The Casual Rule (14 page)

I look down and watch the doorknob turn. My stomach is twisting; I hope I don’t throw up on his shoes. The door opens and there he is. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He smiles seductively at me, his gaze smoldering.

“Julia, I’m very glad you could make it. Come in,” he says smoothly as he opens the door wide. I anxiously walk into his apartment, stop and look at my surroundings. His place is gorgeous. This had to be professionally decorated; it’s spectacular. Wide plank white oak floors, dark chocolate leather couch with a matching loveseat, and coffee table. Off to the side, I can see the kitchen… it’s modern and sleek with stainless steel appliances, beautiful dark cabinetry, and a light almond colored granite countertop. There are three large windows providing a spectacular view of Manhattan along one wall of the living room area. Stunning.

“Can I take your coat and bag?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He places his hands on my shoulders as he slowly peels off my coat. I close my eyes and freeze. His touch sends a tingling wave straight down to my sex. He wields some magical power over me. I’m bound to him and I don’t want to break the hold. I remind myself again—talk before going any further.

He hangs my coat up in the closet by the door and puts my bag on a chair next to it. He places his hands around my waist, spinning me around to face him. Tilting my face up toward him, he brushes his lips against mine, never kissing me. I close my eyes and moan into his mouth.

“I’m very happy you’re here,” he murmurs.

He gently pushes me against the wall near the door and nuzzles my neck. His hands glide down my body, over my clothes. His body pressed against mine, pinning me to the wall, grinding his pelvis into me. He nibbles on my earlobe then slides his hand under my skirt, his finger sliding under the garter belt strap. I know I promised myself we’d talk first, but fuck it. Talk’s cheap. This is exactly what I need right now.

His finger traces the edge of my lace panties. I’m already wet and desperate for his touch. He runs his finger gently across the thin fabric of my panties, lightly brushing against my swollen folds.

“You wanted to tease me at the office today, didn’t you?” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He presses his pelvis hard into me; I feel his erection on my stomach. “It worked.”

A moan escapes the back of my throat. I tilt my head back against the wall.

“Do you want me, Julia?” His voice is low, alluring.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch you here?” He lightly presses his fingers on my panties, applying pressure against my throbbing sex.

My muscles clench. “Yes,” I gasp.

“Do you want me inside you?” He brushes his lips down my neck, lightly nibbling by my collarbone.

“Yes,” I whisper. My body is on fire. I need him right now like I need air to breathe.

“Good… After dinner.” He straightens himself out and releases his hold on me.

My mouth falls open. I’m completely confounded. What the fuck just happened? I thought we were about to have sex.

“Something wrong?” he asks with a devilish smirk and raised brow. Holy shit, I know his game. He’s teasing me back. The bastard.

“No, nothing at all,” I answer dryly. Don’t tit for tat me, Ben Martin. I’ll play right back. I straighten myself out, pressing my thighs together to relieve some of my pent-up frustration. “What’s for dinner?” I smile sweetly.

He shakes his head, with a satisfied grin plastered across his perfect smug face. Neither of us is going to acknowledge the game we’re playing. This is going to be a long dinner.

“I ordered some take-out Chinese food. It should be here soon. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“That’s fine.” Let’s get this meal over with; all I want is my Ben Martin dessert.

“Would you like some wine, beer or I can warm up some sake?” he asks as he walks toward the kitchen.

“Wine would be nice. Something white?” I answer. Ben has already proven to me that he can do cool and collected while horny as hell. Now that I don’t have Vivian’s eyes on us, I can step up my game. “Ben, can you direct me to the bathroom?” I call into the kitchen where he’s uncorking a bottle of wine.

“Sure, it’s in the hallway to your right, second door,” he calls over. How big is this place? It makes my apartment look like a shoebox.

I walk to the bathroom and turn on the light. Wow. Nice bathroom. It’s modern and light, with varying shades of gray travertine tiles on the floor and walls and a glass enclosed shower. There’s a beautiful white pedestal sink. I’ve always wanted a sink like this.

I stop admiring my surroundings and get to the business at hand—seducing Ben. All day long, I had to keep mindful that my skirt was on the short side and not to bend over. If I dropped something, it stayed where it fell. Now that we’re alone, all bets are off.

Unsnapping my garter belt straps, I remove my panties then clip the garter’s straps back on my stockings. I’m going to be the clumsiest guest Ben has ever had the pleasure of entertaining. I’ve never gone commando under my skirt before. This casual sex arrangement certainly brings out my naughty side. Who knew I had this in me?

