Page 61 of I Do With You

He rears up, putting space between us but using his forearm to keep my legs pinned up by my ears. One side of his mouth curls into a sexy smile as his eyes trace over my body, down my sternum to my belly button, and then lower, where he watches the point where we’re joined. “You’re taking me so good. So fucking sexy,” he moans. “That’s my good girl.”

A shiver of delight washes through me at his words, and I squeeze him with my internal muscles. His breath hitches, and a new sense of power surges inside me. I do it again, timing it with his thrusts, and Ben loses his mind. There’s no other way to describe it.

He pounds into me so hard that the sounds of our skin slapping together fill the room. He drools a bit of saliva onto my clit and then follows it with his fingers, brushing them back and forth so fast that it feels like I’m vibrating, not only at the surface, but deep inside, somewhere behind the little bundle of nerves. And his eyes glaze over as he stares deep into my eyes, grimacing as he takes us both higher and higher.

“Come, Hope. Let your pussy suck the come out of me. I’ve got you.”

I cry out—from the order, the dirty talk, or the reassurance, I’m not sure—and then I’m flying. I float through blackness as my body turns to white-hot light. Distantly, I hear Ben roaring out his release, too, and then I feel an extra heat deep inside as he stays buried in me, his hardness spasming as he fills me with his come.

“Ohmagawd,” I gasp, panting too fast. Or maybe it’s Ben that’s got me seeing spots and having tunnel vision. But no, when I force a deepbreath into my lungs, my vision clears and I see Ben resting his head on my calf and smiling blissfully.

“Holy fuck, Hope.”

I’m glad it’s not only me who feels like what we just did is special and not the usual ho-hum, tab-A-in-slot-B sex. If this was normal, I’d be even more upset at what I’ve settled with for so long. But recognizing that this was extraordinary makes me feel bubbly inside, like Ben just popped my champagne cork and all the bubbles are rushing to the surface.

Slowly, he pulls out of me, and I instantly want him back, feeling empty again in a way I never have before. But when he lies down beside me on the bed, a new sense of fulfillment takes its place. I cuddle up into his side, placing my head to his chest, where I can hear the pounding of his heart.

I don’t know how long we lie there, silently letting our fingers drift lazily over each other’s skin, before I finally speak.

“Are you really okay?” I whisper, not wanting to break the spell.

“No, prison changed me,” he deadpans, and I swat at his chest. When he laughs, it bounces my head a little, but I don’t mind. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you? That was a lot today, so it’s okay if you’re not.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m better than okay. I was worried about you, but now that you’re here, I’m good.”

Bam-bam-bam!“Open up!”

Three loud knocks, followed by a deep voice yelling at the front door. We jump in shock but then freeze. Our wide-eyed gazes meet, both tinged with confusion, and I ask, “You didn’t really break out of jail, did you? They let you out, right?”

He gives me a sardonic look. “Yeah, Eli let me out, but he wasn’t happy about it. Stay here.”

Ben yanks on his jeans—no underwear—and is buttoning them as he strides off down the hall. I hear the door open, and then he says, “What are you doing here, asshole?”

“Here to save your fucking ass. You’re welcome,” answers a rough voice I recognize.

Oh no! We got distracted and didn’t talk, so I didn’t tell him I called Sean. He might be his best friend, but given the trouble they’ve been having, he probably would’ve preferred a heads-up.

I grab the T-shirt I’ve been sleeping in from the pillow and pull it on clumsily, finding the armhole with my head. Wiggling around like an inflatable tube man outside a car wash, I manage to straighten it out and pull it on properly. It falls to midthigh, but I can’t do commando, so I pull on panties beneath it and run out to apologize to Ben for the lack of warning.

In the living room, I skid to a stop when I see Sean and Ben squaring off, both shooting fiery daggers of death at the other and seeming on the verge of throwing punches. I really don’t think two fights in one day is what Ben needs. And shiiit, this is my fault. Again. “I forgot to tell you ... I called Sean,” I tell Ben, cringing as I give a little two-finger wave. When neither man moves, I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Hope.”

Sean is shorter and stockier than Ben, with long, pitch-black hair tied up in a man bun, a scruffy beard, and tattoos above his eyebrows, on his neck, and all the way down his arms. And that’s only where I can see. He looks like the sort of guy you’d cross the street to avoid. Yet Ben is staring at him fearlessly, clearly ready to throw again if necessary.

“Don’t even think about touching her,” Ben says, his voice deadly cold. I let my hand fall, guessing Sean’s not going to shake it now. I certainly wouldn’t, after that frosty order.

But instead of being put off by Ben’s sudden mood swing, Sean grins an acid-filled smirk. “Well, given the freshly fucked hair and the T-shirt, I guess you already told her, huh?”

Instantly, I reach up to smooth my hair down, worried about how messy it is. But what does he mean about my—well, Ben’s—T-shirt? And told me what, exactly? Whatever he thought I already knew when I called? This guy is worse than a troll under a bridge, talking inriddles that confuse me, but I’m getting there’s something he knows that I don’t.

My brows pinch together and Sean laughs, which should change his whole face to something friendlier but instead makes him seem even more sinister. “Oh shit, really? You haven’t?”

Ben takes an audible inhale and slowly exhales. I get the sense he’s counting to ten, or maybe one hundred. “Sit down,” he tells Sean gruffly. To me, his voice gentles. “Hope, Sean and I have some things to discuss. I know we do, too, but is there any way you could give us a little bit?”

Ben flinches like it hurts him to ask me for a few minutes to talk to his friend who came riding in to save the day with only a phone call from a stranger. I smile softly and wrap my arms around Ben’s middle to calm him, but he doesn’t relax into me the way I expect. Every muscle is tense and rigid, like he’s actively putting up walls, closing himself off brick by brick. From Sean or from me? I’m not sure.

I didn’t realize until this moment how open Ben had become from the first day he rescued me. Then, he was short-spoken, his life story less than thirty seconds, but since, he’s let me in, sharing his heart with me as he’s stolen mine. But something’s happening in the small space he’s holding between us. I can feel him slipping away and I don’t know why, but I scrabble to hold on to him tighter by placing a tender kiss to his bare chest, right over his heart.

It’s an apology. It’s a plea. I just don’t understand for what.

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