I pretend to be grossed out, “Ew, we’re going to eat in bed?” He lets go with a sigh, finally exasperated, and I quickly grab his forearm. His skin is warm and veiny under my fingers. I smile up at him, “I’m kidding. I will change and get it and meet you in your bed, but I’m not sleeping there.”
“Fine, you’re probably a blanket hog anyway,” he mutters, heading toward the pantry.
“I totally am!” I call to him as I walk through the house.
_____
“No one…has ever…done that…to me.” I pant.
“Really?” He asks, leaning over me. He brushes a hair from my glistening forehead and lifts his other hand, still holding my vibrator. “You’ve never used this with someone before?”
“Not like that,” I say, still breathless. I did not know I could have an orgasm just from having my nipples played with. I also didn’t know how turned onIcould get during a blow job. Whatever just happened to me must have been the perfect combination.
Ben’s genuine elation when I pounced on him thirty minutes early. I knew he was rock hard, just from cuddling side by side, and it thrilled me. As did the way he blacked out when I told him to tell me what to do. His bossy voice and hooded eyes. His inability to last very long, yet again. All of that put me on the edge and then the magic he just performed with his mouth and the toy all over my top half.
I close my eyes and moan again just thinking about it.
“Good, then?” He asks
“Amazing,” I answer honestly. “You’re amazing.”
I open my eyes, expecting to see him gloating, beaming, teasing. But that’s not what I see. He’s…unsure? For a second. Then the Ben I know is back.
“Can you say that again? Just want to get my phone and record quickly.”
“You just want video of my boobs,” I say, sitting up.
“Absolutely I do.” He grabs my bra and shirt for me from wherever I threw it when I was ripping his pants off.
“Thanks, I’ll see you in the morning,” I say as I slip them on.
“Wait, look,” he whispers, grabbing me from behind.
“What?”
He holds me still and pulls up the Google Home app on his phone. In a second, all the lights are off. The huge, single-pane windows that line the whole back of the house are a feature inhis bedroom. Outside them, snow is falling, and not a light snow either. The snow is going nuts all around us, just like—
“It’s like a snow globe,” Ben says, pulling me into him. He sits back against the headboard and wraps his arms around me. It’s sweet. Romantic. Downright dreamy. Which is terrifying. “How badly do you want to run away right now?” He asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“What? I’ll f-fine.”
He laughs at my stupid stutter that only appears when I’m lying, and opens his arms.
“I know, I know,” he sighs dramatically, “Can’t be British and handsome and give you life-altering orgasmsandbe romantic about the snow. I get it.”
I move off the bed and smile back at his moonlit face as I stand, “Life-altering, huh?”
“Oh, do please try and deny it, I can’t wait to hear,” he makes his voice sound like mine and stammers, “what’s word mouth come out of your!”
“Ugh, I’m leaving and I’m flipping you off as I go!” I say loudly as I make my way out of his room, one hand raised in the dark. I hear him chuckle and I do too. But my smile fades as I climb into my own bed.
Because the truth is I wanted to stay with him in the snow globe. I wanted to stay with him all night. Not to have sex, either. To sleep. To whisper and laugh and hold him and be held by him.
And I think he knows it.
My only hope is that he’s enough of a gentleman not to call me out on it. We agreed, no feelings. Only itch-scratching. Desperate kick boxing and contractual friendship. That’s what this is, and that’s what it has to stay.
Because he won’t. He won’t stay. And that’s fine. I’ll be ready for that, I’ll be prepared. I won’t be left behind again.
