#waitwhat
I’M EXCITED BUT not nervous about my date with Ben—until the moment he knocks on my door.
“You’re sure I look okay?” I ask Carmen, smoothing down the front of my sleeveless green dress for at least the twentieth time.
“You look gorgeous.” She gives me a reassuring smile, followed by a gentle shove toward the door. “Go open it.”
When I open the door, I see Ben in something other than a suit for the first time. He looks good in jeans and a black polo, a few strands of his dark hair hanging down over his forehead.
“You look great,” he says, his gaze sweeping down my body and back up again. “Ready to go?”
I nod and grab my bag, eager to get out of the house while Jack’s still in the kitchen eating a snack. I don’t want him getting any ideas about a man coming around here. The poor kid is starved for a man’s attention, probably because his father is a deadbeat who hasn’t seen him since he was two.
“How was your day?” Ben asks as we walk toward a sleek, dark sports car.
“Good. How about yours?”
He shrugs. “The usual. Gym and the office.”
I feel his eyes on me as he opens the car door, and I fight back the familiar stab of annoyance it gives me. This isn’t a guy just trying to get laid, it’s someone I have an emotional connection with through our emails.
Maybe.
I study Ben’s profile as he drives, trying to figure out how to prove or disprove my theory that he’s my RoughRider.
“So . . .” I smile nervously.
He grins and looks over. “I’m glad you said yes to tonight. I’ve been wanting to go out with you since the first moment I saw you.”
“We redheads have some fire, you know. Think you can handle it?”
“I know how to extinguish fire.” He pats my knee.
I furrow my brow and look out the window. That comment was a far cry from RoughRider saying, “I love your fire. Never change.” Then again, maybe that was a sexual reference—like he knows how to satisfy me.
God, I hope so. It’s been a long time since any man has.
Our table at a trendy new restaurant called Trinity is secluded. We sit close together and share a bottle of white wine over dinner. Ben’s full of entertaining stories about his job and life as an identical twin. He’s also genuinely amused by my Alpha Mail stories.
“So I’m thinking dessert at my place,” he says as he’s signing the bill for dinner. “I got a white chocolate cheesecake I’m hoping you’ll like.”
I murmur a laugh, warm and buzzed from the alcohol and the flirting. “I’m sure I will.”
Ben’s hand starts out on my knee as he drives to his apartment, but it gradually moves higher. I really want to know if he’s RoughRider before we go any further, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. He’d tell me if he was ready, right?
So I stay quiet, enjoying the feel of his large, warm hand on my leg.
He leaves the car with the valet at his building, and I’m sure he’s going to swallow me whole the moment we’re on the elevator and no one else has gotten on, but he just eye-fucks me as we rise up to his floor. My heart races as I mentally undress him. The wine has me feeling very uninhibited.
His apartment is a penthouse with a lake view, though I can’t see it well since it’s nighttime. I’m gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room, trying to imagine the expansive water scenery, when Ben wraps his arms around me from behind.
“I want to show you my bedroom,” he says, his voice warm against my neck.
“Yes.”
I want him, and in this moment, I don’t even care if he’s RoughRider. It’s been so long since anyone has touched me this way—with affection and longing—and I don’t want it to stop.
He leads the way into his bedroom, furnished in a minimal, modern style.
“I can get a little intense,” he says softly as he bends down to kiss me.
“I’m good with intense,” I murmur as his lips meet mine.
It’s nice. I’m swimming in the sensations of warmth and excitement as he deepens the kiss.
“I want you so goddamn bad, Sienna.” His voice is husky as he strips off his shirt.
His body is straight out of a men’s fitness magazine. His chest is smooth and defined with muscle, and I run my fingers over it, getting a charge out of the feel of him.
“You sure you can handle what I want?” His eyes narrow as he studies me while unbuttoning his pants.
“Yes.” I can barely get the word out, my body humming with anticipation as he drops his pants and I take in his very respectable bulge.
I want to be taken by him. Ravaged until I’m not physically or emotionally hungry anymore. That will take time, but there’s no other way I’d rather spend this night.
“Take your dress off,” he says as he slides down his boxer briefs.
