I Do With You (Maple Creek)

Chapter 21 HOPE

Chapter 21

H OPE

“They’re almost here,” I tell Joy and Mom.

Shepherd’s been texting me updates as though they’re busting Ben out Prison Break –style. His latest text said Package secured. I said package. Get it? On our way.

I can’t wait any longer and run out front so I can see them coming sooner. I squint, staring down the road, and then I see a teeny-tiny dot that’s a slightly darker gray, so is possibly—hopefully—Dad’s truck. “There they are!” I shout.

You’d think Ben’s been locked away for years, not hours, but it feels like it’s been entirely too long. Especially with everything that’s happened since they took him away from me.

Sitting here twiddling my thumbs with Joy and Mom has given me time to think and process—about Roy, about me, and about Ben. About the future.

Mostly I’ve decided that I don’t want to waste a single second. I’ve wasted too many already, and they’re a precious commodity I should fill to the brim with all the things I’ve been thinking about.

So when the truck stops and Ben gets out, I follow my instincts and run full speed ahead at him, flinging myself into his arms. He catches me easily, his hands cupping my ass right there in front of my mom and dad, God, and everyone as I wrap myself around him like a bear hugging a tree to slam my lips to his.

“Y’okay?” I mumble into the kiss. “Miss’du.”

I feel his lips widen into a smile. “Mm-hmm, ahm fine,” he mumbles back, neither of us willing to stop kissing the other.

I tilt my head the other way, wanting to make sure I spread the greeting to every corner of his mouth, and somebody clears their throat.

“Guess we’ll be going, then,” Dad says, and I lift one hand to wave, still kissing Ben.

“I’m sure you two have lots to talk about,” Mom adds.

Joy and Shep giggle. “Yeah, ‘talk’ ... that’s what the kids are calling it these days,” Joy jokes.

Shep laughs. “Really? I usually call it fucking like rabbits .”

“I’m sure they’ll be using their mouths a lot .” Joy makes the suggestion sound even filthier than it obviously is.

“Nice,” Shep retorts.

I hear a smack and assume it’s Mom backhanding his bicep. But I don’t care. My brother and sister can tease me all they want. I’m singularly focused on one thing right now: Ben.

He carries me inside the cottage, kicking the door closed behind us, and straight down the hall to throw me on the bed. I scramble to pull my T-shirt over my head, and Ben’s eyes go dark, his gaze heated when he sees my lacy white bra.

“We should talk,” he tells me, sounding like he doesn’t want to talk any more than I do.

“Later,” I reply. “I want what you promised me this morning. You inside me. Please, Ben.”

Was that only this morning? How can that be? I’ve lived a lifetime, ridden a dozen roller coasters, and figured out so much since then.

Something in what I say breaks every last restraint he’s desperately holding on to, because he curses and rips his own shirt over his head. He falls over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress and his hand going to my breast. His thumb teases over my nipple through the lace, and I arch into his touch, letting my fingers dance over the strong muscles of his back.

He leaves my mouth, showering kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, to my sternum, and then he shoves the cup of my bra out of his way to suck my nipple into his mouth.

I’m on fire. My legs squirm as I look for relief from the emptiness I feel at my core. I need his thickness to fill me, give me something to clench, something to relieve this ache.

Frantically, I reach between us, trying to undo his jeans. Those damn jeans he always wears. I never hated button-flies more than I do right now, and later I’m going to look up who invented them and send a strongly worded I hate you letter for keeping me from Ben for one second longer than necessary. Thankfully, he helps me undo them.

I shove my hands into the loosened denim and beneath his underwear, gripping Ben’s bare ass in my palms, dimpling the flesh with my nails. When he hisses, rubbing his erection on me, I feel powerful. Like I’ve got this amazing man in the palm of my hands ... both literally and figuratively.

He creates space between us, snaking a hand beneath me to undo my bra and then making quick work of my much more reasonable zipper. I wiggle, ripping my bra off and tossing it away and trying to get my shorts off. Ben heaves himself up to stand beside the bed and snatches my shorts and panties down my legs, leaving me bare before him.

Normally, I’d feel shy about being nude in broad daylight, spread eagle on a bed, but the hunger in Ben’s eyes makes me feel beautiful. And when he shoves his jeans off, and I can see exactly the effect I have on him, I have no doubt.

I am sexy. Desirable. Passion-filled.

Ben squeezes the base of his length and grits out, “I’m clean. But I have condoms.”

I can’t look away from where his hand is stroking up and down, but I manage to whisper, “Birth control. Clean.” And then I swallow thickly before letting what I want to say pass through my lips. “Fuck me, Ben.”

