Chapter 9: Carol bites Ben's lower lip as the elevator descends, her thighs still trembling from the night's activities when he palms her damp panties through her dress and murmurs, 'Think about this all week - next time we're bringing the Jensens into our bed, and you'll get to feel two new cocks splitting you open.'
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft sigh, sealing them inside a small, mirrored world. The sudden quiet was profound, broken only by the low thrum of the machinery and Carol’s own ragged breathing. The plush luxury of the suite, the scent of sex and sweat and expensive perfume, felt like a fever dream receding. The cool, impersonal steel of the elevator walls offered a stark, jarring contrast. Carol leaned back against the mirrored surface, the glass cool through the thin, crumpled silk of her dress. She felt hollowed out, yet thrumming with a restless, oversensitive energy. Every nerve ending felt exposed.
Ben was instantly on her. Not gentle, not this time. The heat radiating from him was intense, primal. He slammed his palms against the mirror on either side of her head, caging her in. His dark eyes, usually warm and charming, were molten, fixed on her with a possessiveness that made her shiver. His chest heaved.
"Fuck, Carol," he breathed, his voice a low, ragged growl that vibrated in the small space. The scent of her own arousal, mixed with Eleanor’s musk and David’s lingering cologne, seemed to cling to him, to fill the elevator. "Watching you... Christ... watching you take them both..."
He didn’t wait for a reply. His mouth crashed down onto hers, hot and demanding. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a claiming. His tongue plunged past her lips, tasting her, tasting the echoes of the other man, the woman. Carol moaned, a helpless, hungry sound muffled against his mouth. Her hands, still trembling slightly, flew up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging into the damp fabric of his shirt. Her body responded instantly, betraying her exhaustion, arching into his hard frame. The ache between her legs, the delicious soreness in her ass, flared back to needy life.
Ben’s hands left the mirror, sliding down her sides with bruising pressure. They found her ass, kneading the soft flesh through her dress, pulling her pelvis flush against his. The thick ridge of his erection, already fully hard again, strained against his trousers and ground insistently against the damp apex of her thighs. Carol gasped, breaking the kiss, her head thudding back against the cool glass. She could see their reflection: her hair a wild tangle of copper against the mirror, her lips swollen, eyes glazed. Ben looming over her, his expression fierce, predatory.
"Next Saturday," he growled against the pulse hammering in her throat, his breath hot on her damp skin. His hips jerked forward, grinding his cock harder against her. "Fuck. Can’t come fast enough." His hands slid under the hem of her short dress, fingers rough against the backs of her bare thighs, pushing the fabric up. "Seeing you like that... Eleanor riding my cock while you screamed on my face..." His voice dropped to a filthy whisper, his mouth finding her ear. "Feeling you come all over me while David was buried in your tight little ass... Jesus, baby."
Carol whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut. The mirrored images swam. She felt dizzy, consumed. Ben’s fingers dug into the flesh of her ass cheeks, spreading them slightly even through her panties. The phantom memory of David’s thickness stretching her, Eleanor’s commanding voice, the overwhelming fullness, the taste of Ben’s cock mixed with her own juices on her tongue earlier… it flooded back, raw and visceral. Her own wetness soaked through the thin lace of her panties, slick against Ben’s grinding erection. She could feel the damp patch spreading.
"Ben..." she gasped, her voice sounding shattered. "Here? Someone could—"
"Let them see," he cut her off, his voice thick with lust. One hand left her ass, sliding around to the front, fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. He yanked them down roughly, just below the curve of her ass. Cool air hit her exposed, swollen lips for a split second before his hand was there, fingers sliding through her slick folds with no preamble. "So fucking wet. Still." He pushed two fingers inside her, deep and sudden.
Carol cried out, her body bowing off the mirror. The invasion, the roughness, after the sensitivity, was almost painful, overwhelmingly electric. "Oh GOD!"
"All that cock," Ben breathed, watching her face in the mirror as his fingers fucked in and out of her with short, driving thrusts. His thumb found her clit, a rough, demanding circle. "David stretching that tight ass... Eleanor milking me dry while I ate your messy cunt... Fuck, you loved it. Admit it." His other hand remained clamped on her ass, holding her open, anchoring her.
