That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (21 page)

Ben is up in his room after Archer has fallen asleep, and I walk in without knocking to find him relaxing back on his bed, listening to music coming from the small speakers on the dresser. He’s not wearing a shirt, only his low-hanging jeans. The sight is breathtaking. He’s sexy without trying. His muscles are defined without being too much. It’s clear he earned them with physical work, not with countless hours at the gym. He looks strong and all man, his sinewy arms crossed behind his head. I want to feel them around me, his hands on me. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. This is not the reason I came into his room.

“Ben.” I walk toward him when he looks up at me. “I have another present for you.”

He gives me a puzzled look when I sit down on his bed and hand him an envelope. He opens it, pulling out the legal documents in order to change Archer’s birth certificate.

“What is that?” He tries to skim over the text, but seems more confused by the minute.

“If you sign those papers your name will be added to the birth certificate as Archer’s father and his last name will be changed to yours.” My heart is beating in a frantic rhythm, nervous and excited for Ben’s reaction.

He leans over, grabs my arm and yanks me towards him. His arms encircle me, hugging me close. My name is all he says at first, and it’s more of a croak than anything, his voice thick with emotion.

He holds me like this for a while, until I can feel something shift in the air. It might be because of the first notes of the song filtering through the speakers, the sexy, sensual lyrics of “I Need You” by Mass Undergoe spilling in to the room, adding to the desire that’s been building between us. It’s hard not to think about doing the things that the song talks about, laying this close to him, feeling hard muscle, feeling every inch of his body. I lift myself up, starting to kiss his neck, his jaw, moving towards his lips.

Groaning, he pulls me closer. “Fuck, Frankie.”

Looking up at him, I smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. While I straddle him, one of his hands holds onto the back of my neck, pulling me in for another kiss, and his other is groping my ass, rubbing and squeezing it occasionally. I whimper softly, enjoying the strength and possessiveness that his every touch, his every kiss, conveys. That only spurs him on more. He sits up, his hands sliding down to my hips and grabbing the edge of my shirt, then with one swift movement he takes it off, leaving me in only my lacy, red bra.

He doesn’t hesitate before he attacks my lips again, his tongue thrusting into my mouth. He holds me close, like a man dying from thirst, and I’m his favorite drink. I start to grind against his erection constrained by the jeans he’s wearing. The friction nearly drives me wild. I tangle my hands in his hair, holding onto him while I kiss him back—putting every emotion I feel into the kiss.

Before I know it, he’s undone my bra, sliding it down my arms, forcing me to let go for a minute. He leans forward, kissing down my neck, sucking and nibbling his way down my collarbone, before he grabs one of my breasts, squeezing it lightly, peppering it with kisses. Moving to the other one, I can tell he’s holding back, trying to be gentle in order not to hurt them, which only turns me on more. The fact that he’s putting me and my needs first makes me want him with a need that’s beyond words. I moan and rock my hips even more frantically against him.

The sound of his low growl reverberates through my body, setting every cell in me on fire. My core clenches and pure heat travels through me. I sink my fingernails in his back, glad he’s already topless, slowly sliding them down, using enough pressure to leave a mark, but not enough to break his skin. I want to mark him. I want to make him mine.

I can feel him shudder, and he flips me over to my back, kissing me once before he moves down my body like a man on a mission. Kissing his way down, he doesn’t stop until he gets to the seam of my black jeans. The anticipation is nearly killing me; I can’t help panting, feeling completely wanton.

“God, Ben. I need you.”

He moves quickly, making short work of his jeans and boxer briefs, before unbuttoning my pants and sliding them down together with my panties, leaving me completely naked and exposed. Kissing me around my navel, he moves down further, his warm breath tickling me as he goes. I squirm, moaning and mewling, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth on me. I don’t have to wait long before his tongue finds my clit, circling it gently at first. I fist the sheets, thrashing my head from side to side, when his tongue sweeps out, licking along my folds. I’m so turned on I nearly leap off the bed at the contact, but he’s holding down my hips. I feel him chuckle against my sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending little jolts of pleasure through my body. Then his mouth is back on my clit, sucking and licking, driving me to the edge of insanity.

“You taste so sweet, babe,” he murmurs against my flesh, and I feel like I’m losing control. I’m writhing, wanting more, wanting him. Suddenly his finger enters me, followed by a second one. He doesn’t give me time to adjust before he starts thrusting them in and out, and I cry out in pleasure.

As skillful fingers strum the guitar in the song, his fingers skillfully make my body hum, bringing it to life. Bringing me to the edge of what feels like a mind-blowing orgasm. I can feel it building, feel my inner walls starting to clench, squeezing his fingers. He must notice, as he pulls them out suddenly. I scowl at him.

