Emmy
Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.
She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch. Breathe, Emmy, I reminded myself.
The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.
Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.
Whore.
I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.
We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.
I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.
For being pregnant, Fiona didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She merely pushed the food around her plate, playing with it more than eating. For dessert, though, she requested pink grapefruit salad, and though I’d wanted the cheesecake I kept my trap shut and nodded along, ordering the same.
Ben leaned toward me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.
He frowned, the crease in between his brows deepening as he studied me. He knew me too well.
Ben’s left hand remained on my knee throughout the meal, his thumb softly caressing my skin. A few times I caught Fiona’s gaze slipping back and forth between me and Ben and I wondered if she was pondering what he saw in me. I couldn’t say I really felt bad for her; it was more like a subtle awareness permeating the air, reminding us all that he’d picked me and not her.
His hand crept higher on my thigh, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. Lifting my chin to look into his eyes, I saw a man in need. His intense hazel gaze was locked on mine and a shiver zipped up my spine. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. Only that he seemed to need something. I fought to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind.
He’d completely tuned out Gentry’s rambling. His gaze was glued to my thighs where the sundress had hitched up when I’d sat down, and his fingertips traced little circles along the tender skin. His eyes were dark and hungry, almost primal in his craving for me. I pushed my knees together, trying to stop the little darts of pleasure racing up from his touch and making my panties feel constrictive over my sensitized flesh.
He’d been so attentive, so loving that I was starting to feel guilty making him wait so long. We’d already been intimate, already breached that boundary—many, many times in fact. But now because of the whole Fiona pregnancy fiasco, I’d sworn off sex with him. It probably wasn’t fair for him. Or for me. Maybe I would change that tonight.
• • •
After dinner Ben led me inside our darkened hotel room, pressing my back against the door and taking my face in his hands. I tried to decipher the meaning in his haunted gaze but suddenly his mouth was crashing against mine, his lips firm and demanding. I parted my lips and his warm tongue sought entrance, sucking at mine greedily. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and stroking the skin with his tongue. Pressing his hips to mine, I felt the evidence of his arousal and I brought my hands up to his chest, my nails lightly raking over his firm pecs and abs. Moving his mouth from my skin, Ben captured my wrists and pinned them above my head. “Don’t touch me if you’re not going to finish the job, sweetheart.”
Holding my hands against the door, Ben pushed his erection into my belly and a raw whimper escaped my throat. His eyes were filled with desire, and when he pressed into me I felt the rigid lines of his body, smelled the crisp sent of his cologne, and heat pooled between my legs.
“Fuck,” he cursed loudly, dropping my wrists and turning away from me. He stormed across the room, both hands raking through his hair, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.
Whoa.
What had I done to set him off tonight?
Crossing the room on shaky legs, I paused at the sofa to remove my strappy sandals and then padded barefoot across the marble floor. I knocked tentatively at the bathroom door. “Ben?”
Silence.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Just fucking dandy,” he answered, his voice tight.
Sheesh. I didn’t know what started his temper tantrum but I was near certain I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Ben, please talk to me.” I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open slowly, I found him leaning over the sink, his hands gripping the marble countertop, his head dropped forward.
My stomach twisted nervously. My mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. . . . Was he racked with guilt over something else he needed to confess about him and Fiona? Heaven help me because I knew I couldn’t take it. And I was eighteen hours from home.
I wanted to ease his anxieties, to tell him whatever it was we’d get through it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead I waited, twisting the bracelet on my wrist. Finally he turned.
“I can’t do this.”
My stomach dropped. God, why had I thought it was a good idea to eat scallop mousse? It was threatening to make an appearance.
He stepped closer, towering over me in my bare feet. “I can’t share this room with you, sleep in the same bed, and be expected not to touch you. I love you, Emmy. You’re mine. All of you. Your heart, mind, and body. And I’m yours.”
“W-what are you saying?” I stammered.
“I just can’t take it anymore,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh filled with pent-up frustration.
