Ride It

Chapter 18

Beatrice's POV

I don't know what's come over me, but I suddenly crave Bentley's touch. Even more so after he reassured me that my parents would get well taken care of.

How will I ever repay him for this kindness? I feel like I'm the one using him. I know he's right; I know that, but it still doesn't dismiss how I feel. I don't care how I help, but I want to. He has to let me or I'll never stop trying to do it myself.

He shoves me against the tiled wall and hoists my leg up to wrap around his waist. The shower cascades down our bodies and our tongues dance to the disharmony of our hearts.

I don't want to fight him anymore. I just want him to hold me, to make me feel good after everything I've been through.

I can feel that he's still angry, but he also wants me and can't help himself. I played into his emotions and made a move, wanting to dismiss our argument and focus on something else. Something more exciting.

... I really am using him, aren't I?

I close my eyes and tilt my head when his hand suddenly grips my throat. My heart jumps in excitement, despite my mind telling me it's dangerous.

My neck is a sensitive area for me, and I wouldn't like anyone touching it. But I trust Bentley. I know that in this heat of the moment, the only thing he'll do is show me every wicked touch I've been missing out on.

His hand squeezes firmly, not too tight to restrict my breaths, but tight enough that my body shivers and sends electricity shooting into my sensitive bundle of nerves, driving my hip forward to grind against him.

He chuckles against my lips and pulls away to trail his lips down my neck, leaving red burning marks on my skin.

His head dips down and his teeth graze my hardened nipple before rolling it into his mouth. I arch against the wall, my hands quickly finding his hair to keep him there.

This is what I've missed.

The feeling of being with him.

Being craved.

Even when I was with Jason, I never felt wanted despite him seeking my body. It felt more dirty, like he was simply claiming his trophy.

But with Bentley, I feel almost worshipped. He's attentive, eyes always searching my face for signs of discomfort. He tries his best to make me feel good, carefully observing what I like from what I don't like.

This is my first time meeting such a man.

I find myself growing possessive of the connection we have.

I don't want anyone else to feel like this with him. I want to sear my presence into his heart, so he'll never think to abandon me for another.

Is that a bad thing?

I'm happy that he can't hear my thoughts. Hear how desperate I am to keep this thing between us. It's the only good thing in my life.

The only thing that makes me feel alive.

Heat pools into my lower stomach as Bentley kneads my breast in one hand while sucking the other. His tongue flicks across my hardened bud and drives me crazy.

I squirm, already wanting to feel him inside me.

I can't help but confess as I think back to the first time we did it. "You know, that morning after we did it... I touched myself for the first time thinking about you."

His body stiffens, and he lifts his head to gaze at me with a deep look that sends my stomach reeling in ecstasy.

"What did you say?" His voice is dangerously low, and his eyes glance down at my naked womanhood as if picturing it for himself.