Chapter 8
Iwake up refreshed and happy in an enormous white bed, facing two large, sunny windows overlooking the ocean.
I know I’m in Ben’s guest room. And I know I’m here because he refused to let me sleep in his room. What I don’t quite know is what I”m going to do next.
I mean, we had a pretty good time last night, watching scary movies, having snacks, and teasing each other. But then I fell asleep, and he tucked me in here. There was no wild, late-night sex in the spooky mansion. No sneaking into anyone’s bedroom for a rendezvous. Not even a single kiss.
After our first two encounters, both of which ended with him inside me, I just assumed that’s what would happen every time. Since it didn’t, I guess he’s done with me.
I can hear Sally’s voice in my head telling me that I have a choice here too, but it’s much harder to conjure up the courage to act when faced with the absolute reality of the situation. We hung out but didn’t fuck.
I think I may have been friend-zoned.
Made only worse by the fact that I’m pretty sure we’re not friends.
I crawl out of bed and slip my shorts back on, having been put to bed in my tank top and panties. I am momentarily reassured remembering that he, at the very least, saw my fancy underwear.
He saw them and decided not to rip them off my body. Shit.
There goes that little bit of confidence.
I make my way downstairs. The house seems to be empty, but I smell coffee, so I follow my nose to the kitchen. There’s a fresh pot but no one is around. I pour myself a cup and suffer through the first sip of black coffee after failing to locate any cream or sugar in this health nut’s kitchen.
Holding my cup, I start to wander through the house. It’s airy and open, filled with light, even down the hallways, which all have windows open to the fresh morning air. Brick red and cream tiles line the floors of most of the halls and bedrooms, merging into jewel toned blues and greens in the bathrooms. I shake my head imagining how many hours were spent laying tile in this mausoleum.
I encounter the first sign of life when I reach the far end of the main floor and follow the sounds to a full-on fitness center. Ben is at the weight set in the center, doing deadlifts. I freeze there for a moment, admiring his fine ass before taking a good look around.
To my left is a black modular rack filled with athletic shoes of all sizes and colors. I set my coffee cup on top and start hunting through small looking pairs until I find some that are just my size. I slip them on with no socks, leaving my flip-flops in a pile by the doorway.
“Good morning,” Ben says, finally noticing me as he sets down the bar he was holding and wipes his brow and shoulders with a small towel.
“Morning.”
“You found the coffee?”
“Yup. Nice and black, just like punishment.”
I earn a small, huffed laugh for my joke and I tuck it into the secret pocket of my shorts for later.
“I’m going to go for a run on the beach. If you don’t mind me borrowing these shoes?” I ask.
Ben glances at my feet and shakes his head. “No, those have all just been abandoned here over the years.” He starts to walk toward me, and I steel myself to remain cool and collected with his sudden closeness. “Give me ten and I’ll go with you.”
A glimmer of excitement shoots through me at the idea that he wants to spend time with me, even if it’s just joining me on a run. “Sure you can keep up, old man?”
His narrowed eyes and smirking lips do nothing to calm down the wildfire that ignites in my nervous system.
“You know, if you keep bringing up my age, I might start to think you’ve got an older man fetish.” He twists my words from the night before and tosses them at me.
I don’t react in time to catch them, and the full force of his flirtation hits me right in the chest.
“Most girls do,” is all I can manage to squeak out.
Ben just raises his eyebrows at me.
I turn and start to escape.
“Wait for me on the patio. I just need to change my shoes.”
I run up the stairs to the kitchen and hide behind the wall, eyes squeezed closed, head pressed back, trying to calm myself down.
What is it about this guy that throws me for such a freaking loop? I wasn’t so flustered last night, when we spent the whole evening practically snuggling on the couch.
But last night I figured we were just in foreplay mode.
Now I have no idea what’s going on.
I wait for him on one of the chaise lounges on the patio, enjoying the cool morning breeze from the ocean. The view from this house is absolutely incredible.
“Ready?”
I jump up. “Yeah.”
“I usually run north about five miles and then back.”
Oh, so just a quick ten mile run along the beach? Sure, no biggie.
