Misbehaving (6 page)

“Really?” she asked.

“Seriously. I can’t stop looking.”

Beatriz picked up her phone again, tapped a few buttons and then handed it to him.

“Take a pic,” she said. “It’ll last longer.”

He stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“You think only men love porn?” she asked. “The pic is for me. If you’re lucky, I might email it to you.”

“I’m inside you. I am officially the luckiest man on the planet.”

He took her phone and snapped a few quick pictures of their bodies joined together. He gave her the phone back and she tossed it aside.

“Make me come, and I’ll send it to you,” she said.

“Challenge accepted.”

He started to thrust with intensity again. He couldn’t get enough of fucking her.

He rubbed her clitoris as he pushed into her harder and faster. Beatriz closed her eyes. She seemed to lose herself in the pleasure of the moment, running her hands down her stomach, cupping her own breasts, lifting them, pinching her nipples and moaning in breathless little pants. He increased the speed and pressure of his ministrations to her clitoris, a move that caused Beatriz to gasp loudly. Her body went stiff for a moment before she released a loud, lusty cry. Her vagina spasmed with her climax all around Ben’s still thrusting length.

Beatriz took a few calming breaths.

“Okay,” she said, still panting. “Your turn.”

Ben kissed her calf.

“Is it cheating if I get on my knees? I’m not sure I can come in this position.” He had to concentrate so hard on keeping her legs on his shoulders that he doubted he could focus enough to orgasm while both standing and holding her legs up.

“You can do whatever you want. The butterfly position has been tried, tested and woman-approved.”

Laughing, Ben pushed Beatriz back on the bed so he could kneel on the mattress. He lowered her legs down to either side of him and held her hips.

“This position is called the Anvil according to the book.” Beatriz grabbed the book lying on the bed and flipped it open.

“The Anvil?”

“Don’t ask. It makes no sense to me either.” She flashed him a picture of a couple having sex in the same position they were in—woman on her back, man on his knees, her ankles on his shoulders. She tossed the book aside and adjusted her legs. “Thanks for the orgasm. I guess I owe you a picture.”

“You’re even sexier when you’re coming,” Ben said as he put his whole body into his thrusts.

“I want to see you come.”

“You will. I’m so close. I love fucking you.”

“Good. I’ll need you to do it again tomorrow.”

“Call my secretary. We’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.” He winked at her. Neither Heaven nor Hell nor pre-wedding festivities was going to keep him out of Beatriz’s bed and body this week.

Ben took Beatriz’s breasts in his hands and held them while he moved against her and inside her and with her. She’d already had her orgasm, but she still moved, raising her hips to meet his thrusts, coaxing him on and on. He lost himself inside her, lost all self-consciousness, all nervousness, all fear. Their bodies merged seamlessly. He belonged inside her. Long, slow strokes turned into sharp, hard, fast thrusts. He pounded into her shamelessly, mercilessly, her hungry sounds of pleasure driving out any fear that she wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was. On his knees over her with his hands on her breasts, Ben came with a guttural grunt that did no justice to the incredible pleasure of the orgasm that shot through him from neck to knees.

He collapsed on top of Beatriz and rolled them onto their sides. For a long time they merely lay together in a tangle of arms and legs as they tried to catch their breath.

Ben felt a sense of peace, of perfect happiness coming over him. They had only this week together and he was determined to spend every free second inside her.

“So…” he said at last as Beatriz stretched out next to him, her thigh over his stomach, her head on his chest where it belonged.

“So?”

“That was chapter two?”

“Chapter two,” she said.

“How many chapters are in this book?”

“Twenty.”

“Wedding’s in five days. Twenty chapters. Four chapters a day.”

“We can skip some.”

He shook his head.

“Oh, no, if we’re going to review this book, we’re going to review it right.”

Beatriz laughed and laid her head back on his chest.

“I love my job.”

Chapter Six

“Holy…” Beatriz said as Ben pulled out of her and collapsed onto his back. He hit the mattress with his hand hard enough to rattle the headboard.

