The long awaited part three to Grace and Benjamin's story...
Enjoy x
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Sleep eluded me that night.
I couldn't get him off my mind, couldn't get the cab ride off my mind.
The way it felt, being pinned under his hands as he pushed clever fingers inside my wet pussy, the way his lips felt on mine -- harsh, demanding... I replayed it over, and over in my head, feeling the junction between my thighs pulse, a hot swoop in my stomach causing me to toss and turn until sheets were caught up in my legs.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of him. And when I awoke, late into the morning, my body only yearned more intensely.
I felt Dorian jump onto the bed at my feet and begin cleaning himself- pausing to observe me regally as I shoved my head under a pillow and let out a low moan of hot embarrassment.
How in the fucking world was I going to face him tonight? How was I going to string together two words?
Sitting up, I told myself to grow up. I smiled bleakly at Dorian, who meowed a demand for his breakfast. I sighed.
"Okay, your highness," I muttered, before descending the elegant stairs down to the kitchen.
Yawning, I set Dorian's bowl of food on the polished hardwood floor before crossing to the coffee machine and pressing a button for a hot and strong espresso.
Picking up my phone from where I had haphazardly thrown my handbag the night before, I felt myself shiver at the single message from an unknown number. I knew who it was from. Not pausing to retrieve my coffee, I read the sparse words and let out a shaky breath.
Speakeasy, 8pm. Meet me at the bar.
It was sent just after 5am. A ghost of a smile passed my face... maybe he hadn't been able to sleep, either.
As I knocked backed the espresso like a shot of tequila, I pondered how best to reply. Coming up blank I looked hopelessly down at the phone screen as another text from Benjamin came through.
Wear something red.
I felt myself bristle. God, he was arrogant.
"I don't even own anything red," I muttered crossly.
But that wasn't entirely true.
Groaning, I ran upstairs to the master bedroom where I had been sleeping, diving into the closet where Lily had made space for my clothes.
I pulled out The Dress and groaned again.
Cherry-red and made out of a buttery silk, The Dress had a plunging neckline and barely scraped the top of my thighs in length. I had never worn it before. My best friend Viv had made me buy it after my last breakup, before I moved to London - insisting that at some point I would want a dress that would have a guy begging.
"I don't want anyone to beg," I had protested. She had laughed and shook her head.
"One day you're gonna meet a guy who is going to completely fuck you up. And then I can guarantee... you're going to want this dress. The dress."
Holding it against my body and inspecting myself in the mirror, I shook my head. I had a perfectly nice, knee-length black cocktail dress that I could wear. It looked great on me. and besides, now that he had tried to tell me what to do... well, I felt the need to defy him. To say no. To have that little bit of control.
What was I, five?
I hung the dress back off with a short sigh and bit my lip, before picking up my phone again and ringing Viv.
"Good morning sunshine," she sang at me, laughed "you caught me at the perfect time. Just getting ready for a night out."
I smiled.
"Planning a wild one?" I headed down to the kitchen once again for another dose of caffeine.
"I'm always planning a wild one. How's Queen Liz?"
"Oh she's well. Sends her regards."
"How thoughtful," Viv laughed again.
"So..." I trailed off "Okay. I have a dilemma."
"A sexy dilemma?" she demanded.
I blushed.
"Maybe."
She squealed down the phone and I pulled it away from my ear, wincing.
"Tell me everything."
"I met this guy..."
"Who? How? Where? What does he look like? What does he do? Does he have Facebook? Let me stalk him..." she interrupted.
"The how and where aren't important..."
No way was I telling her that story without at least three glasses of wine.
"He's... intimidatingly good-looking. Like, magazine-cover hot. Tall, clearly works out... blue eyes... and, god, all this gorgeous brown hair..." I trailed off and heard her whistle.
"Oh you have it bad." She informed me. I cleared my throat.