“Sounds good to me.”
Another eyebrow raise. “Okay then.”
He jogs down the steps toward the sandy path to the beach. It’s slow going here in the loose sand and I follow him until we reach the shore. Once we’re on wet, packed sand, he veers right, and I come up beside him. We jog along for a few moments, me looking straight ahead, and Ben looking I don’t know where because I haven’t dared to look over.
His voice shakes me out of my own mind.
“It’s a bit different, running on sand. The slight give with each step makes your body work harder to push off each time. If you’re not used to it, you’ll be feeling your calves tomorrow like never before.”
The fitness junkie inside me perks up at the idea of unlocking a new way to target a muscle, but I keep it cool. “Is that a challenge?”
Ben just laughs. He’s starting to do that more and more, I notice. “Isn’t everything?”
“I suppose,” I say, picking up my pace just enough to pull ahead as we head into a narrow strip of beach between the lapping tide and a bed of seagrass. I can feel Ben on my heels.
“You know,” he starts, sounding not even a bit winded. I may have met my match after all. “I usually don’t like falling behind. But I don’t mind this one bit.”
His obvious flirtation sends my heart soaring. I toss a smile over my shoulder. “Picking up my rear?”
Another laugh from Ben has me grinning.
After a mile or so of white sand beach, glittering sunshine, and watching birds dive for their breakfast, I’m feeling exhilarated—and a little fatigued.
Am I going to make it through ten miles of this?
Don’t get me wrong. On a treadmill, I could bang out ten miles in ninety minutes or less. But on this beach? I can feel my body struggling for purchase with every step.
But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Ben see how hard it is. I’ve got twenty years on him. I’m not quitting before he does.
I wonder…
“You know, you’ve been back there an awful long time, Ben. Are you having trouble catching me?” I toss the words over my shoulder, trying to sound as calm as possible.
I hear him laugh. “I didn’t realize that was the point of this exercise.”
“Well, it could be,” I sass over my shoulder.
And then I take off.
I won’t be able to sustain this new speed for long, but luckily, Ben’s right behind me, matching me step for step. I hadn’t exactly thought this plan through—besides the fact that it might involve getting his hands back on my body.
Now I’m gazing furiously side to side and down the beach, looking for a soft looking place for him to take me down.
As if I was in control of that.
His arm takes me completely by surprise, swooping in from the ocean side as I was distracted looking up the beach. It knocks me off balance, and I start to go down. His other arm clasps hands with the first, circling my body as we both hit the sand.
He presses me to my back and settles his hips over mine, one leg on either side of my body. I open my mouth to speak but Ben presses his hand immediately over it, my lips wide against his sandy palm, the taste of the ocean filling my mouth. I struggle, twisting my body back and forth but his strong hands keep me in place.
“We wouldn’t have had to go through all this if you would have just stopped running, now would we?”
A heady rush of excitement and desire pulses from my chest to my toes with the way he falls right into this little game.
As if he could read my mind.
“I wouldn’t have to chase you down if you would just be a good girl and stay where I tell you to stay.”
He’s flipping my body over, his hand still cupped tightly over my mouth, his grip lifting my head and keeping my face from planting right in the sand.
“I’m going to let go of your mouth now, but do you know what will happen if you scream?” He speaks the words right into my ear, the rush of hot air sending chills down my spine.
I nod the best I can with my head in his grip.
He releases my mouth and I suck in a gasp of fresh air. I rest my forehead on the sand in front of me, still struggling to catch my breath. Ben’s hands are everywhere, snaking down my body and slipping up the legs of my shorts. His touch sets me on fire, and I wriggle in his grasp, trying to inspire more of it.
“You think you’re going to get away from me?”
“I just…” I want to play too, but my mind is slow to catch up. “Didn’t think you’d actually chase me.”
“I didn’t want to,” he says at the same time he pulls my shorts down with a sharp tug. The breeze on my now bared ass is a shock to my system. I nearly moan with desire but try to make it sound more like a yelp. “But you had to take off running and ruin the perfectly nice morning we were having.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper.
