Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
But then what was it about Ben that made me want to risk it all? This night had been a risky adventure from the start. It was as much about spiting my dad as it was about having fun in its own right. Before I knew it, though, that had all been morphed into a wild adventure I never saw coming. I must have swallowed too much oxygen on the bike ride, because instead of sprinting away from Ben as fast as I could, there was only one option left on the table that made sense to me. I never in a million years would have predicted the way this night was gone, but taking everything into consideration, there was only one thing I could say that made sense. Fuck my dad. Fuck the rules. Fuck feeling awkward, feeling silly, feeling clumsy. Right now, I felt like I could pop a wheelie and ride into the distance forever, as smooth and perfectly balanced as anyone had ever felt in the whole entire history of guys looking at girls the way that Ben was looking at me this very second. I said the one thing left to say.
“Show me.”
Chapter Six
Ben
Well, I’ll be damned. The little girl with the pale grey eyes took me completely by surprise.
I’d dropped all pretense and gone straight for the jugular. I told her exactly what I was thinking, the God-honest truth. Some girls might have run away. Some would have shrugged and gotten to it. Her reaction was perfect, though, so different from anything I’d ever experienced. She’d gone from stunned to awed to eager in a matter of moments. If I were being honest, I’d undergone a weirdly similar process. The twinge in my chest that had grown stronger every second I spent talking to Carmen was baffling, then it was overwhelming, and now, as the words I’d just said lingered in the air, it was transforming into a ravenous fucking monster. I wanted to tear this girl apart and make her moan and writhe. All because I knew she wouldn’t break. She’d take it and beg for more. And I’d give it to her.
What the fuck was she doing to me?
Show me. Such simple words from a girl who was anything but. They were ballsy. Never before had two little words made me so rock hard that I damn near came on the spot.
We were past words now. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and the only thing left to do was pick this wild little angel up and take her to my room to see what she looked like naked on my bed.
I bent down and snatched a hungry kiss from her soft lips before spinning around, grabbing her hand, and striding across the room and down the hallway to where the door to the president’s room beckoned. I made short work of the lock, kicking the door open, then turned and yanked her into my embrace again.
Fuck, she tasted some kind of delicious. Soft and buttery, sweet, like warm honey on my tongue. And the way her body molded perfectly against mine was practically indescribable. The way a girl moved said everything about how she would be in bed, and every single step that I’d watched Carmen take screamed with this unbelievable grace. She was so beautifully put together. I couldn’t wait to take her apart.
I picked her up, stepped over the threshold, and kicked the door closed behind me. In one swoop, I threw her on the bed. She hit the mattress with a soft moan and looked up at me patiently. The only thing in the whole goddamn world I wanted was to rip her clothes off without a second’s hesitation.
But I’d meant what I said. I wanted to take my time and make this last as long as I possibly could. I forced myself to stop in my tracks and just look at her. Starting at her feet, I traced my eyes up her body, taking in every detail. She watched me do it and waited.
Her feet were shapely and pale, tucked into the woven straps of her black heels. The painted toes gave way to rounded arches, and the sliver of an ankle before reaching the bottom hem of the leather jeans she wore. I looked over the contour of her calf, inch by painstaking inch. It was torture to make myself stand there, to go slow, but it was the best kind of torture ever invented. Hell, it would’ve broken a lesser man. But not me. I could survive this kind of beautiful pain.
Her knees, bent slightly, separated her calves from the slight swell of her thighs. Encased in the tight leather, they rose and met at her tiny waist. I licked my lips, salivating at the thought of running my tongue up to the crease in her hips and delving into her moist slit. I wanted to squeeze those thighs and slide my hands up under her shirt, which hung from her neck in loose folds. I could see the edge of her abdomen and the beginnings of her breasts peeking out on either side of the top. Her torso was as porcelain and petite as the rest of her. Then her shoulders, her thin neck, so vulnerable, the elegant line of her jaw.