Tainted Love (Book 1) (8 page)

“So, what things do we have to discuss?” I ask, rocking back
and forth on my heels, trying to get something out of him. Anything.

Instead of answering me he spins me to him and ravages me with a kiss. He drops the duffel to the floor and encircles me in his hands. The elevator dings, signaling that we’ve arrived at the 11
th
floor; giving new meaning to the saying,
saved by the bell.

I pull away from him, both of us heaving
, both of us in desperate need of the other. We step out of the elevator and I approach the door to my apartment. I can feel him in my space as I fumble for my keys. An unbidden nervousness overshadows me. I am letting him into my space, into my inner sanctum. Mark you, many a men have passed through my inner sanctum – pun intended – but this…this feels bigger, so much more significant.

Ben
presses against me in my flustered state and I can feel his desire against my rear. I flush and pause.

I push back
against him and grind into his pelvis. I hear his light groan and smile. Maybe I’ll let him wait a bit longer and carry on with a bit of teasing. I press one hand to his hips and the other I brace on the door as I rub my ass into his erection.

“Open the door
, Sullivan,” he demands, but I continue my teasing.

He braces against me, swearing under his breath. I am enjoying this
more than I should.

He leans in and whispers through gritted teeth, “O
pen…the damn…door.” He nips my right ear gently, sending shivers down my spine.

Finally
, I open the door and he scoops me up and brings me inside. He kicks the door shut, drops the duffel on the ground then throws me in the black couch as he steps into the living room.

Circling to the front of the couch, he begins undressing. First his leather jacket and shirt, then his shoes and jeans, until all he stands in are his boxer briefs that his erection is straining against.

I reach for his throbbing member but he steps away.

“Undress. Now.”

“No,” I refuse. I need to know what he knows.
If
he knows anything.

His brows knit in frustration. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder.

“Ben, stop it!” I slap his hard back in protest, but he doesn’t flinch. “Put me down!” I scream.

My room door had been open so, barging in, he throws me down, crawling atop me. He kisses me madly, groaning as he finds my tongue. I can’t help my hunger for him. I run my
hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. He lets out a moan that makes my body quiver beneath him.

He rises from me and drags my sweatpants off. Ben is animalistic. His carnal desire for me makes me putty in his hands. I gasp as he tugs t
he hem of my shirt over my head and I reach forward, rubbing his erection through his underwear. Seizing him in my hands, I watch him unravel under my touch.

I scoot sexily to him and he tugs my chin to come closer. I yank his underpants down his impressive length, sighing at the sight. I lick my lips, hungry for his cock in my mouth and kiss the tip of it
, slipping the head between my plump lips.

He hisses looking down at me
and I take him deeper, tightening my suction, watching his reaction. I feel his hand at my head urging me to go further, urging me to take all of him. I push away, taking a deep breath, and then I swallow him as far as he can go. I feel the tip of his dick at the back of my throat and he lets out an erotic cry that forces me to swirl my tongue along the length.

He pulls away from me, chuckling to himself
as he stares at me with wonder. He cups my chin and plants a rough kiss on my lips.

“You are a treat,” he breathes against my lips.

Lightly shoving me on my back, he spreads my legs open and falls to his knees. He massages my swollen clit with his thumb over my panties. My hips shamefully start swaying to his ministrations.
I want him madly.

He quickly slips off my underwear, amused that I am so wet for him – to the point where my inner thighs are damp with my juices. Ben starts licking my inner thighs and placing soft bites that I feel in my groin.

“Ben, please,” I beg, not liking where things are going. I am not, nor have I ever been, a
fan of cunnilingus. I enjoy and much prefer giving head and that’s as far as oral sex goes for me. Besides, none of the hell-of-a-lot-of guys I have had sex with ever did it right.

Kissing my clit, my core clenches and my stomach does this sweet fluttering that surprises me. Is that anticipation?

“All in due time,” he whispers as he blows on my opening.

My body goes limp with want. I am helpless. He parts my folds and before I can lift a hand in protest, he covers my clit, sucking ever so gently. I arch my back at the sensuous assault,
my eyes doing a weird turning in my head and my mouth doing an odd parting to accommodate my lustful sounds. I dig into the sheets, thrusting my hips up to meet his mouth.
Oh. My. Oh…

“God!” I scream in delight, pounding the bed at the ecstatic feel of his mouth on me.
This
is what it feels like!
A girl could get used to this
.

Ben continues to suckle me, slipping his tongue inside and licking me deep. I almost fly off the bed with all the sensations attacking me, but he holds me in place. Confusion swirls around my head as pleasure overtakes my body. Incoherent words explode from my lips and I dig my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to the strands. He is a man on a mission as he sucks harder at my sensitized clit and I feel like I am about to explode, my orgasm creeping up on me and startling me.

“Fuck! I’m coming, Ben,” I wail, my body stiffening, ready to explode.

He slips two fingers inside my warm, soaking wet core and crooks them repeatedly inside me. It is almost like he is calling – no,
commanding
– my orgasm to come forth. And just like that, I shatter around him with a fierce cry; my body vibrating with an earth-shattering climax.