My reward is a firm smack on my ass. I yelp again in surprise.
“What did I tell you about apologizing?”
This man is going to be the death of me.
“Fine, I’m not sorry.” I force the words out, reigniting my struggle, actually making an attempt to get free this time.
Ben reacts by using one of his strong hands to pin both of mine to the sand above my head. “I’m not sorry either.” His other hand snakes between my legs and I know damn well what he finds there. My entire slit pulses with anticipation as he drags his fingers through my wetness.
“I’m not sorry one bit.” As he speaks the words, he drives his fingers inside me, pumping them in and out as I continue to squirm.
It’s lost on no one that all I’ve managed to do is wiggle my legs wider.
“Little fucking slut,” Ben starts, his invasion of my body complete as he adds a thumb to my clit, and what feels like it might be his pinkie right into my asshole. “Always telling me no. Always running away. But always so wet for me.”
I can feel his erection rubbing on my ass as he grinds his whole body against mine, fucking me mercilessly with his hand. I squeeze my eyes closed and press my forehead harder into the sand in front of me. There’s nothing for me to do here except surrender control.
And come.
I reach my release hard and fast, taking in a mouthful of sand as my mouth flies open. I turn my head to the side and spit as I moan and grind myself against his hand, pulses of pleasure clenching my core and taking away any breath I manage to gasp into my lungs.
“God, your pussy is so tight clenching down on me like that.”
Ben’s dirty words hit my mind like lightning, unlocking a new wave of pleasure as he continues to pump his hand in and out of my body.
“I’m about to fuck that tight little pussy. Would you like that?”
I’m gasping for breath, still held down tightly by his hips and his arms holding mine overhead. I offer a bit of struggle, but it’s half-hearted. “Anyone could see us.”
Ben scoffs, pulling his hand out from between my legs and wiping it carelessly on my bare back. “You didn’t care much who saw when you ran from me.”
He jerks my arms down so they’re held behind my back, my fists clenched tightly right above the swell of my naked ass. Then he hauls me back toward him so my legs bend and I”m folded over them, face still pressed into the sand. “Besides, this is my beach. There’s no one here to see. No one here to rescue you. I don”t know where you thought you were running before. But there’s no escape.”
His cock slides into me without warning, the full length of him bottoming out on his first thrust. “So fucking wet for me.”
It’s true.
This is easily the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, and this week has had some close contenders already. There’s just something about the deserted beach that takes it up a notch, like I’m a pirate’s prisoner or something.
I freaking love it.
“So tight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a virgin.”
“Is that what you want?” I manage to get out, turning my head just enough to be heard.
Ben pauses for the briefest moment in his complete and utter domination of my body and I catch a glimmer of something in his eyes. From this angle, though, it could just be the sunlight.
But then he speaks. “Yeah. I guess so.” It’s more of a grunted whisper than anything, but I take the cue.
“Yes, I’m a virgin. I was supposed to be saving myself for marriage.”
Well, that did the trick. He pounds into me harder than ever. “Too fucking late for that, little virgin. You’re all filled up with cock. How do you like it?”
He grips a handful of hair and uses it to pull my head a few inches off the sand. “It’s good?—”
Oh, no, wait…
“It hurts.” I remember my part and call the words out in my best tearful whimper.
“I bet it hurts. Your little pussy is so tight, and my cock is so big. That’s why it hurts.” He pulls my hair harder, my back arching as my body comes up to meet his. The sting from my scalp brings tears to my eyes, and when he turns my head, the sight of those does something to him.
If he was mean before, now he’s more like feral.
“Say it. Tell me why it hurts so bad when I fuck your pussy.”
“Be…because your cock is so big,” I manage to get out, the complete and utter overwhelmingness of the whole scene threatening to close in on me.
Ben drops his grip on my hair, and I manage to catch my head just before it hits the sand. I close my eyes and rest my face down, happy to have my head back under my own control. From here, I can calm down a bit and focus on the best part of this—the punishing thrusts into my body. His cock really is very big, and it might actually hurt a lot more if he hadn’t spent the last few days stretching me to fit him.