“That’s it. I’m tapping out for the night. Sorry.”

“Sorry? We just had sex three times in four different positions.” Beatriz laughed and bit his shoulder. God, he had beautiful shoulders. And now he had beautiful bite-marked shoulders. Even better.

With languid limbs she pulled herself into a sitting position and grabbed her phone.

“I was hoping for five. Ben Junior isn’t going to make it.”

“That’s okay. The Queen Bee is tapping out, too.”

“You call your vagina the Queen Bee?”

“She’s in charge most of the time. Okay, so what did we do? Butterfly.”

“Butterfly,” Ben repeated. “The Anvil.”

“Anvil, got it.” She tapped on her phone screen. “I have no idea where these names come from, by the way.”

“We did the Figure Eight, right?”

“That’s the only one where the name actually made sense.” Beatriz made another note.

“What was that last one?” Ben asked. “It was weird.”

“Coital Alignment. Some sex doctors invented it in the eighties, I think. It’s supposed to maximize clitoral stimulation.”

“Is that why you came twice during it, and I felt like I was going to fall out of the bed the entire time?”

“I wasn’t complaining.” Beatriz winked at him. Ben got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As soon as he was gone she sunk back into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had happened. She and Ben had finally had sex. Five years she’d wondered what had gone wrong between them, why he’d backed off, what she’d done wrong. What was wrong with her that he wouldn’t sleep with her when she offered? What red-blooded straight college senior turned down sex with a naked eighteen-year-old woman standing right in front of him? One perfect date, one perfect kiss and then…nothing?

But at least now she knew the reason. She forgave Ben, of course, and Henry, too. It had been long enough that there was no reason to hold a grudge against either of them. But more than that, those years apart disappeared as soon as he started talking, as soon as he smiled. He was still the same Ben she adored from back then. He’d only grown more handsome in their time apart. He wore his dark blond hair in a shorter style, which made his blue eyes the focal point of his face. In college he always wore stubble on his chin to look older. Now he shaved to look sophisticated. He’d been a party boy in college, a little too much beer and not enough working out. Now he’d slimmed down by about ten pounds and had nothing but muscle on his six-foot frame. Adulthood, the real world—it definitely looked good on him.

And good Lord, the sex had been so good it almost made her angry. They could have been fucking like that years ago if he’d told Henry to shove it. Well, no need to stay pissed. They had all week to make up for lost time.

The sound of running water in the bathroom stirred her from her reverie. Sounded like Ben was about to hop in the shower. Maybe she should surprise him….

Beatriz started to get out of bed but stopped when her phone buzzed.

She grinned at the text message from Claudia.

So…?
it read.

She tried to think up a suitable reply to Claudia’s not-so-subtle message. Instead of typing anything back, she took a quick picture of the three ripped condom wrappers on the bedside table and sent it to her.

Claudia quickly wrote back.

Damn. TMI
, she said, although Beatriz knew Claudia wanted all the details she could get.

I could have sent you the other pic we took
, Beatriz texted back.

Claudia answered with a simple
GROSS!

Laughing, Beatriz tucked her phone away. She had Ben to attend to.

She crawled out of bed, already pleasantly sore inside and out. It had been a while since she’d had that much sex. Back in Spain she’d had a lover, a widower in his forties who’d wanted nothing but no-commitment sex to serve as a distraction from his grief. They’d been friends and lovers and nothing more. But she’d moved back to the States over two months ago and hadn’t bothered pursuing anyone while she settled into her new apartment outside of Washington, D.C., and reconnected with friends. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed sex. Orgasms she had every day and while she enjoyed them, those solo satisfactions could never completely replace the pleasures to be found lying naked underneath a man like Ben, her thighs open to receive him into her, her body a gift given to him, his body a country to be endlessly explored.

While she was stretching her back, Ben peeked his head around the wall by the bathroom. He crooked his finger at her.

“What?” she whispered.

“Come here,” he whispered back.

“Why are we whispering?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

She followed his beckoning finger into the bathroom where Ben had drawn a bath in the large Jacuzzi tub.

