Page 173 of Between the Blue
But then, suddenly, he’s gone.
I take a deep breath, coming to my senses, then realize Ben’s crouched down at my feet.
“What are you–”
Before I can even get my words out, he’s bunched up my dress with one hand and slid my panties aside with the other, running his flat tongue across the length of my slit.
My hand slams over my mouth, trying to muffle the cry that escapes my lips as a throbbing sensation pulses between my legs, nearly making them buckle.
“Been craving cherry all day,” Ben hums against my center, slipping a finger easily inside of me as he continues assaulting me with his tongue.
“Ben,” I choke. “You can’t– I– We’re in anelevator–”
“I can do plenty with thirty-six floors to go.”
“But–”
“You can keep talking, Cherry,” Ben mutters, continuing to pump his fingers inside of me. “But I’m done for now.”
I still feel like my face is on fire after the ten minute cab ride.
“What exactly are we doing tonight?” I asked Ben as he waved the car down.
“Well, I suppose you have to eat too,” he’d replied, sending another rush of warmth through my entire body.
He holds the door to the fancy steakhouse open for me, then rests his hand on my lower back as we approach the host stand.
“Reservation?” the hostess asks.
“Yes, for Bennett James.”
She looks up when he speaks, and I can see the shift in her eyes and body language as she surveys him.
And, immediately, it feels like a rock sinks in my stomach. I hate that it happens, and I know it’s ridiculous, but is it too much to ask to be the only person allowed to look at him ever again?
Probably.
But maybe it isn’t.
Because I feel Ben’s fingers circle against the spot where they rest on my lower back. So subtly, like it barely happens at all.
But it still does.
And when I look at him, he isn’t looking anywhere in the hostess’s direction.
I smile softly. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
And until I hear the words, “Right this way,” I forget she exists altogether.
We follow after the hostess, turning a corner into what sounds like a more private space. I watch as she sets the menus down and find my head cocking to the side.
“Something wrong?” Ben asks.
“Oh– No. It’s just…” I shake my head, watching Ben sit down at our table for two. “Is it just us tonight?”
He tilts his head, an amused expression crossing his face. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“I guess not,” I say, taking my own seat.