The thought of that makes my eyes roll back in my head, eyelids cinched tightly closed. This is so fucking hot. I will never recover.
“No one’s ever going to want you now.”
The strain in his voice tells me that he’s getting close, and I can’t help my little smile—that luckily he can’t see. I’m seriously impressed with how deep and fast he fell into this game. For a guy who just last night was telling me we needed a liability waiver for any more rough sex, he sure is violating me in public like an animal.
“Only you.”
The words are all wrong and I wish I could take them back the second I say them. I was trying to play the violated virgin captive, but I realize my mistake the second I utter those words.
But Ben’s hips don’t even slow down, if anything, he goes at me harder. My knees are starting to sink with his punishing downward thrusts, but I can still feel every inch of his cock slide through my wetness.
He stumbles in his pace, not pulling out before slamming deeper inside me. I can feel his core contract against my ass as he presses himself deeper. I start to think he’s going to come silently, but he lets out a strangled moan and takes my hips in both hands, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in again. And again.
Playing around in his own wetness in my body.
Just when I think he might use my body until he’s completely limp, he finally flops on his back on the beach next to me. “Holy shit.”
I laugh softly, carefully uncurling my body and sitting up. I stretch my legs out, shaking them and my arms, before laying on the beach beside him, propped on one elbow. I’m half naked and leaking cum, but I don’t even care right now.
“Yeah,” I say finally.
My voice shakes Ben out of whatever stupor he went into post orgasm, and he opens his eyes, finding mine as he props himself on both elbows. “What the hell was that all about saving yourself for marriage?” He’s got a sly smile on his lips, and it makes me smile back at him.
“I was a rich merchant’s daughter who you kidnapped.”
Ben lets his body flop back down onto the sand, shaking his head.
“It was an arranged marriage, though, to the corrupt mayor of the town where I grew up, so you actually kinda did me a favor.”
Ben just shakes his head again. “I just got off so hard, forcibly deflowering my virgin prisoner on the beach. Right out in the open. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I scoff. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It was fun.”
He rolls over to his side and considers me. “You had fun.”
It’s not a question, but I nod.
After a long moment, he nods too. “Don’t get me wrong, I had fun.”
“But…”
He sighs. “But I’m supposed to be a role model. I don’t know where this behavior is coming from.” As if something terrible just occurred to him, he turns to me sharply. “I don’t actually do these kinds of things in real life.”
I just laugh at his fluster, letting my body flop back onto the sand. “Kidnap virgin townswomen and hold them prisoner on your pirate ship?”
“You know what I mean.”
I’m annoyed enough with this line of conversation that I say nothing.
That doesn’t fly for long.
“Tell me that you know what I mean.”
I roll back over to face him. “I know what you mean, okay? I don’t think that you’re running around the city accosting innocent girls. This is a game. It’s fun. I’m totally good with it. Better than good. I have a safeword. We’re safe.”
The way my words visibly reassure him makes me feel a bit bad about not offering them sooner. I just thought…
“You know, I thought you were kinda into this stuff. At least, that’s how it seemed at the hotel that first night.”
“There’s a big difference between BDSM scenes at a club and whatever that was.”
“Tell me.”
Ben pulls his shorts back up and lays on his back, arm over his forehead to shield his eyes from the morning sun. “It’s all very controlled. That’s what I like about it. I need that kind of control in my life. I need to be in control. Going to those clubs is my way of feeding two birds with one seed. I get off. It’s enjoyable, the women are very experienced and professional. And I get to sharpen the skills I need to hold the reins of my life.”
Whoa, there’s a lot to unpack there.
I decide to grab for the lowest hanging fruit. “Feeding two birds with one seed?” I don’t laugh, but even I can hear the laughter in my voice.
Ben doesn’t look over. “Yeah, it means to take care of two needs with one action.”
Now I’m laughing. “I know what it means, but the saying is kill two birds with one stone.”
He rolls his head to the side and smiles at me. “I guess it is, huh? Well, that’s what years of putting a kid through yuppie private school will get you. Dumbed down.”
