Beautiful Bitch
Page 24
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“You’re going to get us busted,” I said, already climbing on top of him.
“Not if you’re quiet.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Can’t tell you how many times my dad busted me for sneaking out when I was in high school, and I was very quiet.”
“Can we not talk about your dad right now? It’s seriously distracting me from how hot it’s going to be to f**k you in your teenage bed. And Jesus, Chloe. Are these even considered underwear?” he said, twisting his hands in the tiny straps of my panties and pulling. Hard.
“Oh my God!” I whisper-shouted. “Those were new and—”
“You loved it,” he finished, grinning. “Just doing my part to uphold tradition.”
I wanted to argue but 1) he was right and 2) I was distracted as Bennett slid the torn fabric to the side and slipped a finger inside of me. He took my hip in his other hand, encouraging me to move over him.
“Like that,” he said, lips parted and eyes trained between my legs. “Fuck—take your shirt off.”
Ripped panties forgotten, I nodded, lifting my T-shirt over my head and tossing it behind us. He slipped in a second finger and I sped up, the bed frame squeaking softly beneath us.
Bennett sat, whispering “Shh,” against my mouth. “Sit up a little.”
I shifted onto my knees and watched as he pushed his pajama bottoms down his hips.
“Are we really doing this here?” I whispered. The bed was too small, the room too hot and too quiet—and my dad was just two doors down. It was stupid and inconvenient and I couldn’t remember wanting something more.
I switched on the small lamp so I could see him better. His lips were swollen, his hair a mess, and his grin was totally ridiculous when he said, “I f**king love you, you filthy f**king girl. You want me to watch?”
“Yeah.”
“Touch yourself,” he whispered.
I did, way too slowly to get me anywhere, but the perfect speed to make his eyes grow to the size of saucers before he stretched to kiss me. He mumbled something against my lips, his tongue moving lazily against mine. He was all soft noises and hands everywhere, his c**k sliding over my clit before finally pressing slowly into me.
It was a blur then, the feeling of being so full, of warm breath and warmer skin. Bennett sucked on my nipple, teeth dragging while I slid over him. I was so lost to everything else that I didn’t even notice the familiar squeak of the hinge on my bedroom door.
“Oh for the love of Pete!” my dad yelled, and suddenly it was legs and arms and blankets being tossed everywhere. I heard the distant flailing of my father as he rushed back down the hall, muttering about his little girl and sex in his house and telltale signs of a heart attack.
Let’s just say that neither Bennett nor I had ever been so grateful for anything as we were for the NDSU football player who needed an emergency root canal the next morning and whose coach, an old friend of my father’s, insisted that only Dad could handle it. Dad was at the office, waiting on their arrival from Fargo before the sun was even up.
No, vacations never really seemed to work out for us.
Guilt ate away at me the rest of the morning. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to tell Bennett it was impossible. Here he was, trying to be flexible, and I was the one telling him to consider work. What the hell was wrong with me? I tried to catch him between meetings. I tried to meet up with him for lunch. The closest I got was passing him in the hall, a group of executives babbling around him like fanboys around a celebrity.
“I need to talk to you,” I mouthed.
“Bat signal?” I think he said back.
I shook my head. “Dinner?”
He nodded, blew me a kiss behind everyone’s back, and was off, herded down the hall and into the elevator.
“So how are things?”
Sara shrugged, dragging another fry through ketchup before popping it into her mouth, but definitely not looking at me. “Things are fine.”
I glared at her. Things were always fine with Sara.
“I’m serious!” she insisted, leaning back in her chair. “There’s so much noise about it all. I’m just trying to figure out what is truth, and what isn’t.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said.
“I’ve known him for so long it’s just hard to reconcile it all. But, honestly, I’m doing fine.”
“Sara, pardon the intrusion, because I suppose technically it’s none of my business, but that is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“What?”
“Not if you’re quiet.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Can’t tell you how many times my dad busted me for sneaking out when I was in high school, and I was very quiet.”
“Can we not talk about your dad right now? It’s seriously distracting me from how hot it’s going to be to f**k you in your teenage bed. And Jesus, Chloe. Are these even considered underwear?” he said, twisting his hands in the tiny straps of my panties and pulling. Hard.
“Oh my God!” I whisper-shouted. “Those were new and—”
“You loved it,” he finished, grinning. “Just doing my part to uphold tradition.”
I wanted to argue but 1) he was right and 2) I was distracted as Bennett slid the torn fabric to the side and slipped a finger inside of me. He took my hip in his other hand, encouraging me to move over him.
“Like that,” he said, lips parted and eyes trained between my legs. “Fuck—take your shirt off.”
Ripped panties forgotten, I nodded, lifting my T-shirt over my head and tossing it behind us. He slipped in a second finger and I sped up, the bed frame squeaking softly beneath us.
Bennett sat, whispering “Shh,” against my mouth. “Sit up a little.”
I shifted onto my knees and watched as he pushed his pajama bottoms down his hips.
“Are we really doing this here?” I whispered. The bed was too small, the room too hot and too quiet—and my dad was just two doors down. It was stupid and inconvenient and I couldn’t remember wanting something more.
I switched on the small lamp so I could see him better. His lips were swollen, his hair a mess, and his grin was totally ridiculous when he said, “I f**king love you, you filthy f**king girl. You want me to watch?”
“Yeah.”
“Touch yourself,” he whispered.
I did, way too slowly to get me anywhere, but the perfect speed to make his eyes grow to the size of saucers before he stretched to kiss me. He mumbled something against my lips, his tongue moving lazily against mine. He was all soft noises and hands everywhere, his c**k sliding over my clit before finally pressing slowly into me.
It was a blur then, the feeling of being so full, of warm breath and warmer skin. Bennett sucked on my nipple, teeth dragging while I slid over him. I was so lost to everything else that I didn’t even notice the familiar squeak of the hinge on my bedroom door.
“Oh for the love of Pete!” my dad yelled, and suddenly it was legs and arms and blankets being tossed everywhere. I heard the distant flailing of my father as he rushed back down the hall, muttering about his little girl and sex in his house and telltale signs of a heart attack.
Let’s just say that neither Bennett nor I had ever been so grateful for anything as we were for the NDSU football player who needed an emergency root canal the next morning and whose coach, an old friend of my father’s, insisted that only Dad could handle it. Dad was at the office, waiting on their arrival from Fargo before the sun was even up.
No, vacations never really seemed to work out for us.
Guilt ate away at me the rest of the morning. I shouldn’t have been so hasty to tell Bennett it was impossible. Here he was, trying to be flexible, and I was the one telling him to consider work. What the hell was wrong with me? I tried to catch him between meetings. I tried to meet up with him for lunch. The closest I got was passing him in the hall, a group of executives babbling around him like fanboys around a celebrity.
“I need to talk to you,” I mouthed.
“Bat signal?” I think he said back.
I shook my head. “Dinner?”
He nodded, blew me a kiss behind everyone’s back, and was off, herded down the hall and into the elevator.
“So how are things?”
Sara shrugged, dragging another fry through ketchup before popping it into her mouth, but definitely not looking at me. “Things are fine.”
I glared at her. Things were always fine with Sara.
“I’m serious!” she insisted, leaning back in her chair. “There’s so much noise about it all. I’m just trying to figure out what is truth, and what isn’t.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said.
“I’ve known him for so long it’s just hard to reconcile it all. But, honestly, I’m doing fine.”
“Sara, pardon the intrusion, because I suppose technically it’s none of my business, but that is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“What?”
