Substitute Boyfriend (6 page)

Chapter Nine

IT WAS MID-JUNE before I knew it.  Classes were in full gear by then, so my writing time had decreased like it always did when I had lots of papers to grade.

Well, there was something else too.  I was seeing Roman. 
A lot.

It was interesting.  He still felt like just a friend and I think he felt the same way about me, because he’d start a lot of conversations off by saying, “Hey, I have an idea.  Have you ever tried it this way before?”  Use your imagination.  When he’d say
this way
, he’d suggest a new sexual
thing
he and I hadn’t done—sometimes it was a different location; other times, it was an unusual position; a couple of times, it was a toy of some sort.  We never did it in the same place or the same way twice.

I think that wa
s why the friendship aspect of our relationship stayed strong.  Our sexual moments, while hot and consuming, were almost like a business transaction.  We’d even taken to talking about it afterward, and I’d tell him where I thought it would fit into a particular book.

But he was fucking me so much, my writing couldn’t keep up.

I wasn’t complaining, because I knew that whatever we did would go in my memory bank for reserve and I could pull something out of there later on for use.  Or maybe there would wind up being one or two times just for me.  Like my entire life, though, any and all experiences were up for grabs when it came to writing.  Even the way a person looked at me or something someone said…maybe even a really cool outfit I wore—small or large, anything I lived could become an element of a story.

Sex, though…I’d always been afraid of sounding the same, so I needed to make damn sure all my sex scenes were different.  And hot.  I wanted them hot and
sexy, because that was part of the reason I had faithful readers.  They’d come to expect a certain level of heat from my books, and I didn’t plan to disappoint.

Once or twice, I felt like calling Ridley and setting him straight.  Something I learned during that first thirty days with Roman was that I
wasn’t
vanilla.  I might not have been pure chocolate, but I was most certainly
not
plain and boring.  The couple of small discussions I’d had with Ridley about the matter, coupled with my insecurities as a lover, made me believe I was what most readers would consider vanilla, but after talking about it with my adventurous, highly educated friend, I started thinking not.  Okay, yeah, so I wasn’t into BDSM or body fluid play or pain as pleasure, but lots of other things were up for grabs.  I didn’t have to be in the missionary position, and I didn’t need the lights off.  I didn’t mind some down and dirty, some experimentation with new things, a lot of the unusual.  I also found it didn’t take much to get me off when I was with the right guy.

How the hell had Roman become that right guy?

I was afraid of questioning it and breaking the spell, because I didn’t know how long he’d be content being my substitute boyfriend.

He certainly didn’t
feel
like a real boyfriend, but I’d keep him as a substitute for as long as he liked playing that game.  I hadn’t had such an overabundance of book ideas since…well,
ever
.  I’d never had the ideas flow like they were with Roman playing that role.  Ridley couldn’t even touch him in that department.  It was amazing.  I was writing like I never had before.

So, like I said, it was
mid-June, and my phone rang.  It was Roman.  “Hey.  What’s up?”

“Just grading essays.
  What about you?”

“I was
sitting here, thinking about you.”

Oh.
  That was interesting.  It was still a little strange, Roman saying things like that to me.  And while my mind was dwelling on Roman in that way, it also noted that he had a voice that was sexy as fuck.  Yeah.  It was smooth like chocolate and sinfully low.  Not bass low, but low, and it got my girl parts humming with anticipation.  A few weeks ago, his voice wouldn’t have moved me like that, but his sex had changed all that.  That voice?  It made me want to do nasty things.  I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.  Not
that
much, anyway…but I had no problems hinting at it.  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a sexy voice?”

“Maybe.
 
You
haven’t.”

“I am
now
.”

I heard his throaty chuckle through the
phone.  “You ever have phone sex?”

“
What?
”  How the hell had talking about his voice escalated into fucking?  Well…my cheeks—and the rest of me—warmed a little at the thought.

“No?”

A nervous chuckle flew out of my mouth.  “No.  Have you?”

“Maybe.”
  He was quiet for a few seconds, and the anticipation was killing me.  Just what was he going to say next?  “I know a lot of people like sexting, but it’s not nearly as good as phone sex.  Skype sex is even better.”

“
Skype sex?
  Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“Uh, no…not yet.
  You in?”

I felt my cheeks flush again but I sat up in my chair…and found that I was feeling kind of excited at the idea.  My God, why had I never known my best friend was such a sexy animal? 
“Um, sure.  I don’t know what to do.”

His voice dropped lower.  “Get comfortable first.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“
Beth.
”

I giggled.  “It’s
not
, Roman.  I mean…I’m at my desk; it’s the middle of the day.  I’m—”

“You’re making excuses.
  Do you want to do this or not?”

I took a short breath and then no hesitation. 
“All right.  Okay.  I’ll just feel stupid.”

“Not when you’re done.”  I laughed again, this time feeling a little nervous and embarrassed…but also excited.

“So what do I do?”

“I said,
Get comfortable
.  So move away from your desk first.  Why don’t you go lie down on your couch?  Or sit on it and prop your legs on the coffee table.  I want to picture you like that.”

I snickered.  “But you’d never know if I stayed right here.”

I could hear the lack of amusement in his voice.  “Yes, I would, Beth, because you don’t know how to lie very well.”  While my mind was dealing with the shock that Roman continued to surprise me that he knew me to the core, he kept talking.  He suggested a candle or two, a glass of wine, music playing softly in the background, shutting the blinds, and making sure the door was locked—since I was feeling a little paranoid.  It seemed like a pain in the ass, but as I did these things, I realized it was almost like getting ready for a date.  Preparing for the moment helped me look forward to what was coming next.

