The Naughty List (11 page)

“Lose the bra.” Ben’s voice made my body flush with anticipation.

I reached beneath my sweater, unclasped my bra and slid out of it. I placed it in the bag with my jeans.

Ben stepped closer to me and rubbed his finger against my breasts and my nipples stood at attention. They poked against my charcoal-colored cashmere sweater. I moved toward him and he pushed me away.

“I say when.”

He tilted his cowboy hat at the sales clerk as we exited the store.

* * *

When the tram arrived at the terminal the outboard doors opened first to allow the arriving passengers to exit on the other side. I watched them file out of the tram and with each man, woman, and child that exited I felt my heart rate quicken.

Then the inboard doors opened. Ben placed his hand on the small of my back. “Get a seat toward the rear.”

It was nearing eleven and the number of departing passengers entering the tram was small. I walked toward the end of the tram and sat on an empty bench. No one was near me. But neither was Ben. When the tram began to move, the lights dimmed and shadows moved across the walls.

In the distance, I spotted his hat. A silhouette against the interior wall of the tram that moved in and out of the shadows. I watched it, waiting for it to move toward me, but instead it disappeared when the tram darkened beneath a tunnel.

I sat alone in complete darkness until the tram pulled into a stop. When the doors opened, light poured into the car and suddenly Ben stood before me. I gasped. He said nothing.

The tram resumed moving toward another tunnel and darkness overtook the tram. I felt for him, but he was no longer in front of me. A brief pocket of light before the next tunnel spliced through the tram and Ben was on the bench seat beside me, his voice in my ear.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello.” I waited for him to touch me. “I wondered where you went.”

“I promised to look after you and I plan to keep that promise.”

“People break promises.”

He reached his hands into my hair and pulled me toward him. His mouth grazed my neck and nibbled at the tender skin. “I don’t break promises and neither will you.”

“Maybe.” I dug my fingers into his thick, wavy hair. “Maybe not.” I toyed with him and his hold on me strengthened. The ferocity of his kiss ignited my senses and made my skin prickle with pleasure.

He reached beneath my skirt, his fingers lightly playing against me, sending my body into overdrive. A flicker of light allowed me to see his eyes, which danced with desire.

You’re all mine.

His finger, strong and hard, penetrated me. I inhaled sharply.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him deeper into me. He added a second finger and the craving for him dominated any inhibition I had. If people were watching, I didn’t care.

I closed my eyes and imagined we were alone. The only sound I heard was the tram moving through the tunnels and his rapid, hot breath in my ear.

He moved his hand so he had a finger against my clit along with the two inside me. He moved them in perfect unison until I exploded and a guttural moan rose from my mouth. He gently released his hand and tilted my head toward his unzipped jeans.

I opened my eyes, dropped to my knees and slowly, longingly took him into my mouth as the tram intersected with an art exhibit. From the tram’s window, the artwork blurred by in a stream of color. Airplane propellers mounted on the interior wall of the tunnel glowed with blue florescent lights. The wind from the tram caused them to spin as we passed. The propellers looked like they were building speed and I could have increased mine, but instead, I slowed things down. My hand cupped him while my mouth glided over his cock. His cum lingered on the edges, reminding me of his tart taste that would go so well with my honeyed pussy juice. But before we combined our flavors, I wanted to know what the rest of him tasted like.

My tongue wandered down his base to the ridge of skin that held his balls. The tip of my tongue trailed along the thin line that ran from the front to the back of his scrotum. His thighs tightened as my mouth explored his nether region that had a hint of salt and a touch of musky sweat that combined for an intoxicating cocktail for the senses. I placed one of his sacs in my mouth and suckled on the soft, subtle skin. His ball relaxed and dropped further into my welcoming warmth and like a tease, I lightly pulled him in and out of my mouth, tugging on his sac and savoring the way his hips raised to meet me, wanting more of what I had to offer. Whether it was baking or fucking, the best way to pull out flavor was to tap into what was already there. And Ben was full of flavor.

