I almost moan out loud at the thought, willing him to touch me again, wanting to hear him say I’m his again.
Nothing gives me that tingle inside more than a Ben compliment or command.
“We should really have something to eat,” he says, staying put in his seat when anyone else might be standing.
I try not to look or make it so obvious, but once I snatch a glance of the thick, hard line running up the front of his camel colored canvas pants, I freeze on the spot.
Unable to look away.
He clears his throat and I wince from how hard I’ve been biting my lip.
He looks a little flushed, but not from embarrassment. He leans back a little, and as hard as I try not to look again, my eyes dart back to his magnificent cock, which I swear he’s flexing in his pants for my benefit.
God, it’s huge.
Like everything else about Ben, it’s big, strong and I can just tell he’d know exactly how to use it to pleasure any woman to the point of unbelievable—
“Stacey?” he asks, stifling a chuckle. “I asked if you wanted something to eat?” he says wistfully, making me blush now, a hot wave courses through me, prickling over my stiff chest and making my clit brush against the robe I’m wearing.
I feel giddy as I try not to moan again.
God this is incredible. I’ve never felt so… Oh Ben, just do something dammit!
“Aren’t you going to have a shower too?” I ask in a shaky voice. I sit on the edge of the desk, certain my legs will buckle if I try to stand without pressing my legs together.
“You think I need one?” he asks, sniffing himself, seriously asking me if I think he smells.
I shake my head, my eyes gravitating back to his groin over and over again.
“I just thought you might need to...” I start, then imagine watching him as he showers.
I take in a sharp breath as I picture him undressing, that huge fat cock of his, stiff and bobbing up against his belly as he slips out of his uniform.
Watching him pleasure his huge, thick organ before inviting me to help him finish.
I feel faint again, the thought of him like that, knowing how hard he is right now in front of me.
I swoon a little, almost sliding right off his huge desk before his strong hand supports me.
“I think we’d better sit you down someplace else,” he says, guiding me in front of him towards the kitchen and setting me down in a chair at the table while he swiftly moves behind the breakfast bar.
No fair.
But if I saw that view again, I don’t know what I’d do.
I’d either faint for real or just yank this robe open, begging him to do something to me, to ease some of this pressure inside my aching pussy.
“Meat?” he asks, breaking my reverie with a chuckle after I give a glassy-eyed blink. “Uh-huh… it sure is,” reply.
“I mean, you need to eat some,” he laughs. “You didn’t go all Vegan or something while you were in college?” he asks, and I know he wouldn’t mind if I did.
I shake my head in the negative, really struggling to focus on anything now, feeling my heart thunder in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of the rain and wind lashing against the shutters.
The lights flicker and dim before getting a little brighter, making me look up. Worried.
“It’s fine,” Ben says soothingly, turning long enough to give me a perfect view of his rear end in those pants as he bends over to reach the back of his icebox.
“I think a couple of steaks with some leftover potato salad might put some color back in your cheek,” he says absently, and we both know that as much as food is a good idea, there is something else I know we’d each like to have in our mouths right now.
At least I do.
What’s wrong with me? This man’s turned me into a wildcat in heat just by existing.
Ben’s an excellent cook by the looks too.
I can’t even boil an egg, but he sets to work with the efficiency of a pro chef in fixing us both dinner.
Once the steaks are sizzling he seems to have recovered himself enough to come out from behind the counter, offering me a bottle of mineral water.
“Sorry for asking you to grab more towels,” I whisper, our fingers touching as he passes the bottle, making me say the first thing that pops into my head.
Idiot.
“I mean, I hope you won’t have trauma from seeing me like that,” I add. Making it worse than it already is.
I just don’t want Ben to think I’m slutty, because I’m certainly not.
But I also want to know if he’s maybe put off now. Seeing someone totally naked isn’t always a good thing, I guess.