“Jesus, Ben. I’m so fucking close,” I pant, not sure if he can even understand a single one of my breathless words.

He leans over, grabbing something out of the nightstand and I hear the rustle of a condom package.

“I want you to come with me inside of you,” he grins, his eyes fixed on me, blazing with passion and desire.

He rolls the condom on and then slides up my body, grabbing my arms on the way and sliding them up above my head, where he holds them down, pinning me to the bed. I surrender, giving him all of me. I forget everything around us, totally honed in on him, noticing the slightest twitch of a muscle. My hips are rocking against his hard cock of their own accord, trying to encourage him to finally fuck me. I’m so turned on by him on top of me, holding me down. I’m about to combust with the tension in my body when his lips crash down on mine, his tongue fucking my mouth. I can taste myself on his lips and it’s extremely erotic. I moan into his mouth and when he finally slides into me with one fluid stroke, I cry out.

“Fuck, Ben. Oh God.”

My eyes close for a second; the sensations overwhelming me. He’s still for a moment. Only when I open my eyes and find his fixed on my face, does he start moving again. Slow deliberate thrusts that are the most precious kind of torture. He’s still holding down my arms, restraining me, and I would lie if I said that it isn’t the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m his—to do with as he pleases.

Our bodies are covered with a fine sheen of sweat. His thrusts become faster and harder. I bite my lip, trying to suppress the moans that are about to escape, but this just seems to encourage him. With every thrust his pelvis is hitting my clit, taking me higher and higher, closer to my release. I’m writhing underneath him, moaning and crying out his name. And then out of nowhere, I tumble over the edge, an orgasm rocking my body. I shudder, my body convulsing underneath him, my pussy clenching around his cock. I’m crying out, not even recognizing my own voice, my words not making any sense. He’s so deep inside me, there is no me or him, only us.

“Frankie,” he groans, his thrusts becoming frantic. I can tell he’s close, every muscle on his body tense. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts, allowing him deeper into my body and into my soul.

“Fuck, I’m so close Frankie.” Hearing the strain of arousal in his voice, is bringing my body back to life. I can feel another orgasm building.

“Oh God, Ben. I’m going to come again,” I whimper, not capable of more words. I can see the hungry look in his eyes, can feel him pounding into me. Our bodies move as one to our own rhythm, lost in our own world.

“Yeah, Frankie. Come for me.” That’s all it takes and I lose the weak grasp on my self-control and teeter over the edge, a second orgasm running through me. It seems this is all he’s been waiting for, because with a shudder and a low, hoarse growl he follows me over the edge, jerking as his own release takes control of him. I don’t take my eyes off his face, reveling in the fact that I turn him on like that—that it’s me that makes him lose control. We’re both out of breath, panting, and moaning. He lowers himself onto me, his lips lightly skimming over my skin, as his breath slows down. He has released my hands and I’m running them over his back—down with my nails lightly scratching his skin, up with my fingertips barely touching. My breathing is still erratic, as if I’ve run a few miles.

He lifts himself up on his elbows, looking down at me. His eyes are full of tenderness and love and I can’t help but smile up at him, feeling giddy with happiness.

He smiles back at me, lazily running his hand down my face. “I love you, Frankie.”

For a moment the world stops and my heart skips a beat. These are the words I yearned to hear since that one night. I’d expected them to touch me deep inside, to make my heart swell and explode with emotion. But I can’t even describe what they really do. A mix between a sob and a laugh escapes me, making me sound slightly unbalanced. Ben’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I love you too, Ben. Always have.”

His features relax and he bends down to kiss me lightly before he pulls out and gets up to discard the condom. He comes back a minute later and flings himself on the bed, making it bounce, nearly knocking me off it.

“Archer is sleeping, so it’s just us tonight.” He pulls me close to him and I curl around him, half of me resting on top of him.

“I think you should move into my room and we set up Archer’s room in here.” I hesitate, realizing I might be pushing him. “That is, if you want to,” I quickly add.

“Silly question. Shall I start packing now?” He laughs and squeezes my ass.

“No, now you’re not going anywhere. You’re too comfortable.” I snuggle closer to him, letting my lids flutter closed.

We fall asleep in each other’s arms to the sound of each other’s breath. It’s intimate and familiar all at once. It’s where I belong.

I wake up during the night to find us spooning, his arm around my waist, our fingers intertwined. His one leg is thrown over mine, pinning me to him. And I can feel his cock nudging my back. I wiggle closer to him.

“Keep that up and we’ll be going for round two,” he growls.

Instead of replying, I wiggle some more, which earns me a groan and a pinched nipple.

