Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(67)
Giving head to Ben was great.
The big, hairy man was completely at my mercy. His hips started churning, obviously unable to hold back much longer, and I drew on him hard. He shouted, hands tangled in my hair, tugging just the right amount to wake up my scalp. That slight sting worked for me, big-time. He held me in place to take all of his cum. I swallowed as fast as I could, cleaning up the rest with tongue and fingers. He was mine, and taking care of him was definitely its own reward.
Cheeks pinked and rib cage working hard, he stared down at me in awe. I don’t know that what I’d done was so remarkable, but it was nice to be appreciated. The man certainly brought out my will to please. He looked cute right after he came. All dazed and befuddled, his face slack, at peace.
I climbed back up him, lying on my side on his chest. Immediately his arms came around me, holding on tight.
“Sorry I grabbed your hair, held you down,” he said, still breathing heavy. “Never done that before.”
“It was fine.”
“It’ll never happen again. Don’t know what the f*ck came over me.”
“Hey,” I said, getting up on one elbow to look him in the face. Some serious panicky eyes there. “Ben, I liked it. I like that you were so into it, that I could do that to you, make you lose control a little.”
He just stared.
I gave him a smile and carefully rolled off. “I’m getting water. You need some?”
A nod. “You really didn’t mind?”
“I like being soft with you. I do. But I think getting a little rough with you now and then is fun too. I know we’re kind of limited with what we can do with baby on board.” I gave my belly a pat. “After, though?”
Another nod, this one downright enthusiastic, to the point where I was worried he might give himself whiplash. Seemed my man really did like to play.
“Great,” I said.
After all, what was the point of having a gorgeous, hulking big boyfriend if you weren’t willing to play with him? It was all just another healthy exploration of the bounds of our relationship. Us meshing in bed gave me good feelings. It gave me hope.
“I’ll look forward to it.” I gave him a wink.
I so had this girlfriend thing down. Go, me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Lizzy!” Mal skipped over to me, dragging Anne by the hand.
“Hey, you two.” I sat, kicking my heels, down in the hotel café. My iced chocolate loaded with ice cream and syrup had long since disappeared from the glass in front of me. Not that I was cranky at being left waiting. All good. He hadn’t forgotten me, he’d just gotten held up with something. I trusted him.
“What’re you doing hanging down here on your own?” asked Anne.
“Ben’s taking me maternity clothes shopping.”
“When?”
I gave her a half smile. “Soon.”
“Shouldn’t you have Sam or one of his goons with you?” asked Mal, tucking his long blond hair behind an ear.
“No need. Ben’ll be here soon.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“You keep saying that.” Mal frowned. “Give me specifics.”
My cell buzzed in my bag. “This’ll probably be him.”
But it wasn’t. Weirdly enough, my ex-roommate Christy’s name flashed up on the screen. We hadn’t talked since the nightclub abandonment issue.
“Hello?”
“I’m really sorry. Is it true?” came at me in an almighty rush.
“Is what true?” I asked.
“That you’re pregnant?” she said. “I didn’t mean to give them the photo, but then Imelda said it would be okay. That everyone deserved their fifteen minutes of fame. They said they were just doing a piece about life on campus. I didn’t think you’d mind. I had no idea they were going to use it like that.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I asked, my insides twisting as the dread rose and rose.
“A reporter from The Daily.”
“Check The Daily,” I said to Anne. She whipped out her cell and got busy. “Christy, what photo did you give them?”
She paused, gulped. “Well, they just asked if they could use my pics from Facebook. I hadn’t really thought that much about what was on there. I was kind of hoping they’d use the one of the two of us at Crater Lake. You remember I always loved that shot. But they wound up using that one from the Hawaiian luau at one of the sororities last year. When you were talking to those guys from Economics. I’m really sorry.”
I knew the picture. All the girls had been in bikinis and grass skirts or sarongs. I’d worn cutoff jeans, covering more than most because that’s how I’d felt comfortable. Each to their own and all. Everyone was sinking red Solo cups of beer, decorated with those dumb little umbrellas and chunks of pineapple. An interesting taste sensation. A member of the football team had worn a bright yellow mankini on a dare. It’d been hilarious. Good music. A good night. So I’d had a few drinks at a party while talking to a couple of guys, one of whom had thrown his arm around me for the shot. We were all grinning big, just enjoying the party. Why the hell would that excite a reporter?
Anne’s brows drew tight and she showed me her cell.