Stone Walls (17 page)

Cocking her head to the side, she says, “You are full of surprises, Mr. Stone.”

“That’s me, man of mystery.” I kiss her chastely because kissing her harder wouldn’t help my predicament. I sporting a raging hard-on and sitting in these jeans isn’t very comfortable. “So, what is it you do on nerd night? Is
Jeopardy
involved?” I ask, while subtly adjusting myself.

“Don’t hate on nerd night,” she pouts adorably.

On impulse, I kiss the corner of her puckered lips and remember my situation. “Um…” I say, trying to organize my thoughts, adding, “I wouldn’t dream of it, nerd.”

She shoves me playfully. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I get into my pajamas, find the corniest, sappiest romantic comedy, and settle in for a night of mushy romance.”

I laugh at her confession. “My Black Belt in training likes a good sappy romance? I’d peg you as a
Die Hard
fan.”

“Oh, I love a great action film. That’s just too cool for nerd night.”

“Can I make a confession too?”

She gives me a sideways glance. “You’re also a closet nerd?”

“Definitely not. The day I saw you sparring at the gym? I’ve never seen anything hotter.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up.” Getting up, she goes into the kitchen and returns with more wine and another beer.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

She hands me the beer, and I automatically say, “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome.” A small smile plays on her lips before she takes a sip of her wine. “So what do I do?”

“Avoid any compliment.”

“I do that?”

“Yes.”

A frown means she is contemplating my words. “I don’t know. Defense mechanism? Why do you get angry when I stand up to you?”

“I do that?” I repeat her words.

“Yes.”

I think about my response for a minute, but unfortunately my hard-on takes control of my mouth. “Because it turns me the fuck on when you do, and that makes me angry.”

My body just cooled from our close call, only for him to reignite it with one sentence.

He turns on the couch so that he faces me fully. He must be able to tell that he’s stirring my insides. The more I fidget, the more he smiles.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, getting annoyed with myself for failing to hide my arousal.

“You.”

He takes my hand in his, kissing my palm. “It’s funny to watch you sit here and listen to praise. It’s killing you.”

“You get off on embarrassing me. Even that first night we met, you did everything you could to get under my skin.”

He leans closer slowly skimming his fingertips against my scar. “When we first met, I did everything to stop myself from kissing that smart mouth of yours. Your scent drove me nuts. The way you moved on the dance floor drove me to leave. If I had stayed, I couldn’t be held responsible for what I wanted to do to you.” He shakes his head, in frustration. “Funny, I always hated my birthday. Now, I’ll always remember how much I wanted you that night.”

“You assume I would have let you have your way with me?”

“Ella, you were feeling exactly the same as I was.”

“I was not.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Yes, you were. If you weren’t Andrea’s friend, I would have done my damnedest to fuck you that night.”

His admission sends a jolt right to my crotch. 

“But I fought the urge,” he continues, placing his hand on my cheek. “I avoided you. Each time I saw you, it made it harder and harder for me to fight the urge.” His eyes shift to my lips, as he runs his thumb across my smile. “The thing is, the urge changed into something else.”

When he returns his gaze to mine, the smile falls from my face. I know exactly what he means. I may not admit it, but I am guilty of having the same urge. The night he called me to apologize, just listening to his voice had me fantasizing about him while embarrassingly touching myself.

“Are you going to admit you felt the same?”  His gaze shifts back to my lips and holds there. He watches when I nervously swipe my tongue along my bottom lip. His breathing changes as he continues to stare.

“No.”

My next move completely contradicts my one-word response. I shift and straddle his lap. His hands grip my waist before traveling over my back. As I hover over him, I slowly lower my head until we are nose to nose.

“Liar,” he says against my mouth.

I can’t deny him anymore. I can’t pretend he doesn’t affect me in every possible way. I can’t act like I wouldn’t be completely devastated if he were ever to walk away. I no longer can ignore the truth.

I am falling in love with Ben Stone. It scares me to death.

He moans when I crash my lips against his. I moan when I pathetically grind against his hardness. This is about to change everything. It’s my decision, not his. It’s me who can no longer fight my urge. I’m the one forcing us over a line. This isn’t who I am. What the hell has happened to me?

A fleeting thought crosses my mind, but I push it away. I can’t enter a relationship, already dooming it to fail. For the first time in my life, I need to go with the flow. I need him, now. Not tomorrow or next week. I need this man right now.

His hands slide up my back, beneath my tank. In one swift motion, I grab the hem and pull it off. He stares into my eyes as he wraps his lips around my nipple. His hands on my back force me further into his mouth. I’m so horny that I fear I can come just from this. He moves to my other breast, the burning within travels through my veins like molten lava.

When he slides his hands into the waistband of my pajamas, I shift so he can move them lower without resistance. Unfortunately, the way I’m straddling his lap prevents him from removing them with ease, and I want them removed.

His lips chase my body when I climb off his lap. Without breaking eye contact, I peel my pants off my legs to stand before him in nothing but my blue panties. He paints my body with his heated gaze. When I hold my hand out to him, his eyes widen in surprise.

“Ella, no.”

“No?” I ask, unable to hide the hurt.

“Not no, no,” he quickly back-peddles. “Fuck, Ella…” He points down to his crotch. “Does this look like I don’t want you? I’ve been sitting her in pain. I just mean that I don’t want you to feel you have to do this.” He stands and takes my hands in his, moving them to rest on the small of my back. Leaning down he says, “But we could do other things.” With a mischievous smile, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to my room.

My bravery is gone. The temptress in me a few minutes ago took a fucking hike. For some reason, being exposed to him out in my living room while straddling him on a couch was not nearly as intimidating as being exposed to him while on my back in the center of my bed. The fact that he stands at the foot, staring as if he’s never seen a naked woman before is adding to my stress.

