Frayed (Connections #4)

Frayed (Connections #4) Page 11

“I love f**king you like this . . . you look so hot when your tits bounce up and down.”

I wrap my legs around his waist and move as close to him as I can. I think I’m practically off the table.

He gently licks my ear and blows his warm breath over it. His words come faster now. “Your pu**y wraps my c**k so tight, your legs feel so good around me . . . and you like my tongue licking your ear, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” I pant.

Whether or not we’re still role-playing doesn’t matter to me anymore. I lose myself in him. In his dirty mouth. He tugs at my lip and I tug back. Then I press my mouth to his and attack it as hungrily as he has attacked mine. I’ve heard girls say, “I f**ked him with my mouth,” but I never knew how that could make sense—until this moment. I moan loudly and call out his name a few times and I’m pretty sure he’s just as far gone as I am.

In fact, I know he is when he stops my assault on his lips to whisper in my ear, “I’m so deep inside you, so close, I want to fill your pu**y up with my hot come. . . . Would you like that?”

I wet my lips, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I nod and answer truthfully, “Yes, yes!” Goose bumps form all up my arms. I cry out this time more frantically, “Yes, yes, yes!” and he does the same as we ride out the wave of unbelievable pleasure we’ve found together.

CHAPTER 7

Maybe Tomorrow

Ben

I can hear the sound of the seagulls above me as my feet hit the sand. I feel the burn—five miles barefoot on the beach has never felt so good. I take the steps two at a time and plop myself on a lounge chair up on the deck, watching the tops of the palm trees sway back and forth and the waves crashing against the shore. I’m drenched with sweat and decide a shower before coffee is in order.

Opening the glass door to my house, I catch my reflection and think about how the last couple of nights have been somewhat of a mind f**k. While I thought I would be closing the book to my past, instead I opened a new chapter. It feels ironic that the first time I’m more than just hot for a girl she shuts me down, only offering sex. I know I’m not the most romantic guy on the block and haven’t always taken women’s feelings into account, but something doesn’t feel right about a sex-only relationship with S’belle. There’s something else there; I can feel it between us. But she keeps pulling back and distancing herself. And since I’m no expert on women, I’m at a loss as to figure out what comes next.

I hadn’t been with a woman since the night I was arrested. And being with S’belle—well, felt f**king amazing. Although I hadn’t counted the long days, I do the math quickly—yeah, that’s seven months without sex, a shit ton of time. Celibacy wasn’t a conscious goal. But I’d had my share of too many faceless women. Booze and random hookups, they always went hand in hand. Give up one—you give up the other. The drinking clouded my judgment, and the women were just warm bodies. I wasn’t moving forward living that life. I knew I had to stop and I did.

I had pulled my shit together. I started my own company, one with a goal I’m passionate about—helping struggling publications. I want to breathe life back into words, making magazines that improve people’s lives relevant. And I hope that’s what I’m doing.

Now I have this crazy, absurdly sexy goddess wanting to role-play with me and no strings attached. I know that she’s been trying to appear tough, but I’ve seen the vulnerability clear in her eyes. I know it has to be either because she doesn’t trust me or maybe because she doesn’t see me as dating material. Fuck.

I look up at the towering fifteen-year-old ficus tree in the middle of the two-story atrium and think, Am I dating material? What the f**k? Now I’m asking a tree. But it is what sold me on the place. Well, the tree and the carefree beach vibe—they make the house feel alive. From an outsider’s point of view, it must look like the perfect bachelor pad. A circular sofa, a sunken dining area, and bleached walnut floors surrounded by shaggy Moroccan rugs and alabaster lights. Stylish, rogue, sophisticated. The Realtor said it would make any woman’s heart skip a beat. Funny, the only women I’ve had here are my sister and the housekeeper.

I make my way into my bathroom, thinking about when I should call S’belle and whether to tell her I want more of a relationship. The shower tile feels cool underneath my toes and I turn the water on. Muscles aching, I bend my neck to let the hot water massage away the tension. As the warm heat sprays down, I close my eyes and see her. Red hair tumbling over her shoulders, an effervescent smile that does something to my chest, small but fierce—she’s got an innocent quality, but it doesn’t diminish her seductive allure at all. She’s many things and I can’t quite determine which of them I’m more fascinated by.

I shut the water off, towel myself dry, and slide on a pair of sweats—thankful it’s Sunday. Fuck, I’m horny just thinking about her and I start to second-guess myself. Maybe a casual affair is just what I need right now. My c**k grows hard at the memories and demands my attention. Fuck, I’ve been h**ing s*x with myself for so long, it’s strange to think I have someone to call. And not just someone—the woman I’ve never forgotten since our first time together.

I pull my sweatpants down and kick them off. Running my hand down my stomach, I wrap it around my dick and think of how it felt to be inside her. I stare at the ceiling and pump slowly from my balls to my tip, thinking of the noises she made when I touched her, how she screamed when I f**ked her.

