Substitute Boyfriend (5 page)

Chapter Seven

OH, MY FUCKING God.  We were doing it.  We were going to do it, rather, and on his kitchen table.  Holy shit.  I should have pretended to be more worldly than I really was, because why would I want my first time with my so-called substitute boyfriend to be in a brightly lit kitchen in the dead of night?

A better question:  w
hy not?

When I’d shaken my head
no
, that I’d never done it on a table, Roman had taken the few items off it, moving them to the counter, including the bottles of alcohol…all except for the coconut rum.  That he placed on a chair, and I wasn’t going to ask why.  Then he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up onto the table, so I sat, my legs dangling like a child’s.  He lifted my face up to his with a gentle finger under my chin and he kissed me again.  It was slow, sweet…and hot.  I was trying to imagine how we were going to do it exactly, especially since my dress was still on, but I couldn’t concern myself with that.  No, my job right now was to record the events in my mind so I could type them out later.  I didn’t know if this would work as a scene for my present book, but that was okay.  I could type it up in its own document and plan to use it in the next book…if it fit the characters.

The problem was I tried and couldn’t imagine those characters in my head right now.  Sometimes thinking about the love or lust my characters were feeling could get me hot and bothered, but they were nowhere to be found right now.  I was actually turned on by
Roman
.  That alone freaked me out a little bit.  And it wasn’t Roman as one of my male leads, either.  It was Roman playing himself that had me wet and wound up.

While his lips assaulted mine, I felt his hands on my legs, right next to my knees.  I ran my fingers
back into his hair while his hands slid up my thighs, and I felt my muscles tighten in response.  Wow.  Oh, my God.  I’d had no idea my friend had such moves.  His kisses were killing me, but his hands were even deadlier.

They reached my panties, and he hooked his fingers in them, pulling them down.  It was then that I realized just how wet I was.  They were tiny little things and they were soaked.  I slid one of my hands down the side of his face and down his torso, because if he was taking my panties off, his shirt was coming off next.  When he got them to my knees, he took his lips off
mine and watched as he let them slip down my legs until they rested on my feet, dangling.  I looked up at him and saw the twinkle in his eyes.  I bent my feet, pointing the toes downward, and off fell the white panties to the floor, and then my bottom half—aside from the skirt half of my dress—was completely naked.

I took that opportunity to grab the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up.  When he grabbed it to take it the rest of the way over his head, I met his
chest with my lips.  He had a little hair smattered over the skin, but it was toned and beautiful, just as I’d imagined.  Only there was more.

He was covered in tattoos. 
Just his chest and stomach area.  The tats ended where any shirt sleeves would begin.  I understood why—as a college instructor wanting to move up the ranks, I knew exactly why his tattoos were hidden…but I couldn’t resist saying something.  “Ah.  I see you have your own secrets as well.”

He grinned and brought his hand to the back of my neck where his fingers threaded into the locks, and he tilted my head so he could consume my mouth in another one of his fiery kisses.  That one left me breathless, and as he moved his lips back to my neck, I felt his hand move to the back of my dress.  He found the zipper and pulled it down
while my hands explored his chest.

He got the zipper down to my ass and then he pulled at the sides, revealing my barely there strapless bra.  I felt hot again but also a little self-conscious.  Was he thinking the same thoughts about me, wondering why we’d had so many secrets between ourselves?  Or was he finding the mystery to be a bit of a turn on, just as I was viewing his own little secret?

“Lie back,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.  Ordinarily, I would have taken that kind of bossiness to be a challenge.  It would have angered me and made me closed off, but for some reason, coming out of his mouth and at that moment got me all the more excited.  I’m sure my eyes grew wide, but I did as he commanded.  He grabbed the dress on the sides and started to shimmy it down my hips.  The only reason he was even able to was because he’d taken the zipper all the way down to where my ass hit the table.  Once he had it past my hips, though, it was a cinch.  It slid right off.

