CHAPTER THREE

BENJAMIN’S POV

It’s been two whole weeks. Fourteen straight days of silence.

No texts, no accidental touches, no side glances, nothing.

It’s like nothing ever happened between Beatrice and me. Like her mouth hadn’t devoured mine, and she didn’t fill me with the need to want her desperately. I haven’t been able to think straight, my mind has been a jumbled mess of catastrophe.

Now, she acted like I was invisible.

Sure, I saw her alone around campus. Once by her locker, once at the vending machine, once walking alone in the parking lot. But every time I got the courage to approach her, she’d remember she needed to be somewhere else. It was always, “Oh! I left my book,” or “Sh*t, I’m late for class,” or she’d just fake a phone call and dip.

Each time, I stood there like a f*cking idiot, left holding my guilt and my hard-on memories.

And don’t even get me started on Anthony. Every time he called me “bro” or slapped my back or laughed at one of my lame jokes, it felt like being stabbed with a butter knife—slow, dull, but cutting deep. This was my guy, my best friend, and I had let his girl consume me, yet I hated myself just enough to still want her.

*****

Mr. Finnick was just about to dive into another two-hour torture session when something tapped my desk. I looked down to see a crumpled piece of paper. That wasn’t unusual, Anthony and I passed notes all the time during class.

I casually unfolded it, and then everything inside me paused.

“Go to the science lab now. I’ll be right behind you.”

My heart did a weird cartwheel. That wasn’t Anthony’s handwriting, not even close.

I scanned the room fast and my eyes landed on Beatrice.

She was already looking at me, but the moment our gazes locked, she looked away fast, tucking her hair behind her ear like she didn’t just drop a nuclear bomb on my desk.

Holy f*cking mackerel!

My body started reacting before my brain could catch up. My palms got sweaty, blood rushed south, and my stomach twisted with something between nerves and pure, raw hunger.

I raised my hand. “Sir, may I be excused?”

Mr. Finnick didn’t even look up. “Go…. And take your hormones with you.”

I glanced around, registering the questioning look on Anthony’s face before disappearing.

I don’t even remember how I got to the science lab. My legs were ahead of me, my mind already playing dangerous fantasies. Maybe she wanted to talk, maybe she wanted more than talk or maybe she finally stopped fighting what we both knew was there.

I opened the door, and thankfully, the lab was empty.

Good… I walked in, my heart pounding, as I leaned against the lab counter. I checked my breath, adjusted my shirt, and rubbed my face to wipe the excitement off.

Then I started testing poses like a loser. Arms crossed? No, too stiff. Casual lean? Nope, too obvious. Maybe mysterious stare into the distance?

Before I knew it, the door swung open fast.

I turned swiftly, heart in my throat, breath ready to say her name.

“Sh*t—Cindy?” My voice escalated, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Of course, I cussed internally! How the f*ck did I miss that? I was almost disappointed that it wasn’t Beatrice, but I had no right to be. Besides, she had ignored me for two damn weeks, I wasn’t expecting her to suddenly want me… was I?

Cindy shut the door behind her and leaned on it like she was in some soap opera.

She looked hot, of course in her tight jacket that accentuated her huge bust, ripped jeans, glossed lips, and that cocky smirk she always wore when she knew she was about to get her way.

“Don’t you miss me?” She asked, walking toward me with slow, hungry steps.

I blinked, “I… ummm… Of course, I do,” I stuttered, my hand scratching the back of my head.

“Were you expecting someone else? Because you don’t seem so excited seeing me,” Cindy asked, raising a brow as she stepped right into my space.

I chuckled, a weak, awkward sound, “Me? Nah… I’m actually thrilled to see you. You have no dang idea.”

Cindy didn’t need much more than that. She grabbed my collar and pulled me into a kiss—hot, aggressive and messy. Her lips crashed into mine with her tongue twirling in my mouth.

We’d been hooking up for months, no labels, just quick sessions, stolen moments, and a few drunken sleepovers. But Cindy had started acting different lately—clingy, needy, dropping hints that she wanted more.

I wasn’t that guy, not for her. Hell, not for anyone right now. Well, except Beatrice. But Cindy’s body? That I couldn’t say no to.

She pulled back just enough to smirk,“Still taste good?”

“You tell me,” I muttered, barely able to think before she dropped to her knees.

She undid my belt with one hand, yanked my jeans down with the other, and grinned up at me like I was dessert.

My dick sprang free, hard and twitching, as Cindy licked her lips.

“F*ck, I missed this,” she muttered.

Her mouth wrapped around me fast, hot, wet and deep.

I groaned, my head tipping back. Her tongue swirled around the head, then down the shaft, sucking like she had something to prove. Slurpy, messy, and relentless. Her hand pumped what her mouth couldn’t fit, and I couldn’t control my moans.

“Damn, Cindy—slow dow—”

Yet, she didn’t. She gagged slightly and then went again, eyes watering, spit dripping down her chin. The sounds were filthy, echoing off the lab walls.

I gripped the counter, my teeth clenching, “You’re f*cking insane!”

She pulled back, saliva trailing from her lips to my tip, “You love it.”

I didn’t deny it.

She stood up and yanked her jeans down, no panties underneath. Her p*ssy was shaved, pink, already glistening. She bent over the table, arched her back, and looked at me over her shoulder.

“Don’t just stand there.”

Without another moment of hesitation, I slid a finger inside her tight, hot, soaking c*nt. She moaned, throwing her head forward and pushing herself into me.

“You missed this, huh?” I growled, pumping my fingers deeper.

She was already dripping. Her p*ssy clenched around my fingers, her breath shallow and fast. I added another finger and she cursed loud.

“I need it rough, Ben. You know how I like it.”

I curled my fingers, hitting that perfect spot, and she let out a strangled moan, her knuckles, white against the table.

It was just a matter of seconds before the room was filled with the sound of slick, filthy squelches. My fingers worked her hard and fast, the sound of her wetness louder than my thoughts. She was panting now, grinding against my hand, getting closer.

“Right there, f*ck, right there—don’t stop—” Her voice echoed in cracks.

Then, her body jerked, and she let out a sharp cry, her legs trembling as she collapsed onto the table, breathless and twitching. She came hard.

I pulled my fingers out and sucked them clean, watching her shiver beneath me.

“Still tastes like cherry,” I groaned.