Page 108 of Tight Ends & Tiaras
“It’s not nothing. Sit your ass down and tell me everything right this minute. Wait. You need some ice.”
“I have ice. I need you more. Come here.” He grabs me and pulls me down on top of him as he falls back onto a sad little couch.
“I’m sorry you got hurt.” I gently kiss his stubbled jaw and run my hands through his hair. He groans and leans back.
“I love when you do that.”
My heart stutters in my chest. For a second, I thought he was going to tell me he loved me. But that’s stupid. He would never say it now. We agreed we wouldn’t make any big promises and those words carry all kinds of obligations.
The thought that I might never hear such declarations from him brings a sharp pain to my chest, but I ignore it. Live in the now, I remind myself.
As I straddle his lap, I massage his scalp and breathe in his sexy sandalwood scent.
“Missed you,” I whisper, trailing kisses across his jaw, careful not to press on the bruise.
He grabs my hips and pulls me tighter to him. His gaze is ravenous as he looks me over. I sit up and let him look. My skirt is hiked up to my waist and my black thong is already damp, but then I am sitting on a huge erection.
His eyes are so dark, they’re black. I watch him as I pull off my top and fling it to the ground. I pull my hair out of my ponytail and shake it out.
“You have no idea how hard it’s been to not see you every day. I miss waking up to you every morning. Practice sucks and sometimes all I can think is that everything would be okay if I could come home to you.” He stares at my boobs, which are playing peekaboo between my hair as he reaches between my legs and rubs me through my panties.
“I’m all yours. And you just have to get through one more week and then you’ll be home again.”
It feels so normal to talk like this. To call my place our home as though we’re some long-term couple. Maybe it’s crazy, but I don’t care. I want to take a chance on this. When Cal tried to shatter my self-respect and pride, Ben was there to pick up the pieces. It’s my turn to be there for him.
His hand slides beneath my underwear and gently circles my clit before he sinks two thick fingers into me. “Fuck yeah, baby. You’re ready.”
We come together in a kiss that’s almost frantic. Our tongues clash, our bodies grind, moans spill from both of us.
Breathless, I pull back to shove off the rest of my clothes. He lifts his body to lower his boxer briefs, releasing his erection. I start to kiss down his body as I lower myself to my knees between his spread thighs. I take him in hand, hard and hot and thick, and swipe my tongue across his crown.
I expect him to be riveted by what I’m doing because he always watches. Always. Instead, his head is tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut.
After repeating the motion a few times, after he doesn’t glance down, I pause. “Ben?” I ask hesitantly.
He blows out a breath and finally looks at me. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I... Can we not do this?”
“Do what?”
“Come up here. Let’s just... let’s do something different.”
“You don’t want head?” I ask, confused. “I thought you said...” He told me on the phone the other day that he was fantasizing about me going down on him. It’s the reason I dressed up like this and snuck up to his room.
He pulls me into his lap and kisses me. “Forget the blowjob,” he whispers against my mouth.
His kisses are just as passionate as they were a few minutes ago, but something has changed, only I can’t pinpoint what it is. He doesn’t make eye contact the way he usually does or say anything sexy. He flips me onto my back and goes down on me like eating pussy is an Olympic sport. I come with a shriek before he fucks me so hard, the couch bangs against the wall.
But Ben never tells me what upset him.
And he denies anything’s wrong.
Only the deep sense of melancholy that overwhelms me when we’re done and he still doesn’t want to talk tells me he’s lying.
