Chapter 3. Sex with a Stranger: pt. 3

She bent over to smell it without removing it from the chair; it smelled good. It smelled like men’s perfume.

Ben walked out of the bathroom, wiping his hands with the small towel provided by the hotel. There was someone else in the room.

He wondered if it was her; he wondered if it was Belle. Standing there, watching her touch his suit jacket—which he had spread over the chair’s arm—he thought she was sexy.

Even with the dim lights, he thought she looked sexy in the dress she wore. When she bent over to smell his jacket, he could see her dress ride up. He walked to the bedside and turned on the brighter light. She turned around immediately.

“Belle?” he asked in a low, deeply masculine voice.

“Yes. Ben, right?” She saw a man in a long-sleeved shirt.

“Yes.” He walked toward her. “Fuck, you are beautiful,” he muttered, even though she could hear him. He was amazed by her beauty. He admired how she had tied her hair into a neat ponytail and how her shoulders were bare, no hair covering them—just the thin straps of her dress.

“You are very pretty,” he said again.

“I know.”

He chuckled at her reply, then let it turn into a smile.

“I guess you are used to such compliments,” he said, and she smiled.

“I’m sorry I’m late. My friends thought I didn’t look good enough in the dress I intended to wear.”

“Your friends know where you were coming from? And why?”

“Well… they think I’m going on a date,” she lied, knowing how strange it sounded that they knew.

“They did a good job. I don’t know what you intended to wear before this, but I’m sure you would still look as beautiful.”

She didn’t say anything more. She just stood there, fumbling with her fingers, trying to control her nervousness. He came closer to her. Standing directly in front of her, she noticed how much taller he was.

“Are we about to…” she wanted to ask, her head lowered. She didn’t want to ask while looking at him, but he lifted her chin to face him.

“What?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his left hand.

“You have blue eyes,” he noticed.

She looked down again to avoid his dark eyes. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she found them scary. She didn’t know how much hunger they held.

“Are you going to…” she started again, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said, making her look back up at him in surprise.

“No?” she repeated.

He smirked. He stepped closer, leaned in as if he were about to kiss her, but placed his lips beside her ear instead. He rested both hands on her slender neck, still playing with her cheeks.

“I don’t make love. I fuck. I fuck hard,” he whispered into her ear with his magnetic voice. It sent shivers through her.

He pulled back slightly, watching for her reaction. She licked her lips. She had wiped off her lip gloss in the elevator because she wasn’t comfortable wearing it, but now her lips felt dry. He found the gesture seductive.

He took her purse from her and placed it on the table between the two sofas. He removed her earrings, walked over to the bedside table, and placed them beside his watch and a ring.

Returning to her, he caressed her shoulder, his hands slowly sliding down the thin strap of her dress. They stopped at her elbow, and he began to kiss her right arm. When he moved back up to her shoulder, she stopped him.

“Are you married?” she asked worriedly. She was already going against her grandmother, losing her virginity this way, but she would never have sex with a married man or someone in a relationship.

He chortled briefly, then stopped when he realized she wasn’t laughing.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, smiling.

“The ring.” She stood far from the table where it lay and couldn’t tell what kind it was, but she had to be sure.

“My father’s ring. Mine now.” He stopped smiling. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“I don’t. You don’t know who I am either. I’m just being careful.”

He smiled again.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said.

Everyone in City S knew he wasn’t married, but she didn’t. Now he knew she wasn’t from this city, because if she were, she would know who she was about to have a one-night stand with.

All she knew was that his name was Ben and that he was twenty-nine years old. She didn’t even know what he looked like before she came to the hotel. He had expected her to be surprised when he turned on the light and she saw who he was.

“Can I see it?” she asked.

“Really?”

She nodded. He picked up the ring and showed it to her. She took it, examining it closely. It was obvious now that it wasn’t a wedding ring. It had an inscription on it: B L. She handed it back to him.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, standing as close as before, the tip of his nose touching her forehead.

“Don’t say fuck. I’d rather you call it sex,” she said, feeling his warm breath against her skin.

“Why? It sounds too vulgar?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “You know, maybe I should make love to you.” He leaned in to her right ear and kissed it. He heard her hum softly in pleasure.

He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, tracing it down to her lips. He admired them as he played with them, rubbing them slowly, as if applying lipstick.