Charlotte

Rain was starting by the time I pulled in to Ben’s driveway, the Lake of Fire still on my tail. Ben’s house was on a winding side street of well-built ranch houses, spaced apart and well kept. His wasn’t the biggest on the block, and it wasn’t the smallest, either. It had a few trees between the house and the neighbors, a gravel drive, a nice portico over the front door. The lawn was looking exhausted at the end of summer, and there were no gardens or flower pots, no kids’ toys in the drive. A nice place, but a place that belonged to a single man who wasn’t home much.

I pulled up the drive. The two bikes pulled up behind me, their motors roaring in the quiet suburban night. My headlights and theirs both illuminated the house through the mist of soft rain. I turned my ignition off, but the bikes idled. Then the front door of the house opened and Ben came out.

He was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and motorcycle boots. In one hand he held a baseball bat.

I held my breath. Ben walked down his front step and passed my car, barely even glancing at me as he headed for the two bikers. He let the bat swing in a lazy arc next to his body, like he was warming up his arm. The bikers turned off their motors.

I opened my door and got out, staying next to the car, as both bikers got off their bikes and faced Ben. They took off their helmets. I couldn’t see them perfectly clearly, but in the reflected light from the front windows of the house I could see they were both relatively young, one light, one dark and bearded. Both had their gazes fixed on Ben.

“Hanratty,” the dark one said.

Ben stopped in front of them and let the bat swing in its lazy arc again. His shirt was starting to stick to his back in the rain. “You,” he said to the fair one, gripping the bat and pointing it. “You’re Caddy’s son. Prospected four months ago.”

The biker shifted his weight and glared at Ben in silence.

“And you,” Ben said, pointing the bat at the dark bearded one. “I don’t know you, but you look a lot like White Castle, and I heard that WC had a nephew prospecting into the chapter. That would be you, then?”

The dark, bearded one said, “We don’t want any trouble with you, Hanratty.”

“No?” Ben let the bat swing down at his side, like it was an extension of his arm. Anyone who didn’t get chills at how smoothly and easily he handled it would be crazy. “That’s why you’re trying to scare my woman in the middle of the night? Because you don’t want trouble with me?”

“That brother of hers has club property,” the fair one said.

“Then go ride his ass.” Ben took a step back, moved around toward the dark one’s bike.

“You have no idea what’s coming,” the dark one said, watching him warily. “You have a shit storm coming your way.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Ben said, warming up his arm again. “But you, prospects, should take under advisement that you’re on my property. Uninvited. Which makes you trespassing. Which makes it legal for me to do this.” He swung, there was a crunch, and the rear view mirror soared off the bike and into the grass at the side of the driveway.

“Hey!” the dark biker said. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re slow on the uptake,” Ben pointed out. “I’m doing this.” He took another swing, and the other rear view mirror went flying. Then Ben stepped back and headed to the other bike.

Both bikers seemed stunned, like no one had ever done this before. Like no one had even contemplated it. “You’re fucking dead,” the dark one said, shifting the helmet from under his arm.

“And you’re still fucking trespassing,” Ben said, taking out the second bike’s rear view mirror with a perfect swing. Despite the fact that I was nearly paralyzed with fear, I couldn’t help but admire his ease with a baseball bat. I wondered crazily if he’d ever played.

“Are you nuts?” The light biker’s voice was almost shrill. “You don’t touch a brother’s bike, asshole! You never touch a brother’s bike!”

“You’re not a brother,” Ben said, warming up for the next mirror. “You’re a would-be punk with your first ride sitting on my fucking driveway, and I’m telling you to get off. And you’re not listening.”

He moved to take a swing, but the biker jumped on his bike and revved it up. “Red is right!” he shouted over the roar of the engine as he put his helmet back on. “You have no idea how fucked you are!” The dark biker got on and revved up as well, and then both of them turned down the driveway and were gone, the blare of their engines fading down the street.