His tone turns harsh on the last two words and my forehead wrinkles in question. There is clearly something there, but I’m not sure if it’s my place to ask. I mean, I know for damn sure it’s not my place to ask, but will he think it’s strange that I don’t?
I finally decide to let it go, rolling back in the sand until I’m flat on my back. While that conversation took an interesting turn, I won’t say I didn’t learn a few things. A bit of Ben’s history, and a glimpse into the life he and Ainsley had together.
It’s nearly too much.
I know I have to keep it together in order to keep my facade up for Ben, but it’s all I can do not to fall into a puddle of my own regrets. Ainsley probably would have grown out of this phase of his, whatever it is, and been the perfect guy to settle down with. If only I could have figured out a way to stick with him. Or, more accurately, gotten him to stick with me. Gotten him to decide that I was the one he wanted, instead of just some girl he hung out with for a while.
Ugh. Even the thought of him right now makes me want to hurl. What a fucking douche.
I roll to my side and consider the man in front of me. His eyes are closed, arm still covering the top half of his face. It does nothing to obscure his good looks, however. The man is a freaking smokeshow. Chiseled just how I like, tan, and clean shaven. His chest is covered with a fine layer of dark hair that I’m dying to run my hands through again.
Maybe I don’t regret his loser of a son.
Maybe the real regret in this situation is the fact that I’m walking a tightrope over a steaming pit of lies and deception and it’s only a matter of time before I fall in.
Because if there’s one thing I know for sure—Mr. I Need to Be in Control of Everything in Life over here isn’t going to go for an affair with his son’s ex.
So, what am I doing?
Am I really going to push this along as far as I can, even with the inevitable end already in sight?
I mean, obviously, yes.
The sigh I let out as I flop onto my back must be loud, because Ben rolls to face me. “You okay?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah. For sure.” I try to keep my voice calm and level, but I probably fail.
He lets out a sigh of his own. “You know, I never should have brought up those other women like that. It seemed like an innocuous thing to discuss at the time, but I can see now how insensitive it was to talk about having sex with other women when I’m here with you.”
Um—not what I was expecting him to say, but okay.
“Oh, it’s okay. I mean, I asked about the clubs.”
“Yes, but there were ways I could have answered without making it seem like I just use professional women as a regular hobby. I’m sure you interpreted that to mean that I think that way of you, and I need you to know that I don’t.”
Um…
Before I can speak—not that I had anything intelligent to say—he pulls me over so I’m curled against his body like the small spoon.
“When I told you that I used those clubs for pleasure and control, I hope you know that I meant that in the past tense.”
Okay, what the actual fuck is going on right now? Maybe I hit my head when we fell and am hallucinating this?
I turn in his arms until I can see his face. His hair is mussed, and sand is sticking to his sweaty parts. I have to smile at his dishevelment—it’s not something I’ve seen before.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I can almost see his mind churning, coming up with the perfect thing to say. “I just mean that whatever this is between us, it’s not like anything I’ve ever had before.” His tone is controlled, as if the machine of his mind is feeding him each word one at a time. “I usually strive for control in all areas of my life. And, while I definitely want to control you and dominate you, it’s different. It makes me nervous, but also very interested. I should be backing away from this, but I’m not. Quite the opposite. I kind of want to see where this goes.”
He’s silent for a long moment, probably waiting for my eloquent speech, but it’s not forthcoming.
Finally, his own brow crinkles. “I mean, if you want to.”
And I do, certainly. I want this. I want him. I want everything.
But I can’t have it.
And prolonging this will only break my heart even more when it all finally comes crashing down.
But do I tell him the truth? Do I tell him we can’t do this?
No, no I don’t.
“I do,” I say quickly, every cell of my being terrified that if I don’t claim him, the offer will be rescinded.
“Okay.” He places a kiss on my forehead, and I melt. “Well, I’m sure it goes without saying that we need to take it slow.” He laughs softly at his own words. “I mean, as slow as we can, having already done all the things we’ve done. My relationship history doesn’t exactly give me a guide for how to navigate something like this.”
Uh, yeah. Mine neither.
“Of course. Slow is good.”
Oh, sweet treachery.