed his mouth against mine, and kissed me hard and sloppy.
“Enough,” he all but growled, his lips still grazing mine. “I want you naked. I want your pussy on my mouth. I want you to ride this beard until all I can taste is you. Understood?”
His grip was so tight, my scalp tingled and I couldn’t move my head to nod my agreement. Instead, I whispered, “Yes.”
Grazing his nose down the side of mine, he replied, “Yes, who? ”
I almost moaned as a shiver raced down my spine
“Yes, daddy.”
“That’a girl,” he breathed before he let me go.
As I stood and reached for the button at my shorts, he kicked his ankles free of his jeans and then knelt to help untie my boots.
When we were both completely naked, he straightened, smacking my ass on his way to the bed.
I turned and watched him stretch out atop his rumpled sheets, propping his head on his pillow before he looked my way expectantly.
Much as I wanted to climb him and mount his cock, I found myself craving the reward of obedience, and so I did as I was told.
I situated myself, my knees planted on either side of his pillow, my thighs straddling his head, and my center above his mouth.
He reached up, gripped me at my waist, and forced me down lower, his impatience as recognizable as my own.
With a gasp, I reached out and smacked my hands against the wall in front of me, having nothing else to grab for leverage.
He dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly across my entrance, groaning all the while.
“ Fuck ,” he mumbled, his voice rumbly and low. “Ride, baby.”
He didn’t have to tell me again. He flicked his tongue across my clit, and my hips moved as if they had a mind of their own.
I was so turned on, so primed, it didn’t take long before I was grinding against him with fervor, completely unabashed, overcome with the sweetest sensation of bliss as my sex fluttered and pulsed at his command.
Breathless, I eased to a stop as the residual effects of what he’d given me began to take their course—but Benson wasn’t nearly done.
“Get down here, sparky. Put me inside you and give me that mouth—I want you to see how good you taste.”
I didn’t hesitate but repositioned myself and straddled his hips, taking his rock-hard length in my hands. I stroked him twice, unable to help myself, and then I positioned him at my entrance and took him inside of me.
Fuck , but he stretched me open and filled me full like no one else.
It took me a second to flatten myself on top of him. I needed a moment to remember what this felt like—what we felt like—joined as one.
My palms planted against his abdomen, I walked my way up his chest, lowering myself slowly.
Before I could bring my lips to his, he lifted his head and took my mouth, kissing me deep and wild.
He then reached down and grabbed my ass with both hands, encouraging me to move.
As soon as I began to rock my hips, easing him in and out of me, he let me go, his hands feeling their way up my spine and into my hair.
I was in control—except, it didn’t feel right.
This wasn’t who I was anymore. Not entirely, anyway.
He had earned my surrender. More than that, I had, too.
I stopped, my body still as I broke our kiss.
Sensing something was off, he froze beneath me.
“What? What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously.
I pressed a kiss against his cheek, and another against his bearded jaw as I trialed my lips to his ear and whispered, “I want you to fuck me, daddy. I want you to put me on my back and take me.”
I felt it as he flinched, hesitating a moment before his arms constricted around me.
Then, turning his head until it was his lips grazing my ear, he said, “Ali, if I put you on your back, I’m not fuckin’ you. Not this time, baby. But I sure as hell will love you.”
I lifted my head in search of his eyes. I’d come to adore seeing his brown irises alight with laughter. But in that moment, his eyes shone with a passion so warm and genuine, I knew there was nowhere, and there was no one, who’d ever made me feel safer.
I nodded, and ever so gently, he rolled us over until he had me on my back—his body fitted perfectly between my legs, the weight of him solid, reassuring, and not at all threatening.
His eyes pinned on mine, he lifted his hips slowly, sliding out of me until I could feel hardly more than his tip. He waited a breath, then thrust deep, and a pathetic little mewl spilled from my mouth. I hitched my knees up, arching the small of my back, and he grinned.
“There you go, baby,” he said, easing out of me once more.
He rolled his hips just right on his return, his pelvis grazing my sensitive bundle of nerves, and my breath caught. I reached up and sank my fingers into his hair, needing to hold onto him, desperate for him to remain close.
He pulled out slowly for a third time. On his next thrust, he filled me with more force.
“Benson,” I moaned, pulling him closer.
He touched his forehead to mine, eased out, and bucked his hips harder.
“Oh, Ben ,” I breathed.
“Such a good girl, moanin’ my name,” he muttered.
His praise sent a shiver straight through me—then he thrust deep and hard, jolting my entire body with his intensity, and the promise of my next orgasm began to stir.
“No more runnin’,” he demanded as he pounded into me.
He eased out gently.
“You feel threatened?”
He drove himself deep and grunted, “You come to me.”
Out.
“You feel scared?”
In.
“You come to me.”
Out.
“You feel sad?”
In.
“You come to me.”
Out.
“You feel weak?”
In.
“You come to me.”
I couldn’t catch my breath. Though, I wasn’t sure if it was because I was on the brink of utter euphoria or if it was because what I felt for him was too big to fit inside my heart.
“You fuckin’ come to me, baby.”
On his next thrust, I felt myself starting to come apart. I clung to the back of his neck, locking my legs behind his hips, and moaned as I held on for dear life.
“Hell, yes,” he grunted.
He jerked his hips faster, harder, and my orgasm ripped through me, my body tingling from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes.
I knew he found his release when he grabbed hold of one of my thighs and squeezed, grunting as he buried himself deep.
He pulled out halfway, filled me once more, and then tenderly began to stroke my thigh as we both worked to catch our breath.
It was only when he lifted his head away from mine and grazed the back of his knuckles down my cheek that I realized I was crying. Again.
“I’m so fucking tired of crying,” I whimpered.
Instantly, his eyes were bright with his amusement. Benson chuckled, held the side of my face and murmured, “There she is—my Ali-Mae.”