Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy (10 page)

He should have given her romance, instead of some “you choose” ultimatum, but he’d wanted—needed—her to choose this, and he’d made the choice too hard, too stark. Every second since walking away from her, he’d regretted that he hadn’t held her and kissed her. Told her how much he wanted her. So he’d stuffed his pockets full of condoms and flung open the door, going to set things right.

She’d been crying. And he’d done that. But in spite of his bumbling, she was standing right here in front of him.

Standing here in…what the hell did she have on? The heels she’d worn in the wedding with baggy, gray gym shorts and a t-shirt that at one time must have been green but would have been a better fit on an NFL tackle. Except it was a sure bet that no lineman had ever worn a t-shirt that said:

I may look lazy, but on a molecular level I’m quite busy
.

Trying to bite back the doofus grin that was spreading across his face, he took in her dark eyes, her mess of wild curls, her face scrubbed free of make-up. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.

But he wanted to hear her say it. “Why are you
here
?”

“I want this.”

His palm caressed her cheek. “I know.”

“What do you mean?”

His finger slipped inside the droopy neck of her t-shirt, rubbing softly back and forth. “Your flush here. Your breathing speeds up. Your eyes get very dark.”

“Mydriasis. That’s because the autonomic nervous system is ramping up. It’s an involuntary reaction like goose bumps. It may be caused by, at least in part, by the natural release of oxytocin. Pupillometry—measuring the size of the pupils—can even be used as a non-invasive measure of sexual response, you know, strong sexual arousal.”

Kissing her neck, the curve into her shoulder, he felt her shudder. “I like it when you talk dirty. And is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Strong sexual arousal.”

“Yes.” She stepped in, closed the door behind her, and locked it. “Fear can also cause mydriasis—pupil dilation.”

“You’re afraid?”

“It’s just…it’s just I don’t know what to expect.” Before he could respond, she asked, “Are there rules?”

Her question surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. Ali expected—wanted—what he’d been teasing her with for hours. Ben wanted it too, but tonight he wanted to make love to her. “I’m going to hear about this ‘stuff’ you read. But we’ll get to that later. No rules for now, just trust. Know that I’m going to take care of you. If we need rules, we’ll make them up as we go along.”

His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her against him, as he brushed his lips across hers. Small kisses, taking it slow, drawing this moment out, but his storied control was failing him. He gathered the bottom of her shirt into his hands. And gathered and gathered. The thing was huge. But then he felt her warm, bare skin. His hand moved across her back, but instead of a bra fastening, his fingers met…more clothes? Was she wearing armor? He pressed his lips against her hair to hide his smile.
All the sweeter to strip you bare, sweetness.

Sliding his hand around her ribcage, he held the weight of one breast in his hand and brushed the tip with his thumb. In spite of the sturdy fabric, she responded. Her nipple pebbled against his finger as her back arched, but he felt her try to tamp down her response.
Don’t run, baby.
He shifted, one leg between hers, and took their kiss deeper, harder. As their tongues tangled, he slid his hand to her lower back and pressed her against his leg. She curved into him, and he felt the tremors run through her body.
So damned responsive.

Then just like before, she straightened, holding back her body’s reaction. It was torture when he held her tighter against him and rubbed his leg along that sensitive spot. Her mind struggled against what her body wanted, but she couldn’t silence the little noises in her throat. Still, she wasn’t even close to turning off that smart brain and simply letting herself feel. Letting herself take what she wanted. In fact, those brainy molecules were the busiest of them all, and he needed to put those busy mental molecules to work for her.

Through the heavy fabric, he gave the tip of her breast a pinch as he eased away from her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she made that throaty sound again. So tempting to just pick her up and carry her to the bed, but he wanted her embracing all the pleasure he could give her, not fighting it.

“We’re going to play a game.”

She shook her head and blinked her eyes, trying to focus on him, his words. “A game? You want to play a game right now? Like what?”

“Think of it as X-rated Truth or Consequences.” Her mouth formed the word ‘oh.’ Her eyes widened. “It’s simple. I ask a question, you have five seconds to answer.
Honestly
. If you don’t—or won’t—” His finger trailed down between her breasts. “I get to touch you anywhere, any way I want.” He paused and was rewarded with her small gasp when he added, “Or have you touch yourself.
And
you forfeit your next question.”

