Broken Record

Chapter 26: Benton

"Can I get you two something to drink?" Benton rubbed his hands down his thighs, wishing like hell that he'd thought of doing anything other than offering to take Cora to dinner. The look in her eyes was too hopeful. Benton already felt responsible for breaking her heart once. For breaking her boundaries and her trust. He didn't want to do it again. He closed his eyes briefly at the painful memory of her tears, her lashing out that he was fucked up, violent, dangerous. That something was wrong with him. He hated that feeling of shame and remorse. After Cora, he didn't try to date. He found a place where he could have his deepest needs filled and nothing more. No intimacy, no meeting the family. No 4-carat diamond rings and wedding plans. That's what Cora wanted. A life together. And at one point he'd wanted to give that to her, so fucking badly. But just wanting that couldn't change who he was on the inside. He didn't know how to explain that to Cora. And she didn't deserve a lifetime of trying to understand it.

"I'll have a glass of Pinot Noir, please." Cora smiled gently, looking expectantly at Benton.

"Whiskey. A double. Neat." Benton barely glanced at the waitress, looking down at his watch. An hour and a half until he'd have Stevie under his hands, bound for him. He shifted in his seat at the lude thought, taking a healthy drink of his water.

"Benton, are you okay? You seem distracted." Distracted? I'm thinking about whether I want a petite blonde sexy-as-hell punk on her back or on her stomach in exactly ninety minutes. Distracted doesn't even begin to cover it, Benton thought to himself.

"No, I'm fine. Just work. And this, well, rather unexpected visit."

"I guess I owe you a more thorough explanation, don't I?" Benton didn't respond, waiting for Cora to continue. "I, um, well I've been seeing someone. For the past two years. It is pretty...serious. Last week he," Cora licked her lips nervously, tracing her elegant painted fingernail along the condensation of her water glass, "he proposed." She swallowed hard, Benton sitting still as stone. "He got down on one knee, with the perfect little velvet black box and asked me to marry him. And all I could...well all I could think about was you." Cora looked up from the table, her eyes piercing into Benton.

"What did you say?"

"I told him I'd have to think about it."

"Cora--"

"I had to see you. Just to know if I really still felt that way or if it was just some weird deja vú, you know? I mean, I wanted to say yes. I wanted to want to say yes. Does that make any sense?" Benton let out a long sigh, dragging his hand along the edge of his hair.

"Cora, I'll always care about you. And I'll always--" Benton stopped talking when the waitress set their drinks down on the table, his hand gripping the crystal tumbler so hard he might break it, "I'll always feel sorry for how I hurt you. How I pushed you--"

"Stop." Cora reached out and placed her hand over his, smiling. "Stop blaming yourself, Benton. I didn't understand. I just...I wasn't prepared for it." Benton took a deep pull of his whiskey, contemplating whether or not he'd even be able to keep down food. Part of him missed what he had with Cora. The dinners, the events together. But he didn't miss Cora. She was lovely and perfect and so many men would fall at her feet. But he didn't want perfect. And he sure as hell didn't want lovely. He wanted fire and rebellion and electricity. He wanted Stevie fucking Marlowe.

"Cora, I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you, especially not now. But I need to make myself clear. I want you to be happy. But that life, those plans we had...that's all they are. Past plans. I'm not the same man I was before. I am not looking for that again in my life." Cora chewed her lip, trying to smile. Benton finished his drink, raising a finger to get the attention of the waitress. Staying any longer would just hurt Cora more. He couldn't do it again, not when he'd already worked so hard to close this chapter. After quickly paying for the drinks, Benton stood, buttoning his suit jacket. He leaned over the table, whispering close to Cora's ear.

"Tell him yes, Cora. Be happy. It's what I want for you. Let me let you go." He kissed her cheek, masking the truth that he had already let her go. At least aside from the shred of shame he'd feel forever at seeing her horrified face after he'd tied her up. The face of someone who would never understand or need what he needed. She nodded her head gently, tucking her silky straight dark red hair behind her ear as Benton stood and exited the restaurant.

***

When Benton showed up to The Den he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. Meeting with Cora had only reminded him of how much he needed this. How much this place, and what went on it, defined him as a person. He'd decided that for tonight, he'd use a thicker rope, binding Stevie's arms to her ankles while having her in a kneeling position. He thought through each loop, the arch it would create in her back, the way her hair would tumble down her spine and over the tops of her heels...

"What the fuck?" Benton spoke quietly, none of the lights on in the room. He switched on a lamp, seeing the padded table empty. Had Stevie forgotten that they'd agreed on Tuesdays now in addition to Thursdays? There was no way she could have forgotten. He'd been explicit in his instructions, he always was. Benton checked the bathroom. Empty. His watch showed 9:02 PM. Benton West waited for no one. And Mr. X didn't even use the word 'wait' in his vocabulary. Benton fisted a handful of hair in frustration, not caring that it shifted his waves out of place. Has Stevie changed her mind? Does she not want this anymore? Benton couldn't bring himself to accept it. She'd been so willing, so turned on, so wet. And so fucking tight it made his dick painfully hard just thinking about it. Benton pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He messaged Cortland for Stevie's number, using Jelena's recent contract negotiations as an excuse. Once he got the number, he paced the room at The Den, sending a text to Stevie.

Benton West @ 9:15 PM: Where the hell are you? Being late is breaking one of my rules, you should know that.

Benton glared at his phone screen expecting an immediate response. Some snarky, sassy comeback that he wouldn't allow from anyone else but Stevie. Hell, he didn't even really care if she was late. Just as long as she got here and stripped down naked as fast as possible. He tapped his foot, his frustration growing at her lack of response. After another ten minutes, he grabbed his sportcoat and stormed out of The Den, ready to do something he hadn't done in years. Four years to be exact. He was going to fuck a woman outside of The Den. And that woman was Stevie Marlowe.