fact we were talking about my fantasy to bang some other guy. I wasn't sure what was happening between us, but I loved the woodsy scent of him, something between pine and cedar. And I loved the brush of his stubble against my ear when he finally said, "There's gotta be more to it. What aren't you telling me?"
"What do you mean?"
"If that's all this fantasy is about, you could've done it by now. You're a completely gorgeous girl and an actress. You could convince a stranger that you were a high priced call girl if you wanted to…"
He thought I was gorgeous? "Maybe I don't really want to do it," I said, having told myself this all along. "Maybe it's just the kind of thing I only want to think about when I touch myself."
The mention of touching myself elicited a growl of approval. "Becca, I think you want to do it. I think that's why you're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm shaking because it's cold and you won't let me back inside…"
"Still a bad liar," he said, taking my hand in his, and putting it between my knees, forcing me to squeeze the heated place between my own thighs.
Jesus. Where'd he learn to do that? "Ben!"
"What? You said it's something you like to think about while you touch yourself. We're thinking about it so I want you to touch…"
Oh. Oh, wow . So not what I ever imagined Ben saying… or wanting… but somehow the fact that he wanted it, and the fact that I was turned on, made me want to do it. Still, I hesitated. "Someone could come out—"
"No one's gonna catch us," he said, nuzzling my neck with his lips and sending a shiver of pleasure down my neck. "Door opens out. My back's against it. And Becca, believe me when I say that I'd fight off a battalion to keep you in my arms now that I've got you here."
Who said shit like that? Sappy, earnest, glib—
"So, tell me why you haven't pimped yourself out yet?" he asked, wiping the notion of glib romance out of my mind. "You could go up to any guy in any bar in the city and proposition him, and only a blind, impotent idiot would say no."
"Um…because I don't want to get arrested. It's kind of illegal, you know."
He snorted. "Not really. Not everywhere."
"It's dangerous," I countered, outrageously aware of my hand between my thighs, and his on top of it. Disbelieving that the boy next door was taking liberties with me in my mom's garage. Shocked to the core that I liked it. "Some guy could hurt me. Kidnap me. God only knows what."
It wasn't the whole reason I'd never done it, but it was close enough.
"I'd never let anybody hurt you," Ben said, very seriously, his breath warm on my ear. "I can make your fantasy come true and keep you safe. And I want to. Hell, I'd love to do that for you."
As if he'd drawn some invisible guitar string on my body and plucked it, something tugged at my clit and my nipples at the same time. It was temptation. But it couldn't be real. Not with this guy. "Why would you want to?"
"Because I want to turn you on," Ben said, squeezing more insistently.
Gasping at the pleasure of being made to touch myself with a houseful of people not far away, I asked, "You want to turn me on by helping me fuck some stranger?"
"Do you like that word?"
"Oh, god, yes," I whimpered, my breath puffing steam into the air.
Fuck , I loved that word.
He took my admission as an invitation, tugging at the zipper of my jeans, and slipping his hand into my panties. It happened as simply as that. We hadn't even kissed yet, but he was suddenly fingering me, and I was letting him! More than letting him. Encouraging him with every little motion of my hips.
"You are a bad girl," he said, obviously delighting in finding me soaking wet.
I couldn't hide it or deny how turned on I was. Especially when he shifted me in his lap and felt—well, let's just say he was either rock hard for me or had a very big candy cane in his pocket.
Meanwhile his thumb circled through the wetness between my legs and threatened to turn me into a puddle. What the hell had I
"What do you mean?"
"If that's all this fantasy is about, you could've done it by now. You're a completely gorgeous girl and an actress. You could convince a stranger that you were a high priced call girl if you wanted to…"
He thought I was gorgeous? "Maybe I don't really want to do it," I said, having told myself this all along. "Maybe it's just the kind of thing I only want to think about when I touch myself."
The mention of touching myself elicited a growl of approval. "Becca, I think you want to do it. I think that's why you're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm shaking because it's cold and you won't let me back inside…"
"Still a bad liar," he said, taking my hand in his, and putting it between my knees, forcing me to squeeze the heated place between my own thighs.
Jesus. Where'd he learn to do that? "Ben!"
"What? You said it's something you like to think about while you touch yourself. We're thinking about it so I want you to touch…"
Oh. Oh, wow . So not what I ever imagined Ben saying… or wanting… but somehow the fact that he wanted it, and the fact that I was turned on, made me want to do it. Still, I hesitated. "Someone could come out—"
"No one's gonna catch us," he said, nuzzling my neck with his lips and sending a shiver of pleasure down my neck. "Door opens out. My back's against it. And Becca, believe me when I say that I'd fight off a battalion to keep you in my arms now that I've got you here."
Who said shit like that? Sappy, earnest, glib—
"So, tell me why you haven't pimped yourself out yet?" he asked, wiping the notion of glib romance out of my mind. "You could go up to any guy in any bar in the city and proposition him, and only a blind, impotent idiot would say no."
"Um…because I don't want to get arrested. It's kind of illegal, you know."
He snorted. "Not really. Not everywhere."
"It's dangerous," I countered, outrageously aware of my hand between my thighs, and his on top of it. Disbelieving that the boy next door was taking liberties with me in my mom's garage. Shocked to the core that I liked it. "Some guy could hurt me. Kidnap me. God only knows what."
It wasn't the whole reason I'd never done it, but it was close enough.
"I'd never let anybody hurt you," Ben said, very seriously, his breath warm on my ear. "I can make your fantasy come true and keep you safe. And I want to. Hell, I'd love to do that for you."
As if he'd drawn some invisible guitar string on my body and plucked it, something tugged at my clit and my nipples at the same time. It was temptation. But it couldn't be real. Not with this guy. "Why would you want to?"
"Because I want to turn you on," Ben said, squeezing more insistently.
Gasping at the pleasure of being made to touch myself with a houseful of people not far away, I asked, "You want to turn me on by helping me fuck some stranger?"
"Do you like that word?"
"Oh, god, yes," I whimpered, my breath puffing steam into the air.
Fuck , I loved that word.
He took my admission as an invitation, tugging at the zipper of my jeans, and slipping his hand into my panties. It happened as simply as that. We hadn't even kissed yet, but he was suddenly fingering me, and I was letting him! More than letting him. Encouraging him with every little motion of my hips.
"You are a bad girl," he said, obviously delighting in finding me soaking wet.
I couldn't hide it or deny how turned on I was. Especially when he shifted me in his lap and felt—well, let's just say he was either rock hard for me or had a very big candy cane in his pocket.
Meanwhile his thumb circled through the wetness between my legs and threatened to turn me into a puddle. What the hell had I
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