I laugh and smack his shoulder. “I’d hope not, doofus.”

He grabs my wrist, and then slides his fingers through mine. This does odd things to me. It makes my heart thud a little harder, even as part of me melts and part of me heats up and my belly flutters and I press my thighs together to stem the pressure building there. All from the small, simple gesture of him taking my hand.

I drive us back to his apartment as fast as I legally can.

EIGHT: Bare Truth and Bare Skin

So…yeah, I should know by now that nothing ever goes as planned.

We get back to his apartment in record time, and I’ve got my tongue down his throat before he can get his key out of his door. He stumbles inside, slams the door closed with his cane, which he tosses aside along with his keys. Ben’s hands find my ass, knead and grip, and mine go to his stomach, lift his shirt off him and I toss it away, then start on his jeans. All this while our mouths clash and collide, tongues slash and stutter. My heart hammers in my chest, even though I’ve done this more times than I care to count. I’m not exactly a chaste girl, you might say.

But this is different.

God, I keep going back to that thought, and never make any more sense of it. He’s just different, and I don’t know why, or how. Or what it means, if anything.

He’s got my jeans unbuttoned and his hands are digging under the denim and finding skin, rolling down the string of my thong and squeezing and cupping the flesh of my admittedly generous bottom. For my part, I’m greedily unzipping his jeans and helping him get them off, pushing them down, and then forcing myself to slow down, to pull slowly and teasingly at his tight black boxer-briefs until his huge hard dick is thick and tall between us, and I’m caressing it hungrily, sliding my palm up and down his length. And oh no, he’s not idle. His hands push away my shirt, fumble at my bra and bare my tits, and then he’s sliding his rough palms down my sides and under the string of my thong, working it free from my ass-crack and I’m stepping out of it.

And just like that we’re naked, and we haven’t even left the front door.

I take his hands in mine and walk backward, pulling him into his room. But then he turns the tables, spinning and sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging me to him, kissing my chest and my stomach, clutching and caressing my ass, licking my tits and between them, and then his fingers find my opening and I gasp as he slides two fingers into me, his palm cupping my bare flesh. And in that moment I’m glad I used one of his disposable razors to shave the other day.

I ride his fingers until I’m gasping, and then I push him down and lie on him, rise astride him, kiss him, reach between us to grasp his erection…but he grabs my hips and lifts me, pulls me forward and settles me on him. I kneel over his face and he hooks his arms over my thighs, finds my opening and parts me, laps at me with his tongue, and before I know it I’m gasping and groaning and coming, but he’s relentless and moves his fingers into me, two thick fingers inside me and fucks me with them and licks and licks and sucks at my clit and I come again.

When I’m not sure I can withstand another orgasm, I lift up and off him. “Ben, enough. I want you.”

I shimmy down his body until I feel the thick round head of his cock at my entrance, but then he tenses and grips my hips to free me in place.

“Echo, wait,” he growls, his voice low and rough.

I look down at his face, see the tension and the fear and the doubt and even pain, and I can’t figure any of it out. “Why? I thought you wanted this?”

“I do, Jesus I do. So fucking bad it literally hurts.”

“Then why are you stopping me?” I grip his cock in my hand and stroke him. “I want you, Ben. I want this, with you, right now. I’m clean, and I’ve got an IUD. We’re covered, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah, that crossed my mind. But…that’s not—that’s not why I stopped you.”

I groan in frustration. “Then what the hell is the problem? Is it the thing with Mom, again? Ben, I told you. I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. As for the other part, like you said, nothing actually happened, so it’s—”

He shifts under my caress, and then lifts me off him. I move to sit cross-legged on the bed, not bothering to hide my irritation. Ben flexes his knee, and then moves to sit on the bed facing me, his erection straining. “There’s something you should know.”

“Well, I know you’re not gay, because I’ve felt the evidence to the contrary, several times now. So what could you possibly have to tell me that would change me wanting to have sex with you?” I shift closer to him, and move so I’m sitting on his lap. He winces, adjusts the angle of his knee so my weight isn’t bothering it, and then I wrap my legs around his hip and drape my arms over his shoulders. I press my lips to his neck and then his ear. “Because Ben…I really want to have sex with you. A lot of hot and possibly kinky sex. So…what?”

He swallows hard and blinks and looks at me, swallows again, and then rests his forehead against mine. “I—this is going to sound stupid, but it’s true. I’m a virgin.”

I laugh immediately because god, he’s got to be joking. “Um yeah, sure. Okay.”

He frowns, and swallows again, as if fear and embarrassment are overwhelming him, and I start to feel the beginnings of something boiling inside me. “It’s not a joke, Echo. I swear.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Earlier, we—you went down on me. You have, more than once now. And there’s no fucking way in hell that was your first time. You’re too damned good at it. The way you touch me, the way you kiss me…what the fuck are you talking about, Benji?”

He sighs. “I’ve done that stuff before, yeah. But actual sex, like intercourse? No, I’ve never done that.”

I can only blink at him. “I…Jesus, Ben. How—I mean, how does that happen?”

“That’s a long story.”

“A two-beer story, or three?”

“Three, I’d say.” He won’t look at me.

I slide back off his lap, my curiosity and emotions in turmoil. He looks distraught as I hop to the floor, and I know I’ve got to hear this, but I also know I still want him. So I move behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder, the back of his neck.

“Hey Benji-Boy?” I whisper in his ear.




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