He lets go of me, and I hear the familiar rustling of the condom packaging. That’s enough to get me wet and ready, wanting to have him fill me again. It doesn’t take long before he nudges my entrance with the tip of his cock, grabbing my leg and placing it over his. Without another word, he enters me and this time, we take our time, savoring every stroke of his cock, every clenching of my inner muscles. He holds me close to him, kissing my neck and nibbling on my earlobe, while his fingers expertly massage my clit. I find my release only moments before him, our bodies in sync with each other. Sated and exhausted we fall asleep again—finally together the way we were meant to be.

I wake up to Archer’s voice coming through the baby phone. He’s talking to himself, giggling occasionally.

I slip out of bed, not wanting to wake Ben. I put on his shirt that’s draped over the chair and go to grab the baby monitor. I pause, coming up with an idea. I undo the clasp of the leather band that holds the pendant he gave me and take the key off of it. I then place it onto his nightstand, aware that he’ll know what I’m saying. I’m finally ready to take the risk and to give him the key to my heart. It was his to begin with. I just needed some encouragement, and the proof that he’ll keep it safe.

I go into my room, taking Archer out of his crib.

“Guess what, your daddy loves me,” I coo into his ear, while cuddling him. Then I squeal like a little girl, making the poor kid whine at the noise.

When we make our way downstairs, Dave is already sitting at the kitchen counter, holding onto a coffee mug for dear life.

“You’re up early.” I walk past him, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“I didn’t sleep.” He truly sounds and looks exhausted.

“Why not?”

He looks up at me as if he’s wondering if I’m serious.

“You kidding me? Do you think I want to fall asleep to be woken up by the moans of my sister and my best friend? That’s a recipe for trauma.”

I make a sympathetic noise, while trying not to laugh. It doesn’t work.

***

Later in the day we all move Ben’s stuff in to my—well in to
our
room. We rearrange our things and Ben starts to work on Archer’s room. Until it’s ready, Archer will stay with us.

Ben seems to have a vision when it comes to his son’s room. I’m not stupid enough to get between a man and his vision, so I let him plan and measure while kicking back on the couch, watching movies with Dave and Viv.

It’s evening when Ben mentions the key on his nightstand. We’re already in bed, snuggled up to each other, when he grabs my hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing my palm gently.

“I’ll keep that key safe, just like your heart. I promise.”

***

Over the next two months we settle in a new routine. Ben is finishing up Archer’s room, and I can already tell once it’s done it will blow everyone’s mind. It has a nature theme, giving it the feel of being in a forest as soon as you enter the room. The walls have trees and plants painted on them—courtesy of Viv. There is part of an old tree attached to the wall and carved out in a way to hold a hammock chair. On one side the tree branches out, creating a bench underneath the window that has pillows thrown all over it. The furniture blends into the room perfectly—being made of dark wood. I adore the room so much that I wouldn’t mind moving in there myself.

Ben has gotten a part-time job at a carpenter’s shop, learning the craft from a professional, and making some extra money. He’s also started taking wood-working classes at the college.

We are still getting used to being in each other’s lives, and after everything we’ve been through, it’s nothing short of amazing to wake up in his arms every morning. Just as it never gets old to see him walking out of the bathroom, naked and drops of water covering his body. It’s a glorious sight and I rarely have it in me to not lick them off him.

Sex with him is amazing. It can go from passionate and wild to sweet and tender and everything in between. That man knows how to make use of what his momma gave him, so it’s not surprising that we’ve been behaving like teenagers—just without the curfew and the controlling parents.

As great as it is to share the house with people we care about, sometimes there is a need for privacy and we’ve nearly been caught a few times getting it on in the car. Thankfully, we find the privacy we need in the shower. It’s our favorite place to get dirty. That and the shed. There is just something about him working with all those tools I can’t remember the names of—with his tool belt hanging low on his hips over his torn jeans, his black shirt hugging his muscles, his hands dirty and his hair sweaty and covered with a fine layer of dust—that acts as the world’s best aphrodisiac. There are numerous times where I go out to bring him a bottle of water or call him in for dinner and end up half-naked and bent over the work bench, with him drilling into me, making me scream the house down. Thankfully, Dave has left shortly after New Year’s, or he would have punctured his ears with a hot poker.

***

As to Ben’s mom, he still hasn’t talked to her. She calls regularly, hoping he will give her a chance, but he doesn’t even give her a ‘leave me the hell alone.’ Instead, he just hangs up. I have tried to bring it up a few times, hoping they could at least attempt a conversation. But whenever I do, he just gets irritated. I can’t force him, but I also know there are no winners in this.