I almost pointed out to him that he hadn’t known about my alter ego Eliza either until I’d told him, but I knew he’d tell me I’d been hiding it, not lying about it.  And, apparently, I
was
pretty good at that.  But that thought drifted to the back of my mind as I continued prepping myself.

At last, I was on the couch like he’d requested.  I was surrounded by a few pillows and I could smell the light scent of vanilla wafting from the candle on the end table.  I took a few sips
of wine and laid my head back, prepared to hear Roman’s smooth voice guide me through.  “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You’ve never done this before?”

“Nope.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. 
“All right.  You’re comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re on the couch like I asked?”

“Yeah.”

“Describe what you’re wearing.”

Ugh. 
Really?
  “No way.  I’m afraid it’s not glamorous at all.”

“Damn it, Beth.  This isn’t
gonna work if you keep being so negative.”  Was I?  “Just tell me what you’re wearing or make something up.  Trust me.”

Well, he was right about one thing.  It wouldn’t have been lying, but it would have been making something up on the fly.  I could have tried to imagine what one of my heroines would have been wearing, but I could see how that would be a pain in the ass if I had to pretend to take off something that wasn’t actually on my body.  “Okay.  I’m wearing…”  Maybe I could exaggerate.  Yeah, I could do that.  What I had on was an old WWE t-shirt, complete with a hole under one of the arms and the
frayed hems.  The shorts?  Sure, they were cute and easy to describe.  Okay, I could get into this, but my old t-shirt wasn’t going to be the stuff of writer’s fantasy.  “I’m wearing a pink babydoll tee.”

“
Mmm-hmm.”

“No, black.”

“Which is it?”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I was going to piss him off and ruin the moment if I didn’t concentrate.  I had to let go of the nerves.  “Okay, a pink
babydoll tee.”  He must have already been picturing it in his head.  No need to ruin it.  So what if the real shirt I was wearing was black and so old I had no idea what wrestler’s body used to grace it?  “Um…it’s thin and hugs my body, so you can see the outline of my bra underneath the shirt.”

“Oh, I like that.  What color’s your bra?”

I wasn’t really wearing one that day.  It was a lazy Sunday and I hadn’t bothered.  But my heroine…  “White.”

“What else?”

“Black denim shorts.  They have some big flower pattern on them, so there are splashes of pink.”

“Good.”

“No shoes.  Just…smooth legs all the way to my toenails.  Also painted pink.”

“
Mmm.”

“What about you?”

“What do you find sexier—workout clothes, something I’d wear in the classroom, or if we were just hanging out?”

Hmm…I was having troubles picturing Roman as one of my book boyfriends.  I was finding him more intriguing and lots sexier the longer we spent time together in an intimate capacity and, to that end, I was picturing
him
.  And just what would I find he looked hotter in?

Well, now that I knew the guy was fucking ripped, I would prefer him in
nothing
. But what would I want to tear off him?  “Let’s see…maybe workout clothes.  You know—maybe a muscle shirt.  Oh, but I like the way you look in jeans.”  Oh…I’d said that out loud?  Yeah…since Roman and I had hooked up, I’d started thinking about him more and more in
that
way.

“Okay, so how about a blue
wifebeater?”

“Yeah.”

“Jeans.  Black okay?”

No way was I
gonna tell him I liked him in his “work uniform” too—he usually wore a button-down shirt and black slacks and he always looked nice, professional in a teacherly way, but now I knew what those shirts were hiding.  I wanted to see more of him.  My mind started racing, picturing what he looked like in the clothes he’d described.  “Yeah.”

“Your eyes closed?”

“Yeah.”

“So…I’m lying beside you and I’m kissing your neck.”  I smiled and used my left hand to pull my hair back, tilting my head, imagining his lips were feathering down it, leaving a damp trail.  It was then that I realized my phone might be a hindrance, so I held it out and changed it to speaker and told Roman that was what I was doing.  “You okay if a neighbor overhears me?”

I smiled.  The wine was settling in nicely and I wasn’t quite so uptight.  “It’ll be like you were here the whole time.”

He chuckled again.  “Especially if I can make you come hard.”

The smile slipped off my face as I felt my inhibitions melt away.  He was right.  I might be the one touching myself—and he knew that—but he would be the one guiding the action, and I would be the one doing the same for him.  This could be a lot of fun.  “Let’s see what you can do.”  I relaxed my head against the back of the couch once more, closing my eyes again, focusing on his voice.

I could hear a slight smile in his voice.  “I’m going to lift that pink t-shirt of yours. 
Slowly.  I’m kissing up your belly, one inch at a time.”  I could almost see his head there and I wished I could touch him then.

I could
pretend, something I’d grown pretty good at.  “I weave my fingers through your hair, holding your head in my hands.”

“That’s pretty good.  How do my lips on you feel?”

“Hot.”

“I’m pushing your shirt up higher.”

I swallowed and, essentially, broke character.  I thought I had it, but I felt unsure.  I had to know I was doing it right.  “Hey, Roman, I gotta ask a question.”

“Yeah?”
  He sounded kind of dreamy and far off…but also amused.

“Am I supposed to, you know…pretend like you’re here?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Uh…and, um…”