My breathing comes in short bursts as the past blends with the present and images of her then and now pass through my mind. Her tongue, her mouth, her sweet pu**y. My bed is still unmade from my restless night’s sleep and I settle my head on a pillow, bending my legs to push my h*ps up and pump my fist harder, faster. After a few minutes, I slow my hand to prolong the pleasure, but thoughts of her thrusting her h*ps into mine rush my need for release. I arch my back and tip my head, letting the feeling absorb me as I come. But it’s not even close to how I felt last night when I was with her.

Rising from the bed, I hop back in the shower. This girl does crazy things to me. I can’t get her off my mind, and just thinking about her gets me all worked up. Thinking what the hell? I open the shower door and grab my phone off the counter to text her.

I want to take you out tonight.

Her response is immediate.

At brunch with my family. I’ll be in touch in a bit.

I take a deep breath. Okay, focus, Ben. I try to think about all I have to accomplish in the next month before the announcement of my takeover, but my mind keeps reeling back to her. Something is going on in my head. I have an urge to fill the empty void of loneliness that has loomed within the depths of my soul for far too long. Fuck, that’s dramatic. What the hell is wrong with me?

I hurry out of the shower and get dressed for the second time in thirty minutes. If focusing won’t work I’ll refocus. I grab my laptop and take it outside and attempt to throw my mind as far into my work as I can. I finish up the draft press release announcing my company, Plan B, and its holdings to the public. Then I glance down at my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a call or a text. I stare at the screen waiting for her to get back with me—if this isn’t a chick move, I don’t know what is.

“I knocked,” a voice says over my shoulder.

I glance up. “I didn’t hear the door. Sorry.”

“No worries, I let myself in,” Serena says.

“You on your way to the airport?”

She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Yes, Jason and Trent went ahead to get the luggage checked in. We were running really late but I had to stop and say good-bye.”

“And check on me?” I shoot my sister an inquisitive glance.

“No, well, yes.” She looks down at me.

“I’m fine. Really I am. I’m glad that part of my life is behind me.”

“Is it?”

I set my laptop on the table beside me and plant my feet on the floor. “Caleb talking to you?”

“Maybe.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Ben. Just think about it first.”

I study her expression. No judgment, just concern. “Fair enough.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing work on a gorgeous day like today.”

“Well, if you’d stop stalling and come to work for me, I wouldn’t have to.”

“You can hire anyone. You don’t need me.”

“But I do. Your mind is like a computer.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. I mean, come on, you have a love affair with the number twelve.”

Her hands go to her hips. “You know it’s my lucky number.”

Laughing, I toss my phone on the chair. “Yes, and why exactly is that? Because you’re the biggest geek on the planet. And I need the biggest geek to work for me. Social media and apps. Think about it.”

“I’m really not that savvy. I just like numbers, especially even ones. And come on, I’m thirty-six and this is turning out to be an amazing year.”

I raise an eyebrow, questioning what that means.

“Thirty-six is divisible by twelve.” She beams at me.

That sounds like something S’belle would say, and the thought makes me laugh. “Like I said, you’re the biggest geek on the planet.”

“Gotta run,” she says, kissing my cheek and avoiding my umpteenth request for her join me at Plan B.

I shove my hands in my pockets and shake my head, watching her take off down the wooden steps. “Tell Trent to call me,” I yell after her.

“I will,” she calls back.

I rush to the railing. “And, Serena . . .”

She stops in the sand and raises her hand over her forehead to shield herself from the sun’s glare.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

My sister and I have always been close. I know why she loves the number twelve. It’s not because it’s an even number or because she loves how divisible it is—it’s because that’s how old she was when our father was killed. I was only five and my memories of him aren’t really that clear, but my sister’s are. She always told me stories about how much fun we had together, and I think a small part of her will remain twelve so that her memories stay alive. Every day that passes I see how very much like our mother she is and I hope that I’m just a little like my father.

With the sun directly overhead, I realize it’s past noon and I should figure out where I want to take S’belle on our date tonight. I snatch my phone and pace the planks of the deck. Fancy restaurant might be too stuffy. Casual might look as though I’m cheap. Bringing her here will definitely look as if I just want to get in her pants. But she did say sex only. Having no f**king idea where to take her, I decide I’m done waiting for her to call. It’s not as though she can’t take a call in front of her family.

I squint at the screen and press her name. When she answers on the first ring, I know I made the right choice.

“Hello?”

“Red, it’s me.”

“Me who?” But she asks in a way that I know she knows it’s me.

“Ben . . . Ben Covington,” I say to humor her.

There’s silence for a few moments. “Oh, hey, Ben.” She tries for casual, but there’s something more than casualness in her tone.

“I haven’t heard back from you.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Is she blowing me off? Well, she’ll have to do it to my face. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“When?”

“Tonight.” I think I already mentioned that in my earlier text.

“I’m not sure. I have a lot to do.”