Being a mother and knowing his mom the way I do, I don’t think she’d do anything to harm her son. Just as I have Archer’s best interests in mind, I think her son was always more important than anything else, even herself. She once called my cell phone, begging me to not hang up, saying she wants to talk to him. I told her that I’m trying, but there’s not much more I can do. I asked her not to call again. I don’t want to betray Ben, don’t want him to feel like he can’t trust me. I told him she called and what she said, leaving out the part about me telling her that I’ll try. He’s not willing to listen to anything she has to say, and he keeps ignoring her; unlike my parents who I don’t manage to ignore.

We talk regularly, but even after the conversation before Christmas that seemed to have us moving in a healthier direction, things are still awkward and forced. Now they don’t stop complaining about me not forcing Ben to talk to his mother, and instead enabling him to keep her only grandchild from her. Also, the question of when we get married has come up repeatedly, making me want to slit my wrists with a rusty kitchen knife. We might be making progress in our relationship but we’re nowhere close to getting married. Not even I’m this deluded.

I’m not sad that their visit at the beginning of the New Year didn’t work out because of something coming up at mom’s work. That would have been way too much tension and stress. Their life is completely removed from mine. It’s like we’re living on different planets. And neither of us is willing to adapt to the other’s lifestyle.

***

Archer has gotten even more teeth, making his grin too adorable for words, and he’s started walking. They’re shaky, little steps, but he doesn’t let it deter him. Falling over, he stands up and traipses along, making rounds and rounds through the house with Ben behind him, being more of a mother hen than me. I keep joking that he’d better stop it by the time Archer has his first date, otherwise it’ll be awkward.

Archer has Ben’s last name now and the day it became official, we celebrated—first with Archer and some chocolate cake—and then just the two of us and some chocolate sauce. Since the name change, Ben seems even prouder when announcing Archer is his son.

***

Ben speaks regularly to his biological father, Noah. I can’t call him dad for some reason. That’s Ron’s role in my head, but again, it’s not something I can bring up.

Even I’ve spoken on the phone to him. He was very nice and polite, seemingly shy. Something didn’t sit right with me though. There is something about the man I don’t like. Or maybe I’m just not used to a parent being nice and polite, having dealt with my parents for the past years. But no matter my feelings toward his father, I’d never stand between him and Ben, no matter what my gut tells me. There’s been talk of us going to visit him, but so far no real plans have been made.

***

The house is looking much better now with a fully functioning guest room, everything looking homey and cozy. Ben even started to clear out the shed, finding some true treasures in there. Some stuff he can use for his job, some we can put into the house, and there are lots of things to sell online or give away.

He’s been talking about possibly building us an apartment in there sometime in the future, so we could have sex whenever and wherever we wanted. Honestly, I really like the idea.

***

Vince has married Marge in a shotgun wedding, thankfully without a baby on the way. We were all invited and Ben had to walk Marge down the aisle, much to my amusement. Apparently her persistence has appealed to Vince, making them a match made in heaven...or hell—depending on the perspective. They now share a room in the old people’s home, much to the dismay of the other inhabitants.

Of course it was me who caught the damn bouquet, although I was trying hard not to. I didn’t want Ben to get any ideas of me expecting him to make a move anytime soon. Thankfully, he was really cool about it, laughing when the bouquet hit me in the face. I have the feeling he might have been laughing at me though. It’s just a hunch.

The wedding was eccentric to say the least, and poor Viv and I were bridesmaids. The dresses were baby pink, fluffy, and frilly. I’m not sure which one of us felt more miserable when trying them on for the first time. Although, I would think it was Viv considering she pulled out a mini bottle of whiskey and downed it in one go before stepping into the church. Needless to say, we enjoyed the trash-the-bridesmaid-dresses-party afterwards, Alex playing the photographer.

***

Interestingly enough, Viv and Dave have been asking lots of questions about each other. Whenever I imply that there might be something going on, they decline, but their sudden interest is more than suspicious. Dave is now even talking about moving closer to us and I highly doubt it has only to do with his sister, best friend, and nephew. He’s quit college, but hasn’t told my parents yet, even though it’s been months. Actually, he quit it long before Christmas, just keeping up appearances, telling everyone he transferred. Instead, he’s planning to open up a bar with one of his college buddies, Jason. And now they are thinking of doing it somewhere close to us. Viv has already volunteered to help them decorate, which could definitely make for an interesting place. I’m excited at the thought of having my brother closer and to see him more than just a few times a year.

***

Work and school are going smooth, although I suppose my grades could be better. It’s hard to concentrate on studying and papers, when I have Ben and Archer around. I want to spend every moment with them. It’s all new and exciting and I’m happier than I’ve been in years. So sitting down by myself in our room and burying my nose in a book isn’t appealing, when I can have cuddles, laughs, or hot, wild, sweaty sex instead. But since I don’t want to flunk my classes or get kicked out of the counseling center, I need to pull myself together and be a grown-up—or at least act the part.