God, he is so beautiful. I’ve been staring at him for a very long time. I will never tire of looking at him. He lies on his stomach facing me. His long lashes that fan out would make any woman jealous. A straight nose, square jaw, full lips make him one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen in my entire life. His one arm is tucked beneath his pillow, and his other casually draped over me. He’s in nothing but his gray boxer briefs. The fabric molds over his ass, perfectly sculpting it. One long leg is straight, the other bent at the knee. Even the hair on his legs is sexy.
Initially, I woke up feeling warmth like I’ve never felt before. I’m not referring to the heat I felt because of the way his arm laid heavily across my belly, or from his body being pressed up against mine. It’s contentment that warms from within just from having him here with me. The more I lie here watching him, the more fearful I become. I’m seriously addicted to Ben.
I wonder where this will go. Does this make us a couple? What if this was his way to get his fill? What if he’ll be back to acting like an asshole as soon as he awakes? I’ve already concocted several scenarios in my head. One where he realizes where he is, and bolts out my door. Another where he pats me on my ass and says thanks for the laughs, babe, before bolting out my door.
That’s more like the Ben Stone I’ve come to know. The perfect man that just spent the night with me must be a fallacy. I know that it’s not fair to have him tried and convicted for being an asshole while he sleeps peacefully. I can’t help but think he will be, though. I can’t get the thought of his prick-ness out of my mind. It’s in him. It’s just a matter of time before it comes out again.
I could argue he was only sweet, sensitive, and caring last night because he wanted some. But that’s the thing. He didn’t. I gave him a blowjob willingly and without an invitation. After that, it was all about me. So, why would he spend all night making it all about me if he only wanted to fuck me?
Yeah, yeah, my conscious quips, I know he made it a game. I know he does enjoy driving me crazy, in every possible way. That still doesn’t justify his actions. Let’s be honest, he’s a guy. His end result is really all that matters. His being in charge, his having the upper hand can’t possibly trump his hard-on.
He suddenly rolls over onto his back, and I freeze in panic. I’d hate to be caught ogling him. When I realize he’s still asleep, I continue my careful inspection. Now I get to enjoy his perfectly sculpted chest, his sexy happy trail, and the bulge between his legs.
The memory of how he felt in my mouth, how he moaned and called my name, how he tasted made me want more. I promised him breakfast, but part of me would like to wake him up in other ways. As he lays here unsuspecting, I’d love nothing more than to take him as he took me over and over last night.
A tiny seed of doubt festers from not knowing which Ben will be waking up in my bed this morning. My self-confidence is taking a serious hit with this man. I’m second-guessing everything I do and it’s playing with my head. I’m not sure how I would handle rejection when the person rejecting is Ben.
Deciding on letting him sleep, I slip out of bed, put on my tank and pajama bottoms, grab my phone, and quietly close the door behind me. It’s Saturday. I assume he is off since he initially wanted to spend the day at the beach with Andrea and Rob. Yet, I can’t assume he still wants to spend the day with me. Normally on a Saturday, I go out for a run or head for the gym. Usually, I plan out my day with things I enjoy doing. All my plans seem to be contingent on Ben at the moment.
Is that terrible? Is it wrong to already be depending on him to make my day complete? The very thing that drove me nuts about Peter is the same thing I’m already considering with a man I barely know. Spending every waking moment with him, day and night, as much as I can.
Does that make me a big ass hypocrite?
Yes.
Does that also make me a fool for dreaming it?
Yes.
With a sigh, I set out to make Ben a good breakfast. If he wants out, then I’ll show him the door.
Sure, I’m brave while a closed door separates us.
I’m so focused on my task at the stove that I startle when I feel a hand snake around my waist.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says over my shoulder. He kisses my neck and walks over to help himself to coffee. “Smells great, even if it’s turkey bacon.”
I’m a touch relieved that it’s his sexy, raspy morning voice I hear and not the slam of my apartment door.
“How did you sleep?” I ask tentatively.
“Great. You?”
“Great.”
I have yet to look at him. He waits a minute before asking, “You okay?”
“Yep.”
What the hell is wrong with me? He’s here, and he wants to be. But the unknown I was plagued with earlier still consumes me, and it isn’t healthy. If this is something we are indeed going to try, I need to grow up and be honest with him. I need to start this on the right foot.
I turn the burner off on the eggs and turn to face him.
Sweet Jesus.
His hair is completely bed messed, sticking up in places adorably. He wears only his boxer briefs. My eyes focus on them, and he clears his throat.
“Sorry.” I shrug, fiddling with the hem of my tank top. “Um, can I be honest with you?”
