Gift From The Bad Boy

We fell asleep like that—her curled into a ball and tucked against me, my cock steadfastly refusing to leave her.

It always was a stubborn bastard.

Chapter Seven

Carmen

Buzz, buzz.

I woke up groggily. The world looked like blurry blobs of color through my hangover and my sleep-crusted eyelids. I felt Ben stir behind me, but he didn’t wake up. What the hell was that buzzing? It was driving me crazy. My head hurt and my whole body was sore and weak.

Buzz, buzz.

Ben stirred again. He propped himself up on an elbow and surveyed the room.

I twisted around to look at him. “What is that?” I murmured. I still hadn’t gathered my wits about me. I felt too tired to move.

“I think it’s your phone,” he said. His voice was thick with sleepiness, just like mine. But at his words, I jolted upright.

“What?” I exclaimed. “Where?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I leaped out of bed, still completely naked, and started hunting around the room for the source of the buzzing. “What time is it?” I said in a panic. The light streaming in through the windowpanes was the grayish blue tint of early morning.

I finally found my phone vibrating against the stone floor, hidden beneath my top from the night before. I snatched it up and looked at the screen to see that the caller ID was lighting up with Lori’s number.

“Hello?” I said breathlessly as I answered the call.

“Carmen, where the fuck are you?” came the screeching tone. “I’ve been looking for you for hours! Jesus Christ, we need to go!” Her voice was piercing and not at all helping my hangover headache. I held the phone away from my ear.

“I’m, uh…” I said, fumbling for an excuse. “I got, um…Ben and I, we…” I trailed off again and looked over at Ben. He had struggled into a seat on the bed and was surveying the scene with a calm expression on his face. Even in the middle of my panic, I couldn’t help but notice the muscle tone riddling his arms and torso. He was otherworldly.

“You need to get home, Carmen!” Lori said. “Your dad is going to kill you!”

The color drained from my face. My dad.

She was completely right, of course. I found an alarm clock on the bedside table and saw it was almost six o’clock in the morning. If he wasn’t already home, he was sure as hell going to be there any minute. I needed to get back this second.

Ben spoke up behind me. “I can take you home,” he said calmly.

I considered his offer for a half-second before realizing what a ridiculous suggestion that was. The first thing that popped into my head was an image of Ben and me, trundling up to the driveway of my house on his motorcycle, with my dad greeting us at the door.

“Daddy, this is Ben,” I would say. “I met him at a wild biker party last night—you know, the one you explicitly forbade me from going to?—and we did wheelies on his motorcycle then ended up having the most amazing sex of my life.”

To which my dad would no doubt respond, “Ben, was it? Pleasure to meet you, son. You sure seem like an upstanding young gentleman, and I do appreciate you taking the time to lick my daughter to an orgasm before treating her to a second one with your magnificent cock. Great work. I’d love to shake your hand and congratulate you on a job well done.”

Yeah, that was of course the way it would go. Except, take away the pleasantries and substitute in a lot more bloodshed, gunshots, and, after everything had settled down, paramedics with body bags.

“No way,” I told Ben. Into the phone, I said to Lori, “I need you to come get me.”

“I’m on my way,” she answered. “Be there in five.”

I dropped the phone onto the desk at my side and began scrounging around for my missing clothes. I dressed as quickly as I could, while Ben shrugged on his jeans and lit a cigarette. He slumped back against the pillows and watched me wriggling into my leather pants and tying the drapey shirt behind my neck. I couldn’t find my panties anywhere, but I didn’t have time to keep looking.

When I was dressed, I started to stalk towards the door, then froze. I spun back around to look at him. He hadn’t moved. He laid back against the bed like everything was just peachy, like I wasn’t about to get ripped to shreds by my maniacally over-controlling father, in the very likely event that he was home waiting for me. He took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled a mushrooming cloud of smoke.

“I, uh…I don’t know what to say,” I said flatly. The magic from the night before that had gripped me like nothing I’d ever felt or even dreamed about was gone. In its place was a flickering coolness, like coals in a day-old fire. Ben looked like he didn’t give a shit.