Talk Me Down (9 page)

“What—” Ben asked over her sudden laughter “—is going through that head of yours?”

“Phallic symbols,” she giggled as he lowered her to the pillow.

“Phallic
symbols?
Really? Not any specific phallus?” His hand paused on the zipper of his jeans. “That’s kind of an ego blow.”

Molly watched his hand with pained interest. “Don’t stop.”

“Well, I don’t know, Moll. I’m kinda—”

“Take those jeans off
now.
”

“Huh. That’s not so much dirty talk as it is bossiness.” His hand fell away from the zipper. “Now where were we?”

She opened her mouth to object, she really did, but he planted a hand on either side of her shoulders and lowered himself down for a kiss. One taste of him and Molly didn’t care about his jeans; there were so many other good parts of him to enjoy. His back, for instance, a smooth expanse of muscles that rippled under her touch.

His tongue was slick velvet, his chin the slightest rasp of stubble against her skin, but his back was hot silk beneath her fingers. One more texture against her—warm denim—and she’d be golden.

Molly smoothed her hands down his back, snuck beneath the waistband of his jeans, and gripped his tight ass in her hands. They both grunted when she pulled his hips tight to hers and ground herself against him.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Molly moaned, but Ben shook his head.

“Not this time, babe. This time we’re doing it right.”

She rolled her hips and little stars twinkled through her body. “Feels…pretty right.”

Ben half groaned and half laughed, but he managed to slip from her clutches, sliding his body lower, rubbing his skin against her sensitive nipples until she arched up to get more, more, more.

Oh, yeah, there was the scrape of his beard again, drawing a swath of prickly pleasure down her chest, and over one happily startled nipple just before he sucked the tight peak deep into his mouth. Molly arched her head back so far that the room turned upside down. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes.”

His laughter rumbled through her, trailing sizzles of pleasure. He followed the echo of nerves down, pausing to press a kiss or slow bite to a few different spots. And then he was licking the hollow of her hip, the tight tendon of her inner thigh. She dug her hands into the sheets to keep from grabbing his hair and tugging him to the right place. She’d already used his crotch as a sex toy; it probably wouldn’t be right to use his face.

And he would get there eventually. He couldn’t suck that one spot at the very top of her thigh forever. He’d get—

“Now!” she cried out. “Now,
please.
I need you. Oh, Ben, I want your tongue and your mouth and…sucking and…”

That chuckle again, only this time it was trembling through her sex, because his tongue was finally
right there,
pressed against her clit. He licked, curled his tongue around, sucked, and this was
so
much better than her little blue friend.

“Oh, God, oh God,” she groaned, adding a few more words she tried not to hear herself say. But Ben seemed to take it as encouragement, because he repeated the little swirling motion with his tongue. “More, please. Pretty please?”

And just like that, Ben obliged. He didn’t mess around with preliminaries, didn’t ease in and let her adjust; instead, he sunk two fingers deep, forcing a wild scream from her mouth just as he withdrew and did it again. She didn’t have time for dirty words, she was too busy coming her heart out.

Ben worked his fingers and his tongue until he wrung every last whimper from her, then finally let her push his head away. “Now,” he growled from between her legs, “wasn’t that better than dry humping?”

She shook her head, way too limp to nod, and hoped he’d take it as agreement.

“You sleepy enough now?”

Molly lolled her head far enough to the side to get a look at him peeking above her belly. His eyes were fire and joy and wicked desire. “No,” she lied. “I’m not close to sleepy.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile. “You sure?”

“Oh, I’m hella sure.”

He rose up and knelt above her, like some kind of Greek god in unbuttoned Levi’s, and Molly felt her knees weaken despite the fact that she was sprawled on her back.

Finally. Finally she was going to have Ben Lawson.

He seemed to be done teasing, because he backed off the bed and reached for his zipper without a word. And how was he going to unzip past that huge—surely it was huge—bulge? What if it got stuck? But disaster admitted defeat in the face of his gifted hands. The zipper slid down and so did his pants and his underwear and—

“Oh, sweet mother,” Molly heard her lips saying.

Ben toed off his boots and glanced up at her through his lashes, neither proud nor self-conscious. Just…intent.