“Why are you trembling?” he asks huskily.

“I don’t know,” I lie. I know exactly why I’m trembling. I’ve never considered my performance just before having sex with a man. It always just happened without conscious thought. At the moment, the butterflies in my stomach are dulling the ache that settled between my legs. He’s a gorgeous god of a man. I’m sure he’s extremely skilled in all things erotic. What if I fall short?

Wordlessly, he removes his shirt but leaves on his jeans. He kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks, never removing his eyes from mine. He is simply spectacular, from the waist up at least. His chest and abs are all so well defined. He isn’t body builder buff, just extremely fit and sexy as hell. He has a smattering of chest hair centered between his pecks. Otherwise, he is smooth except for the dark trail that begins at his belly button and travels down to disappear into his jeans.

He stretches beside me on the bed. With a steady hand, he traces a path from my neck to my breast. “You’re stunning, Ella.” He continues down the center of my breasts. Flattening his palm, he applies pressure as he moves over my abs, my belly, up to my other breast, and then down again. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he asks, his hand once again laying flat across my torso.

I give him a short, sarcastic laugh. “Do you?”

A small, shy smile plays on his lips. Shifting his focus to his hand as it covers my abdomen, he bends and places a kiss between my breasts.

The anticipation of what he’s going to do next is killing me. It’s the unknown that is causing my nerves to overwhelm me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull his head toward mine.

“Kiss me,” I demand.

Without hesitation, he slants his mouth over mine. He buries one hand in my hair at the back of my head. By holding me firmly, he’s able to tilt my head to deepen the kiss between us. This is what I need to cancel out the anxiety that was causing me to tremble. I need to call the shots.

I grip the longer strands of hair at the top of his head firmly between my fingers. During our kiss, he skims his other hand up to mold over my breast. When he firmly pinches my nipple, my moan travels through me into him.

The rough denim of his jeans is not what I need to feel against my thighs. I need to feel him, his skin, and his warmth. I awkwardly attempt to unbutton his fly, but the sensation his hand is causing on my nipple is making it impossible to complete this simple task.

He breaks the kiss to stare into my eyes. His breathing is labored as if he is trying desperately to sustain control. Maintaining a firm hold on my head, he forces me to stare straight into his eyes as he moves his hand down the center of my body, slowly slipping inside my panties.

“Oh fuck, Ella. You’re so smooth.” With a soft hand, he explores me. Even though his touch is feather light, I buck involuntarily the second his fingertip passes over me. His grip on the back of my head tightens while he smiles cunningly. With every stroke, my resolve dissipates. His strokes quicken and lengthen as he touches every part of me. My response steers his hand. When I arch my back from his circular motion on my clit, he quickens his touch. When I moan after he slips a finger inside, he adds another. The sensations coursing through me are too intense. The way he stares directly into my eyes even more so. I close my eyes in an attempt to hide from him.

“Open them,” he commands. He furrows his brow with determination, moving his fingers over me in the most erotic of ways. This entire act is embarrassing to me. He has complete control over me. I clamp down on my lip in an attempt to channel the sensations he’s eliciting in my whole body. Each time I close my eyes, trying to escape him, he demands I open them.

“Let go, Ella.”

I refuse to let go. I’d be lying if I admitted it was easy to do so. I am slowly losing control.

“Ella.”

I shake my head in frustration. Suddenly he stops and panic courses through me. I’m not in control, nor have I been. He’s driving this train, and now he is making sure that I know it.

“Is that how you want to play this?” he asks deviously. “You tell me. Do I keep going, or should I stop?”

“You don’t play fair,” I whisper in between my pants.

“I’m not playing.” His fingers hover over me, barely touching me. It’s just enough to drive me insane, not enough to finish what he started. “I’ll wait all night,” he whispers against my lips. He traces the line of my bottom lip with his tongue.

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

He’s such a bastard. “Please, Ben. I need you to finish.”

He gives me a lopsided grin and says, “Your wish is my command.”

Without hesitation, he delves his fingers back into my flesh, skimming and probing just where he left off. His tongue in my mouth mimics his motions below. I can’t take the build any longer. I wanted to hold off, I wanted to stretch the indescribable pleasure he is causing with just a few fingers. But mostly, I wanted to prove him wrong. Prove that he can't turn me into this mass of need that I've become. With the slightest touch, he’s managing to reduce me to a heaving hot mess. I can’t help but wonder what will become of me if we make love.

If?

His stroking and petting send me spiraling into my first orgasm at the hand of Ben Stone. He watches my face through it all. As my climax rolls on and on, he whispers into my ear, “You’re mine now.”

As if I could argue that at the moment. As if I could tell him to fuck off, or that I belong to no one. Even if I was able to voice the independence that I’ve strived so hard to achieve on my own, I won’t…because he’s right.

I’m his now.

I’m slightly embarrassed once I return to earth. When two people are engaged in a sexual act, there’s nothing nearly as mortifying than when one loses their shit and the other watches it happen. His expression is unreadable when he slips his hand out of my panties and puts his fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking them clean.

Instantly, I ache for him in every way. Not only physically in my core, more specifically in my heart. One could say my emotions are purely based on the throes of passion. I’d have to argue that. In the past twenty-four hours the combination of his genuine concern, his compassion, and his sexuality have quelled any doubt I was carrying regarding Ben’s prick-like character traits. Just as I become defensive and stubborn when I’m trying to protect myself, his arrogance is caused by his insecurities. It’s his form of a defense mechanism.

I can’t fault him for that. I can only better understand it.