For context, please read the previous stories in this series.
Enjoy x
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The next week was busy.
For both Benjamin and for myself. He travelled to Italy for a conference, while my editor put me in charge of a high-profile trial.
I desperately snuck glances at my phone whenever I could... outside the courtroom, in the bathroom, waiting between witnesses... his messages brought a thrill each time.
Can't stop thinking about you...
Meet me when I arrive back in London...
Come stay with me for the weekend...
My body tingled, remembering our night together.
He had kept me up all night, alternating between touching me softly, using his lips and tongue to torture me, kissing me brutally, to fucking me until I screamed into a pillow.
He had made me say and do things I had never done before.... Never wanted to do before...
I felt like someone else entirely. Out of my depth, hopelessly occupied by him.
The trial finished and the jury came to a unanimous not-guilty verdict by Friday, an interesting surprise that kept me hunched over my desk for most of the day.
An inky night-time descended on London and, satisfied I met deadline (and the approval of my hawk-eyed editor), I was in no hurry to get home. My mates from work, Julie, Leo and Scott, had asked me out for drinks, but I wasn't in the mood. Benjamin was supposed to be back in London the following day - but, I hadn't heard from him all day.
His silence had me depressed.
Maybe he had met some beautiful Italian woman.
We hadn't made any promises to each other, had technically only been on the one date. I knew I was falling for him and felt like a school girl who had a crush on her ambivalent teacher.
Shaking my head, I scolded myself. My God, it had been one day without hearing from him, and I was spiralling. I was in way over my head, here.
The Kensington house seemed too big, too dark, all sleek marble and lofty high ceilings. It agonizingly reminded me of him, this house he once lived in.
Drawing to the middle of July, London was sooty and hot. I had worn a floaty lilac dress under a navy blazer and my press credentials, and I stripped the jacket off as I dumped my handbag on the entryway table and walked into the kitchen, stooping to pet Dorian, who meowed a hello.
The hair on the nape of my neck rose, as floorboards behind me creaked. Moving to turn, a voice commanded me to stop.
"Stay still, Grace."
I froze, and my eyes fluttered shut.
Benjamin.
"You're back early." I whispered, feeling him move only a hairs-length away behind me.
"Cut the trip short. My printers are disgruntled. But I needed to see you." I could hear his smile, and I moved to turn around. He stopped me with a firm hand on my hip.
"I said," he lowered his mouth to run his lips along the curve of my neck "Don't move."
"I should get that golf club back out. You're intruding..." I said, strained. I felt him chuckle, plant delicate kisses along my neck. His hands roamed down my body, brushing his thumbs over my hardening nipples which pushed against the lilac dress.
"I like this," he murmured, using light fingertips down the length of the skirt before brushing up my thighs. I dropped my head back to rest on his hard shoulder with a whimper.
"Sit on the chair."
I didn't have to ask which chair. The one he had caught me on, only weeks ago, touching myself while I thought of him.
I moved robotically to the plush lounge seat and watched him hungrily. He looked a little travel-mussed, with dark smudges under his eyes and the early makings of a thick beard. Rather than softening his devastating handsomeness, it only worked to heighten his masculinity. I bit my lip and watched as he tugged off his tie, slipped out of his suit jacket. Out of the corner of my eye Dorian left the room, pouting that his dinner had been delayed.
Standing over me, Benjamin lowered each hand on either side of me -- bracketing me into the chair. I tipped my face up to kiss him, but he shook his head.
"Not yet."
Crouching, he ran his hands up my smooth, lean legs, hooking my knees over his arms and forcing me to fall back, slouching into the chair. Reaching underneath my ass, his eyes unreadable and dark, I gasped as I heard fabric tear. He had ripped off my panties at the sides.