He slid back into bed, and Molly flipped to her stomach and stretched toward the night table. “Condom,” she stammered as his hand closed over her ankle. She got the drawer open about the time his fingers grasped the back of her knee.

“I’ve got it,” he murmured, his palm sliding higher. Molly froze, trying to act like she might be doing something, when in reality she was simply holding still. His palm pressed up her leg to the very bottom of her ass. She closed her eyes and sunk her teeth into the pillow.

“You…” His right hand joined in, cupping the other cheek. He kneaded her in a slow, sensual motion, sliding, testing the give of her flesh. “You’ve always had the most amazing ass.”

She wiggled it again, trying to be subtle and probably failing, but he murmured appreciatively.

Molly grinned, high on her power. “I’ve got a very generous booty.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, making her laugh.

“You like that, Professor?”

“Oh, yeah.”

His teeth pressed gently against her left cheek and Molly yelped. He kissed it apologetically, then seemed to forget that he’d been apologizing and bit again. This time she was ready and she sighed in excitement that only increased when he kissed a slow circle up to her hip and back down. When his hand slipped between her legs and stroked, she moaned into the pillow and arched her ass higher.

My God, she was hot again, even hornier than she’d been a few minutes ago. And Ben…well, poor Ben hadn’t had his turn yet and his breath was rushing across the rise of her ass in long, ragged bursts.

“I want…” he started to say and then growled as his wide hands closed over her hips. He pulled her up to her knees and she heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper. “I want this,” he rasped, just before he steadied her hips and pushed the broad head of his dick into the wetness he’d inspired.

Molly pressed her forehead to the pillow and whimpered in sublime anticipation. He felt big already, only an inch in, and Jesus, it was good.

Her body resisted, so Ben eased just a tiny bit out and pushed forward again.

“Oh, Ben. Oh, God,” she groaned, edging her knees farther apart. That provided just enough ease for him to press all the way in, inch by steady inch. Her sex squeezed hard against him, fighting the invasion, and she gloried in the way his breath caught with every inhalation.

Once his hips were pressed flush to hers and Molly was squirming with fullness, Ben stopped to catch his breath. His fingers dug into her skin as if he wouldn’t let her go even if she begged. She reached blindly for the rails of her headboard and clutched them tightly, waiting, waiting.

Then, just as slowly as he’d entered, he pulled out again, almost all the way, before he paused. She thought he’d make her beg again and she fought it, bit her lip, tried to defy him, hoping he’d make it worse, but then he surged in and all her thoughts broke into glittering pieces.

“Ohmigod,” she prayed into the pillow as he began to fuck her in long, hard strokes. “Ohmigod, ohmigod.”

“I’ve wanted
this,
” he ground out, taking her even harder.

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, yes, yes.” And then she was saying too many things, yelling and whispering. Groaning and crying. Things like
harder
and
more
and
please.
Things that started with
F
and ended with “me.”

And all Ben said was her name, over and over, and she loved it. Just as he began to quicken his stroke, he paused, buried deep, and drew in a long, slow breath. Then he pulled back, his cock sliding out for an impossibly long time, and smoothed both hands from her hips to her thighs.

His hands pulled her legs back, lowering her to her stomach and twisting her at the same time. Molly swung one trembling leg over his ducking head, and he settled nicely between her legs. “And I want this,” he said, just before his mouth caught hers and he slid back inside her.

She couldn’t speak while they kissed, but she found it easy to encourage him in other ways. She dug her nails into his clenching ass, tilted her pelvis, up, up, up, wrapped her ankles around his thighs to pull him deeper.

Jesus, she was going to come again. She wrenched her mouth from his to tell him so. A few times. And Ben rose up on straining arms to thrust harder and higher.

“Come for me,” he ordered her.
“Come.”

And she did. Long and loud, sobbing his name.

When he finally plummeted over the edge, Molly had recovered enough that she could watch and appreciate the beauty. The tense muscles of his shoulders, the straining tendons in his neck, and his pained mask of pleasure as he climaxed with a ragged groan.

A moment later, he collapsed in slow motion. First his forehead hit the pillow. He pulled out of her body as his shoulders tilted to the side, and then he fell like a big tree, twisting so he landed right beside her.