“What about me?”

“The same.” Her eyes shifted from side-to-side as she debated. Push, pull. Expose herself or not. Trust him or not. Do this, don’t do this. But her eyes were even darker than before. She clearly wanted to play, but he held his breath, waiting for her response.

“Okay.”

“One more thing.” He watched her eyes, wondering if she’d retreat again at his next words. Brushing his thumbs on the underside of her heavily shielded breasts, he added, “This is a sexy, dirty game. You play naked.”

Her eyes, still half closed with arousal, flew open. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

Ben stepped back and leaned on the edge of the desk, his hands braced beside him, legs extended. “I watch.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. A parade of expressions marched across her face—arousal, embarrassment, indecision. He was holding his breath again until she looked at him and reached for the bottom of her t-shirt. When she pulled it up high enough to slip her thumbs inside the waistband of her shorts, he sucked air so quickly she must have heard. But watching her shimmy out of those gym shorts until they dropped to the floor was enough to stop his breathing again.

She grasped the hem of her t-shirt, but this time she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. White cotton panties—boy shorts. And the sports bra he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was the crazy combination of purple checks with gray-and-white stripes, a turquoise zipper, and black trim.

Perfectly Ali. No artifice, no black lace, no planned seduction. Just her.

When her hand went to the front zipper, he shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Lowering the zipper slowly, she never took her eyes off his, only glancing down for a second as she separated the two sides, looking at him again as she shrugged it off and let it drop.
Magnificent.
His hands tightened on the edge of the desk. It was a sure thing that one group of
his
molecules was very busy. How the hell was he supposed to hold out long enough to take this where he wanted it to go? But he wasn’t waiting any longer to touch her. “Come here.”

She stepped out of her heels, and he let that go for now. He’d have her put them back on later. Holding out his hands, he pulled her to stand between his legs and filled his hands with her breasts. “So beautiful.” When he softly rubbed across her nipples, she arched into his hands. “Cross your arms behind your back.” She hesitated a second then did as he asked. His hands at her hips, he pulled her closer and lowered his head to take one tip in his mouth, stroking her gently with his tongue, then suckling, at first gently, then harder. She arched again and her head tilted back. Exploring this, he moved to the other tip and held it with his teeth, teasing it with his tongue before he nipped. She stiffened, then her head dropped further back, and she made that soft sound in the back of her throat. Using his thumb, he massaged where he’d left the small pain then returned to the gentle torture of touching her too lightly before he pinched and twisted.

“Ben.”

All she’d said was his name, but it sounded like a plea. “Patience, sweetness. Let it build.” Looking away and reminding himself that he needed to take that advice himself, he glimpsed her reflection in the closet-door mirror across the room.

They might be called boy shorts, but there was nothing “boy” about them. Sweet, innocent, white knit, clinging to that tempting ass. A hint of saucy cheeks just visible, could only be better if they were pink from his hand. Pink like the writing across the swell of her butt. From that distance and reversed in the mirror, he couldn’t make out the words.

“Turn around.”

Sassy Pants Day!

He laughed. “Sassy pants, huh?” She glanced down as if to see what she was wearing. Then looked over her shoulder at him with a grin.

“They’re part of a set. Kinda like Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…except with attitude. But I can’t find my Bossy Pants.”

“Good.”

He was still chuckling as he pinned the elbow she’d tried to nudge him with. “As appealing as your sassy pants are, I want to see your sassy ass. Naked.” Her eyes widened. “Step forward.” He dropped to a crouch behind her and slid the panties down, leaving a kiss on each inch he revealed. More than one at the crease between her thigh and buttock. Standing up behind her, his fingertips grazed the cleft between her cheeks, and he felt her response. “Okay, game on.”

He sat in the desk chair and patted his thighs. “Sit here. Straddle my lap.” Ali didn’t move except for her eyes flitting between his eyes and his lap.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be kind of exposed.”

“Exactly.”