So I lay there in nothing but a lacy white strapless bra, one that matched the white panties on his kitchen floor.  He leaned over me then and I suppose I should have found the unforgiving surface of the table uncomfortable but I didn’t.  His gaze was more unnerving, and I couldn’t tell you why.  All I could figure was it was because we’d been
friends, and this was all new…and weird territory.  I don’t know how our relationship might have progressed had I not told him my secret, had I not been drinking that night, but here we were, getting ready to fuck, and there was no turning back now.

He moved to the side of the table and picked up the bottle of coconut rum he’d left
on the chair.  He opened the lid and took a swig into his mouth straight from the bottle.  Then he laced his hand into my hair behind my neck, urging me to sit up some.  He kissed me again, letting some of the rum spill into my mouth, while one of his hands reached behind my back and started messing around with the bra.  My hands were back in his hair, holding on tight, because I was starting to feel desperate.  His other hand joined the one already working the back of the bra, and then he managed to get the two sides apart.

I was self-conscious about my breasts.  I wasn’t big.  I was pretty average in the boob department, and my job as a teacher wouldn’t afford any kind of enhancement surgery, not that I would consider it anyway.  No, I
wasn’t anything to look at in that area, and yet, when he lay me back down on the table, I would have thought they were the most precious things he’d ever seen.  But he didn’t touch me there.  Instead, he picked up the bottle of rum again and poured a capful.  Then he took the cap and poured its contents into my navel.

Oh.  I was intrigued.  I’d never done anything like this before and had certainly never written about it.  And it cooled me off, just that little bit of liquor.  It might have been hot outside and even down to my core, but I was aware now of the bit of cool breeze coming from his air conditioner, located God knew where in his apartment, and my nipples doubled in hardness.  They ached for his touch now more than ever.

He grabbed my thigh with one hand as the other hand touched my side just below my breast.  He leaned over then and took my nipple in his mouth, and the touch elicited a groan from the depths of my throat.  I hadn’t wanted to seem impatient but I was, and I started to arch my back.  But then I felt a trickle of rum make its way down the side of my belly and I forced myself back down to the table.  I wrapped my hands around his neck, making my fingers relax so I wouldn’t dig into him with my nails, and sucked down a breath of air.

God, I just knew I was going to come the second his cock touched me.  I was beyond aroused, every nerve, every fiber of my body tight and primed.  His hand brushed over my pussy, tickling the trimmed hairs there, as he brought it up to my belly, then over my ribs, and up to my neglected breast.  I couldn’t help but notice the way my pussy had responded to his brush past it,
because it was tighter than ever.  It was aching for him, and I wondered when I would feel some relief.

He caressed that breast so tenderly, his thumb teasing the nipple, and I let out another breath of air.  I couldn’t take it much longer.  He brought his mouth to my belly
and licked the line of spilled coconut rum.  Because it had run down my side, his tongue almost tickled as it began its journey, but by the time it reached my navel, it was all hot.  Then he licked around my navel and sipped at the rum, drawing it into his mouth.  Finally, when he had sucked it all out, he licked until every sticky drop was out and I was aching.  It didn’t hurt that one of his hands was still teasing my nipple.

“Oh, Jesus,” I cried, unable to keep silent anymore.

I felt his breath against the sensitive flesh on my belly as he let out what I assumed was a chuckle at my growing impatience.  He kissed down my belly to the top of my thigh, moving his hands to the top of both legs.  I heard chair legs scoot a few inches on the floor, and that was when I realized he wasn’t going to fuck me.  Not yet.  But what he had in mind was just fine by me.

I shouldn’t have been as relaxed as I was.  After all, I was completely naked, sprawled out on his table, and his kitchen was bright.  His shirt was off but he was otherwise fully clothed.  I should have felt uncomfortable.  But I didn’t.  I was hot and bothered and couldn’t wait for—

Oh, God, there it was.  The stroke of his tongue.  It had been a long time since I’d been with a man who knew what to do with his tongue.  Oh, sure, Ridley had tried, but I could tell that he just wasn’t into it.  Roman, though…I felt myself get wet all over again, just knowing that he didn’t mind taking care of me this way.

He wasn’t wasting any time, either, and his tongue painted my clit with one soft stroke after the other—firm without being rough.  I let out a low moan, unable to stifle it, as I felt my muscles tighten, and I anticipated what was sure to be the best orgasm I’d have in months.  Ridley was nice to look at and he could do the job, but he was no pro, even with my guidance.  Yeah, he’d improved, but he had a long way to go.