She wanted to tell him how good he was, how many of her fantasies he’d just managed to fulfill in the space of a few minutes, but Ben offered a tired smile and rolled out of bed before he’d even caught his breath. He headed for the bathroom, and Molly, rude sex hostess that she was, snuggled beneath the covers and fell asleep before the toilet had even flushed.

The warm weight of his chest pleased her enough to wake her for a bare moment when he returned, but then she was far gone, floating in a dream world of shirtless policemen with big guns.

To serve and protect, indeed.

Stomach churning with an acid urgency to find out who the hell she was, Ben took a detour to the kitchen. He didn’t have time for coffee, a Coke would have to do, but when he opened the fridge all he saw was diet.

“Damn,” he muttered as he shut the door, but as it swung past him, he caught sight of a glorious treasure and stuck his hand out to snatch it back open. There, on the bottom shelf, were three Mocha Frappucinos.

“She’s a goddess.” He popped open a bottle and headed for the door. Luckily there was a thumb lock he could turn before leaving, though he wasn’t happy with the security of such a flimsy device. He’d have to talk to her about a dead bolt. While he was on the doorstep testing the knob, he heard the gravelly sound of a truck slowing behind him and glanced over his shoulder, grateful to see a dark blue SUV on the street instead of Miles’s truck.

His gratefulness was short-lived. In the time it took him to walk from the front door to the driveway, another truck passed. For God’s sake, Molly’s house was on a dead-end street. What the hell was the whole town doing out? He glared up the street as another car pulled away from a house at the very end. Baffled, he watched as it passed him, and noticed the woman driving and the child seat in the back.

“Well, fuck me,” Ben sighed as an important fact tunneled out of his memory bank. Miss Amy’s Daycare was at the end of Pine Road, perfectly situated to provide him with the least amount of discretion possible.

He slammed his door way too hard, and then felt guilty that he might have woken Molly. It wasn’t quite seven, and she’d had a long night.

The smile popped to his face even though he tried to suppress it. Last night had been a big mistake. A mind-shatteringly satisfying mistake, but still…

Forcing the smile into a scowl, Ben backed out of her driveway and headed for home and a quick shower. By the time he made it to the station for his split shift, any urge to grin had faded. In fact, he was pretty sure he looked damn grim as he typed in his only viable clue.

Cameron Kasten. Denver.

Wham. Nine hundred and fifty-two hits. And almost all of them related to the Denver Police Department.

“Ho-ly crap.”

Sergeant Cameron Kasten.
Ben scanned the first page for the word “vice” but it didn’t appear. Instead he saw “crisis management” and “negotiation team” and, sprinkled throughout almost every hit, “lead hostage negotiator.”

Who the hell was he sleeping with? A girl who worked with the Denver Police Department’s hostage unit or—and this sent a cold finger down his back—someone who’d been involved in a hostage situation?

But her name hadn’t appeared in any newspaper articles, and Ben suddenly remembered the phone call he’d overheard.
Take the hint, Cameron.
Not exactly a professional conversation.

Ben grabbed the phone, started to dial, than glanced at the clock. Still a little before eight. He hung up and dialed a different number.

“Quinn Jennings,” Molly’s brother muttered.

“Who the hell is Cameron Kasten?” Ben barked into the phone without preamble.

“Ben? What the…?” His voice dropped lower. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I—” Ben cut himself off. What was he supposed to say to that?
Well, I’m sleeping with your sister, and…

“Are you sleeping with my sister?”

“What?”
Ben felt sweat break out along his hairline in an instant tingle.

“Jesus, it’s true! I saw the little hints Miles dropped in the
Tribune,
but I never thought you’d—”

“Don’t tell me you get that rag
mailed
to you?”

Quinn gave an exasperated huff. “Of course not. I read it online.”

“Online? No. You’re fucking with me.”

“Where the hell have you been? It’s been online since August. And I saw the gossip about you and Molly, but, jeez, Ben. My little sister?”

Ben swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “I…I don’t…”

“Well, I guess she’s all grown up.” He didn’t exactly sound convinced.

“It’s not anything, you know…” Ben searched for the right word. “Sordid.”