The propellers in the tunnel spun feverishly as he started to work his cock. The low groans that he murmured and the way he dug his hand in my hair when I gently released his ball and moved to put the other one in my mouth put me at the helm of his pleasure.

But then he gently lifted my chin toward him, taking charge again. I obeyed and waited for his next directive. He ripped open a condom packet with his teeth and rolled the slick rubber onto his wet, shiny cock. He pulled me down so that I straddled his lap, raised my skirt and cupped my ass. He gripped me firmly and slammed himself inside me.

I inhaled sharply and bit his shoulder. He didn’t kiss the nape of my neck, he bit it. His hands didn’t caress my skin, they conquered it. He didn’t move slowly inside of me, he ravaged me. Ben was a fearless, dangerous, rule-breaking alpha of the highest order. He awakened a want deep inside me that ached for more. He was in complete control of everything. And I liked it.

The tram began to slow its pace. We entered another art tunnel and my pulse quickened. A wall full of clocks appeared in the window behind me. Five minutes remained until midnight.

“The countdown to New Year’s has begun,” he said in my ear.

I looked at him. The reflection of the clocks appeared on the window across from him and showed on his face.

“Can you last till midnight?” I bore down on him. My thighs straddled him, holding him captive to my desire.

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t miss my mark.”

I slowly moved up and down, timing my thrusts with the second hands on the clocks. As they began their final rotation of the year, I increased my speed. One minute remained and for that minute, I allowed myself to risk beyond what I had already. The tram was nearing its stop and soon more than the clocks would be on display if I didn’t hit my mark.

Ben wrapped his arm around my waist and dug himself further into me, which I didn’t think was possible. My breath caught.

“Five… four…” he said in my ear.

The tram slowed and my heartbeat accelerated.

“Three… two…” his voice taunted me.

Every point in my body sparked with desire until I hit the golden spot. Then my back arched, my mouth opened and I lost all control of my senses. “One,” I screamed and collapsed against him.

“Happy New Year, Lucy.”

* * *

Within moments, the tram reached the end of the station. A loud bang reverberated in the cabin.

“What was that?” I sat beside Ben and grabbed his thigh.

“It’s okay. That’s just the tram reversing direction,” he said.

“But that sound?”

“It was the crossover switch to change the course.” Ben began to tuck his shirt back into his jeans and I moved my hand off his thigh.

“You can keep it there,” he said.

I pretended not to hear him. “So now where are we headed?”

“Back to the gate and to our plane.” The tram swerved and I bumped into Ben.

I tried to put distance between us, but each time the tram turned I veered into him.
Funny, I don’t remember the tram being this rocky before.

“So back to the gate and to our plane,” I repeated.

Each time the train took a sharp turn, I bumped into Ben and each time my heart beat a little faster. What was more amazing was that he never took his eyes off me.

“We haven’t missed our flight, have we?” I asked.

Ben chuckled. “You sure are full of questions.”

“I wasn’t really keeping track of the time until…” I blushed.

“We struck midnight?”

“Exactly,” I said with a smile.

He reached for my hand and gently held it. I looked at our intertwined hands and the words popped out of my mouth. “Why me?” I asked.
Why not Rachel? Or some other blonde?

“Why not you?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t answer a question with a question.” I let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t let go of mine.

“I watched you while you were waiting in line at the airport,” he said.

“That’s kind of creepy,” I said with a nervous laugh.

“I was standing right behind you.”

“Oh, yeah.” I glanced at him. “But still that doesn’t answer my question. Why me?”

“Many reasons,” he said and tightened his hold on my hand. “First, I like your name.”

“Lucy?”

“Yeah, you don’t hear that often.”

“Ohh-kay.”

“Don’t discount it. I heard your name and it fit your personality, which was energetic and alive. You weren’t passively going through the motions.”

“Thank you,” I said, realizing that was the first compliment Ben had paid me.

“Second, I liked your red hair and I wondered if your carpet—” he nudged me “—you know, matched the drapery.”

I rolled my eyes. “You should’ve stopped at your first point.”

“Nah, because my third point is even better than the first two.”

“I cannot wait to hear this,” I said and found myself smiling.

