When Ben came back into the room, I was all but hiding beneath the sheet, wearing nothing but lace thigh high stockings.
He looked edgy, a little pale as he sat at the end of the bed. "You okay?"
I was not okay. I was…indescribable. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I was ashamed. I was aroused. Mostly that. I'd been fucked perfunctorily, which is just what I wanted. I'd been treated like a toy. A commodity. A little fucking whore. And I wish I knew what was in my wiring that made me love it so goddamned much.
But that was the psychological pleasure. The deep-seated fantasy, the reality of which now announced itself on the bedside table in two crisp bills. My body was still screaming for satisfaction. Trembling with it, actually. "I'm okay. Just really turned on…"
I wasn't sure what I was going to see in Ben's eyes. In spite of the fact that he'd engineered this, I expected to see disgust or judgement. Instead I saw relief. "You're okay…" He breathed out a long breath. "I felt like a caged lion over there, pacing in front of the door, listening."
"Could you hear—"
"Everything. The bed thumping the wall. Everything. Yeah."
I swallowed. "Did it freak you out?"
Ben's eyes slid away again and my stomach did a somersault. I was pretty sure that this was where everything about this night was going to go really badly. So I braced myself.
Ben swallowed, and flattened his palms on his knees. "Don't think this is weird, okay? But it actually excited me a lot. I dunno if it was the adrenaline of being jealous, or the fear I was going to have to bust things up, or the knowledge that you were actually doing it. But I'm kind of going out of my mind right now with wanting to take you and…I dunno. Plant my flag. I want to make you mine so badly that I'm afraid to look at you for fear I'm going to just snap."
Thank God. I almost melted into the sheets as a surge of some very strong and strange emotion flooded me. I hadn't realized, until just this moment, how much I needed Ben to be okay with all this. Even though possessive talk from guys usually sent me running for the hills, I felt more honestly earned than by any guy I'd ever been with. And the realization forced me to be way more honest than I might otherwise have been. "You can look at me, Ben. You can snap if you want to. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you and wishing you were there in the room the whole time."
He blew out another shaky breath and met my eyes. "Can I see?"
"You can do anything you want," I said, meaning it more than the words could convey. So I let him peel back the sheet from my body.
How strange it was that even though this was the first time he'd ever seen me completely undressed, I wasn't self-conscious. Everything in his body language said that he adored my breasts, my hips, my belly. No, it was the other things he'd seen in me that made me feel naked.
He touched me with only his fingertips, feathering them down over my nipples until I hissed with pleasure. Then he stroked my legs, and back up between to the nexus that throbbed for his touch.
"Spread your legs for me," he said.
If he'd been on top of me, it wouldn't have been hard to do. But I knew what he wanted to see, and it ached to separate my knees and show him my freshly fucked cunt. "Mmm. Becca. You're so pink, and wet, and engorged…do you want me to take a picture of what your pussy looks like after it's been bought, paid for, and used?"
I let out a helpless cry that wasn't an answer. Would I frame a picture like that or delete it? I couldn't have answered him. My entire body felt like it was on fire—from shame or arousal or both, it didn't matter. More than a little terror too. I couldn't even guess what he might think of me right now.
I only knew that he'd done this to me—for me—and I wanted him more than I'd wanted anything. Every bit of attraction I'd felt for the guy who had already come and gone was now wrapped up in Ben. More than wrapped up in him. It was all about him.
"Did it hurt?" he asked, using his thumb to smear some of the stickiness over my clit, which elicited a moan and a jerk of my hips against his hand. "Did it?"
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut because I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to answer questions. I just wanted to come and come and come. But he kept me hovering there on the edge. "Did you want it to hurt?"
I gasped. "A little…"
His touch became rougher. "I think I'm figuring out this kink…"
"No more talking," I whispered, gripping the sheets, undulating under his hands. Then reached for his belt buckle, unclasping it, and yanking it free with a snap. Emboldened, I went next for his zipper. "Because I need to come. I need to. I know you wanted to wait until after we did this, but it's after! I want you. Enough to beg, even. Please?"
"Should I count the years I've been waiting to hear that?"
"No counting, either!"
A slow and sexy smile brightened his expression. Then he reached for my cheek and brought his lips near. "Keep my mouth occupied then…"
He kissed me. An amazing kiss for the way it melded white hot lust with some more tender emotion. I helped him pull off his sweater and tee, dying a little at his muscular arms, and the tattoo on his bicep that I hadn't noticed befor
e. I stroked it, loving the way goosebumps rose on his skin at my touch.
He stripped off the rest of his clothes, then leaned back so I had ample room to see his gorgeous member spring free. Jutting up, it was thick, long, beautiful. Uncut. Different than the one I'd already serviced tonight, but just as riveting.