“A world of trouble.” I took a step toward her.
“This seems to be a reoccurring theme.”
“Are you going to tell me what I did wrong?” She looked up at me with wide eyes and cheeks a mischievous pink. She was so f**king beautiful. “Should I have used my own hand instead?”
“Not funny.” My heart slammed beneath my ribs, and I grew drunk from the steady thrum of adrenaline as it slipped through my veins. Her gaze never wavered as I crossed the room to spread her legs and step between her thighs.
I trailed a finger down the smooth skin of her calf, wrapping a hand around her ankle. “These shoes don’t look very sensible,” I said, brushing a thumb over the soft leather.
She continued to watch me, lips red and slick and so f**king tempting. “Maybe I’m not feeling very sensible this weekend. Is that why I’m in trouble?”
She lifted her chin and met my eyes. “I learned from the best.”
I moved her foot to my hip and traced a path up her thigh and beneath her skirt. I clenched my jaw as a fresh wave of frustration swept through me over how she’d left me at the club, how proud she was for leaving me hard, and how ninety percent of our arguments could be boiled down to one of us trying to get a reaction out of the other. Seriously fucked-up situation we had going on here.
Gripping her ass with both hands, I ignored her sharp inhale as I jerked her to the edge of the counter.
“You—” She started to protest, but I stopped her, placing a finger against her mouth. She still smelled unfamiliar—floral, not citrus—but beneath the heavy makeup and new perfume there was something softer in her eyes, something inherently Chloe. She could play dress-up all she wanted, but the woman who was mine would always be there. The realization was like drowning, and I leaned forward, replacing my finger with my lips and quickly becoming lost in her little breaths and sounds as she moved eagerly into my touch. Her kiss felt like a drug seeping into my bloodstream, and I pushed my hand into her hair and tilted her head, wanting more than the soft flicks of tongue between our parted lips.
With my palm on her chest, I guided her to lie down onto the counter, moving her how I wanted and not being particularly gentle about it, either. But she went willingly, eyes widening in recognition of the game we were playing, mouth soft and open. She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at me, waiting to see what I’d do next.
The gauzy material of her skirt felt like nothing in my hands as I slid it up her hips, exposing miles of leg and a different pair of satin panties beneath. I let my fingers press into her skin, wanting to hold her down and mark her up, hear her beg for what she wanted.
“I’m going to f**k you with my mouth,” I said, kneeling between her thighs and ghosting my lips over the thin material. “Fuck you with my tongue until you’re begging for my cock. Maybe I’ll give it to you.” I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t.”
She sucked in a short breath and reached for my hair, trying to pull me forward. “Don’t tease, Bennett,” she said.
I pushed her hands away, laughing as I looked up at her. “You don’t get to make any of the decisions tonight, Chloe. Not after your bullshit game in the club.” I breathed again where her legs parted, flicking my tongue over her cl*tuntil the fabric of her panties was thick with wetness. “You kissed me, let me taste your tits, came on my hand, and then left me there. Hard. That wasn’t very nice.”
“I . . . what?” she said, eyes unfocused as she watched me, a flush of color moving up her neck.
Leaning forward again, I pinned her h*ps to the counter, kissing and nipping at her through the thin satin until it was soaked. Her head fell back and she moaned, whispering my name into the silent room.
“Louder,” I said against her. “Let me hear you.”
“Take them off. Suck on me.”
The neediness in her voice sent a jolt of electricity through my body and I wrapped the thin straps in my hand and viciously ripped them, wanting them down and gone and nothing between her and my mouth.
She cried out, arching against me at the first touch of my tongue to her skin, her fingers digging into my hair and her voice ringing all around us.
The space was awkward but it didn’t matter, and was more than made up for when I looked to the side to find her watching our reflection in the mirror, teeth biting into her bottom lip. I met her eyes as I tasted her, sliding my tongue across and inside.
I added a finger, then two, and watched as they moved in her, wet with how much she wanted me. Her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper and my name over and over as she asked for more and opened her legs wider, the heel of her sexy shoe scraping along the countertop. I could feel the heat of her all around me, the way she started to tremble as she got closer.
“Good?” I asked, making sure my voice vibrated against her.
She nodded, breathless, moving her hands above her head to push into her hair. “So good. Oh fuck, Bennett, so close.”
God it was torture, wanting to watch her lose control, but wanting to feel it, too, needing to feel her.
I tried to hide my desperation as I fit my hands to her h*ps and all but threw her to the bench, hovering above her to lick a line from her navel to the scrap of lace she called a bra. Sitting up, I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, reached blindly for my belt, and undid my pants. I freed my c**k and almost gasped as she swatted my hand away and took me in her palm.
“No,” I said, flipping her over to her knees and stepping behind her. “You had your time to play earlier. This is mine.” I lifted her ass into the air, slapping it hard.
She gasped, turning around to look at me.
I gave her a dark smile, running my hand over her skin, soothing. “Do you want me to stop?”
“You are welcome to stop me anytime,” I murmured. “I’m sure this is absolute torture for you.”
I brushed the tip of my c**k through her wetness and down to her clit, circling, teasing.
“You’re an asshole,” she managed finally, and I brought my hand against her ass again, harder. But this time instead of surprise, she moaned, hoarse and hungry.
Then that was all there was: Chloe and the sounds she made, the way she asked me to push inside, to f**k her. And when I did, and smacked her ass again, she pleaded for harder and more.
But even when I took what I wanted it wasn’t enough; it never would be. I could feel the weight of it somewhere deep in my stomach—the absolute love I felt for her, the constant need to touch and feel and take, to mark her from the inside out.