“Well, I heard you talk to your friend about your bag of baking equipment.”

I listened tentatively, waiting for Ben to be Ben and have some smartass, stupid comment.

“You really take pride in your work,” he said.

Huh.

“I’ve never dated a pastry chef,” he said and wrapped his arm around my waist.

“Well, I think you’ve done more than date me,” I said with a hint of laughter to my voice.

“Oh, this.” He blew out a mouthful of air. “Tonight was just an appetizer.” He pulled me toward me and kissed me tenderly. “Wait until dessert.”

* * *

Dessert came just after midnight. I sat beside Ben on a smaller plane that headed into the moonlight and toward Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I had the window seat and he had the aisle. But we were together and suddenly that’s all that mattered. Ben had already commandeered another bottle of champagne from the flight attendant. Our glasses never emptied.

“What’s it like?” I asked.

Ben grabbed my arm and shook it. “Relax, you’re going to do great.”

I exhaled. “It’s a new experience and I’m excited for that, but…” I started to laugh. “It’s a new experience and that kind of freaks me out.”

“You seem to do well with new experiences,” he said with a saucy glint in his eyes.

“Experience is the spice of life,” I said.

“Uh-huh. Just don’t go
experiencing
with anyone else.”

A smile curved my lips. “So what are you saying? That I’m strictly yours?”

“You were mine the minute I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh, you think so?” I winked.

Ben’s eyes danced with mischievousness. “I know so.” He turned in his seat so his back was to the aisle and any passengers, including Scott, who may be watching us. The energy in the air was electric. Midnight’s stroke on the clock had awakened the beast.

“What kind of toys did you pack in that black leather satchel of yours?”

“My cooking bag? The one I checked at the gate?” I asked, taking a sip of champagne.

Ben nodded. “It seemed heavy.”

“It is. Nice of you to offer to help me with it.” I lightly jabbed him in the stomach with my finger. There was no fat to cushion my prod. He was straight-up muscle.

“So what’s in it?”

I exhaled. “Oh, gosh, everything. My rolling pins, galvanized knives, cake molds, forms, pans, cutters, thermometers, scales, a whisk…” I looked at him playfully.

“So you probably have a spatula.”

I chuckled. “I have a few.”

Ben reached behind him into his back jean pocket. He withdrew a mini red spatula. A tiny silver bow was stuck to the handle. “It’s got a small head,” he said with a grimace and a shrug. “But apparently that’s good for getting food out of blenders or small jars?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “A small-headed spatula has its purpose in the kitchen. One of my
favorite
recipes is pumpkin spice cake with buttercream frosting. It’s deliciously sinful and this is the
perfect
sized spatula when I puree the pumpkin and add in a
dash
of spice,” I said with a saucy wink.

He grinned. “Well, it’s also heat-resistant, so it’s not supposed to melt or curl or do whatever it’s not supposed to do under extreme temperatures. Or at least that’s what the tag attached to it says.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “This is so sweet. When did you get time to get this?
Where
did you get this?”

“I may have sent Scott to go get something culinary to ring in the New Year.”

“Oh, Scott.”

“It was my idea,” Ben said defensively. He handed me the spatula. “Scott just got it for me.”

“And you wonder why Scott has no social life.”

Ben shrugged. “Nah, he’s just lazy when it comes to women. You have to invest the time.”

“Is that right?” My hand carefully glided over the smooth silicone spatula. The handle fit perfectly in my hand.

Ben’s eyes locked onto mine. “Anyone can get a woman in bed. But if a man wants to keep a woman, a
real
woman, in his bed, then he’s got to be ready to devote some time and…” He cocked his head toward the spatula in my hand. “A few treats to keep that woman happy and satisfied.”

I grinned. “So this is my treat?”

“Find out.” Ben’s authoritative voice re-emerged and I felt my body temperature spike. “Play with it.”

I spread my legs and carefully guided the small-headed spatula toward me. The rounded edge tickled and aroused me all at once. I looked at Ben and he leaned toward me and bit my bottom lip. He pulled away and I awaited his instruction, knowing there would be more commands.