It was those words that quieted the voices in his head. Those words that made some of the tension seep from his muscles. Those words that made Ben drop his head down, so his eyes were on the floor. He needed something, and he wanted Dante to give it to him. Wanted Dante to take control.
“Please,” Ben said. “I’ve never used that word in regards to sex, but please.”
The silence reminded him of the quiet periods on the phone. At first Ben wouldn’t let himself look up but then...he did. He didn’t need to look down because as fucked as it was, this didn’t make him feel weak. It actually gave him strength. He wanted Dante to see that. Wanted Dante to know before he made the decision to fuck him or not.
Time spread out between them, seconds to minutes. Ben watched Dante just as Dante watched him. The muscles in his arms flexed. Was he fighting himself to take Ben up on what he wanted? And why? He fucked men in the club. What made Ben any different?
Finally, Dante took a step backward, opened the door farther. His voice was strong, the Italian accent heavier than Ben had ever heard it when he ordered, “Come in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ben walked into the small apartment. As soon as he gave enough space for Dante to close the door, he waited, not sure where Dante would tell him to go. His breathing was still rapid. His brain told him he was overreacting. Ben understood that but at the same time, he couldn’t do anything about it. All he could think about was his father and how he’d used Bonnie and now did the same thing with Ben. His sister had died and his father never truly cared.
Oh, and the fact that he might be losing his fucking mind.
“I asked you if you ate.” Dante’s deep voice pulled Ben from his thoughts. From the way Dante spoke, he could tell the man had asked Ben the same question twice yet he hadn’t heard him the first time.
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re getting very good at listening.” Dante reached out and stroked Ben’s cheek with a warm hand. The touch sent a wave of desire through him. He craved touch. Christ, he wanted more of it and he hadn’t even realized it. When was the last time he’d really let someone touch him outside of the club? Even there it was different. Ben controlled most of the physical contact.
“You like that, don’t you?” Dante asked. Ben nodded and Dante added, “Take off your shirt.”
Ben’s fingers worked the buttons on his shirt before letting it slide off his shoulders and hitting the floor. Then Dante touched Ben’s right shoulder. He let his hand travel down Ben’s arm before it slid to Ben’s stomach and worked its way up again.
It was such a simple fucking touch but Ben’s whole body came alive. It was personal when he hadn’t had personal in so damn long. Why it felt that way with this man, he didn’t know. Because of the things Dante said, maybe? The fact that they both struggled with each other and were both obviously screwed up?
“More,” Ben ordered but the second he did, he realized his mistake. Dante pulled his hand back and stepped away.
“Why did you come here?” Dante asked him.
“Because I want you to fuck me.”
“Why else?” Dante’s eyes didn’t leave Ben and he couldn’t make himself look away either. He wasn’t stupid. He knew where Dante was going with this but that didn’t mean he liked the answer. Everything inside him told him to rebel against it. But then he knew, knew that if he wasn’t honest, Dante would tell him to leave and his whole fucking body was wound up so tight, he wasn’t sure what he would do if he didn’t get some form of release.
He didn’t want to know.
“Because I liked it when you took control. I liked it when you told me what to do. I liked not having to think. I want that again.”
The right side of Dante’s mouth kicked up slightly—almost a half-grin. It was the closest he’d seen to Dante smiling. He had a nice mouth, full lips. Here Ben was, losing it and Dante was smiling.
Ben went to take a step away but before he could move, Dante spoke. “Was that so hard? You’ll be very good at being submissive, Ben. I know you will be. I wouldn’t be here with you if I thought otherwise.”
Ben had a feeling it had taken as much for Dante to admit his last statement as it had for Ben to cop to what he had. His words told Ben something about Dante. Maybe it was his years as an attorney or living with his father but Ben could easily read between the lines. He read people. Dante wanted him here. The why of it was another thing he didn’t know but Dante definitely wanted Ben. No one else from that club would have made it past the front door.