Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I bite my lip, then lean into Ben as we walk, my body up against his. “That would be two crotches you’ve grabbed tonight.”
Ben grins, amused. We arrive in front of his rental. At once, his face hardens suggestively. “Get in the car, intern.”
I tilt my head. “Intern? You really think you can still boss me around? It is not office hours,” I point out, crossing my arms, “and so therefore—”
Ben swings a hand around and swats my ass, hard, then cups it firmly and pulls me against him. In a low, deep voice, he growls, “Get in the car, Trevor. I am going to have my way with you, I am not going to hold back, and then we are going home.”
I try to respond defiantly, but all my resolve crumbles at the feel of his hand gripping my ass so powerfully. I can’t fight him.
And I don’t want to.
When we’re back in the car, Ben jerks it into drive, then burns rubber. He doesn’t even use his phone to direct him, knowing just where to go. I watch him half the time, the hard and needy look on his face turning me on so much. A week ago, I might have been terrified by his show of strength. It might have even scared me away for good.
Something inside me must be changing. Instead of fear, I feel security. Around Ben and his powerfulness, I feel safe. No one—especially no punk teenager in khaki shorts—can possibly mess with me when Benjamin Gage is around.
Just before we reach the airport, Ben pulls off onto the side of the road, startling me.
I turn to him, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
He slaps a hand onto my crotch, earning a grunt of surprise from me, before he turns my way. “I can’t wait a second longer.”
“But we’re on the side of the—”
He doesn’t care, clearly. His seatbelt pops off followed by my own, and he’s all over me. My pants fly open. His fingers work my shirt off with such animal determination, all I see half the time is the fabric of my own shirt trying to escape my body.
Just when I gasp for breath, his mouth covers mine, stealing away any chance I had of getting air.
My breath is his now.
In the next instant, my seat falls backwards—he’d gripped and pulled the reclining lever—and then he’s on top of me, drawing a line of kisses over my chin, down my neck, across my fast rising and falling chest, then slowly through the ridges of my abs. When his mouth arrives at the bulge he’s made of my tight black briefs, a determined scowl of desire spreads over his face.
There’s something in his scowl that is immeasurably hot.
It’s like he’s about to attack my cock, and I’m going to like it. His eyes assess me like a piece of meat. His hands, which slowly crawl down my sides and cause me to squirm, explore me with invasive, wall-stripping pleasure.
I am at his total mercy right now.
The old Trevor would never have let anyone tear him open like this on the side of the road in the middle of the night, exposed to the world, exposed to the night, exposed to a man he—in truth—still doesn’t know awfully well.
A stranger named Benjamin Gage.
A stranger who just whisked innocent Trevor away on a jet across two time zones.
This is totally not me. I don’t know who this new Trevor is, and I feel no semblance of the old one in me anymore. I am brave. I am reckless. I feel like I’m still wearing the skin of some other person I’m not.
And what the hell city are we in again?
When Ben slips his hands under the band of my underwear, I forget everything I’m thinking. I gasp under the cool touch of his fingertips. Ben grips my briefs with force and pulls them down my thighs, freeing my achingly hard cock.
Is this really happening? Are Ben and I really about to have ourselves some roadside hanky-panky?
The answer: red and blue flickering lights flooding the car.
24
Trevor officially craps himself.
In my act of pulling my pants back up, I knee Ben in the face.
In Ben’s act of scrambling to get out of my lap, he head-butts the steering wheel and issues a loud honk.
“Fuck!” I hiss, slipping back into my plaid button-up so fast, I hear threads pop. “This is not happening.” My hand searches in the dark for the reclining lever. “I can’t have something on my record. I can’t go to jail. Ben!”
Ben’s back in his seat, upright, and completely composed. Of course he is; he isn’t the one who was just being royally objectified and stripped of his clothes for some roadside sex.
I find the lever and give it such a hard pull, I fly upwards fast, nearly folding myself in half.