“Are you trying to get me wet?” she asked.

“Soaking wet,” he said and then with a heroic flourish swooped her up in his arms. Beatriz squealed with surprise as Ben feigned dropping her in the water. Instead he sat her gently in the tub and stepped in behind her.

With a blissful sigh, Beatriz lay back against his chest as Ben wrapped two strong wet arms around her.

“Bath. Good idea,” she said.

“Purely therapeutic,” Ben said. “I think I overworked an ass muscle during a figure-eight grinding maneuver.”

“I’ll put that warning in the review notes.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to write about us fucking for this blog.”

“Why not?” she asked. “I won’t put your name in it.”

“Your name’s in it.”

“I know. But I don’t care. It’s not like it’s some big secret that women masturbate and have sex.”

“You’d think it was the way people act about sex.”

“Someone has to talk about sex like it’s just any other normal human activity. If no one else wants to do it, I guess that means I have to,” she said.

“How did you get to be like this?” Ben asked as he scooped up handfuls of warm steaming water and poured them over her chest.

“Like what?”

“Like this sex goddess who writes about sex, studies sex, reviews sex toys…. I mean, how did you decide to go into that field?”

Beatriz laughed and sighed as Ben massaged her breasts with his soapy hands.

“Well, you know I was born in El Salvador. I lived there until I was ten.”

“I know. You told me about all the fighting and civil unrest.”

“After my parents died, my grandparents did everything they could, spent every penny they had to get me to the States. America is free, they said. You can do anything in America, be anything you want in America. In my country, a woman who was raped couldn’t get an abortion, even if the pregnancy would kill her.”

“That’s crazy.’

“It’s a beautiful country, so much to love. But hard to live there for a woman. And then I came to the United States, and I decided that I would use all the freedom my grandparents had worked so hard to give me. So my senior year in high school, it’s almost time for prom. And the school starts to freak out because the guidance counselor says they should have condoms at the prom. This counselor, Mr. Lear, was such a good guy. Not judgmental. He said teenagers would drink no matter what parents and teachers did so they should offer a prom-night taxi service. And teenagers would have sex no matter what parents and teachers said so the school should supply condoms.”

“What happened?”

“He was fired.”

Ben sighed. “No surprise there, I guess.”

“But I was a student so I knew they couldn’t fire me. I bought fifty boxes of condoms and put them on the tables at prom. I got in so much trouble for that.”

“You rebel.” Ben laughed so hard he made a wake in the bathwater.

“My foster parents fought for me, stood up for me. I got suspended but not expelled. Apparently they couldn’t find any school rules that said students couldn’t give other students condoms.”

“You’re my hero right now,” Ben said, running his hands over her thighs. She did love his hands.

“I’m no hero. I just couldn’t believe that people in this country were so afraid of sex. We have all this freedom in America—freedom people fought and died for—and we’re so afraid to exercise it. We’re afraid to talk about things that might offend other people, afraid to do what we want because someone might call us a ‘slut.’ Truth is, I get nothing but fan mail from women who thank me for talking about sex and helping them find ways of making their sex lives better. When I’m having good sex, I’m the happiest, least violent person on earth. If people had more and better sex and felt less guilty about it, we’d live in a much better world.”

“I am happy to help you in your quest to fuck for world peace.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Beatriz said.

“I do think it’s amazing that you came by yourself to the U.S. when you were that young.”

“My grandparents knew Claudia’s father through his work. When you’re that young, it’s an adventure. It took me until I was sixteen to realize I wasn’t ever going back.”

“I’m sorry all that happened to you,” Ben said. “I wish you’d had an easier life. But I can’t say I’m not happy you ended up here. And by here, I mean naked in this bathtub with me.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too. And by ‘here’ I mean in the States. And naked in this bathtub with you.”

Ben cupped her breasts and kissed her neck.

“And I’m sorry it took me so long to do this.” He nipped softly at her shoulder and Beatriz only laughed.

“
Más vale tarde que nunca
,” she said.

Better late than never.