Years of playing sports is evident in the cut and definition of his muscles and the way they clench and release with each breath he takes. Slowly I lean forward and kiss his collarbone but instead of pulling back, I let my mouth explore his sculpted chest and washboard stomach. This man is more incredible than even I imagined and that is really saying something.
It isn't long before my fingers find their way to the zipper of his pants but before I can act on anything, his hands close over mine and he pulls me to my feet. “You may have gotten me the first time around but I promise you, you won't get away that easy again.” He warns, smiling down at me.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” I tease, cupping his already hard erection in the palm of my hand, for the first time realizing just how big he really is. I let my hand glide up and down his length through the fabric of his pants and can't help but smile when a soft moan escapes his lips when I roll my thumb over the tip.
“Bedroom.” He says, causing me to squeal out when he leans over and picks up my panties before tossing me over his shoulder, crossing the length of the suite in the matter of seconds, me protesting the whole time for him to put me down.
He ignores my cries of protest and simply slaps my ass when I try to push my body up in an attempt to break free of his hold. “Bentley.” I laugh out, when he flips me off his shoulder and I land with a soft thud onto the mattress below me.
I don't even have time to look around before he is climbing up my body and tugging down the straps of my dress. “This time.....” He pauses as he takes in each inch of my flesh as it's revealed. “This time I am going to take my time.” He says, taking a deep inhale when I lift my ass and allow him to pull the dress from my body, leaving me completely bare to him. “I am going to study every inch of your body.” He promises, lifting my leg as he trails his lips across my shin not stopping until he reaches the marred flesh at the bottom of my knee.
I can't help but cringe slightly when he kisses the center of my scar. “Kindred Spirits we are.” He says, laying my leg back down. I can't explain the rush of emotion his words cause. He knows how I feel. He knows what it's like to lose the very thing that made you, you. In a weird way, I feel connected to him on a level beyond anything sexual. Like a certain bond that forms when a person understands you because they understand what you have lost.
Bentley stands and steps out of his pants, his eyes never leaving mine as he does. Once the material hits the floor, he climbs on top of me and settles his hips between my legs, his boxers the only barrier between my bare body and his. His face hovers just an inch above mine and for a moment, he just stares at me. I can't explain it or even begin to understand it, but in that look, in that one look, something changes.
But as he lowers his face and his lips connect to mine, all thoughts and feelings are simply swept away. For with this man, the control I have held onto so tightly just melts away. It's not a fight for control with Bentley but a fight for survival.
Chapter Thirteen
“Tell me something I don't know about you.” Bentley says, taking a bite of his sandwich as we sit across from each other in the middle of the living room floor.
After three hours I finally caved and insisted if the man didn't feed me I was going to die. As such, he ordered us sandwiches and surprisingly, it isn't completely awkward sitting here with him like this, considering awkward kind of comes with the territory when you are just getting to know a person. But with Bentley, it feels more natural. Like I have known him for months rather than a few short days.
“You mean, you don't already know everything?” I tease, picking at my croissant and popping a piece of the buttery goodness in my mouth.
“Seriously. Tell me something.” He says, smiling his dimple filled smile at me. I wish that smile didn't make my heart jump slightly but the truth is, it does.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, not really sure what to say. I have never been a person to talk about myself. That's why I have always loved dance so much. It allows me to tell the world what I'm feeling without ever having to speak a word.
“Tell me what happened?” It's a question not a statement, as his hand reaches between us and settles on my scarred knee.
“Not much to tell outside of what you already know.” I shrug, trying to play it off like it's no big deal. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he knows better than that but even still, I refuse to give him the emotion I know he's looking for.
“I was rehearsing and came down on it wrong. After a couple of surgeries the doctors determined that my knee would never be strong enough to dance again, at least not professionally. Of course, that didn't stop me from trying and I ended up pushing myself too hard and only made the injury worse.”
“And now? Does it not bother you to dance at the club?” He asks, seeming genuinely interested.