Aw, why the hell did I have to think about Ridley?  I felt my brain take over and suddenly it felt like there was no way an orgasm was going to happen.  Not now, at any rate.  I was getting ready to growl at Roman to tell him to give it to me with his cock when another stroke—this time harder—brought me back to the present.  I felt my toes curl and my thighs start to quiver as he wiggled a finger inside me, his tongue still flicking at my clit.  Oh, God, that was it. 
That was it!

Oh, there went the groans as he hit the target.  My brain escalated to that point of no return and I cried aloud.
  Shit.  He was good.  It seemed to last forever as my legs clenched and I wrapped my fingers in my own damn hair, needing to hold onto something so I could ride the incredible wave brought on by the orgasm his tongue was delivering.

At last, though, I wound down from that amazing high, but it only made me want more.  I needed to be filled by him.

Luckily, he knew it, and he stood, towering over my prone body, a darkness in his eyes I’d never seen before that night.  Oh, my God, my friend was
hot
and I’d been too stupid to ever notice it before.  He was insanely hot and he was with me.

In seconds, he’d pulled his wallet out of his pocket and he had a condom.  Well, what a little rascal. 
Prepared, and at the most unlikely of times.  Maybe there was a lot more to Roman than I’d ever suspected.

That thought was gone, though, as he entered me.  Oh, wow.  So Ridley wasn’t the only one with a cock that felt nice inside me.  Roman’s technique might not have been any better, but he’d started the party right, and so everything felt better on this side.  Damn.  And it wasn’t but a few minutes later that I was quivering again, crying aloud, and completely unaware when he hit the top himself.

The best part?

I’d have to find a way to work this
shit into a book somehow, because that had to be some of the most unbelievable spontaneous sex I’d ever engaged in.  Just…wow.

Chapter Eight

I WOUND UP spending the night at Roman’s apartment.  I was surprised the next morning when I heard him get up.  Even though I was half asleep, I peeked.  He was putting on a jogging suit.  So, after I heard the front door to his place close, I rolled over and looked at the clock.

Six AM.

I knew that this time of year, if he wanted to jog, he had to do it early before it got scorching hot outside, but six in the morning?  On a Saturday?

My friend was insane.

I thought back to the night before, after we’d made love.  Okay, no.  We hadn’t made love.  We’d fucked.  And it had been damn good.  But afterward, he’d led me to his bedroom.  I was still naked from head to toe and spent, and he pulled back the covers and tucked me in.  He covered me with a sheet and thin blanket, and I was grateful for the extra cover, because his air conditioning was beginning to feel downright cold.  He’d pulled his jeans back up (an item of clothing I only ever saw him wear away from the college) before guiding me to his room, and he muttered something about needing to use the restroom before bed.

So I lay there in semi-darkness, trying not to fall asleep, so I could analyze his bedroom.  But it hadn’t worked.  I’d passed out before he made it back to bed.

Now, though, I’d had some sleep and he was off running, so maybe I could check things out.  It was brighter in there now anyway.

No such luck, though.  I fell right back asleep.

It wasn’t until later, when I heard Roman taking a shower, that I started to stir again.  He was out of the bathroom and back in his bedroom, though, when I actually opened my eyes.

He was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was damp.  I knew he liked to work out (I’d been a workout buddy on more than one occasion), but I had no idea he enjoyed jogging. 
God.  I don’t think I’d jog even if I was being chased by a zombie rapist.  The idea of running for the hell of it sounded less fun than a root canal.  But the results on my friend were impressive.  Holy shit, was he smoking hot.

Honestly, though, things felt quite awkward.  What should I say?  What should I do?  Did we go back
to being just friends or move on to some new phase?

“Morning,” he said as he walked toward the bed.

Oh, hell.  I’d been caught checking him out when I
should
have been scoping out his room according to plan.  “Morning,” I squeaked.

He dropped the towel and slid under the sheet.  Oh, God, yes, this was crazy awkward. 
He frowned.  “You’re feeling weird, aren’t you?”

