It's Been Awhile Read online

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  Copyright ©2007 by Lexie Davis

  First published in 2007, 2007

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  It's Been Awhile

  ISBN # 978-1-906328-41-2

  ©Copyright Lexie Davis 2007

  Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright October 2007

  Edited by Michele Paulin

  Total-e-bound books

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.

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  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork

  Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning:

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  Darkfever

  IT'S BEEN AWHILE

  Lexie Davis

  Dedication

  For Michele who believed in Ben and Marah

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Pop-Tart: Kellogg Company Corporation

  Dr. Phil: Peteski Productions, Inc.

  Chapter One

  The blonde girl standing in the corner of the bar licked her lips drawing Ben Hawkin's attention to her lush figure. In the back of his mind, he knew black satin could kill a man, especially when nothing was underneath.

  Ben sipped a beer with his band mates at Smokey's Pub. They'd been touring non-stop for thirteen months and it was time to relax a little. He needed a little R and R, and soon after their last show on the road, he'd get his wish.

  "I've got the schedule. Looks like we're going back home,” David Parker, the band's manager, announced. “If you need tickets for family let me know by tomorrow. Otherwise I'm not sure I'll even be able to gain access to the sold-out concert at the town's community centre. Looks like you're playing on the old football field for the whole town."

  Ben couldn't stifle the groan that escaped from his lips. Tyler, Texas was the last place on earth—minus the polar ice cap—that he'd ever want to play with Darkfever, their band. The small Podunk town held one supermarket, one shopping centre, and three restaurants. The founding fathers’ statues sat right in the middle downtown. With a population of just above two thousand, everyone knew everyone and the place didn't offer much in the dating department.

  Tyler was a hole in the wall.

  "I take it you aren't too thrilled,” David commented. He'd met the band in their post-Tyler days when they were nobodies in New York looking to make it big. He didn't know the past of the small town or the people it held.

  "Hawkins will be fine,” Taye Daniels, the band's bass player, announced. He slapped Ben on the back with a smile. “He just left one hot piece of ass back home—pretty pissed, I might add—and he's a little rattled about seeing her again."

  Marah.

  Memories of her flooded Ben's mind before he could stop them. Her sweet lips, her bubblegum tongue, her perfect body—all of which he had plenty of experience tasting and loving. She'd drifted into his mind from time to time, but she wasn't the main reason he didn't want to go back to Tyler. His parents had claimed that category all for themselves.

  "Don't talk about Marah that way.” He punched Taye's shoulder, before sipping at the beer he no longer wanted. Thoughts of his parents always took his appetite.

  "Okay. Care to tell me what's going on then?” David sipped at his vodka tonic as he waited for Ben to explain the situation.

  "It's nothing. Marah and I are over and have been for a long time."

  "It's his parents,” Sin said, turning all heads at the table his way. “That's why he doesn't want to go back."

  "Shut up, Sin,” Ben said through clenched teeth. “It's nobody's business."

  He and Sin Cannon were as close as two friends could be without being brothers. Neither one had siblings, so the troubled childhoods they'd both experienced allowed them to have something in common. Through football and girls, they'd remained best of friends, sharing their pasts only once with each other. It had been a weak moment for both. Soon after, they'd hopped on a bus heading for the Dallas-Fort Worth International airport and never looked back.

  The four men shut their mouths, tension so thick it hung like a curtain between them. Ben's stepfather Bobby Wilson and mother Veronica weren't a topic up for discussion under any circumstances. Especially when the conversation involved Ben. They were dead to him as far as he was concerned.

  "Okay, calm down, boys,” David said, tipping back his glass to finish it off. “How many free tickets am I getting you?"

  The guys named off their respective amounts then looked over at Ben expecting his answer. “None."

  "You should invite Marah,” Midas Cooper, Darkfever's vocalist chimed in. “From what I hear, she's working for some hotshot paper in Houston. No doubt in my mind she'll be there to cover the story, as will any other major paper and television crew in the area. The two of you could have a little reunion."

  Ben smiled, “Funny."

  "Well, if she's a reporter, she automatically gets in free,” David replied, looking more confused. “Do you have any others you want to grant access to?"

  In the ten years Ben had been gone, he hadn't made one friend outside the band. He'd slept with countless women, but they hadn't been more than a good fuck—a simple release for the tension that always seemed to dwell inside him. Band groupies were willing to do anything for him.

  It amazed him how the life of fortune and fame had turned out to be vastly different than he'd ever thought. He had money and nice things but did that really make his life the kind of life he really wanted?

  Sure as a kid coming from nothing, he'd thought money would solve his problems. Generally it did, but it could run out, and then where would he be? Marah had said something to him, their last night together when she'd pleaded with him to stay with her instead of running off with Darkfever.