"Yes well, I'm well aware of that... and so is he. I'm so on the back foot here. I don't know how to do this stuff... the games. He's so... I don't know. Confident. Smooth. I don't know how to keep up."
"Oh yes you do," Vic interrupted me "You are an absolute champion flirter. I've seen it in action. This guy just flummoxes you, that's all. Have you fucked yet?"
"Viv!" I gasped, and cracked up.
"No! But he... well... we may have had a... rendezvous in the back of the cab last night."
Viv whooped and cheered all the way back in Australia.
"You saucy bitch, you took it literally when I told you don't do anything in London that I wouldn't do. You must be obsessed with this guy, normally it takes you -- what -- half a year to let a guy hold your hand."
"Well that strategy isn't going to work... I swear to god I've never been so desperate to jump into bed with someone in my life." I confessed.
"So, do it!" she encouraged.
"But I feel like such a... I don't know, a kid. I'm not good at this stuff..." I insisted.
"Grace," Viv laughed "it's easy. He wants you... you're smart and funny and have a body to die for. Trust me, he's going nuts for you, too. Just remember that. And for god's sake, chill out."
I sighed. She was right. I was being so uptight.
"And Grace?"
"Mmm?"
"You have to wear The Dress."
*****
I cleaned, and napped, and read a book, all the while obsessively checking my phone, checking the time.
I hadn't replied to his texts... two could play games, and I wanted him to spend the day wondering about me.
Relieved the nap had removed the dark shadows the restless night's sleep had left, I showered and blow-dried my blonde hair into silky waves that fell below my breasts. I kept my makeup simple, a dash of dark liner, shimmery powder, and a sheen of red lip tint to my lips.
I slipped on a pair of nude heels and a wispy lingerie set of a white lace thong and bra.
Tugging on the red dress I examined myself in an enormous mirror, standing up a little straighter.
I grinned at myself. I looked good. Damn good. Benjamin didn't seem the type to beg, but at least this would get his attention.
The jitters amped up in the cab ride, as I worked to keep my breathing steady and even. I checked my phone to a drunk text from Viv wishing me luck. Smiling, it was just what I needed.
The restaurant was unpretentious, moody and dark, with a long and busy bar and a separate dining section. A large group of people waited impatiently in front of a harried-looking maître de, I brushed by them to get to the bar.
"I'm sorry, but we're completely booked. If you come back at, say, 9pm..." I heard the maître de trail off and glanced back in surprise as he watched me walk past.
A quick flash of a grin passed my face. I wanted to thank him for the assurance.
Shouldering my way to the bar, a glance told me Benjamin wasn't here yet. Scooting onto a barstool, the bartender came over to me.
"What can I get you?" he asked eagerly.
Wow, The Dress really does work, I thought.
I opened my mouth to order a martini, but a deep voice interrupted me.
"We have a table."
Peeking up, I felt myself want to slide bonelessly off the stool. It was Benjamin, walking over to me with a dark look. He was studying me with ruthless intensity, the maître de trailing after him.
"Grace." He murmured. In a white collared shirt carelessly unbuttoned under a slim navy suit, he looked every bit the wealthy, successful businessman. His collar-length rich brown hair was pushed back, a 5 o'clock shadow accentuating his jaw.
Rather than making me want to run and hide, the look in his eyes had me curving my lips in a humoured smile.
"You're late," I informed him. His eyes flickered to the bartender, still hovering behind me eagerly.
"Only by a few minutes. Shall we?" he held out his hand for me as the maître de waited to show us our table.
"Of course." I smiled secretly to myself, collecting my bag off the bartop. Hesitating, I took his hand and stifled a groan at the way it felt in mine. He had the calloused palms of a labourer, I wondered in a lustful haze why. I felt my tongue go stiff in my mouth as I snuck glances at the man leading me to a a secluded table in the corner of the restaurant area. Benjamin cleared his throat as the poor staff member tried to pull out the chair for me.