“Define
weird
.”

“Odd, strange, out of the ordinary.
  Any of those sound right?”

I giggled.  This was still my friend Roman,
continued to be the guy who managed to read me like a book (well, not like the books I wrote, although that had changed overnight) and knew my inner workings better than I knew them myself.  “Okay, yeah, so you got me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I am too.”  He took a deep breath.  He wasn’t snuggling up close or touching my hair or anything…
weird
.  Instead, he was giving me the space I needed.  “I still can’t get over that you’re a published author and I had no idea.  None.  That blows me away.  But…I wanted to extend the offer, now that we’re no longer under the influence.”  I raised my eyebrows.  Was he saying what I thought he was saying?  “I can play your substitute boyfriend for as long as you need.  Until you get Javier back or—”

What? 
“Ridley.”

“Oh, yeah.
  Ridley.  Whatever.  Anyway, I just wanted to throw that on the table.”

I inhaled a deep breath.  Wow.  Yeah, that too was weird, but somehow it seemed a little less weird than Roman and I trying an actual relationship.  So I shook his hand and then climbed out of bed for a shower.
  I had a lot to wrap my mind around.

* * *

Okay, so I lied.  I managed to find a way to work the table sex into my book.  The characters were exploring their relationship, doing things couples do, and the main female character invited her new male friend over for the evening. Dinner had burned, so the hero insisted upon other dining arrangements…and once he and the heroine were feeling satisfied, they went out for Mexican.

Holy shit, writing that scene made perspiration form on my upper lip as I remembered the way Roman had licked the rum off my belly.  I grew a little tingly remembering all the details as I recorded them in the story.

It was Saturday afternoon, and so I called Roman to ask if he had plans that evening.  I figured if we were going to do this, I needed to get over the weirdness as soon as possible.

When my phone rang again
a few minutes later, I just assumed it was Roman wanting to ask for details, but it was Ridley.  I considered not even answering but realized that would be stupid.  I knew Ridley well enough to know a couple of things—the first was that he wouldn’t leave a message on my phone…and the second?  He would keep calling until he got me.  He knew I carried my cell with me everywhere (it was the only way I could keep up with the social media that kept Eliza Brennan buzzing in the minds of her readers), so he would be persistent.

There was no sense ignoring him, but no law said I had to be nice. 
“Yeah?”

“There’s my Lizzie.”

“I’m not
your
Lizzie.”

“Aw, come on, honey.  You’re upset about last night?”

When I gave his question real thought, I had to admit that I wasn’t nearly as upset as I could have been…as I
should
have been, considering how invested my heart had been in this man a short twenty-four hours earlier.  I’d been hurt, yes, but Roman had done an excellent job of taking my mind off Ridley.  “Nope.  Got over it.”

There was a pause.  Ridley had
never
hesitated in all the time I’d known him, so for him to have to search for words…priceless.  I almost blurted out
I’m waiting
but then thought better of it.  “Cool.  I’ll give you credit, Lizzie.  I thought maybe we were gonna have a blowout.  So…you get why I needed a little time to myself?”

You know, it might have been his cockiness or the fact that he thought he was all that (and he almost was, really), but something rubbed me wrong—worse than I’d been rubbed in ages.  My mind was foaming, trying to grab onto the right words, but there was a tiny voice at the back whispering the truth—that if Roman hadn’t distracted me the night before, I might have let Ridley’s indiscretion ride.  And that knowledge made me even angrier, that I’d let this guy walk all over me just because he was gorgeous and available.  Well, fuck that.  “Ridley, love, you can have all the time you like.”

Another pause.  Damn, I was on a roll today.  His voice was softer, though.  “Really?”

“Yeah.
  In fact, why don’t you take your whole goddamned life?  I’ve got other things I need to focus on.”

“Oh, Lizzie—
”  I have no idea what he said next, because I ended the call.

I had to give the guy credit—brass balls.  He called right back. 
Oh, come on, Ridley.  Don’t be thick.  You don’t really think my provider dropped the call at the opportune moment, do you?

Turned out he wasn’t that
dumb, because he didn’t try again after I didn’t answer.  Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I’d once thought.

So
why was I sad?