Double Faced Twins

Chapter 22

**WARNING**
**Sexual Content**
Faith

I'm in Benson's shower, trying like hell to wash away the crumminess of the day. I'm racking my brain, trying to figure out what happened to Grace and who's behind her disappearance. I begin to process the three men that interested Detective Kidwell.

Fucking Jeremy, I always knew that he was not good enough for Grace, but why would he take her when he just got married. It just doesn't make sense. He moved on, and he has no reason to take Grace, especially not me.

Lance Crawford is an asshole and a sexist. Again, I don't see any reason for him to want to hurt Grace or me. He's a tricky one. He told Benson about hitting the trifecta with Grace and me, which is wearing on my mind. And it makes sense that he could've written those letters if he desired us both. He would have to be a psycho to write what he did in the magazine and then come after us, but it's plausible even though he makes himself a prominent person of interest.

Creepy ass Travis, if that's his name. I have no fucking clue about this guy.  He's a mystery, and I hope Detective Kidwell finds out who he is. Why would he come to work as an intern with us if he hated us? This guy's a puzzle that I pray the detective can put together.

Then, my mind goes to more happy thoughts, which include Benson. I'm still unsure if this and the girlfriend talk we banter back and forth with are real. He's been so strong for me to lean on, and our physical chemistry is off the charts. I hope this is real between us—more than just friends with benefits. I can feel my heart falling with every touch, every kiss, and every sweet word he speaks to me.

Right now, all of that needs to go on the back burner till we find Grace. I don't feel like having a whirlwind romance with Benson while my sister is out there somewhere alone and scared.

I finish my shower and get dressed in leggings and an off-the-shoulder tee shirt that Benson's assistant, Cindy, brought to Benson's apartment along with other essentials. I pull my hair up into a messy bun. My stomach growls—time to make us something to eat.

I exit, and Benson sits at the kitchen bar with his laptop open. "You look refreshed, and damn it if you aren't more beautiful without your makeup."

I walk over. Benson turns his stool towards me and holds out his arms. I step in between his muscular thighs, and he pulls me close into him.

My stomach growls, and I blush. "I'm getting hungry."

"You don't say?" He raises his brow.

I laugh, "Are you ready for me to make us something to eat?"

"If you make it, I will eat it." He slaps my ass as I leave him to see what I have to use.

"By the way, as far as I'm concerned, you can wear those leggings every day of the week." He wiggles his brows.

"They're my favorite too, but every day? I don't think so," I grimace at the idea of wearing these daily. "I would need a few days of the week to put them into the wash!"

He grins, "Babe, you can wash them every night if you want to because I don't plan on you wearing them to bed. "

I continue to look through the cupboard and refrigerator, gathering everything that I need to put together something decent to eat. I found eggs, bread in the freezer, cinnamon, vanilla extract, and nutmeg. I was surprised to see in-date milk in the refrigerator. French toast casserole is perfect. Now, I only need brown sugar, flour, and butter for the topping. I find all the ingredients that I need.

I glance at Benson; his laptop is closed, and he watches my every move. I smile, then get back to work mixing the ingredients. I place the contents into a baking pan, cover it with foil, and put it in the oven. In twenty minutes, I will remove the foil and finish baking it for another 20.

Benson had gotten up from his stool and wrapped his arms around me when I closed the oven. "How long till we eat?"

I lean back into him, and he kisses my neck, chilling me. "Forty minutes," I answer breathlessly.

"Hmmm... whatever shall we do for forty minutes," Benson says as he kisses the other side of my neck.

I feel weak in the knees, and the heat building between my thighs is begging me to be satisfied. I'm very grateful that Benson's strong arms are around me, holding me up because, without his support, I would be a puddle at his feet.

"Mmmm," a moan escapes my lips, and I hear Benson growl.

He turns me around and takes possession of my lips. I part my lips in need of his soft, silky tongue to capture mine. His hands go to my ass, and he squeezes. I'm about ready to start stripping down in Benson's kitchen when Grace comes into my mind. Right away, I feel guilty.

It took everything in my power to push away from Benson. "I'm sorry."

He pulls back and takes my face into his large, smooth hands. He looks at me with worry. "Are you okay?"

I sigh and lower my eyes from his, "I'm the worse fucking sister in this whole damn world," I say barely above a whisper.

Benson looks surprised. "Why would you say that?"

I look back into his eyes. "Because, Benson, Grace is missing, and the only thing that I can think of is getting naked and having you bend me over one of these damn stools."

"Damn! Now I can't get that image out of my mind!" Benson smirks. "And for the record, that's going to happen, maybe not today, but come hell or high water, that's going to happen!"

I can't help but smile. Benson always has a way of making me smile. He hugs me firmly, then whispers in my ear, "I'm not going to deny that I want you so damn bad. I want to do everything I can to help you escape this miserable situation that some asshole has put Grace and you in. Even if it's only for a little while."

Feeling his breath on my neck as he talks so sweetly to me has my body craving release. I toss all of my apprehension out of the window. If for only this moment, I want to escape, I want to feel, and I need his closeness; I need him as much, if not more, than he needs me. I step away from him and remove my tee, leaving my breasts bare before him.

His eyes go wide. "Jesus, Faith!"

I place my thumbs into the sides of my leggings, move them down my body, and step out. I don't say a word, and Benson seems speechless. I walk over to the stool and bend over it, leaving behind the mess my life has become and just letting go, giving my body what it wants, what it needs.

A second later, I feel Benson's hand on my hips. He lines himself up to my soaking-wet center and enters me slowly. I moan as he slips in and out of me unhurried and methodically. I reach between my legs to release the tension building moving two fingers slowly over my clit in a circular pattern.

"Shit, Babe, are you touching yourself?" His voice is thick with desire.

"Mmhmm." I moan. Our pace continues quickly and consistently.

"You feel so fucking good, Faith," Benson says as he begins to quicken his thrusts.

"Ah, yes, Benson, harder, Baby. I am almost there." I groan.

What Benson started as slow and sensual quickly morphs into him pounding me in a frantic motion. The faster his thrusts, the quicker my fingers work my clit.

"Come on, Baby, I'm so fucking there!" He growls, and his words push me right over the edge. We orgasm hard together. After riding out our pleasure, my body goes limp over the stool. This man! My man!

*****