I was beginning to realize that I didn't like waking up without Ben.

He was making me needy.

The aroma of fresh coffee hit me as I edged closer to the kitchen. My steps faltered as I hit the archway because of the awe-inspiring sight that greeted me.

Ben’s eyes fixed me to the spot. He was bare-chested, wearing grey sweatpants, leaning against the kitchen island and in his hand was one of the bright pink mugs I’d bought.

There was no word in the English dictionary that could describe how he looked. It was just wow.

“Morning sweetheart.”

“You left me in bed.” I pouted.

He gifted me with a breathtaking smile in response. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You better not,” I jokingly warned. “Are you working today?”

I found my own pink mug sitting beside the coffee maker, ready to go for my first cup of the morning. Wednesdays were my least and second most favorite day of the week because Sundays had recently taken top spot. It meant new stock arrived at Sass, which needed to be sorted, stored, and displayed. I’d be working on my feet all day, but the craziness would end with Wine Time Wednesday with the girls, something we hadn’t done in what seemed like forever.

Ben pushed off from the kitchen island, moved to the sink and disposed of his empty mug. My body became hyper alert when he moved up behind me, swept my hair off my neck, and kissed my neck tenderly.

“I took the day off. After the scene with your mother yesterday, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t feel like leaving you alone.” He hummed against my ear, his warm breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “I was going to bring you coffee in bed, but you my lady, are just too quick for me.”

My heart spasmed, and it wasn’t just because he got up to make me coffee, but because he called me his lady. “How are you real?” I whispered.

His chuckle rattled through my back as he pressed his chest up against me. His lips hit my neck, and my eyes slammed shut.

“I’m real, sweetheart,” he murmured as his lips caressed just below my ear.

I tilted my head to offer him better access, and all I could offer in response was an incoherent whimper.

“You hearing me?” His question vibrated against my neck.

I gasped as his teeth grazed against my skin before I whispered, “I’m feeling you.”

His hand slipped inside my silk robe and made its way across my stomach. My eyes became heavy, and my head fell back onto his shoulder. His fingers brushed over my heated skin before disappearing inside my lace panties. I sucked in a breath, before letting it out on a whispered, “Please.”

“I’m as real as they come, sweetheart. So if getting up early to make sure you have coffee in the morning makes you happy, I’ll do it. If staying in bed and fucking you awake makes you happy, I’ll do it. Fuck, I’ll do just about anything you want. So, you’ve gotta tell me you know I’m real.”

He pressed his thumb against my clit, and my gasp tore through the kitchen. My breathing became sharp pants, and my desperation took over. Pushing against his thumb, I silently begged for what only he could give me.

“Turn around,” he rasped, and I obeyed immediately.

His thumb didn’t leave me as I spun to face him. My lower back dug into the counter as he pushed his body against mine. His eyes blazed at me, and I knew mine would be blazing right back at him. He had lessoned the pressure on my clit before he shocked my body back to life by plunging a finger deep inside me. As he thrust his finger in and out, he began circling my clit in tortuously slow swirls with his thumb again. He played with me like I was his favorite toy. His eager mouth continued attacking my neck with licks, bites, and kisses, and that combined with his finger working me sent my body soaring to stunning heights.

“Ben, please,” I moaned, pushing myself harder against him.

“Tell me you know I’m real,” he said, his voice raspier than usual. His finger halted, remaining inside me but not moving, and leaving me clinging on with need. My eyes shot open, to find him staring at me. “Sasha, I need your words.”

I knew he was real. He’d proven it time and time again, but I still had up walls. I was still holding my keys close to my chest. That would take time. I didn’t know how long, or if he had the patience to wait, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was the only man I could imagine myself handing them to.

“I know you’re real, Ben,” I revealed, giving him what he needed, and what I wanted him to have.

Like a shot of lightening in the night sky, his eyes flashed with the kind of beauty that left you speechless. His mouth crashed onto mine, and with a swipe of tongue, a nibble of teeth, and a murmur of my name, he stole my fears, my hesitation, and my breath in one go. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight. Right here, in his black and white kitchen, was where I belonged. I forgot about my coffee, the busy morning waiting for me, and every shitty thing happening in my life because right then, all I knew and all I wanted was Detective Benjamin Hunt.

“Can you take another?” His voice gripped hold of every part of my conscious, and I whimpered in response.

He pushed another finger deep inside me, giving me little time to adjust. Our eyes locked fiercely, but I could barely see him through the bursts of pleasure flashing in front of me. Slowly, he began thrusting his middle and pointer finger deep inside me, before he unleashed. The sound of how wet I was washed through the air and blanketed us with erotic desires. Desperation crawled over my skin, my pleas for more, for Ben to go harder, and faster, and take me there, hit the air.