I have never uttered anything remotely similar to that before. Ever. Never even wanted to. I’ve even laughed at movies where the heroine was so crudely blunt.

I never will again.

Because it’s exactly what I want, and Ben keeps telling me that he’ll give me that; I only need to ask for it. He wants to know, wants to give it to me. And I don’t want sweet, soft lovemaking. For the first time in my life, I want to be fucked, and I have faith that Ben can do that.

He groans low in his chest, and I desperately want to feel the vibration against my skin, but he’s so far away. And then suddenly, he’s not. In a blink, his hands circle my ankles and he yanks me to the edge of the bed, bringing my legs up to rest on his shoulders. He bends down, folding me in half like an Auntie Anne’s mall pretzel as his eyes search mine.

I can feel him at my entrance, feel every slick inch stretch me as he fills me. Finally.

God, it feels so good. He feels so good. Except it’s not enough. I need him to move. My hips thrash to create a rhythm, and Ben meets me, his hips pistoning as he slams into me over and over.

“Harder,” I beg.

“Jesus, Hope,” he hisses. But he curls over me, slipping his arms beneath me to use my shoulders as leverage, keeping me impaled on him for deep, long strokes that make my whole body tremble.

It’s everything I hoped it would be. Deeper, rougher, louder, and probably some other -er words I can’t find in my brain because it’s buzzing like I’m drunk again. But it’s all Ben.

I’m drunk on him, on what he does to my body. On the pleasure he’s showing me I’m capable of.

My hands scrabble to find something to grab, and I settle on the comforter beneath me, clutching it in my fists as Ben fucks me. I can’t move with the way his weight rests on the backs of my thighs and my upper body is caught in his grip, so I take it. Take the onslaught of him showing me what I’ve been missing my whole life.

I thought people were exaggerating when they talked about the sweaty, intense, amazing sex they had. But they weren’t. It’s just that I was doing it wrong, or with the wrong person. It’s so much more than I dreamed it could be.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” Ben grunts in my ear, each syllable punctuated with a thrust.

He rears up, putting space between us but using his forearm to keep my legs pinned up by my ears. One side of his mouth curls into a sexy smile as his eyes trace over my body, down my sternum to my belly button, and then lower, where he watches the point where we’re joined. “You’re taking me so good. So fucking sexy,” he moans. “That’s my good girl.”

A shiver of delight washes through me at his words, and I squeeze him with my internal muscles. His breath hitches, and a new sense of power surges inside me. I do it again, timing it with his thrusts, and Ben loses his mind. There’s no other way to describe it.

He pounds into me so hard that the sounds of our skin slapping together fill the room. He drools a bit of saliva onto my clit and then follows it with his fingers, brushing them back and forth so fast that it feels like I’m vibrating, not only at the surface, but deep inside, somewhere behind the little bundle of nerves. And his eyes glaze over as he stares deep into my eyes, grimacing as he takes us both higher and higher.

“Come, Hope. Let your pussy suck the come out of me. I’ve got you.”

I cry out—from the order, the dirty talk, or the reassurance, I’m not sure—and then I’m flying. I float through blackness as my body turns to white-hot light. Distantly, I hear Ben roaring out his release, too, and then I feel an extra heat deep inside as he stays buried in me, his hardness spasming as he fills me with his come.

“Ohmagawd,” I gasp, panting too fast. Or maybe it’s Ben that’s got me seeing spots and having tunnel vision. But no, when I force a deep breath into my lungs, my vision clears and I see Ben resting his head on my calf and smiling blissfully.

“Holy fuck, Hope.”

I’m glad it’s not only me who feels like what we just did is special and not the usual ho-hum, tab-A-in-slot-B sex. If this was normal, I’d be even more upset at what I’ve settled with for so long. But recognizing that this was extraordinary makes me feel bubbly inside, like Ben just popped my champagne cork and all the bubbles are rushing to the surface.

Slowly, he pulls out of me, and I instantly want him back, feeling empty again in a way I never have before. But when he lies down beside me on the bed, a new sense of fulfillment takes its place. I cuddle up into his side, placing my head to his chest, where I can hear the pounding of his heart.

I don’t know how long we lie there, silently letting our fingers drift lazily over each other’s skin, before I finally speak.

“Are you really okay?” I whisper, not wanting to break the spell.

“No, prison changed me,” he deadpans, and I swat at his chest. When he laughs, it bounces my head a little, but I don’t mind. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you? That was a lot today, so it’s okay if you’re not.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m better than okay. I was worried about you, but now that you’re here, I’m good.”

Bam-bam-bam! “Open up!”

Three loud knocks, followed by a deep voice yelling at the front door. We jump in shock but then freeze. Our wide-eyed gazes meet, both tinged with confusion, and I ask, “You didn’t really break out of jail, did you? They let you out, right?”