Ben bit back his smile at the look she gave him. She wouldn’t win any prizes in a Best Submissive Contest—in fact, that look would earn most submissives an immediate trip to a spanking bench—but she sat as he’d asked. He ran his hands along her thighs. “Good girl.” He was ready for a killer look, even a smart remark, but it was something else. In fact, she looked nervous but pleased with herself.

“I get the first question. Five seconds to start your answer, and the game is called
Truth
or Consequences.” He paused for her nod, then started the game with something simple.

“Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

Apparently relieved at the question, she giggled as she answered. “That’s easy. Of course.”

“You have?”

Wrinkling her nose, she nodded. “I’m very good at it.”

“You mean like ‘I’ll have what she’s having’?”

“Just like that.
When Harry Met Sally
, Estelle Reiner as the woman in the diner. So yeah.”

“Because you do realize that’s a questionable skill?”

“So what do you do when a woman fakes it with you?”

“You mean fakes an orgasm?”

Ali nodded.

“I don’t think it’s ever happened.”

She raised an eyebrow. Definitely not competing for Best Submissive. “All men are sure it never happened to them, and all women at one time or other have done it, so you do the math.”

He shrugged and bit back another grin. “Fair enough. Same movie, same scene, Meg Ryan as Sally.” Tilting up her chin, his expression serious when he added, “There is one rule, Peanut. Honesty. Always be honest with me. Understood?”

When she nodded, he let the nod go and asked his next question. There’d be time later to teach her the importance of answering with words. “What’s your favorite position?”

“You mean…you mean for sex?”

“Not talking about yoga.” Ben ran his hands up her thighs again, sliding to the inside when he reached the top, teasing her with his thumb brushing lightly back and forth. “How do you like to be fucked?”

He felt her thighs tighten against his at the dirty word. And her mind was busy again, her breathing fast. It took a couple of seconds before she answered. “The basic.”

It was a temptation to push her, make her explain, but he wanted her unguarded right now. “Okay, your turn.”

“What’s your favorite?”

Bingo.
“That’s a tough one.”

She frowned. “It is?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to choose.” Slowing down the pace of his words and lowering the register of his voice, he answered her question with a question. “Would it be you on top, cowgirl, hands clasped behind your neck where I told you to keep them, my hands on your waist, watching those magnificent tits bounce with every stroke?” She swallowed, her breath close to a pant.

“Or it might be when I’m behind you, so I can see your beautiful bottom, blistered about the color of those bright pink toenails. When I put my hands on your ass, you’re still warm from your spanking, and I know you can still feel the burn.” She glanced down at her toes, and the flush across her chest bloomed darker.

He kept a straight face, even managed to sound thoughtful. “Those are both good, but I think I’d go with over you. Sliding up your body, my mouth and face wet from tonguing you until you came the first time. Your eyes are wide open just how I want them, your legs draped over my shoulders. I’ll keep moving up, pushing you wide open. Hold your hands firmly beside your head. But before I fill you, I’ll kiss you to remind you how sweet you taste.”

The tremor moved up her body, and he felt the pressure on his thighs as she tightened her legs again, seeking comfort. He moved his hand where she wanted it but only cupped her gently, and she rocked against him. Gentle was not what she wanted. And his answer may have backfired because it was getting too damn hard to wait. Hard being the exact word for it. For now the glassy look in her eyes was his reward. “My turn.”

He held back his grin, looking forward to her reaction. “Spit or swallow?”

Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t underst…oh.” Her frown deepened. “Swallow, but…I’m not very good at it.”

“At swallowing?”

“At any of…that.”

Ah, sweetness.
Now it was his turn to frown. “I’m not buying it.” The worst technique in the world wouldn’t diminish the ecstasy of her mouth wrapped around him. “You know that old joke, what does a guy call the worst blow job he ever had?”

She shook her head.

“Fantastic.”

“You’re being nice.”

“No. Rule Number Two. Talk, communicate, tell me what you want. I’ll do the same. Would you expect your students to figure out how to—whatever chemistry students do—if you just told them that what they were doing isn’t what you want? You have to teach them. Talk to each other like we are now about what we want, what we like and don’t like.”

“You would teach me?”