“You don’t want me?” I asked.
He laughed. The bastard actually laughed, a rich throaty chuckle that tumbled from his perfect mouth. “I’ve had the biggest case of blue balls since we got back together. I’m about to make the fucking Guinness Book of World Records. I’ll have to see a doctor to make sure this won’t cause permanent damage in case you want kids someday.”
My heart swelled. He’d never discussed wanting children, and I suddenly found his little tantrum incredibly cute.
His hand unconsciously went to the bulge in his pants and he winced as he adjusted himself.
My eyes followed his movement. Oh. Heavens, that thing took my breath away. Had he escaped to the bathroom to deal with that on his own? Was that what this was about?
Everything struck me at once. Ben wanted me. He loved me. He needed this—to be intimate with me, for me to accept him and all his baggage. And I was denying him.
Bringing my hand toward him, I lightly rubbed his manhood through the thin material of his dress pants. His eyes flicked to mine and a low growl rumbled through his chest.
“You need me to kiss it and make it better?” I whispered.
His breathing faltered in his chest. “Don’t tease me, baby. I can’t take it.”
A slow smile curled on my mouth. I was ready. And not just because of his pouty tantrumlike behavior. Even at dinner I’d questioned myself, and now alone with him in this room it was obvious. I wanted him, too. All of him. He was right, he was mine and I was his. There was no sense in waiting any longer. I worked to free his belt, taking my time pulling it from the loops while my eyes danced on his.
“Baby, stop, stop.” His hands held mine, preventing me from pulling down his zipper. “Not like this. Not because you feel pressured.”
I shook my head. “That’s not it.”
He pushed a lock of stray hair from my face, cupping my cheek. “Seriously, I’ll take a cold shower and sleep on the couch. I’m not letting you do something you don’t want. You wanted to wait. And we will.”
“I’m done waiting.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What brought that on?” he asked, still holding my hands in place.
“Because.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m a woman. And I’m emotional and sometimes unsure and I change my mind about things. A lot.” I kissed him again, his bottom lip jutting out the tiniest bit in a pout. “And I’ve decided. I’m ready.” Kiss. “For this. For you. Us.” Kiss.
Still cupping my face in his big, warm palms, his thumb lightly stroked my cheek. “Are you sure about this? I told you I can’t take it if you’re just playing around.”
“Don’t pout,” I scolded him, pulling my hands from his hold so I could free his button and tug down his zipper.
He dutifully dropped his hands to his sides. Good boy. He was going to cooperate. I understood my changing moods may be giving him whiplash, but I really was ready, despite his sudden hesitation. Tugging his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips, Ben’s hands went to rest on the top of his head and he looked down at me in wonder, his lips parting slightly.
I dropped to my knees in the ultimate submissive gesture. Pulling the material the rest of the way down his thighs, his cock sprang free, leaping to greet me. I’d forgotten how big he was. My skin heated at the sight of him and my mouth watered to taste him, to please him. He was swollen and had a thick vein pulsing along his shaft. Wrapping my fist around his long, thick cock, Ben let out a strangled moan. Apparently he wasn’t going to last long tonight. I’d kept him waiting too long. A few simple touches and he was nearly there.
Hands fisted and still resting on top of his head, he pushed his hips forward, invading my mouth deeply. I accommodated his length, sliding my mouth all the way down until my lips were around his base. His knees locked and his entire body clenched in response. I loved pleasing him like this. Even though I was the one on my knees, submitting to him, I felt sexy and powerful.
His hands moved to my jawline and he cupped my face as he pulled himself free. “You’re going to make me come already.”
I smiled up at him, my lips swollen and my knees protesting from the unforgiving marble floor. Ben lifted me up under my arms and didn’t stop until he’d placed me on the countertop so that I was facing him. In this position we were nearly the same height, and he pressed his lips to mine. “I need to be inside you, baby. I need to fuck you.”
