Page 116 of Daring You

30

Astor

I waitfor Ben this time.

No impulsiveness, no ultimatums, no demanding a quickie against random pieces of furniture. I want him. All of him, and I want him to take his time with me.

We take a car to my place from the neutral office designated by U.S. Marshal Aiden Watts and the prosecution’s office, leaving its impartial structure and the terrifying facts that were spoken within its walls, behind.

Lunchtime traffic is at its peak, and I fidget against the leather in the back seat, swollen and uncomfortable from our kiss.

Ben’s gaze cuts sideways, and I see the partial curve of a smile before his large, calloused hand whisks against my stockinged thigh. His fingers tap, explore, and slide up my skirt.

I’m about to whisper a shocked objection, but Ben lifts his other hand to his mouth, putting a finger against it and miming shhhh.

I feel the curl of movement under my skirt, the hook of his index finger as he finds my sensitive spot even through tights and underwear.

Choking on a moan, I pretend to adjust myself in the seat, praying the driver keeps his eyes forward.

“Take a load off for a while,” Ben says, his grin all pompous and arrogant. “Tilt your head back, close your eyes…”

All the while he’s rubbing against my clit, my hips undulating in time to his every beckoning finger-twist.

I do as he suggests, otherwise I’m going to orgasm with my eyes popping open and riveted to the rearview mirror, hoping the guy doesn’t meet my stare.

“Ben…” I whisper, oh-so-quietly.

“Yeah, hun?”

“Don’t…”

He bends closer, his nose almost hitting my ear. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t stop.”

Ben’s lips quirk against my tendrils of hair. “Wasn’t gonna.”

I stifle another moan. Dig my nails into the thick leather as an orgasm hits me right as we’re pulling up to my apartment. Ben nips at my ear, then draws away.

“Th-thank you,” I stutter to the driver, and it’s all I can do not to topple out into the winter cold.

“Easy,” Ben says through his laughter as he comes around the back of the car. “I got you.”

“I think you just ruined my Uber rating,” I say, but take his proffered arm. My legs are annoyingly wobbly and appeased at the same time.

“Knowing you, you probably screwed over that star rating long ago.”

“I object to that.”

“Fine. Just don’t object to what I want to do to you as soon as we hit your bedroom.”

My stomach does a little whoop of delight at the promise, and we rush past security, bang hard on the UP button of the elevator, and impatiently wait for it to shoot us to the right floor so I can be shot into the galaxy.

We can’t keep our hands off each other.

Kissing, pulling at clothes, tripping over each other’s feet, we make it down the hallway and to my door. I fumble for keys and hurl it open as we fumble inside.

I’ve had enough of Ben’s buttons. I rip at the shirt, exposing his delicious, carved pecs, and he slips both that and his blazer off his body and onto the floor.

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