Oh, hell
. Spit-or-swallow was supposed to be a funny throw-away question, but with the images of “teaching her” now flashing in his mental screening room, he was close to the edge. Choking out “Of course,” he hoped she didn’t notice the strain in his voice. Not sure if that counted as her question or not, but he was moving on. His game, his rules.

“Best orgasms before or during?” He wanted to know what she’d say, but something about the question bothered her. And not just sexy, teasing, embarrassed bothered.
Unhappy
bothered.

“You get a do-over question because I can’t during and—”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I just…don’t.”

Challenge accepted, sweetness
. “And before?”

“Sometimes. But I know guys don’t really like doing that. And I don’t expect—”

“Hold on. What—” He cut off his own question.

What the hell had her experience been like? She faked orgasms, she never came when she was being fucked, she apparently rarely had a guy lick and tease her to orgasm. And if she did, she thought she was supposed to be grateful?!
What the hell?

Part of him wanted to beat his chest and bellow like an alpha gorilla at the chance to be the one to show her what pleasure should be. But another part of him wanted to hunt down every guy who had let her down, had taken that sweet, curvy, responsive body and somehow made her feel it was her fault if she wasn’t satisfied.

With his hand on the back of her neck, he pulled her to him, kissing her and nipping her bottom lip. “I’ll take the do-over, but first we’re getting one thing straight. If you weren’t sitting here naked on my lap, I’d say you have terrible taste in men. And as for me, I intend to touch and taste…Every. Single. Inch of you. And all I
expect
is that you’ll let me. Your pleasure is
my
job. Are we clear?”

Her “yes” was little more than a whisper. He wanted to ramp this up. Now. He slid his hands behind her, firmly cupping her cheeks. “Do you ever imagine having sex in a public place, where you might get caught?”

She started to answer, but didn’t. Her legs tightened, and she swallowed, trying again, but no words came out.

Interesting. And so damn hot.

“Time’s up, babe. Consequences.” He shifted her away from him slightly and pulled her hands to her thighs. “Hold yourself open for me.” He fought off another grin when her eyes blinked rapidly and the flush was back on her chest. This might be hard for her, but his demand turned her on. “Now, Ali.”

“Okay. I, uh, okay.” Her hands moved slowly to her inner thighs, but then she did as he asked.

“Perfect.” He cupped her and felt her slight curl into his hand. His fingers slipped into her slick heat, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitized nub. So ready for him. “More?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Eyes on me.” He didn’t move his thumb until she was looking at him. Then he moved it again, harder this time. Then softly. “We both get two more questions.” With a wink, he added, “Unless, of course, you have to forfeit again.”

He increased the pressure with his thumb and slid two fingers inside. “Have you ever been spanked, bare hand, bare bottom?” She thrust against his fingers. “Times running out.”

“Uh.” She hesitated like she was trying to remember the question. “No.” He flicked lightly back-and-forth with his thumb then moved his hand away, and she drew in a ragged breath.

Me too, sweetness.

“So I guess I can skip any questions about hairbrush, wooden spoon, ruler, flogger, crop, paddle, leather belt, tawse, rubber strap, whip, birch, cane?”

“Yes, please.”

No stopping the laugh this time. “Sassy pants. Do I need to remind you that you’re naked? Fold your arms behind you.” He slipped his hand back between her legs and cupped her gently. “And wet. And aching. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Your turn to ask a question.”

“Oh. Uh…what’s one of your fantasies?”

He stroked across her, taking care to keep his touch light. “Going for the big guns, huh? Let’s see. It’s an almost public place, like a deserted beach. Probably no one will come along, but it’s not a sure thing. I’m taking your top off. You’re nervous, but obedient.”

“Me? Your fantasy’s about me?”

He nodded slowly. “You’re always the star. But it’s my script and I’m the director.” He gave her a second to think about what he’d said. “What’s your secret fantasy?”

One second, two, three. Instead of answering, she shook her head.

Consequences.

He wanted to pull her across his lap. She wanted it, too. Or thought she did. But it was too soon, too much for this first time because she had no understanding of the emotional tsunami it would unleash. He’d wait. Take one step at a time. Because there would damn sure be other nights.

“Do you remember your safewords?”