“No? So you’re not jumping into her bed just a week after she moved to town?”

There was no good answer, and the seconds were passing by. Ben thought he heard crickets chirping and glanced out the window to confirm that it was light outside.

When the awkwardness finally stretched out too long, Quinn made a low noise. “I see.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair and bit the bullet. “I’ve known Molly since she was a baby. I’m not using her or screwing around with her, okay? I like her. And I’m sorry she’s being dragged through the paper like that. I didn’t exactly intend for anything to happen, and I certainly didn’t intend for it to be public.”

“I know you’re a good guy,” Quinn said, though the words came slow and with no enthusiasm.

“Quinn, we’ve been friends since kindergarten. You know I don’t fall into bed with women casually.”

“Not during the winter, you don’t.”

“Ouch,” Ben muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“All right, I’m sorry. That was a low blow. I’ve seen you hook up here during the summer, but not often. I apologize.”

“Mmm. So about this Cameron Kasten.”

“Sorry, man. Ask your girlfriend.”

Ben’s eye twitched at the word. “She’s not forthcoming.”

“Ha! You got that right. But I can’t help you. I received a very disappointed phone call from Molly after that little gaffe in the
Trib.
”

“Yeah, what the heck was that about, Quinn?”

“Miles caught me at a bad time. I was distracted and…”

“I get it.”

“But I promised Molly I’d be more careful. And she specifically brought you up.”

Ben sighed in disgust. “That’s really flattering.”

Quinn’s chuckle irritated the heck out of Ben, but he wasn’t in a position to protest.

“He’s her ex-boyfriend, right?”

“Mum’s the word.”

Ben ground his teeth together. “Like I said, I’m interested in starting a real relationship here, which is going to be impossible if I don’t know anything about her.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s more of a trust issue than an information issue. I could tell you everything I know and you still won’t be any closer to Molly.”

The words were true enough to sting like hell, so Ben hurried Quinn off the phone and got back onto his computer. What in God’s name was she hiding, and why was she hiding it from
him?

As he glanced through one short article about Sergeant Kasten, Ben tried to ignore the department phone number listed at the end of the page. Nosy, he might be, but even he knew that would be over the line. His fingers were twitching though, so he closed the page in a hurry and picked up the phone to check in with Sheriff McTeague.

The receptionist was just asking him to hold when Brenda passed by Ben’s door. He stopped her with an upraised hand and waved her in.

“Thanks again for dinner last night. Molly Jennings asked me to pass on her compliments to the chef. Best chili she’s had in years.”

“Molly?”

He smiled at her frown. “Don’t worry, she said she’d wash your bowl today and bring it right over. Apparently some women are sensitive about their Tupperware? First I’ve heard of it.”

“Oh. Yeah. I just…I didn’t expect—”

Ben pointed at the phone as Sheriff McTeague answered with his usual gruff manner. “Hey, Sheriff, you ever planning to return that GPS tracker we lent you?”

“I didn’t think you’d need it any time soon. Heard you’re real busy with the new girl in town.”

“Unbelievable,” Ben muttered. Word had already spread through the whole damn county. When he realized Brenda was still standing in his doorway, he looked up in surprise, but she was turning away, hurrying toward her desk.

“Listen, Chief,” the sheriff said, suddenly all business. “I’ve got a problem with Nick Larsen. He’s not doing a damn thing about those rotting fences of his, and he’s got two or three heifers breaking out every week. Can you keep an eye out since he’s so close to Tumble Creek? Damn fool’s gonna let those cattle stand on the road till someone gets hurt.”

“Yeah, I’ll do a drive by in the evenings.”

“Stubborn old coot.”

“I tell you what. The only thing Larsen cares about is money. I’ll remind him he could lose the whole ranch if someone runs into one of those cows at night and ends up dead. See if that’ll convince him to spend a few hundred on fencing.”

“Thanks. Let me know.”

A call beeped in before he’d even hung up the phone. A mule deer had got its head stuck in a wrought-iron fence, trying to nibble on the last of a flower garden. The doe’s neck was scraped raw from trying to escape.

Ben grabbed his shotgun from the gun safe and headed for the door, knowing what the outcome could be. Surely the day had to get better after this.