Arsen: a broken love story - Asher Mia (читать книги бесплатно txt) 📗

“Seriously, Ben? I have to get to work.” I turn around, but Ben’s hands grab my waist from behind and pull me back to sit on his lap.

Oh, my…

He laughs in my ear as he nudges my ass with his huge erection, “Can’t help myself around you, Cathy. You’re just so damn sexy in the morning. Come on, it will be a quickie.” His tongue is inside my ear, tracing its contours while his hand goes back to work under my skirt.

“Ben, stop it. I have to get to work. I’m already late…as…it…is…”

“Yes, baby?” he huskily whispers in my ear.

Oh, those fingers of his…

Recognizing what is going on, and what I don’t want to happen, I push his hands off my body, and stand up. As I look down the length of my body trying to smooth my skirt free of wrinkles, and pacify the rapid beating of my heart, I notice that my hands are shaking. After taking a few calming breaths, I look up to see him watching me with a raw and naked hunger as he brings the finger that was just inside me to his mouth and sucks it.

Hard.

Ben pulls his finger out and his tongue follows behind, tracing the lingering flavor of my body on his lips. I feel a powerful shot of heat surge straight where his hand was not too long ago.

When Ben realizes that I’m not moving, he chuckles then grabs me by the hand, pulling me forward and lifting me until I’m straddling his hips.

“Babe, I’ve missed you,” he says roughly.

As he leans down to nuzzle my neck, I sense some sort of desperation growing within me. I do want him. I want him to take the lead, make everything go away. His hands close around my wrists, moving them to wrap around his neck, then he grabs my ass, pushing me against his erection.

“I need you, babe. So fucking much,” he says before he lets go of me and begins to slowly unbutton my silk shirt, pulling down my bra and exposing my breasts to him. Without breaking the kiss, I let go of his neck and unbuckle his belt, unzip his dress pants and pull down his boxer briefs. I take his hard erection in my hand and begin stroking him, feeling the strength of his dick in my fingers.

“Enough,” he says roughly as he puts a hand over mine, stopping me. “Let me.”

I nod, allowing him to do whatever he wants to me. We become frantic, our need for each other vibrating through our bodies, and we barely have time to lift my skirt and slide my panties to the side until he pushes forward.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” We both look down to where our bodies are connected and watch as he begins to pull out of me. There’s nothing more sensual than watching your lover’s arousal as it leaves your warmth covered with your body’s reaction to his touch. Covered in want.

Connected as we are, I’m overcome by this feeling of wanting to be owned by Ben. To drive him mad with desire.

“No more talking, Ben.” I pull his head down towards mine and kiss him once more, letting the rhythm of his thrusts set the pace of our lovemaking.

After I reach my release, Ben allows himself to do the same. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

Breathing heavily, with our arms still around each other, my legs wrapped around his waist, and our bodies cooling off, we look at each other and smile. Whatever desperation I sensed in me before has dissipated.

For now.

“Damn, wife, if that’s what you call breakfast,” he grips my hips, “I think I may never skip it again.” He smirks.

“Better than coffee?” I ask, blushing.

Ben throws his head back and laughs. He cups my cheeks, and makes me stare at him until I lose my way in his brown eyes.

“Yes, so much better than coffee,” he caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “I love your smile, wife. Even after all these years it can go straight to my…” he nudges me gently, still inside me, “and my heart.” He leans down and plants a soft kiss on my smiling lips. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too. I guess we need to take another shower before work.” I untangle my legs from his waist, our bodies disconnecting, and get off his lap. Wrapping my shirt around my bare chest, I make my way to our bedroom with Ben following close behind.

When my hands land on my empty stomach, I shut down the voice inside my head, reminding me of the overwhelming emptiness spreading inside me like a black hole, sucking all the happiness around me.

The voice telling me that everything remains the same.

Or not.

I didn’t fall in love.

I walked smack into it and then fell flat on my ass.

I hate rain.

Okay, that’s a lie. I like it just fine when, say, I have an extra set of dry clothes on hand and an umbrella. So you could say, I’m pretty pissed off at Mother Nature right now.

As I stand outside Lerner Hall and watch the rain pouring angrily down from the sky, I contemplate whether I should take a cab or walk to the nearest subway station. Either way, I’ll be soaked to the bone as soon as I step away from the student center. I swear sometimes I feel like the song Ironic by Alanis Morissette should be my personal soundtrack.

Sighing, I get ready to step into the rain when I hear my phone ring. As I’m about to answer, a group of gorgeous and intimidating sorority girls walk past me throwing condoms my way, shouting as they go, “No Glove, No Love!”

Embarrassed, and blushing like some silly heroine from a regency novel, I pick up the condoms off the ground and shove them quickly in my bag before anyone notices them surrounding me. Great. I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now people are going to think I’m a sex addict.

Now I really need to get out of here.

The moment I start to walk, my phone begins to ring again. I struggle with the zipper on my bag to get my phone while dodging a student with a huge-ass umbrella. As I avoid a big puddle coming up, I completely miss the guy who is walking straight at me.

When our bodies collide, I fall on my ass in the very puddle I was trying to avoid in the first place, smashing my bags on the ground.

What the hell just happened?

More surprised than anything else, I stare at the pair of wet leather loafers in front of me.

Stupid puddle. I want to cry. Shit, my ass is wet. Now, I’m getting very angry.

Okay, Cathy. Breathe. Get your act together and give this guy a piece of your mind.

With all these thoughts running through my head, I don’t even notice what the guy who’ll soon be getting some major shit from me even looks like. So when he kneels down in front of me, trying to shield my face from the falling rain with his own hands, I am frozen. Paralyzed. Gone are the thoughts of my wet ass.

Are those lips for real?

Shit, I feel my face lighting up like the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks. I need to say something, and quick, but all I can think as I stare into his maple brown eyes is that I want pancakes with syrup...lots of maple syrup.

Snap out of it, Cathy!

I open my mouth to say something to the gorgeous guy with the yummy lips and laughing eyes kneeling in front of me, when he awkwardly says, “Um, I think you better stand. Your things…um, your things are getting wet. Here,” he says, offering me his hand.

As he helps me up, I notice that everything has fallen out of my bag, of course.

What else could go wrong?

Scanning the mess, I quickly realize why he wanted me to get my stuff. Next to my wallet, between the books scattered all over the wet pavement, are about ten, guilty looking, condom packages.

Mother. Fucker. Shit.

Now I really want to die.

I mean, carrying protection is great, but these aren’t my condoms!

Quickly, I kneel down, keeping my eyes to the ground. Feeling so embarrassed by the whole thing, I don’t notice that Mr. Loafers has done the same until we end up knocking heads as we both try reaching for the condoms at the same time.