Laugh lines crinkle his eyes in amusement when he smiles. “No, babe, I’d rather you lie to me.”
“Smartass.” In an attempt to think clearly, I put distance between us and sit on the counter that is furthest away from the one he is leaning against. “Ben, last night was so wonderful, and I’m…”
“Oh no, should I sit down for this?” When I cross my arms and quirk my brows, he says, “Sorry, continue.”
“Anyway, I spent the morning wondering if you were going to wake up and take off. Or if you were going to be the same, charming, sexy Ben who was with me last night.”
“I was charming and sexy?”
“Ben.”
He waves a hand and says, “Sorry, go on.”
“That’s it. That’s my issue. I don’t know you very well, but knowing your history with women…” When he throws me an incredulous, open-mouthed, shocked expression, I clamp my mouth shut. It must finally occur to him what I’m trying to get at.
Saying it all out loud is suddenly making me feel like being honest was a bad idea.
The carefree, smiling Ben is gone. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. I’m sure this is where he agrees with my theory and walks out.
He places his mug down and walks over to stand before me. With a hand on each knee, he opens my legs so he can move even closer to settle between them. “You still think the minute I fuck you I’ll be out of here?”
I lick my bottom lip nervously, and he waits me out.
“I go back and forth.”
“Back and forth? Between?”
“Whether you’ll suddenly change back into the Ben that I don’t like.”
He stares at me long and hard. A tick forms at his temple, pulling my focus away from his eyes to it. “So, the Ben you don’t like is still in your head?”
“Sort of.”
When he moves in even closer, I place my hands on his chest. He rubs up against me. His boxer briefs and my cotton pajama bottoms are the only things separating us. This is dangerous territory for me.
He takes my hands and pins them below his on the counter beside my thighs. With purpose, he pushes himself against me until our lips are an inch apart. His breath is warm from the coffee. Just as he leans in, my phone rings. The annoyance is clear all over his face. “Don’t move.” He snatches my phone off the cradle and barks, “Hello.”
His eyes dart to mine, and he frowns before saying, “Um…sure. Hold on.”
Wordlessly, he hands me the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, beautiful. Am I interrupting anything?”
“Hey, Peter. How are you?” I snatch Ben by his wrist before he walks away.
“Good. Just calling to see how you are.”
“I’m great.” I feel guilty over Peter still pining for me, when I no longer have feelings for him. It’s pretty obvious I moved on. Even before Ben, I moved on. Maybe having a man answering my phone on a Saturday morning will finally solidify that to Peter.
Ben avoids my gaze as I add, “Peter, this isn’t a good time. Can I call you back?”
He releases a small, self-conscious laugh over the phone. “Sure, Ella. It’s not important. I was just thinking about you. Um…I’ll let you go. Take care of yourself, and, uh, Ella…be sure he’s good to you.”
The tiny bit of guilt grows exponentially.
“I will.” I’m sorry, Peter, I think to myself. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you back. Wondering if this will be the last time I speak to him, I add, “Take care of yourself. You deserve the best.”
“Thanks.”
“Bye, Peter.”
“Bye.”
“You didn’t have to rush him off,” Ben says the minute I hang up the call.
“I know. I wanted to. It’s been over for a while now. It’s time he realized that.” I cup his face with my hand, turning his head, so he is forced to look at me. “Are you okay?”
“Should I be worried?”
I immediately shake my head. “No.” I want to admit, no matter what this is between us that he’s all I want, in spite of the two sides of Ben I struggle with. The last thing we were talking about before the phone rang still sits heavy in my mind. Which Ben is here with me right now?
“Um…what were we saying?”
“Well…” I stare at his lips as he begins to speak. “You admitted that there is a Ben that you don’t like. Right?”
I nod shyly, avoiding his eyes.
“And you admitted you’re afraid that Ben is who is here with you right now, right?”
I nod again, wordlessly. He settles between my legs, where he was before Peter interrupted. With one fingertip, he tilts my chin up so our eyes meet.
“Ella, this is the last time we will be having this discussion, so listen carefully.” He holds my face with one hand and with his other he finds the small of my back, slipping it beneath my tank top. “Forget everything you know about my past. Forget everything you think I want. From my lips to your ears, I’ve never felt this way before. I want to be here with you. There is no one I’ve ever met that I’ve willingly wanted to be with the way I want to be with you.” He speaks so slowly, waiting a few seconds to ensure what he just said registers. “Is that clear enough? Am I leaving any confusion?”
“No,” I pant against his lips.
“Good.”