He gives me a sardonic look. “Yeah, Eli let me out, but he wasn’t happy about it. Stay here.”

Ben yanks on his jeans—no underwear—and is buttoning them as he strides off down the hall. I hear the door open, and then he says, “What are you doing here, asshole?”

“Here to save your fucking ass. You’re welcome,” answers a rough voice I recognize.

Oh no! We got distracted and didn’t talk, so I didn’t tell him I called Sean. He might be his best friend, but given the trouble they’ve been having, he probably would’ve preferred a heads-up.

I grab the T-shirt I’ve been sleeping in from the pillow and pull it on clumsily, finding the armhole with my head. Wiggling around like an inflatable tube man outside a car wash, I manage to straighten it out and pull it on properly. It falls to midthigh, but I can’t do commando, so I pull on panties beneath it and run out to apologize to Ben for the lack of warning.

In the living room, I skid to a stop when I see Sean and Ben squaring off, both shooting fiery daggers of death at the other and seeming on the verge of throwing punches. I really don’t think two fights in one day is what Ben needs. And shiiit, this is my fault. Again. “I forgot to tell you ... I called Sean,” I tell Ben, cringing as I give a little two-finger wave. When neither man moves, I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Hope.”

Sean is shorter and stockier than Ben, with long, pitch-black hair tied up in a man bun, a scruffy beard, and tattoos above his eyebrows, on his neck, and all the way down his arms. And that’s only where I can see. He looks like the sort of guy you’d cross the street to avoid. Yet Ben is staring at him fearlessly, clearly ready to throw again if necessary.

“Don’t even think about touching her,” Ben says, his voice deadly cold. I let my hand fall, guessing Sean’s not going to shake it now. I certainly wouldn’t, after that frosty order.

But instead of being put off by Ben’s sudden mood swing, Sean grins an acid-filled smirk. “Well, given the freshly fucked hair and the T-shirt, I guess you already told her, huh?”

Instantly, I reach up to smooth my hair down, worried about how messy it is. But what does he mean about my—well, Ben’s—T-shirt? And told me what, exactly? Whatever he thought I already knew when I called? This guy is worse than a troll under a bridge, talking in riddles that confuse me, but I’m getting there’s something he knows that I don’t.

My brows pinch together and Sean laughs, which should change his whole face to something friendlier but instead makes him seem even more sinister. “Oh shit, really? You haven’t?”

Ben takes an audible inhale and slowly exhales. I get the sense he’s counting to ten, or maybe one hundred. “Sit down,” he tells Sean gruffly. To me, his voice gentles. “Hope, Sean and I have some things to discuss. I know we do, too, but is there any way you could give us a little bit?”

Ben flinches like it hurts him to ask me for a few minutes to talk to his friend who came riding in to save the day with only a phone call from a stranger. I smile softly and wrap my arms around Ben’s middle to calm him, but he doesn’t relax into me the way I expect. Every muscle is tense and rigid, like he’s actively putting up walls, closing himself off brick by brick. From Sean or from me? I’m not sure.

I didn’t realize until this moment how open Ben had become from the first day he rescued me. Then, he was short-spoken, his life story less than thirty seconds, but since, he’s let me in, sharing his heart with me as he’s stolen mine. But something’s happening in the small space he’s holding between us. I can feel him slipping away and I don’t know why, but I scrabble to hold on to him tighter by placing a tender kiss to his bare chest, right over his heart.

It’s an apology. It’s a plea. I just don’t understand for what.

“Of course. Sean, thank you for coming to help. I was a little freaked out before,” I tell him, using the manners Mom would expect me to have as I peek around Ben to get a better look at the interloper who’s changed everything with his sudden appearance. To the man in my arms, I add, “I’ll run over to Mom and Dad’s. After the way they left earlier, I’m sure they have questions.”

“Don’t we all, sweetheart?” Sean calls from the couch as he drops his booted feet onto the coffee table with a heavy thud, making himself at home.

Ben’s back goes ramrod straight, and his eyes roll back in his head as he takes another deep breath. One hundred—definitely counting well beyond ten, that’s for sure.

“Is it okay that I called him?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. We just need ...” Ben shrugs and finally settles on, “...to talk.”

I still feel like I’ve done something wrong or overstepped somehow, and that doesn’t change when I walk back through the living room after pulling on clothes. Ben gives me a kiss, but his focus stays locked on Sean, so it’s nothing like the ones we shared only moments ago.

“Your phone’s on the counter,” I tell him after biting my lip a bit nervously. “Call me when you’re—when you want. Just call me, ’kay?”