Without waiting for my response, his hands pushed under my dress and tugged at the lace thong I was wearing. I felt it being dragged across my knees, while Ben kissed me deeply. His fingers parted me and he pressed one long digit inside. I broke from the kiss to let out a soft moan.
“Fuck. You’re soaking wet, baby.” He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it greedily, tasting me, and I saw his cock twitch between us the second his mouth closed around his finger. He stroked himself a few times and stepped in between my thighs, spreading me open. Guiding himself to my opening, Ben pressed forward. His mouth crashed against mine in a hungry kiss.
As his length slid inside me exquisitely, slowly, his head dropped back and a low groan slipped from his mouth. The sound was raw with pleasure. It ignited all my senses and I clenched around him. Gripping my hips, Ben slammed into me faster, harder, until the sounds of wet flesh slapping together was amplified in the small room. He fucked me hard and without any mercy, my first orgasm crashing through me in a sudden rush of heat.
“Fuck . . . I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck. Fuckkk.” Unexpectedly, he pulled out and stroked himself until he came all over my pink flesh with a groan and then pushed back inside of me. The juices he’d marked me with made him slide in and out so deeply it stole my breath.
“Ben.” My hand flattened on his clenched abs. “That’s really deep . . .”
He slowed his pace, dragging himself in and out of me slowly, and bought his lips to mine. “I want you to feel me deep inside you, baby. All of me.”
He pushed all the way in until we were no longer two separate people but one being, sharing eye contact, moving together, breathing in the same air. The rush of sensations was almost too much. I sucked in a lungful of air and held it, releasing it slowly.
“Your pussy belongs to me.”
I dropped my hand, no longer wanting him to hold back. I needed all of him. I loved the way he owned me so completely. Once I gave myself over to the sensations and let go of control, it felt amazing. He was stretching me, filling me completely, but I loved it. “Faster . . . babe . . . I’m almost there . . .” I arched my back, pushing my hips closer to his. My second release blossomed deep inside me. I clutched his shoulders and hung on tight as he pounded into me.
“You’re mine,” he breathed. “Just mine.”
“Always” I whispered.
Ben lifted me from the countertop and I wrapped my legs around his waist. One arm gripped around my bottom and his other hand settled on the back of my neck, pressing my mouth to his. Without breaking our connection, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently, momentarily pulling free from my body while he arranged a pillow under my head. I whimpered at the loss of him. I’d already come twice, and him once, but the look in Ben’s eyes told me we were far from done. The hungry, possessive look I saw reflected in his gaze heated my skin and made my pulse jump erratically.
He joined me on the bed, lying over the top of me to cage me in against the mattress. He cradled my face in his hands, lowering his mouth to mine and mumbling soothing words in between sweet kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. I meant to go slow. I wanted to take my time with you and make you feel good.”
He was apologizing? I supposed the bathroom counter wasn’t the most romantic place to have sex, but I wasn’t complaining. Not at all. I felt his erection nudging against my belly and I squirmed underneath him, trying to angle us closer.
Ben brushed stray strands of hair from my forehead and planted a soft kiss there. “I need to make love to you,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice.
I merely nodded. I hadn’t heard him use those words before. Usually his language was much cruder, favoring the f-word for our physical act. I’d always felt there was more between us, even from the very beginning when I knew I shouldn’t fall for him. I had. Totally and completely, and despite all the things fighting against us, I wanted him. Needed him. This man had consumed me and there was no denying that fact. I climbed on top of him, wanting to show him we were really okay. His body joined mine and the slow, sweet way he made love to me filled my entire heart and soul with so much emotion, I had to hang on to his biceps tightly to keep from combusting in happiness.
I rhythmically rode him, lifting up and gliding down so slowly I could feel each inch of him invade me. Sensations blossomed deep inside me each time he was fully seated. The pace was agonizingly slow, but he let me maintain it. His hands moved to my hips, lifting and lowering me against him, and I loved the feel of his strength, commanding my body to do as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he was doing.