Misbehaving, Page 7

  you asshole’ thing? Which I deserve.”

  Ben did deserve it. He’d been so single-minded about getting a good job after college that he didn’t even let himself consider having a serious relationship back then. Nothing was going to get in the way of him and his ticket to freedom. Not even Beatriz.

  But things were different now. He had the career, had the freedom. Now maybe if he played his cards right, he could have Beatriz, too.

  “When I said I was done with all women for at least a year,” he addressed himself, “I meant all women but Beatriz. I just didn’t specify that at the time.”

  At that moment his phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled at the text message from Beatriz. It read, What are you wearing?

  Ben, as usual, had slept naked.

  Leather chaps, he wrote back. And a clown nose. Don’t ask.

  What are you doing? Beatriz texted.

  Soliloquizing, which Autocorrect tried to change to “solo quizzing.” Ben changed it back.

  Is that what they’re calling it now? We used to call it masturbating.

  I masturbate with a Shakespearean accent, Ben replied. I have no idea what that means.

  Me neither. Want a blow job in the shower?

  Business or pleasure? Ben wrote back before adding a vital caveat. Never mind. My cock just told me it doesn’t care why. Coming.

  Yes. Yes you are, Beatriz responded.

  Ben pulled on yesterday’s pants and yesterday’s shirt and didn’t bother with yesterday’s underwear, yesterday’s shoes or yesterday’s socks. He did brush his teeth, which was as much for his benefit as Beatriz’s. In five minutes he was pounding on her door.

  “That was fast,” she said, holding the door open for him. She had nothing on but a towel.

  “I didn’t want to miss you blowing me in the shower. I’m not late, am I?” He started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I’m not even in the shower yet.”

  “Then hurry up,” he said, throwing his shirt off. “You’re late.”

  Ben stepped into the shower and Beatriz joined him. He wrapped Beatriz in his wet arms and kissed her hard and deep. She tasted like toothpaste and heat. He pushed her under the shower, soaking them both as he drank the water off her lips and neck.

  “I didn’t get to read the blow job chapter in the book,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I read it,” she said, wrapping her hand around him and stroking. He breathed deep as he grew even harder in her hand.

  “What did it tell you to do?” Ben asked, slightly panting as she stroked him from base to tip and back again.

  “This,” she said, and went down on her knees in front of him. She held him by the base while her lips focused their attention on the tip of his penis first, licking and teasing it while her hand gave it gentle squeezes. The blood started pounding and he grew thicker as she took him deeper into her mouth. Had he ever seen anything sexier in the world than her full lips surrounding him? No. No, he hadn’t.

  She took every inch of him into her mouth and he nudged the back of her throat. He started to pull back, not wanting to choke her, but she grabbed him by the hips and held him in place as she sucked him deep before letting him go to lick him again and again. He reached down to touch her face and Beatriz grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of her neck. He took the hint and started to move his hips in small undulations, fucking her mouth with careful, controlled thrusts.

  A breathy “yes” escaped his lips along with a few more grunts and gasps of pleasure. He never recalled being this vocal during sex before. Then again, he never recalled having this much fun during sex before.

  Beatriz took his full length into her mouth again and cupped his testicles. Within a matter of seconds he teetered on the edge of coming. He held back, though, took a few deep breaths. He wanted to enjoy this moment as long as he could. As long as he could was about thirty seconds more. Beatriz’s hands on him, her mouth all over him, the heat of her tongue, the wetness of her lips…It all felt so good he couldn’t hold on anymore.

  “Bea,” he gasped as a warning. Gentlemen always warned.

  Beatriz ignored the warning. He came hard in her mouth and she swallowed every drop of him.

  She turned her face up and let the water cascade over her skin. He pulled her back to her feet.

  “That was…” he began. “No. I’m done. I don’t have the words. You sucked my vocabulary out with my cum.”

  “You don’t need to talk anyway. I’ve got better plans for your mouth.” She kissed him again, kissed him as if she meant it—the best kind of kiss.

  After they finally broke off the kiss, Beatriz turned around and handed him the shampoo. He had way too much fun washing her long, thick hair. The back scrub turned into a massage. As the water poured down on them, they kissed and touched and licked and held each other until Beatriz pulled back and kicked him out of the shower. He apparently took up too much room for her to shave her legs. Outside the bathroom, he dried off and dressed in yesterday’s clothes again. As soon as Beatriz emerged wearing nothing but a towel in her hair, he kissed her goodbye.