“Not really. I know what my leg can take and what it can't. Besides, dancing at the club does not require near the physical strain that dancing for real does.” I take a drink of my water before glancing in his direction to see him studying me curiously. “What?” I ask, coughing slightly when my water gets stuck in my throat.
“Is dancing at the club not dancing
for real
?” He asks, putting air quotations around the for real part.
“I mean yeah, I guess. But it's not the type of dancing that blew my knee out. I danced more Contemporary and Ballet, both of which require a lot of leg strength and stability. Most of my routines included a lot of jumps and tricks and after the injury, my knee wasn't strong enough to support the amount of strain I put on it. What about you?” I ask, wanting desperately to change the subject from me.
“Me?” He questions, seeming confused which in turn confuses me. Reaching across the small space that separates us to his outstretched leg, I push up his pant leg and run my hand along the scar that stretches from his knee to just a few inches above his ankle.
“Did you think I didn't know?” I ask, unsure as to why he's looking at me the way he is.
“I didn't really think about it honestly.” He admits, adjusting his pant leg back down over the scar. “It was a long time ago.” He says on a shrug, not meeting my gaze.
“I see.” I say, nodding my head in understanding. “So it's okay to dig up the scars of my past but not okay when the tables are turned.”
“It's not like that.” He protests. “It's just.... I just don't want to talk about it.” He says, his voice taking on a hardness I have never heard before.
“Fair enough.” I say, more than a little frustrated that when it really boils down to it, he won't give me the same trust that I have given him. Deciding not to push the topic any further, I try a different angle just trying to find out more information about him. I don't even know why but deep down I want to know every little detail about him.
“What about now? How many clubs do you own?” I ask, seeing him visibly relax at the change of subject.
“Six.” He answers. “Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Cleveland, and Detroit.” He rambles off without a thought.
“Are they all like
Allure
?” I ask.
“For the most part. Obviously each one is in a different location so they don't all look exactly the same but they have the same atmosphere and are all operated the exact same way.”
“Can I ask what made you want to get into this type of business?” I ask, hoping the question doesn't come out offensive as it is not my intention.
“I saw a need in the market and I filled it.” He answers simply and then laughs when he catches the annoyed expression on my face. “Growing up, my father was in politics. Late in his career he was involved in a rather large scandal involving a gentleman's club. Seeing everything he went through, it just made me realize how important discretion is within that and many other types of careers. I opened the first in Chicago and then expanded out when the business really took off.”
“And what does your father think of all of this?” I ask, collecting my food containers and sitting them off the side.
“No idea. He died before
Allure
really took off.” He says, not meeting my gaze.
“I'm so sorry.” I blurt, immediately feeling horrible for my question.
“Don't be.” He says, giving me a small smile. “We weren't that close.”
“Well I think it's amazing.” I immediately make an attempt to move past the serious turn our conversation has taken. “You had an idea and you pursued it. And became clearly very successful in the process. It's impressive.” My smile widens when he turns his bright eyes on me, a playful grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“You know what I think is amazing?” He asks, pushing his unfinished sandwich to the side before reaching out and grabbing my forearm, pulling me to him with next to no effort. “You.” He whispers, taking my mouth with his.
His lips dance gently across mine but it's enough to immediately have me gripping the back of his neck and deepening the kiss as I climb into his lap, my legs wrapping around his back as I grind myself into his hardening erection.
“Everything about you is amazing.” He speaks against my lips as he grinds himself harder into me. “The way you taste.” He says, trailing his tongue along my jawline. “The way your breath catches when I do this.” He says, reaching up to lightly twist my nipple through the fabric of my dress. “The way your heart pounds in your chest when I bring you to the edge. The little noises you make when you're close and the way you scream out when I make you come.” He says, covering up my small whimper of arousal with his lips as he takes my mouth once more.
Lifting me slightly from his lap, he reaches around me and pushes the remains of our dinner the rest of the way out of the way before laying me backwards onto my back and pushing forward on his knees to hover over me.
