Page 8 of Careless Whisper

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Page 8 of Careless Whisper

“Good.” I hold her hand and open the door. “Here we go.”

She steps over the threshold and it takes everything in me not to pick her up and carry her over that threshold. I bought this house when she had been gone a few years. I worked and saved so that I could put a downpayment on this little ranch and then I started fixing it up.

Her mouth drops open when I turn the light on. “Wow! It’s beautiful.”

Soft gray walls and the prettiest pastel paintings decorate the walls in the same soft images she always loved when we were growing up. The soft gray carpet is the perfect cozy spot and the deep plush pile of the dark steel carpet is so tempting to just take your shoes off and sink your toes into.

The kitchen is modern and shiny. Barely used since I don’t really cook a lot except for the microwave.

“This place is really pretty, Benjie.”

I cock my head at her. “Why do you still call me that?”

Her eyes lift to mine and there’s something forbidden and wanton in her gaze that calls to something wild in me.

“Because nobody else does. It makes me feel special.”

“You’ll always be special to me, Sparkle. There’s nobody like you.”

“That’s not true. I’m not special at all.”

“Tell me why you say that, baby. And then I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

“Because I’m just a woman who made a lot of money telling a horrible story. A true story that is more disgusting than most fictional trashy novels.”

I stalk up to her and lightly caress her cheek, smiling when she turns her face until her lips caress my palm.

“I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that. It was your truth to tell. If you wanted to write it, there’s nobody who should tell you that you shouldn’t tell your story.”

“Tell them that,” she says sadly, her deep blue eyes troubled and sad.

“I would if I believed they’d listen. But it doesn’t really matter if they do or don’t. The point is there will always be naysayers. People who don’t think you should be allowed to get rich talking about your past. Those people don’t matter. Your opinion of your life should be the only one that matters.”

“You say the best things. I can’t decide if you’re real or not.”

“Oh, I’m real, Steph. We’re real, this place is real.” I touch her cheek and turn her face to mine again, leaning close and breathing in her sweet fruity scent. “Our feelings are real.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel it?” I let my hand drift down her body and feel her shudder, see her breath catch lightly. Her bountiful chest heaves mightily and I struggle not to let my eyes drop and stare. There’s so much to see. So much of her that’s just plain beautiful.

Her skin is so soft and sweet. The way she doesn’t even try, she just automatically sinks into my touch. The hypnotizing dark heat in her sapphire eyes turning them into midnight blue velvet.

“What do I feel?” Her voice is just a whisper of sound, a soft surrender barely kissing her lips as I lean closer and let my breath fan across her cheek.

“You feel how much I want you. How perfect you are for me and you always have been. You feel the way we fit together perfectly. Like we’ve just found the piece that’s been missing all of our lives. The part that was made only for me. Only for you. Us.”

And then my lips touch hers and it’s like every damn dream that I’ve ever had. Her soft lips open under mine with a soft moan and her lush body leans against me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she stands on tiptoe to reach up to run her fingers through my hair and caress the back of my neck.

Wildfire flares into life where her fingers touch me and I groan when she dances closer and closer to the flames, pressing herself against me harder, like she’s drawn like a firefly to the heat of the flames and light between us.

I reach down and lift her up and she wraps her legs around me, tightening them around my middle as she writhes in wild abandon against me. My dick is harder than a steel pipe and I groan under my breath when she grinds carelessly against me.

With a grunt, I turn and slam her into the wall, feeling the surface shake with the force of our bodies slamming together.

Her lips touch mine, slanting along mine. My tongue slides along hers and we tangle together in an erotic duel that has electricity singing through my veins.

“I need you, little Sparkle. I’ve been waiting for you to come home to me for so long. I love you.”




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