  “I have to go back to my room and change,” he said.

  “I’ll see you at the lunch.”

  “We can go in together,” he offered. “You know, like a date.”

  “A date? Us? Together?”

  “Is that weird?”

  “Incredibly,” she said, but he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

  “So no?” Ben asked.

  “We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. I don’t want people to think something’s going on that isn’t,” she said.

  Ben stared at her.

  “I just came in your mouth.”

  Beatriz glared at him.

  “Okay, good point,” she said, smiling. “Lunch it is then. Come back here when you’re ready?”

  “Absofuckinglutely.” He kissed her again and left her naked and wet in her hotel room. Why was he always doing that? Walking away from her when she was naked? He considered this habit a personal failing, on par with heroin addiction or serial killing and something to be overcome as soon as possible. He’d get medical attention if necessary.

  He changed clothes in his room. He gave himself a once- and then twice-over in the mirror. Lunch was a casual affair today. He’d put on khaki shorts and a fitted T-shirt, which was his usual day-off uniform. July in upstate New York. He had every right to wear shorts, right? And he did have good calves or so his ex-girlfriend always told him. But was this outfit too casual? Would Beatriz like it? Would she think he looked too casual? Or would she think he looked cool and confident?

  “Oh, my God,” he said to himself. “I’m a man. Men don’t worry about their outfits.”

  He changed clothes twice more before leaving the room and knocked on Beatriz’s door wearing slacks and an Oxford shirt.

  Beatriz answered the door wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Dammit,” Ben said after one glance at her.

  “Hello to you, too, stranger,” she said, letting him in the room.

  “Sorry. I had shorts on and then I thought it was too casual.”

  “It’s just lunch. And it’s July. And you have great calves.”

  “I told myself all of that.”

  “Start listening to yourself,” she said and kissed him. “Here. How about this?” Beatriz pulled off her shirt and shorts, took off her bra, and changed quickly into a strappy sundress. “Feel better now?”

  “I just saw your boobs.”

  “So…?”

  “I feel much better now.”

  They walked into the hotel restaurant together. Ben wanted to walk in holding Beatriz’s hand but she’d been slightly hesitant to even go to lunch with him. He decided not to push it. He hadn’t told anyone he and Beatriz were having sex this week. No one knew and apparently Beatriz wanted to keep it that way.

  “Hi, kiddos,” Henry said as they took their places at the table. “You all find something fun to d
o last night? Movie? Evening stroll?”

  “No, we just fucked a lot,” Beatriz said after putting in an order for tea and water.

  Ben nearly choked on his water. Henry and Claudia laughed. Apparently they both were well-aware of what they’d been up to.

  “Sorry,” Ben swallowed his water without further incident. “I tried to talk her into the movie, but she would have nothing of it. She used me and abused me instead.”

  “Poor dear,” Claudia said, patting his cheek. “You can stay with me and Henry. We won’t let the big bad Bea hurt you anymore.”

  “Thank you, Claudia. I appreciate that. Your sister’s an animal,” Ben said and Beatriz put an ice cube down the back of his shirt.

  Lunch was a festive affair, everyone talking and laughing at once. Ben gorged on lunch. He usually never ate this much, but he figured he’d lost about two pounds just in semen in the past twenty-four hours. Might as well dive in. The rest of lunch he spent talking with the other groomsmen, friends of Henry’s from his work. He already knew Mark, Henry’s brother. They all promised Mark they would not allow the wedding planner to oust him as best man just because he was shorter than the rest of them. Mark thanked them profusely. He said that it was only fair that Henry got the height gene as he took the brains gene. Henry agreed.

  Even as they talked and joked, Ben kept glancing over at Beatriz. The sun had come out and cast a golden light through the windows. He couldn’t stop staring at this beautiful woman and remembering how she’d looked naked underneath him, her skin flushed with desire, her nipples hard and her breasts pert, her flat stomach quivering from the orgasm as her clitoris pulsed against his fingers.

  And then Ben had an erection.

  Dammit.

  He willed it away by concentrating on his drink, on his conversation, on the faces of the other groomsmen. He looked at Henry making an obscene gesture with a French fry. That helped. Erection gone. He kept his eyes off Beatriz. This was lunch, a wedding lunch. He needed to focus on his groomsman duties and not think about Beatriz or sex or anything of the sort.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he saw Beatriz standing behind him. She handed him a note written on a paper napkin and left the restaurant.

  He opened the note.