Having only thrown on my dress when dinner arrived, the moment he spreads my legs open, I am completely bare to him. He takes in a ragged breath as he looks down at me. Reaching out, he rubs the back of his hand gently against my freshly waxed pubic area. “Fucking perfect.” He breathes, trailing his fingertip inside of my folds.
I try to keep my breathing steady and my movements still as he moves his finger up and down before finally sliding it inside of me. I can tell by how easily the first finger enters and then the second, that I am more than a little wet. This man can make me wet just by looking at me. When he touches me, I don't even stand a chance. Every look, every noise, every touch makes me want more.
Pulling his hand away, he grabs the bottom of his white t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Immediately my eyes fall to his perfect body. I think I could spend the rest of my life looking at nothing but this man's chest and shoulders. He is the epitome of perfection and I have to physically rip my eyes away from his physique.
Leaning forward, he places gentle kisses across my abdomen as he pulls my dress higher and higher, baring more flesh as he goes until eventually he sits me up just enough to pull the material completely from my body.
Leaning back, he rakes his eyes across my naked torso, his hands trailing across each inch that his eyes cover. “Bentley.” I plead when he leans forward and grinds his erection into me through the fabric of his pants.
“Tell me what you want.” He says, pushing himself harder against me.
“You.” I breathe, reaching up and locking my hand around the back of his neck.
“You're going to have to be more specific than that Logan.” He teases. Dropping his face to mine, he slowly trails his tongue across my bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.” His breath dances hot against my face.
“I want you to fuck me.” I plead, my frustration coming out clearly in my voice.
“You want me to fuck you?” He pulls back slightly and smiles wickedly at me before dropping his head to my chest and taking my nipple roughly into his mouth.
“Yes.” I plead out, tangling my fingers in his hair as he sucks the sensitive flesh so hard it's borderline painful before switching to the other side and repeating the process. “Please.” I whimper, wanting nothing more than to feel the fullness of having him inside of me. “Please.”
I can tell that my begging has him fighting like hell to drag this out and seeing how close I am to getting what I want, I seize the opportunity to reach between us and grip his hardness in the palm of my hand. “Fuck.” He hisses, the moment my hand closes around him.
It takes only seconds before his pants are discarded on the floor, followed quickly by his boxers, allowing his massive erection to spring free as he quickly rolls a condom down over himself. Settling back between my thighs, he toys at my entrance for only a short few seconds before plunging deeply inside of me, both of us crying out from the intensity of the pleasure surging between us.
Picking up speed almost immediately, within minutes we are both a sweaty panting mess of tangled bodies and wordless moans as our bodies pound into each other, both grasping, trying desperately to hold on.
Slowing to a stop, Bentley rolls us together, placing me on top and as such, giving me the control that I so desperately crave, especially where this man is concerned. Pushing back, I place my hands on his chest to give myself some leverage as I slowly begin to ride him. Circling my hips slowly above him, I plunge down deeper and then pull back up, loving the way desperation crosses his face when I do so.
Quickening my strides, I lean further back so that his massive erection rubs inside of me at the perfect angle which has me on the brink within seconds. Not able to control myself, I ride him harder, pushing back further to feel the added pressure send a spiral of waves crashing over me as I come above him.
My orgasm sends him over the edge and after a handful of hard plunges he groans out and then stills below me, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. Leaning forward, I lay my head against his chest and breath in deeply. There is a slight reminiscence of his cologne but mainly I just smell me. Me and sex and the smell is intoxicating on his skin.
I'm not sure how long we lay like that, his erection eventually softening inside of me. I have no motivation to move, no strength or want to pull myself from his body and he seems to be in no rush either.
It isn't long before I feel heaviness settle over my eyes and even though I know that I am seconds away from sleep, I still can't bring myself to move out of his arms. As he trails his hands softly up and down my back, I eventually slip under with no recollection of actually doing so.
I wake slightly when Bentley shifts under me and rolls me to the side before picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom. I know I need to leave. I need to go home. And yet, I can't make myself do it. The moment my body meets the softness of the mattress below me and Bentley's arms wrap around me, pulling my back tightly to his chest, I know there is nothing on this earth that could force me out of this perfect moment.