Private Show (The Private Series) (24 page)

James is holding Erin from behind, waiting for the performance to start. Dan is standing off to the side, smiling, with his arms crossed over his chest.

The lights go out again and Ben starts to play the song on the guitar. I nervously flatten my skirt and bite my lip. When he opens his mouth to sing, I melt. The words give me chills just as they did when I saw the Sick Puppies perform it, but when Ben sings the words they hold that much more meaning. He sings about wanting to connect with me, and to get back to the truth.

The next part he expects me to sing, and I suck in a deep breath of air, close my eyes, and go for it. This is the first time that I have ever sung in front of anyone. His voice cuts through me. It is as smooth as dark roast coffee.

It is definitely a rush. I am a bundle of nerves, but having Ben right next to me and never taking his eyes off of me gives me all the confidence I need to go on. When our voices come together for the final verse I feel a single tear begin to roll down my cheek. When he stops playing, he leans in and kisses that tear away.

It is only me and him in the world. No one else. It is perfection.

When we finish, we’re met with a roar of hoots and hollers, with some cat calls from Erin and James. I see Dan nodding in approval. Setting the guitar down he leads me off of the stage back to the bar.

“You were incredible! Do you hate me for backing you into a corner?”

“I was shocked and embarrassed at first, but when the lights went off and you started to sing it was only you and me.” I tell him.

“That is what I was hoping for. Come, I want to buy my girl a celebratory drink.”

“I’ll cheer to that.”

On our way back to the bar, Ben stops by Dan who must be telling Caroline a joke, because she is laughing her cute little butt off. Ben places his hand on his shoulder and asks, “Hey, do you think you can get Caroline home?”

“Oh, of course.” Dan smirks, he is an odd one. Caroline giggles.

“Thanks,” Ben says and winks at his buddy. Looking at Caroline, “Hey, hey, that better be just a plain soda in that glass,” Ben kids with his sister. “I’ll see you later,” he kisses the top of her head and she nods.

Charles goes to make me my rum and Coke, but Ben stops him. “No, we need something a little more special. Champagne, perhaps? Do you have a pink?”

“I believe we have a bottle or two in the cellar, but the place is packed and I don’t dare leave the bar. But hey, I trust you. Why don’t you two head down and pick something out… on the house.”

Ben grabs my hand and walks me behind the bar. “Thanks, Charles.”

“I didn’t know this place had a cellar.” I say as we walk down a short dark hall, which only spikes my heart rate as I look for side doors. Man, I thought I was over the Dave incident…

Ben, touching me reassuringly the whole way, leads me to a rack of fancy-looking bottles. He selects one, and we take our time making our way back up.

The bar is dark. Quiet. Empty.

Speechless, I look into Ben’s eyes, searching for an explanation, but instead he proceeds to pull us out two glasses and pops the cork on the champagne. Pouring the pink liquid, he leans and looks into the lounge area and smiles.

“What is going on, Ben?”

Picking up our glasses he leads me into the empty lounge. He hands me my glass and raises his. “Here is to new beginnings, adventures and experiences.” I clink my glass to his.

“Oh, and dreams coming true,” he adds with a wink.

He kisses me on the cheek and while he does he sets his glass down. And walks to the stage.

The stage is dark once again with only one beam of light. The light is on a single bass guitar.

Oh. My. God.

“Ben…”

“Shhh… Just come.” He holds his hand out to me to follow.

At the stage edge, he grabs the bass. Throwing the strap over his shoulder, he starts to play it, with his back turned towards me. Just like in my dream that he tickle-forced me to tell him, the vibrations go straight to my inner thighs, making me clench them.

I take a step closer so my toes hit the edge of the small stage. My chest pounds with every pluck he takes. He is playing and steady, when he turns around he has a guitar pick between his plump lips.

Oh my…

His eyes never leave mine as he plays. He never misses a beat; he builds and builds. I bite down on my bottom lip and close my eyes. I just want to absorb everything in every sense possible. When I open them, I see that he has removed his shirt.

I go to speak but he shakes his head. He steps closer to me, he eyes me from top to bottle and takes the pick from between his lips and begins to pluck the strings causing the tone to heighten and escalate.

He stops in front of me and looks to my top. I don’t need words to know what he is telling me to do. I slowly lift my tank up over my head and let it fall to the floor. He nods in approval and bites his lip, so I remove my bra. I am standing before him on stage in only a skirt, tights, and my new pink Chucks. I kick off the shoes.

I curl my finger, telling him to move closer to me. When he does, I reach out and under the bass to undo his dark jeans. His beat slows; it’s seductive. This man has some talent. I had no idea that just a bass could get me all riled up and turned on. I really thought that could happen only in a dream.

He kicks off his shoes and steps back. He stops playing for a second to drop and kick off his pants and boxers. And yet I cannot see a thing. This is such a tease and he knows it. So, I reach behind myself and I unzip my skirt and I let it fall freely and I step out of it. I reach my thumbs into the waistband of my lace tights and leisurely, and hopefully teasingly, remove them. I am standing in just a hot pink thong.