He pulls away from my clit and blows gently on it. I squirm away as I am much too sensitive for any kind of touch or clitoral attention.

He holds me in place and coos, “Shh…”

But I feel like I’m in another dimension. I’ve lost it. My body is vibrating still, carnal electricity pulsating through me. I am reeling in the aftermath of my orgasm. I am not even aware when he gets up from the floor, or when he puts on a condom. All I feel is him piercing me slowly.

“Ahh,” I moan hoarsely.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re still so tight. I love it.” He begins to rub my clit and as much as I try to fight him off, I am too weak from his touch.

I delight in the feel of him inside me, gyrating my hips to meet his powerfully slow strokes. He leans over me inhaling my scent and filling me deeper. I dig into him with my nails willing him to go harder and faster, but he doesn’t.

“Did you have another man in your bed last night?” The chill of his question startles me, but I am too wrapped up in the way he’s making me feel to argue or lie.

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

“I smell him on this bed. On you,” he grumbles. He thrusts hard into me, taking me so much by surprise that my breath hitches loudly in my throat. “Why?” he asks menacingly.

“I don’t know.” My voice squeaks in reply as I undulate beneath him.

He begins pounding me mercilessly. It’s like he is deranged with desire; like he is punishing me. I scream and moan, calling his name as though it is a mantra. My vagina squishes at the
repeated touching of my sweet spot.
Oh, I am loving this
!

Soon the room is filled with our love sounds – the
oohs
,
ahs
and
ohs
, not to mention the
gods
,
fucks
,
shits
and occasional incoherence. We are deep in each other, deep in the moment.

“Ah! Let go, Sullivan,” he groans in command.

“Ben!” I scream.

We are both approaching our climaxes. Our bodies stiffen and with a shout, we both shatter into tiny pieces. The orgasm ripples through both of us and we hang on to each other to try to steady our convulsing bodies. My center spasms around his semi-hard erection
, milking every drop of his essence. He doesn’t exit me. He stays there while we come down from our high.

That, ladies and gentlemen…was
intense
!

Although we didn’t want to get out of bed, hunger called loudly to both of us.

“Do you want Chinese or pizza?” I ask Ben as we both stroll into the living room half-dressed, him once again barefooted in jeans and me in my sweatshirt and undies.

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, but I can tell he is distracted. He isn’t his usual bossy, commanding self.

“Air pie it is then,” I mutter under my breath, turning to the kitchen.

I fetch two boxes of macaroni and cheese and put the pot on to boil the spirals. Rachel and I love macaroni spirals. I hop onto the island, wanting to keep the distance between us, but that is short-lived. He crosses over to me and slips in between my legs. His look: icy.

“Is he your boyfriend?” he asks, staring at me. I suddenly feel nervous. Why does it feel like he’s intimidating me?

“What if he is?” I give him an equally intimidating stare.

“I don’t like sharing,” he says coolly.

“I’m not yours to share, Ben.” I scowl at his insinuation. No one owns me.

“And therein lies what we have to discuss.” He shifts away from me, extending his hand so he can help me off the island. I take it skeptically but with a pang of relief. He hasn’t found out anything about me.

We sit in the couch and he faces me, one leg curling under the other.

“I want you, Sullivan,” he states bluntly.

“Wow, aren’t you the romantic?” I roll my eyes.

“I have no time to go into heroics and grand romantic gestures. I state what I want and I don’t mince my words,” he says sternly.
Hmm, a man after my own heart
.

“I don’t want a relationship Ben.”

“With me or you don’t want one period?” This feels like a business deal somehow.

“Peri
od,” I respond. “I’m a bad girl, Ben.”

That would usually be a line for me during sex, but I feel the ne
ed to make myself clear. “I don’t do…relationships.”

“So who was this guy you let in
to your bed?” he asks pointedly.

“Not that it’s any of your business…he’s some guy I met at a club last night,” I disclose.

“Do you know his name?” he questions.

“Do I need to?” I shoot back with a raised eyebrow. Why is he grilling me?

“So you go to clubs, pick up random guys, don’t bother learning their names, fuck them, then kick them out?” he assesses.

“This one guy last night, yes.” I gaze at him quizzically. “What’s with the third degree, Hayes?” I challenge.

“I want to figure you out, Sullivan.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it a disheveled sexy.
Wow.
Green eyes scorch through me and I suddenly feel naked.

Pulling the hem of my sweatshirt down to my knees, I thank God for the rattle of the cover of the boiling pot. I head to the kitchen, uncover the pot and empty the two boxes of macaroni into it. I stir the contents to ensure the spirals don’t stick to the bottom.

The wooden spoon shakes in my hand as I feel Ben’s presence behind me. His breathing so fierce, I can feel the hot, harsh breath at the nape of my neck. It sends chills down my spine and fills my body with want, but I clutch the spoon tighter to keep my composure.

N
ot paying attention, I yelp in surprise as the pot singes my index finger. I back into him and he spins me around, taking my finger to his lips and planting a rather soothing kiss to the burn. I wrench my big brown eyes to his striking green, and I almost melt under his gaze and touch.