  "What's going to happen when you make it?” she'd asked. “You've planned so much of your life on ‘what if I make it'. I'm saying you will. You'll become one of those sex, drugs and rock-n-roll stars that's so conceited they don't know their ass from their face. Can you honestly say you'll look back when you're eighty and say you've lived the life you've really wanted?"

  It hadn't made much sense when he was eighteen, but now he understood what she'd mean
t. People in this business used and abused. His true friends were his band mates. They always had been. Women only wanted him for his dick or his wallet and he didn't dare share anything other than that with them. Equally, he was to blame for his life being the way it was for that exact reason. He gave nothing and got nothing in return.

  "Nope,” Ben finally responded. He had no one.

  The men departed, each going home with a date they'd picked up at the Pub. For Ben, meaningless sex with some chick he wouldn't remember in the morning was one way to deal with the most recent psychobabble going through his brain. Marah had always wanted to be a psychologist and had loved using him and his troubled past for her experiments. He needed to get her out of his head and off his mind.

  He'd had a great life so far. He'd made something of himself. Who cared if he was closed off to the world? He had his music. That's all that mattered.

  He led the blonde chick back to his apartment, loving the praises she gave him for the luxurious items he'd prided himself for purchasing. His big screen, his monstrous stereo, his leather sofas and vast collection of DVD and CDs. He'd hired one of Hollywood's most valued decorators to come in and paint the plain apartment. Blues and greys covered the walls, blending perfectly with the black furniture scheme the designer had chosen.

  "Wow, you like, have a lot of neat stuff,” the blonde said, running her manicured fingernail on the back of the couch.

  Her style pretty much matched every other groupie that had ever hung around the band. A satin see-through dress with a deep V-neck showed more than her fair share of plastic cleavage. Thigh-high boots that a hooker would envy topped off the look. She was pretty in her own right but nothing too special. She was at least twenty-one and that was all that mattered.

  Half hard in his jeans, he'd barely need foreplay to complete the act. Yeah, she seemed primed and ready, but honestly he didn't care about that. Tonight at the bar had fucked up his mind, and he needed to forget. Marah, Tyler and his parents never left him with warm fuzzy feelings. At least, sex would give him pleasure for a few minutes.

  He pulled his cotton Darkfever tee over his head, liking the I'm-going-to-eat-you look the blonde chick gave him. Yeah, fuck Tyler and his family.

  Blondie ran her hands down his chest while his fingers made fast work of her dress. Soon she stood nearly nude in only the thigh-highs.

  "Boy, aren't you clever,” she purred in his ear. Her tongue darted out, making a path from his neck to his nipples, which she licked and teased until he thought he'd go mad. “I'm almost naked, and I have yet to rid you of anything but your shirt."

  Her hands slid down his torso stopping at his waistband. Pulling back, a coy look in her eyes, she undid the button and fly. He allowed her to touch him, stroking him to where he needed to be.

  "Can I kiss you now?” she asked.

  "No.” He pushed her back on the couch with his body and her thighs opened wide to make room for him. “Less talking and more sex."

  His mouth found her breast and finally shut up her conversation. Her creamy skin was smooth under his calloused fingers as he trailed them down her stomach. She whimpered arching her back to give him more. She wanted it as much as he did.

  She tasted of peaches—sweet peaches so juicy and delicious—perfect for eating.

  He slid soft kisses down her body, following the path his hands had taken. Her scent was ripe—that of passion and arousal so strong he couldn't resist it.

  "Oh,” she moaned when his lips found her creamy centre.

  With the musky flavour coating his taste buds, so sweet in his mouth, Ben dipped his tongue in and out of her pussy. This is where a dying man found heaven on earth—right between a woman's thighs. All the shit in the real world didn't matter at this point...

  She came with a cry—a shout even—convulsing with the force of her release. He teased her a bit before standing to rid himself of his boxers and pants. Limp and sated, she watched his every move. He'd seen that look on many women's faces over the years, but never had he desired more from them. Marah had questioned him one time about why he was so cold. Why did he act indifferent, especially to the ones who loved him?

  He didn't have a reason for her then and no reason for her now.

  His mind drifted to the night he'd left her standing alone on that cold night, pleading with him not to go. She'd told him she loved him, that she wanted him to stay in her arms forever. He'd seen the pain in her beautiful eyes as each tear dripped to her cheeks, each one slicing at his heart the longer he watched. No matter what, he couldn't stay in Tyler, Texas. He'd turned his back then, to live his dream. Her sobs still haunted him, even years later. The memories of what they'd had never ceased to flow through his mind. And looking back, if there'd been another way, he would have taken it. He should have found a way to be with her.

  Now, each night became last night, the same bodies with a different faces.