He misses his beat.

He steps off the stage and stops right in front of me. His face is so close to mine I can feel his heavy breathing, which only stirs my core into deeper knots.

I reach forward and pluck at one of the chords. I start my own rhythm, slow and steady. He looks at me with volcanic heat in his eyes. I pick up my own pace and I pressed my pelvis up against the dark instrument. Feeling the vibrations, my panties get wet with every strum. He puts the pick in between his lips and lifts the bass over his head.

Ben stands before me in all of his glory. He reaches behind me and pulls me to him. He sits on the stage and I straddle him, just as I did in my dream. I begin to rock in his lap and his hands linger briefly on my breasts and then move down to tear away my thong.

He reaches for the pick and holds it between his thumb and forefinger, giving me a sexy sly smile. I feel my face pinken. I know what he is going to do with that pick.

I bite down on my bottom lip as he runs the tip of the pick lightly along my lip and down my neck and in between my breasts. He takes my breast in his hot needy mouth and circles his tongue around my pink mound. When he pulls away he flicks the pick at my tip and I nearly unravel instantly. The sensation is intense, driving right between my legs. I can’t help but scream out.

He does the same with the other breast, but I need more. I push him down on the stage so he is lying down and I go to take him inside of me.

But he stops me and shakes his head.

I reach my hands up and run my fingers through his midnight dark hair, backlit by the blue lighting above us. Ben grabs my wrists firmly, but not hurting me, and flips us over so he is stationed between my legs.

He licks a trail down the center of my body and traces the line with the pick. My breathing gets heavy. When his trail reaches the top of my sex, he opens me up with his fingers and rubs me with his thumb, massaging me. I roll my hips into his touch.

Then it happens. He swiftly flicks my clit with the pick and that is all it takes. I fall apart. I raise and drop my hips, begging for him to enter me. I am moaning and panting. Ben lowers himself onto me and says.

“I fucking love you.”

And he drives hard and deep into me.

We sit in one of the large plush deep purple chairs in the lounge room, me on Ben’s lap.

“So,” I ask, “how did you manage to get this place to ourselves?”

Taking in a deep breath Ben gives me a
I may or may not have done something bad
look.

“Do I want to know?” I ask.

Looking me right in the eye he tells me, “I have a little secret.”

“Oh, you do, do you? What is this secret?”

“I own half of Chatz.”

My jaw drops. “Uh, why haven’t you told me this before? What do you mean, half? Who owns the other half?”

Letting out a little laugh, Ben starts to explain, “I thought that you would find it tacky that I own a bar in which people come to primarily hook up at. Second, I am a silent partner with Charles the bartender.”

“Charles? Really? Huh, I never would have guessed him to be a swanky bar owner.”

“Swanky? You think Chatz is
swanky?
I will take that as a compliment.”

“So, how did you get the money to buy into Chatz? No offence or anything, but with a columnists job, your penthouse, bike and car how would you have a bunch of money left?”

“I don’t like telling people about it, but, my grandparents on my Mum’s side left me and Caroline a hefty trust fund. I was able to claim it when I turned twenty-one.” He explains.

“So you’re not as independent as you lead on,” I state.

“Not in the sense of earning every penny no, but my grandparents wanted me to have a happy life.”

“But couldn’t you be happy living on your own means? I mean, sure the extra cash would be nice, but you don’t need an expensive loft and toys.” Giving it back to him from our past discussions about money and happiness. I came from nothing, so I wanted for nothing.

“They say money can’t buy you happiness, but when you are all alone and have no one to love, you find yourself trying to fill those holes with materialistic things. I guess that’s what I was doing, but now that I am with you I don’t need the money to be happy.”

I hold his hand and rest my head on his chest.

“Want a drink?” he asks.

“Sure,”

“What’ll it be, love?”

“Surprise me.”

“Challenge accepted.” He hustles off to the bar.

When Ben doesn’t return after a minute, I decide to go see what’s taking him. When I round the corner I see him behind the bar looking down at his phone, and he doesn’t look happy.

“Hey bartender, where’s my drink?” I tease, hoping to break whatever mood he just got into.

Turning his phone off, he sets it on a shelf under the bar. “Right here.” He announces as he picks up my pink drink.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Just fine. Uh, it was Dan, he was letting me know that he took a girl back to my place for the night… so it looks like I will be crashing with you tonight and grabbing my suitcase in the morning on the way to the airport.”

“Well, I do believe I have some extra room in my bed.” I tease, and take a sip. “Mmm… This is delicious! What is this?”

Smiling now, “It’s your drink. I made it up just for you. I call it the Punky.”

“No way!” I exclaim.

“Of course my girl needed a signature drink.”

I swear to fucking God I am getting tired of these fucking messages from Nicole. She needs to move on and get a life. I need to get what I need from her one last time, and then I can finally move on.

It is time.

This was another too-close call for Tess. I am sick of worrying of being caught. This is riding on my nerves.

It will all be over.