Ben paused for a second, the bat still in his hand, his body still braced. I stared at him in awe—there was no other word for it. In that second, he seemed like a real-life superhero. I’d never seen anything more amazing than Ben scaring two bikers out of his driveway like he did it every single day. This man, I thought, might not be perfect, but when he wanted to he could do absolutely anything.

Then he turned on his heel and looked at me.

Everything inside me went haywire. My blood jangled, my breath held, and under the cold rain dripping into my clothes, my skin flushed hot. Ben’s eyes locked with mine, and lust roared up through me in a way I’d never felt before. In a way I’d never even thought was possible.

He seemed to sense it. His gaze moved down me, then up again, taking in my wet jeans and my wet shirt, my hair sticking to my forehead. Then he dropped the bat, stalked toward me like a lion after his prey, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

I kissed him back. His mouth was warm in the cool rain. I slid my hands beneath his T-shirt and up his back, feeling the taut, warm skin. If my hands were cold, he didn’t seem to notice. Instead he opened my mouth and swiped his tongue inside.

It was a deadly serious kiss, like the one he’d given me in my apartment—though this was more urgent, more demanding. I kissed him back, just as deadly serious. All of our stupid arguments and disagreements were swept away and there was nothing but him and me, and what was about to happen. There was nothing to stop it now.

When he pulled away, I was panting. He still had his hands to my jaw.

His voice was rough. “Come to bed.”

“Yes,” I said.

He took my hand and led me inside. Pressed a few keys on a keypad inside the door to arm the alarm. Took my hand again and led me through the dark house, the rooms with humps of dark furniture, and up the dark stairs. Strictly business, I’d told him once, and now I stripped off my damp shirt and dropped it on the floor, Ben style, as we walked. I stripped off the T-shirt I wore beneath it. I kicked off my shoes. I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.

He pulled me into the bedroom. There was only reflected light from the street coming in the window, enough to see the bed—rumpled, though the covers were up, as if he’d been lying on top—and a bedside table.

We were in a hurry now. Ben’s boots thumped in the corner as I slid onto the bed—it smelled deliciously of him—and undid the button on my jeans. The denim was damp against my skin, and seconds later Ben’s big hands were there, peeling the jeans off me and tossing them away.

I was in my bra and panties now, my skin burning. “Your turn,” I said to him.

He stripped off his shirt, and oh, that beautiful chest at last. The tight stomach, the dusting of dark blond hair on his breastbone, the smooth ripples of muscle in his shoulders and arms. He undid his belt, that same sound I’d heard when he stripped in the office bathroom. Only this time he was doing it in front of me.

I’d wondered what it would be like to have Ben naked in bed with me, but this time I knew I could handle it. I wanted to handle it. He was big and graceful and pure male, from the dips beneath his hipbones to the dark beauty of his cock. I was throbbing between my legs now, impatient—I couldn’t believe I had ever been patient. I couldn’t believe I had ever told myself I hadn’t wanted this.

He braced himself above me on the bed and traced a finger along my collarbone, pushing down my bra strap. I unclasped the bra and let him peel it off me, inch by inch, tugging the fabric off of one breast and then the other, revealing them to him. He did it with perfectly fixed attention, watching the revelation of every inch of skin. Then he grasped the bra in the hook of one finger, slid it off me, and tossed it.

He moved down my belly, his fingers tracing me. He was between my legs, his skin brushing the insides of my thighs, and I simply lay there, my legs open, letting him touch me. I was the sexiest woman in the world in those moments, the sexiest woman ever born. A goddess.

He hooked his finger into the edge of my panties and slid them down my legs and away. Then he ran his hands up the insides of my thighs, pushing them apart, watching me. He touched my belly again, then cupped me. Then he parted my pussy lips and slid two fingers slowly inside, feeling me.

He exhaled a breath. “This,” he said.

I let out a moan of pure lust.