  Come fuck me, it read. Chapter four is waiting for us.

  Far be it from him to disobey the direct order of a napkin.

  “Gotta go, guys,” he said. “Duty calls.”

  Chapter Eight

  Henry rolled his eyes as Ben followed Beatriz out the door. Well, they’d lasted longer than he and Claudia would have under the same circumstances. Their first week together in college, he and Claudia both missed all their classes. They did nothing but have sex, sleep, eat, have more sex, more sleep, more sex, more eating. By the end of day seven, they were both dehydrated and severely chafed. Henry had even gone by the school clinic. The nurse on duty took one look at his red and chafed penis and told him no sex for a week. It was the longest week of his life.

  Leaning over, he tapped Claudia on her leg.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  Henry leaned in and whispered.

  “Ben’s dick and Beatriz’s skirt. They just left.”

  Claudia glanced around the table to confirm their departure.

  “Well, they lasted longer than we would have,” she said. “More power to them.”

  “Am I out of the doghouse now?” he asked, running his hand over her bare thigh.

  “We’ll see…” she said. “Right now they’re just having a bunch of sex. If they decide to stay together after the week is over, then you’ll be completely out of the doghouse.”

  “We can have doggie style while I’m in the doghouse, right?” Henry asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I might just stay in it then.”

  He kissed his fiancée and went back to eating French fries in the most inappropriate ways he could think of. He looked around the table and smiled with deep satisfaction. He’d initially balked at the idea of a big wedding. They could afford it, yes, but surely they could put their money to better use than something that seemed like nothing more than a glorified party. But now he saw two high school friends talking to a college friend talking to a work friend. His brother, Mark, had his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders as they chatted with his grandmother and aunt whom he hadn’t seen in months. Even his mother and father looked relaxed for the first time in years. All they ever did was work, work, work. Their oldest son’s wedding had forced them to take a week’s vacation. Free time suited them. These people were together enjoying each other’s company and all because he and Claudia had decided to have a big wedding. Everyone had brought gifts to celebrate their marriage. But this wedding was his and Claudia’s gift to them—a reason to take time off work and just have fun with friends and family. He should get married every week.

  He kissed Claudia on the cheek.

  “I’ll be right back,” Henry said to her. His waiter had watered him like a damn plant at lunch.

  “On your way back from the bathroom, could you stop by the front desk? I’m having something delivered.”

  “I’ll check. Anything special?”

  “Just stuff for the honeymoon,” she said and turned back to her conversation with his two favorite cousins.

  After his trek to the bathroom, Henry stopped by the front desk. A bellhop asked him if he could offer his assistance.

  “My fiancée said she was having something delivered to the hotel. Claudia Spears. Can you check?”

  “Haven’t seen anything come in today. You know what it is?” the bellhop, whose nametag read Keaton, asked.

  “No. She just said it was stuff for the honeymoon. Clothes probably or that fancy sunblock she always orders. I think it’s just one box.”

  The bellhop disappeared into a backroom. Five minutes later he returned with a box.

  “Here you go,” Keaton said. “Need a box cutter? Knife? Machete?”

  Henry patted his pockets. He’d left his keys in the hotel room. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Keaton pulled out a small knife and sliced the tape on the box. Out of curiosity, Henry opened it and looked inside.

  “What the hell?” he asked, staring at the contents of the box. Keaton peeked over his shoulder.

  “Where you going on your honeymoon? Sodom and Gomorrah?” the bellhop asked.

  Inside the box Henry found three books.

  The Good Girl’s Guide to Pegging Your Man.

  When He’s Just Not Enough—A How-to Manual for Successful Open Relationships.

  Swinging for Dummies.

  And at the bottom of the box he found a harness and dildo.

  “What the…” Henry breathed.

  “That’s a strap-on,” Keaton said. “Your girl must want to fuck you up the butt on your honeymoon.”

  “No way.”

  “You just got to use lube. Trust me on this.”

  Henry threw the books in the box and closed the flaps. He started to stalk toward the restaurant but stopped. Open relationships? Swinging? Claudia was going to wait until their honeymoon to tell him she wanted to sleep with other guys and fuck him up the butt? His stomach churned with anger and his head throbbed with fear. He wasn’t enough for her? Their sex life wasn’t enough for her?

  He turned back around and headed for the elevators. Once in his room he paced back and forth for ten minutes trying to decide what to do. There was only one thing to do, he finally decided. The strong, manly thing to do.

  Run for his life. And his butthole.