I twisted my fingers in the material of her shirt, pulled it lower so I could see her br**sts move as I f**ked her. Her hair fell across her back and I ran my hands under it, feeling the cool strands against my skin. I watched as I slid in and out of her, the way she pushed back against me, her skirt bunched up over her pink ass and around her hips.
“I miss this,” I said, covering the mark I’d made, pressing down on it. “All the time.”
She nodded, said my name. I could hear the frustration in her voice as she reached for something to hold on to, her other hand moving down between her legs.
“That’s right,” I said, watching her touch herself. “Get there. Make yourself come.”
It must have been what she needed because she cried out, spine arching as she pushed back against me. I was close, could barely think and so f**king hungry for it I could hardly breathe. My legs burned, muscles protesting as I thrust into her over and over. The legs of the bench scraped against the stone floor; the leather creaked beneath us.
“Bennett. Fuck, Bennett,” she said, and heat pooled low in my stomach, building and building until it was pulsing through me, my vision going dark and fuzzy around the edges as I came.
Every part of me seemed to give out at once as I collapsed, panting and exhausted, gripping the bench for support.
“Holy shit.” The room was spinning and so quiet that my voice and even our breathing seemed to echo off the marble. I wondered how loud we’d been.
She stood, wobbling the slightest bit as she straightened her clothes and moved to a stall to clean herself up. “You know I have to walk around after this?”
“You did that on purpose.”
I rolled to my back and blinked up to the sparkling chandelier. “At least I let you come, too.”
I knew I should straighten my clothes and find the boys, but right now all I wanted to do was sleep.
She moved to stand over me, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to my mouth. “You need to go get some dinner or you’ll be drunk by midnight.”
I groaned, trying to pull her down to me, but she escaped by shoving her finger between my ribs. “Ow! Isn’t that the point?”
“I’m sure they’re wondering where you are.”
“I told them I had an ulcer to get them to go on without me.”
“Well, go convince them that you’ve recovered from your completely unbelievable illness and I’m going to meet Sara.”
“Fine,” I said, standing to pull up my pants. I watched as she leaned forward, smoothing out her hair in the mirror. “Where is Sara?”
“She’s meeting up with a friend who lives here. A dancer, I think? Some sort of cabaret or stripper thing at Planet Hollywood.”
She met my reflection with raised brows before continuing. “Anyway, I had a feeling I was being stalked and told her to go on without me.”
Snapping the cap back on her makeup, she closed it up in her purse and I followed her to the door, lifting a hand to her face. “I love you anyway,” I said.
“I love you anyway, too,” she said, leaning in to kiss me before slapping my ass, hard.
I could still hear her laughter long after she disappeared through the door.
I watched out the rear window as Bennett’s long, purposeful strides carried him down the sidewalk. He looked back over his shoulder and hailed a taxi as soon as he thought we were out of sight.
Bloody hell. For someone known for being so absolutely unflappable, he was a mess. He hadn’t even kept up that flimsy charade of an illness long enough to see us down the end of the street and ’round the corner.
I turned back in my seat, watching as the lights and tourists roaming the sidewalks passed by in a blur, and let my thoughts move to Sara. She’d said she felt hollow with how much she wanted me, and Christ, just the memory of those words was enough to wreck me all over again. She was so rarely demanding, and even during our busiest weeks when we hardly saw each other, she was the patient one out of the two of us, always insisting we’d make up for lost time on the weekend, or on a Wednesday. For her to tell me she needed more tonight made it almost impossible to deny her. But I could see, in her eyes, the way she’d immediately regretted it, as if by telling me that she knew I’d be torn.
With her eerie sense of timing, my phone buzzed with a text from her: I’m fine, honestly. I’m sorry I distracted you.
I smiled as I typed my reply: Alas, you’re my favorite distraction.
Have fun with the boys tonight, she wrote back.
A loud pop drew my attention and I blinked over to where Henry and Will had uncorked a bottle of champagne. “Show of hands for those of us who think Bennett just needed to rub one out in the bathroom,” Will said, offering me a glass of champagne. I waved it off, waiting instead for a real drink at the restaurant.
“We did just leave a strip club,” Henry said, protective-brother mode in full force. “Cut the man some slack.”
I worked to keep my expression neutral. Will and Henry didn’t know the girls were here, but they were eerily close to the mark.
“Henry’s right,” I cut in, surprised to find myself defending Bennett for deserting us to go shag his fiancée during the first night of his stag weekend. “Maybe he just needed a moment. The man is notoriously ruled by his dick.”
“Ha!” Will barked. “I love the implication that you’re any different.”
It didn’t matter that he was right, and since meeting Sara I’d thought of practically nothing else beyond what she was doing, what she was wearing, and of course, where I could f**k her. The side of me that loved to argue with Will couldn’t resist responding. “I’ll admit that Sara takes up a great deal of my thoughts—” I began.
“But,” I continued, ignoring him, “I’m perfectly capable of keeping my head in the game when necessary.”
Unfazed, he hummed and topped off his drink, settling back into the supple leather seat. “Yes. Clearheaded businessman like yourself, never dream of shirking responsibility or, let’s say . . . friendship, for a woman.”
“And when you missed picking me up after my flight back from China because you had an ‘emergency,’” he said, using air quotes, “which of course means getting sucked off by Sara in the back of your car in the airport parking lot, that was keeping your head in the game.”
I felt the weight of Henry’s congratulatory slap across my back. “You sly son of a bitch,” he said.