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And with his curse his lips crash to mine. His mouth is soft and warm; his tongue is slick and wet. It’s a heady combination, but this kiss is anything but sweet. It’s frantic, dark, deliriously delicious. Sweet—definitely not. Ben draws me closer and I can feel his hardness against my belly. The thought that I can do this to him so quickly enables me to be bolder. My fingers move to his shirt and I pull it out of his pants. “I thought you were here to save me,” I manage between frantic kisses after deciding to be that damsel in distress after all.
Before I can even undo the first button, his hands encircle my wrists and lift them over my head. “I am,” he says, obviously spurred on by this little charade. He holds my wrists with one hand, and the other effortlessly unzips my dress and it puddles at my feet. He’s good. A lot of practice, I think.
He breaks our kiss and leans back, not letting go of my hands. He hisses in a breath through his teeth in a way that tells me he likes what he sees. I take a second to look around at our surroundings.
“What if someone walks through here?” I’m standing in my black strapless bra and hose before him.
“No one is around this late at night. And besides, remember, I’m here to protect you?” His voice is more of a rasp. “God, you’re so f**king sexy.”
I look at him. Lips parted. Eyes hooded. And a grin that pierces every nerve in my body. “Take your shirt off,” I tell him.
His grin grows wicked. But he doesn’t do as I instructed. Instead he glides a hand down the side of my body. His touch leaves an ever-burning flame in its wake. His mouth finds my neck to sprinkle hot, wet kisses up to my ear. “I’ll take my shirt off but because I want it off,” he growls.
He lets go of my wrists and they fall to my side. I can feel my body tremble as I watch him slowly unbutton his shirt. I can’t help remembering the bad boy that rocked my world that one night. My heart pounds louder and faster with every passing second. As the consequences of our night together fade from my mind, I let the joy of this moment consume me. Why? Because in all the years since him, in all the boyfriends I’ve had, no one has ever made my body tingle with anticipation like him. No one has ever made me feel the way he did.
“Do you feel safer now?” He’s got a cocky grin as his shirt falls to the floor and he unbuckles his belt but doesn’t undo his pants.
I’m completely absorbed in following the lines of his body. From his biceps, where his muscles flex every time his arms move, to his perfectly defined smooth chest. A six-pack worthy of tracing, with my tongue or my finger. His pants hang low and I can’t help staring at the muscles that connect his hipbones or at the thin line of fine hair that trails down and disappears into the waistband of his pants.
“See something you like?” he asks.
His devilishly handsome features have already shifted into a knowing grin when I raise my eyes to him. I swallow, suddenly feeling shy.
His fingers caress my face. “You sure about this?”
I bite my lower lip and nod, once again unable to speak.
His expression grows dark and within seconds I lose sight of those blue eyes that I could look into for hours. He bends to kiss the exposed skin of my chest while his hands go to my thighs. My ni**les tighten beneath the lace of my bra as his mouth skates over my br**sts and my core aches when his fingers dance in between my thighs.
I mirror the position of his fingers and slowly pull his zipper down. As soon as I do his dress trousers slide even farther down his hips. His hands quickly slide up the silk of my hose, and his palms come to rest between my legs. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he pants.
I throw my head back and find my courage to talk dirty. I can do it. “I’m not wearing underwear and I started dripping the moment I saw you.”
His guttural groan echoes through the room and in a flash he rips the crotch of my stockings and tugs down his boxers. He pulls his wallet out and once the condom is in place his eyes darken. The tip of his c**k presses against me in the very next moment, but then he scans the area and hesitates.
I don’t give him time to second-guess things. This is what I want. I wrap my arms around his neck and arch my hips into his. By now our breathing is out of control.
“Take me,” I moan.
And that’s just what he does.
Show Me What I’m Looking For
We make our way back through the dark corridors and a little thing called guilt settles in my mind. This girl does crazy things to me and I want her. I’ve always wanted her. Every time I see her I think about what it felt like to be buried deep inside her.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “That was unexpected.”
She lowers her gaze, allowing her hair to shield her face. “Was it?”
Heat rises in my body as I consider her response. Suddenly a sound of pipes clattering above us has her raising her hands over her head. I pull her close. “Hey, the plumbing here is old. It’s nothing to be scared of.”
I walk faster and with her hand clutching mine, I open the door and we step outside. This time I not only notice the stars but see the moon is full, bright. The air also seems cooler. Good. I glance around the now-vacant parking lot, then down at her. “Where’s the Tate catering truck? Why were you squeezing pans into your car anyway?”
Her lipstick is a little smeared and her hair disheveled, but she’s still a knockout. “Tonight’s event was all me,” she says, beaming.