Broken Record

Chapter 33: Benton

Benton paced near the entryway of his condo, wound up on adrenaline. Stevie should be here any minute. If he had it his way, she would've already been here by now but he knew she was spending time with her sister before she went to Aero's show. Benton poured himself another glass of whiskey, tossing it back quickly when he heard a knock on the door. He'd already let the doorman know that he was expecting a female visitor, his first request of this kind since he'd moved in four years ago.

Benton strode over to the front door, throwing it open without looking through the peephole. His mouth popped open, momentarily rendered speechless.

"What the--"

"Do you like it?" Stevie fidgeted from foot to foot before twirling a lock of her hair nervously around her finger. She'd ditched the dark nails and grunge punk chic look for a feminine dress, high heels, and girly makeup. Benton's eyebrows pulled together, his mouth forming a hard straight line.

"Oh shit, you hate it." Stevie's face fell and Benton wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his condo and shutting the door behind them.

"No, definitely don't hate it." Benton gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes up to meet his. "You look beautiful. Like a fucking doll."

"Then why do you look pissed?"

"I," Benton released his hold, stepping back so he could fully take her in. Slender waist, delicate womanly curves, tendrils of thick pale blond hair falling past her breasts. "Was this your sister's idea?"

Stevie rolled her eyes before she mumbled out, "Fuck, I knew this was stupid. I'm the worst at this shit--"

"Hey, hey, come here." Benton grabbed her, pulling her flush against him. "You look very pretty, Stevie. But I don't want you to think...that you need to dress a certain way for me. I quite like your combat boots and weirdly aggressive graphic t-shirts. Which, I've been meaning to ask, do you find those in the kids section or?"

"Okay, funny guy." Stevie punched him gently in the shoulder and he caught her wrist, his eyes turning serious. A shiver raced down Stevie's spine at the intensity she saw in his dark blue irises.

"You know, it doesn't really matter what you wear. The end goal is always the same." Benton dipped his head, kissing her neck.

"And what's that exactly?"

Benton picked his head up, smirking at Stevie before returning to her neck, "getting you naked." His hand slipped behind her back, pulling down the zipper of her dress.

"And then what?" Stevie breathed out, her heart already racing. Every touch of his skin against hers, his lips and mouth at her throat, had her feeling like rivulets of electricity were running haywire throughout her body. With Benton it was always too much and never enough at the same damn time.

"Well," Benton gently pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, the fabric falling away from her breasts and pooling at her hips, "then I'll find a way to restrain every inch of you, just like you need. You fucking crave it." His lips moved over hers, this kiss more sensual, slower than his kisses at The Den. This wasn't an appointment. This was no longer simply an arrangement. This was as necessary as breathing. It was...more.

"Say it," Benton spoke between kisses, his lips vibrating against Stevie's as she pushed the dress fabric the rest of the way down until it hit the floor in a pile. "Say you fucking crave this as much as I do."

Stevie grabbed Benton's shoulders, forcing his eyes to meet hers in between kisses. "I crave it." Stevie pressed her body fully against his, grinding her hips into him, "more than you do." Benton slid his hands down to cover her ass, lifting her into the air as she wrapped her legs around his waist.