It’s a little more perfunctory than I’d like, but whatevs. As long as we’re both naked, we can get on to what I really want right now. I slide my dress up over my head, reveling in Ben’s expression as I toss it to the floor.
“This is gonna be so good,” he says.
His naked body is beyond impressive. Long, muscled legs, defined arms, and an erection standing at a ninety-degree angle to his body. When he grabs me and kisses me hard, I moan into his mouth. He’s so warm against me, and I get lost in the feeling of wanting him.
Our hands explore, my body simmering under his touch. When he finally turns to the bed, I hum with satisfaction.
Ben climbs onto the white comforter of his bed, and I move to follow.
“Stay there,” he says in a clipped tone.
I obey, liking that he knows what he wants. He gets on all fours on the mattress and turns his head back to look back at me.
It’s . . . not what I was expecting, but I smile automatically. Ben presses his cheek to the mattress then, his ass in the air as he speaks in a strangled tone.
“Spank my fucking ass, honey. As hard as you can. Set my ass on fire, please.”
I freeze. Ben’s clutching the comforter, his eyes begging me for the spanking.
“Um . . . I can do that.”
I can, I tell myself. I’m a badass and a liberated woman. Since when do men always have to be in charge in the bedroom? Maybe Ben plans to reciprocate with a spanking of his own.
My arousal is running cold now, but I can get it back. Ben’s got a body any woman would want to ride like a pony, for God’s sake.
I approach him and clear my throat, pulling my hand back. I’ve never in my life spanked anyone.
Here goes nothing.
I almost laugh as my palm smacks against his skin. He groans with pleasure, so I stifle my amusement.
“Harder . . . please, harder,” he mumbles.
I give him another slap, and then another. His sounds of pleasure are almost a whimper.
This is not what I was expecting. The thought keeps running through my head. I never would have thought this dark, physically big man would want me to spank him as foreplay. It’s doing nothing for me, but since he’s turned on . . . I suppose that’s a good thing. I need him turned on so he can turn me on once again and satisfy me.
“Fuck yes,” he says, pushing his ass back toward me. “Own me, Sienna. Tell me I’m a bad little bitch.” He lifts his head and gives me a serious look. “You can finger-fuck my ass. I can take your whole hand.”
I shake my head, looking at the floor and snatching up my dress as soon as I see it.
“I’m sorry, Ben, but I need to go.”
He gets up to just his knees, his expression forlorn. “What? Why? We’re just getting started.”
“You’re definitely not RoughRider,” I mumble.
“Who?”
“I thought I didn’t care.” I shimmy into my dress. “I thought . . . a lot of things I shouldn’t have thought. I’m sorry.”
“Didn’t care about what?”
“I’m gonna catch an Uber home.” I grab my bag.
“Sienna . . . please don’t go.” Ben stands up, his tone pleading. “You’re my fantasy. I’ve been dreaming about this since the day I saw you in your conference room. I need a strong, assertive woman to make my fantasies come true. And it’s you.”
I cringe inside. Why did I let myself get carried away by wine, my long sexual dry spell, and my feelings for RoughRider?
“It’s not me,” I say, putting my shoes on. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
“You can use a dildo on my ass if you want,” he offers. “I have a bunch.”
I can’t believe this is happening. One day, Carmen and I will laugh about this. But right now, I’m just mortified and I want out of here.
I shake my head and put a hand up to stop him as he rushes toward me.
“I’m leaving.”
He sighs heavily as I practically break into a run on my way to the door. I don’t take a deep breath until the elevator doors close behind me.
I’m feeling very sober now. And I’m also feeling irrationally pissed off at RoughRider. If I knew who he was, I wouldn’t have ended up here with Ben, hoping he was the man I’m falling for.
I care, more than I even want to admit to myself. It’s incredibly stupid to care this way for a man who doesn’t want to reveal himself to me. Who may not be what he’s made himself out to be. Tears flood my eyes, refusing to be held back.
When I step off the elevator, I put my head down, wipe my eyes, and head for the door to Ben’s building.
I started this night wanting to be with RoughRider so badly, but right now, he’s the last person in the world I want to talk to. I need a break from him. Possibly a permanent one.