  Ben stood before the blonde who suggestively ran her tongue along her lips. Her naked body laid sprawled out over the couch. Her skin looked like porcelain, having never seen a tanning bed or the UV rays of the sun. Not a true Californian, he mused taking in the rest of her body. Her breasts were fake, the nipples dark and large contrasting with the whiteness of her skin. Her stomach was flat with a small ring in her navel.

  She expected him to have sex with her on his couch.

  Ben shook his head as Marah entered his mind again. She'd always had a thing for sex and couches. He chuckled thinking about it.

  "Are you going to stand there all day, stud? Or are you going to come over and fuck me?” The blonde wiggled her glossy red-tipped fingers at him.

  He should probably say something nice to her. Try not to make her feel totally used when all this was done. Ben ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he'd grown soft all of a sudden?

  "Just giving you a breather. It's going to be one hell of a hard ride.” He pulled her up, bending her over the couch. His mind didn't fully complete the thoughts going through his head when he grabbed a condom from his pocket. Sex and couches were off limits. No woman slept in his bed. This was the best he could do, and the sooner the better.

  He pressed against her swollen folds, sliding the tip of his cock against the hot moisture gathering between her thighs. She gasped, half moaning before thrusting her ass back to him and begging for more. He didn't think. Holding her hips in his hands, he plunged deep.

  In the mirror across from them, he watched her breasts swing with the force of his movements. Reaching around her, he kneaded the ample flesh. He loved the way her breasts filled his hands, the tiny points hard as they thrust into his palms. He licked his lips, tasting her sweet juice on his tongue.

  "Jesus, you're tight,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She smiled at him in the mirror. “Nah, you're just a big boy."

  He pulled out and thrust again, while she wrapped her boot-clad legs around his shins. His balls tightened from the mere thought of her squeezing around his cock. It only made him want to fuck her more.

  One thrust after another led to their mutual screams of pleasure. Her body convulsed. Her back arched while he continued to pound into her body. Three quick thrusts later, he couldn't hold back. He came, shooting his semen into her, while grunting unintelligible words into the sexual fog they'd created.

  Totally spent, he extracted himself almost immediately from her body. It took five seconds before Marah re-entered his mind and three more for him to realise how big of a mistake he'd made with the blonde. No matter how hard he tried, no woman would ever replace Marah—a small fact he had to live with. He stepped back, tore off the condom then grabbed his clothes to pull them on.

  "Whew. That was something.” The blonde fell limply to the couch with a smile on her face. Her smile faded quickly when she saw him zip his jeans. “Are you kicking me out?"

  "I don't want a relationship, so yeah, I need you to leave.” He shoved her clothing at her, ending their conversation.

  Her
eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly in shock. Callous? Yeah, but his mind was fucked up. She grabbed her clothes, clenching her jaw in anger. She donned the dress, tugging it over her head.

  "Well it was good fucking you, too, asswipe."

  He followed her to the door, watching every step she took.

  She glared at him. “Oh, and, by the way ... screaming another woman's name when you come doesn't earn you many points with the ladies."

  When she stomped off down the hall, he closed the door, realising he'd shouted Marah's name when he came.

  Chapter Two

  Marah Spencer knew all about love, life and loss. More the latter two than the first but nevertheless she'd experienced them all. After Ben had left her at eighteen, Marah ran off to college gaining two degrees—one in journalism and the other in psychology—from one of New England's most prestigious schools. But Texas was where she belonged. So she'd moved back to Texas two years ago when her father, Dan Spencer, had offered her a nice pension at the newspaper.

  Now, she sat at a boring reporter's job half the time, while interning in the psychology doctorate program at Texas University. She still wasn't happy. The sooner she got her doctorate the sooner she could practice in Dallas and get away from this hellhole.

  "Hey, Babycakes, how's the story on pollution coming?” Her father was chief editor and one of the founding members of the Herald Times newspaper in the heart of Houston. He was a good man by nature, though most of her life, he'd never been around.

  "Fine, dad. It should be ready for copy by tomorrow.” She ignored his inquisitive look and began typing nonsense words on her laptop.

  "What's wrong?” Dan sat in the small black chair crammed into the other side of her tiny cubicle, his knees bumping her desk.

  "Nothing.” Her life was just peachy when it came to all she wanted to accomplish in life. Her father wanted a journalist—the next Diane Sawyer. Her mom wanted a psychologist—the next Dr. Phil. Marah had pleased them by studying both general areas. She loved psychology far more than journalism, but journalism paid the bills. So here she was stuck at a desk typing her thoughts on the city's pollution ordnance. “I'll need to leave a few hours early tomorrow. I have to go to Dallas for an interview. I figured I'd stop by mom's on my way back since I haven't been home in awhile."