“What do you need?” he growled, the thrust of his fingers inside me not lessening as he continued encouraging me to climb.

“I need to come,” I panted, my body beginning to clench around him.

He curled his fingers and pressed his thumb on my clit, and I started to crash around him.

“You make me feel like the luckiest man in the fucking world.”

That was all it took to send me over the edge.

I came around his fingers, panting his name, and clutching onto him with all my strength.

He might have felt like the luckiest man in the world, but I felt like the most blessed woman in the whole universe.

All because of him.

* * *

“Invite your girls here.”

I glanced back at Ben in the mirror, my mascara wand mid-air, and arched a brow at him. He had to be kidding. There was no way Wine Time Wednesday was happening at his house. Especially not this week. I had been planning on calling it off, because after my mother’s reappearance I wasn’t feeling too celebratory, but then Ben gave me the best wake up of my life in the kitchen, and then we’d spent the day together because he didn’t want me to be alone, so I definitely had things to talk to the girls about.

Nervously, I laughed. “You’re kidding, right? We can’t have Wine Time Wednesday here.”

“Why not?”

Oh God, he was serious.

“What do you think me and the girls talk about when we have a belly full of wine?” I went back to swiping my lashes with another coat of mascara before recapping it and looking back at him.

“Do I look like I have a pussy? I wouldn’t have a fucking clue what you girls talk about. Shoes?"

“Men,” I confirmed.

He waited.

“Ben, who am I currently having crazy hot sex with? And who finger banged me against the kitchen counter this morning?"

He shook his head. “Christ.”

“So yeah.... I can’t tell my girls about you rocking my world with you hovering around.”

“You and your girls talk about that shit?”

“An orgasm before eight am, following a night of receiving three orgasms is not shit.”

I kept my eyes on him as I spritzed perfume on my neck and in my hair. The blue eyes that were the best kind of aphrodisiac flashed with heat. If he kept looking at me like that, I’d be turning up late, and would be rocking some serious sex hair.

“So, where are you going?”

I smiled and swung around to face him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rose on my toes and touched his lips lightly with mine. Pulling back, I swiped my thumb over his bottom lip and removed the pink lip gloss I’d left behind.

“My house. I have plenty of wine there, and Sasha Special mixers.”

“You gonna be drunk when you get home?”

Home.

“Maybe a little.”

“Take your panties off. I don’t want anything between you and your pussy when you get home.”

“Ben,” I gasped.

“That’s the stipulation for having wine time at your place. No panties and I want tipsy Sasha in my bed tonight.”

“You’re negotiating with sex.”

“Wrong. I’m negotiating with the promise of drunk sex.” He smirked. “You’re wild when you’re sober, so I cannot fucking wait to see what you’re like when you’re loaded.”

Twenty minutes later, I turned up at my place not wearing panties, and with the promise of hot, drunken sex with Ben circling in my head.

* * *

Wine time Wednesday was in full swing. Three empty wine bottles, the remnants of Mexican layer dip and an empty chip bowl cluttered the coffee table. Missy sat on the couch beside me with a wine buzz going on, Shelley was in the oversized armchair and nursing her first virgin Sasha Special because she was driving, and Paige was bringing in another bowl of chips.

“So, how’s Mr. Orgasm going?” Missy asked, lifting her glass to her lips and raising a knowing brow at me. “Any more five orgasm nights you need to gloat about?”

“The thought of five orgasms in one night makes me tingle in all the right ways, but also clench and fear that it might wreck my vagina.” Paige breathed. “So, tell me, where do I find a five-a-night man?”

We giggled, and then they all watched me with intrigue as I shared my morning adventures in the kitchen. Missy glared at me, which made me laugh even harder. Paige looked at me like I was revealing the secrets to solving world hunger, and Shelley watched with a look of complete shock.

“You know what? I might hate you a little too,” Shelley said with a straight face before she grinned. “Damn you, Sasha Hamilton.”

“Wait a minute,” Missy gasped, and I turned my attention to her. “So, you’re sitting here without panties because your man wants to fuck you silly when you get back to his place?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Why are we drinking wine then?”

“We should go to Hamilton’s. This deserves tequila and making it a real memorable night,” Shelley suggested

That set off another giggling fit, before we opened another bottle of wine, and continued Operation Get Sasha Drunk.

I had a man waiting for me at home who was expecting me drunk.

I refused to let him down.

So we called a cab and we headed to Hamilton’s.