Page 59 of Give My Everything
“Does that feel good?” I ask him, my teeth nipping at his ear as I jerk him in his jeans. “Do you want me to ride you right here where anyone can see us?”
He groans again, louder this time.
And then I whisper into his ear. “Do you want me to be your whore?”
I barely have the words out when a firm hand grips my wrist and yanks me away from where I’m holding him.
When I jerk my head back to look at Ben, I see he’s looking at me with wide eyes, his lips parted, his chest rising up and down with his panting breaths.
“Remmy,” he whispers, and then his head shakes from side to side in slow movements.
Not even addressing his still-hard dick, he yanks me to him, wrapping his arms around me and tucking me in against his firm body, his hands squeezing me tight.
I’m so confused… I don’t… What is he doing?
“You’re not a whore, Remmy. You’renot.”
He strokes my hair, the wavy mass tangling and untangling between his fingers.
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, or what you’ve been called, or what has happened in your life to make you believe that,” he says, his voice firm and warm and sure. “You are strong and resilient and wonderful. Do you hear me?”
And then he pulls back, his hand rising to my face, cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking away wetness I didn’t realize was falling from my eyes.
His eyes search mine for a moment longer, and then he pulls me back against him so we’re lounging against the wall underneath the pier. We’re in the darkness, hidden away. His hand keeps stroking my hair, and his other arm continues to hold me tight to him.
I’ve never felt so confused and unsure, so lost and yet…not.
I don’t understand Benjamin Calloway. I don’t know where his mind goes, what he dwells on, how he thinks about what he should say or do in any given moment.
I meant it earlier when I said he was different than I originally thought he would be. My assumptions were that he would use my body as much as he wanted to.
And that I would use him right back.
To make myself feel good. To make myself feel better.
But that isn’t the case, and now…now I feel like I’m flailing. A fish out of water.
The only thing I’ve ever understood about men is that they want what I have to offer, and now eventhatdoesn’t seem to be true. Now it seems like Ben thinks there’s something else I have to give. Something different.
His words fill the hollow place in my chest instead of wreaking havoc on what I thought were the foundations of my life.
So where does that leave me in the grand scheme of things? How does this change the way I see the world?
Shouldit change the way I see the world?
Or is Ben just an anomaly?
Is Ben a different kind of man? Or is he just a man who doesn’t yet fully understand what he’s capable of taking from me?
All I know for sure is that the way he makes me feel inside is overwhelming. It’s too much at times, and I don’t understand how he does it—how he’s managed to weasel his way into a space beneath my ribs in such a short period of time.
He makes me want to ignore everything I’ve learned about men and just lean hard into his side, allow him to continue treating me the way he has been. Like I matter.
But I don’t know for sure if that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I guess only time will tell.
It’s four days before I finally send Ben a text.
I’m not sure if he’s been avoiding me or if he’s giving me space he thinks I want. But the shame I feel after the epic clusterfuck that was the Sunday movie at the pier has finally started to dissipate enough that I’m willing to interact with him again. Although I’m not entirely sure what I hope to gain from reaching out.