His fingers slid up into me, then slowly down again and out, coated with my wetness. He pressed his wet fingertips through the folds of my pussy, over my clit. Both fingertips together, in a slow circle, as he listened to me gasp.

His voice was rough. “This is what you want,” he said.

I responded by grinding into his fingertips, my hips trying to lift from the bed.

He leaned forward, braced over me on one hand, while the other continued his torture. He wasn’t touching me anywhere, not a single inch except for his fingers on my clit, and it was almost agony. I pressed my hips up again, into his touch.

He watched me with dark eyes, their gaze flaring when he felt me try to ride his fingers. “You want me to make you come,” he said, “just like this? Because I can. Oh, I can.”

I hitched in another breath. I was so close.

He moved his fingers away from my clit and inside me again. It was frustrating, but he felt good inside me, like he’d been before. “Here,” he said, moving his fingers. “I want to be right here when you go off. Right fucking here.”

“Yes,” I said.

He leaned down further, his lips close to my ear, his fingers never stopping. I could smell the tang of his skin. The rain gently pelted the window. And his fingers kept stroking, stroking. “Bare,” he said in my ear. “Just me when you go off, my come inside you. Can we do that?”

I felt another rush of wet between my legs. No one had ever talked to me like that—ever. It was an aphrodisiac, his voice, almost as hot as his cock and his skin. “Yes,” I told him. “I’m on the pill. And I’m tested.”

“So am I,” he said. His fingers left me, and his hips came between my legs, the hot head of his cock rubbing against me. Now I tried to ride that instead. “Baby, relax,” he said, his fingers brushing my temple, his voice in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so sweet, I promise.”

“Ben,” I pleaded.

I had another rush of wetness, and he felt it, slid the head of his cock through it. “You like it when I talk?” he said. “Then let me tell you that I’ve wanted to be inside your hot pussy since the first second I saw you. I should have brought you in that office, pushed up your skirt, pushed down your panties, and fucked you right over my desk.”

I dug my hands into his hair. “I wanted you to,” I confessed.

“I know, baby,” he said, flexing his hips against me again. “What game do you think we’ve been playing for days now? We’ve been wasting time. We’re not going to be happy until we do this.” And he pushed the head of his cock inside me, then pushed all the way in.

I gasped. It was good. So good. He was big but he fit, filled me perfectly. We were like two puzzle pieces. We always had been.

Ben dropped his forehead to my neck, on the edge of control. “Sweet fucking god,” he said, his voice strained. He moved in and out of me, slowly at first, then a faster pace. One hand came down and grasped my hip, his fingers dug into my ass, angling me, the movement making him hit me deeper. It felt so good I wanted to sob.

He kept pace for long minutes, both of us moving in perfect sync, the pleasure hiking up. Then he changed the angle again and he was brushing my clit, again and again as he fucked me.

The orgasm hit me like a flash of lightning, whipping through me as I cried out and my hips bucked hard under his. He let go of my hip and braced on both arms, stroking me through it, harder and harder. Then he leaned down in to me and made a noise, and I felt him climax, his come pulsing into me in long, slow pulses. I wrapped my legs around his waist and hooked my ankles, wanting more.

We lay there for a moment, catching our breath, our bodies slick with sweat. My blood was humming, my body vibrating like a bell had just rung. I didn’t care that Ben was on top of me, because I didn’t want him to leave.

He pushed up on his arms, taking his weight off me. In the dim light I could see the line of his cheekbones, the soft dark blond of his hair. His gaze was on me.

He leaned down and kissed me. A soft kiss. He kissed the corner of my mouth, the skin below my ear. Then my mouth again, soft and sweet, the kind of kiss he’d give me if we were on a first date, holding hands. Except he’d just been inside me and rocked my world.

I kissed him back. Soft and sweet, just like he kissed me. I put my hands up and cupped his face and kissed him.

Because in that moment, I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do.