He kisses me softly and repeatedly. It’s a very intimate moment between us. He’s sealing his words with this kiss. When he pulls away, he wraps his arms around me and gives me a very tight hug. It’s almost more of a clutching. “I want to be with you.”
“Me, too,” I admit into his bare chest. He smells so good.
He backs up to look at me. “I have nowhere to be until tomorrow. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to spend the day with you.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“Okay, woman. Feed me.” After he places me on my feet, he swats at my ass and adds, “With food…for now.”
This man is going to be the death of me, I’m positive.
We ate, talked, laughed, talked, and showered together.
When my hands gripped him tightly, he admitted he “jacked off” in the shower while I slept last night due to the perpetual hard-on he had. I told him I would have easily obliged.
I decided to put him out of his misery from the one he was sporting in the shower. He held the tiled wall behind me as I knelt between his legs. He looked just as beautiful dripping wet with his eyes closed and standing awkwardly in the tight space as he did last night on my bed.
The stall made it impossible for him to reciprocate. So instead, he toweled me off, carried me to bed, and reminded me of his mind-blowing oral skills. We have yet to have sex. I suspect he’s doing this deliberately. Complaining about it is ridiculous. I’ve had as many orgasms in the past twelve hours as I had from Peter in a month…or maybe even two.
When he found my vibrator, he teased me mercilessly. I don’t think I ever blushed as fiercely as I did at that moment. He eased my embarrassment by using it on me as he once again demonstrated his mad oral skills. After an earth-shattering orgasm, he then made me promise I would no longer use it without his assistance. There was no way I would be arguing with that demand.
By the time we were sated, it was afternoon, and he was starving. We decided to enjoy the spring weather and grab lunch.
While walking back to my apartment, he received an urgent phone call and needed to run over to his precinct. We agreed to meet at his apartment later tonight. He promised me a romantic evening, and a home-cooked meal at his place. The imagery of Ben in his kitchen being domestic is very sexy. I’m curious what his place looks like, especially his room…and that brings me thoughts of him naked.
I’m bored without him…and horny. Funny, I haven’t had sex in weeks, but one weekend with him and suddenly I’m insatiable.
I wanted to go to the gym to work off some of this pent up energy, but I didn’t want to ruin the mood if it came up. It’s still a sore subject with me. I don’t trust my inner bitch not to appear when we discuss it again. So instead I opted for my apartment. Hopefully, I’ll work off my frustrations at his place. I’m not skilled at seducing. I’m going to break his steely resolve…one way or another.
All I can think about is what he’ll feel like inside me. His technique. Is he fast and forceful? Is he slow and gentle? I can grab my vibrator, and…my phone buzzes with a text.
If that isn’t a sign…
Hey babe. Should be done in a few hours. Meet me at my place at seven.
Babe.
So fucking sexy. Peter would call me babe, as well, yet it never made me weak in the knees.
Just as I’m texting Ben that I would see him at seven, Andrea calls.
“Whatcha’ doin’, bitch?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Why not?”
I meant to ask Ben what we were going to tell Andrea and Rob. Was this something we were keeping to ourselves for a while? It’s understandable to want to. Telling Andrea could be a big mistake.
Erring on the side of caution, I say, “I just went for a run, and I’m exhausted. I’m about to watch a movie.”
“Is nerd night becoming a nerd weekend?”
“Shut up.”
She laughs on her end. “You guys should’ve come. It’s so gorgeous out. The beach is beautiful.”
“I know. Maybe next weekend?”
She clucks like a chicken over the phone. “Alone or with Ben? Am I allowed to ask?”
“We’ll see.” Choosing a different topic to distract her, I ask, “So, when are we dress shopping?”
“Oh, that reminds me! I saw the most beautiful dress. It screams casual, beachy wedding. I think we need to check it out this week. I called a few stores who carry that designer and found it at Bloomingdales. They’re holding it for me.”
“I can’t wait. What do you want me to wear?”
“Something soft, maybe peach? Ben will be in tan like Rob. You’ll need to complement him.”
“Peach? Does it have to be peach?”
I imagine Ben in a tan suit, standing beside his best friend with the ocean as a backdrop. His hair is messy from the breeze. He’s smiling just for me. Obviously, he’s beautiful, and there I’ll be in peach?
“Ugh, you’re already being difficult. Fine, we’ll see. I just thought you…Ella?”
“Yeah?”
“What movie has you ignoring me?”
If she only knew.
“Um, Peggy Sue Got Married.”
She groans and says, “You’re such a dork. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your snooze-fest. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Another text comes through.
Is that okay?
Typing back frantically, anxious to connect with him, I respond…
Absolutely.