"I... I..." Carol couldn't form words. Her hips jerked involuntarily against his hand, seeking more, deeper, harder. Her inner muscles fluttered around his thrusting fingers. The mirrored walls reflected her desperate writhing, Ben’s intense focus, the obscene sight of his hand buried between her thighs, her panties tangled around her knees. The elevator hummed, descending slowly, indifferent. The sensation was too much and not enough. Each drag of his fingers inside her swollen channel sent jolts through her exhausted system. She felt raw, used, and impossibly turned on. "Yes... Ben... fuck..." It was a ragged sob.
"Gonna need to see it again," Ben rasped, his own breathing harsh. He curled his fingers inside her, finding that spot, rubbing hard. "See you take another cock in that perfect ass while Eleanor fucks your pretty mouth." The vulgarity, the explicit image, combined with the relentless pressure of his fingers, tipped her over the edge. A short, sharp orgasm ripped through her, less volcanic than earlier but no less intense, a raw clenching around his fingers. She bit down on her lip hard enough to taste blood, stifling a scream as white light flashed behind her eyelids.
Ben didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, his fingers relentless, keeping her suspended in the aftershocks. His cock strained painfully against his zipper. "That's it," he grunted, watching her face contort in the mirror. "Come on my fingers, baby. Just a taste. Next Saturday... gonna watch you swallow some stranger's load while I fuck Eleanor's throat and David ruins your ass again..." His words were a filthy, hypnotic chant.
As her tremors subsided, Ben slowly, almost reluctantly, withdrew his glistening fingers. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low groan, his eyes never leaving hers in the reflection. "Fucking delicious. Still tastes like all of us."
Carol slumped against the mirror, trembling, her legs barely holding her. The damp patch on her dress felt huge. Ben quickly adjusted himself, the prominent bulge in his trousers impossible to hide. He tugged her panties back up, the lace damp and uncomfortable against her oversensitive flesh, then smoothed her dress down roughly. His movements were hurried, furtive now, the spell of the enclosed space breaking as the elevator slowed.
The mirrored doors slid open with a soft, polite ding. The bright, opulent lobby stretched before them – marble floors gleaming, abstract art on the walls, the discreet murmur of late-night guests and the soft chime of a reception bell. It felt alien, jarringly normal.
Ben stepped out, pulling Carol with him. His grip on her hand was tight, grounding. He flashed a charming, completely incongruent smile at the immaculately dressed concierge behind the polished desk. "Evening."
"Good evening, sir, madam," the concierge replied smoothly, his expression professionally neutral. Did his eyes flicker, just for a microsecond, to Carol's disheveled hair, her flushed face, the creases in her dress? She couldn't tell. Paranoia fluttered in her chest.
They walked towards the vast, glass entrance doors. The cool night air hit Carol’s hot skin like a physical shock. She shivered, clutching Ben's arm. The city lights stretched out below, a familiar grid of order, far removed from the velvet-and-silk chaos of the suite high above.
Ben leaned in close as they stepped onto the sidewalk, hailing a cab. His breath was warm against her ear, his voice low, reverting almost to its usual charming timbre, but laced with an afterglow of raw lust. "You were incredible, Red. Absolutely fucking incredible." He squeezed her hand. "Eleanor texted. Said you're a natural."
Carol managed a shaky smile, leaning into his side for warmth, for stability. The soreness was a deep, satisfying throb now. The memory of Ben's fingers inside her in the elevator, his filthy promises, mixed with the echoing sensations of the suite. She touched her own lips, remembering Eleanor's commanding kiss, David's rough hands. A strange cocktail of exhaustion, residual arousal, and a burgeoning, dangerous curiosity churned inside her.
A yellow cab pulled up. Ben opened the door for her. As she slid into the cool leather seat, the scent of artificial pine air freshener overwhelming the lingering musk on her skin, Carol looked back at the towering hotel. One light burned high up, in the corner where she knew the suite was.
She turned to Ben as he got in beside her, giving the driver their address. He took her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers. His thumb stroked the back of her knuckles, a tender counterpoint to the animal ferocity of minutes ago.
"Next Saturday," Carol whispered, her voice barely audible over the taxi's engine. She met his eyes in the dim interior light. Her own gaze wasn't just dazed anymore. There was a new resolve there, a spark of hunger that mirrored his own earlier intensity. A flicker of the woman who had commanded Ben’s mouth while watching Eleanor ride him. "I... I can't wait."