Oh crap, I forgot my bag. Where the hell am I going to hide my panties? Damn…didn’t think this all the way through. I spot a wicker basket on the floor with spare toilet paper rolls and shove it in there. I’ll come back for it later.

I walk back into the living room where Ben is standing with two wine glasses in his hand, politely waiting for me.

“Want to sit on the couch?” he asks.

“Sure.”

We walk over to the couch. I take the opportunity to bend over and pretend I’m straightening the throw pillows that are already neatly lined on the couch. I stretch out far enough until I’m sure my garter belt and the very bottom of my ass cheeks are peeking out. After adjusting the pillows long enough for a decent gawking show, I turn around and sit.

Ben’s standing in place, his pupils dilated, licking his lips. I’m pretty sure he’s not even aware he’s doing it. He closes his eyes briefly then shakes his head. Ha. Perfect reaction.

“Your wine.” He hands a glass to me and puts his on a coaster on the coffee table in front of us.
Ugh, he’s one of those coaster people.

“Your place is nice,” I say as my eyes scan the room.

“Thanks. I like it. I’ve been here about a year.”

“It’s so tidy for a bachelor pad. I guess your cleaning lady was just here?”

“She hasn’t been here in almost two weeks. She’s due here tomorrow.” He takes a sip of wine.

He’s worse than a coaster person; he’s a neat freak. There’s no dust, no mail piled up, everything is in its place, and the cleaning lady hasn’t been here? I wish I had her job; it has to be the easiest gig in town. I bet he cringed when he saw my filthy apartment.

 “It’s a little warm in here. Do you mind if I change into a T-shirt?” he asks.

“Of course not.”

“I’ll just be a minute.” He pulls his turtleneck off as he walks away, giving me an up close view of the rippling muscles on his broad, muscular back. He’s doing this on purpose. My entire body is aching with longing. I’d love the run the tip of my tongue across every steely contour.

I grab my glass and take a big gulp. What to do…What to do? Oh, I know…

Ben walks back in the room, in a tight black T-shirt. He looks positively delicious. I quickly remove my lace top, leaving on just the white camisole. He comes to an abrupt halt when he sees me and frowns.

I smile coyly. “I didn’t want to chance spilling dinner on my top. It’s so difficult to clean lace.”

He nods with a twinkle in his eye, realizing the game I’m playing and sits at the other end of the couch, turned toward me. He thinks I’m lying. In reality, it’s closer to the truth than I care to admit. I spill food on myself on a regular basis and cleaning lace is a bitch.

“Did you have a good weekend?” he asks.

“Friday night was just okay,” I tease. “The rest of the weekend was good.”
Yeah,
g
ood and lonely.
“You?”

“My Friday night was spectacular. The rest of the weekend paled in comparison.”

What does that mean…paled in comparison? Does that mean I’m the winner of the Best Weekend Screw? Are there runners up? Is this why he never contacted me? I have a sinking feeling about all of this.

 “My grandmother fell and injured her hip. She’s been hospitalized since Saturday afternoon. My parents are away. I’ve been at the hospital pretty much around the clock, helping her,” he explains.

Well, I feel like a stupid shit. I’ve been sticking imaginary pins in my imaginary Ben voodoo doll all week because he hasn’t tried to contact me while the poor guy was caring for his ailing grandmother.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she okay?” I reach over and place my hand on his knee.

“Yes, thanks. To be honest, I was worried. You know what they say... an elderly person injuring their hip can be the kiss of death. But she’s the strongest woman I know. She was transferred to a rehab facility this morning.”

“I’m glad to hear she’s on the mend.” I like this side of Ben; caring, sweet, a little vulnerable. It’s surprising, considering he exudes an air of confidence, much like a rock star walking into a room. There’s no doubt he adores his grandmother. This softer side of him is rather endearing.

There’s a loud knocking sound coming from the front door that startles me.

“That must be dinner,” he says as he stands, taking his wallet out of his back pocket. He opens the door and takes a bag from the delivery man. Judging by the smile on the guy’s face, I’m betting he got a pretty hefty tip. Ben turns back to me. “Do you want to eat at the dining table, or keep with tradition and eat off the coffee table?”

“Let’s stick with tradition.”

“I’ll grab some plates and utensils.” He places the takeout bag on the table and walks over to the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” I offer, walking behind him.

Ben takes out the forks and spoons from the flatware drawer. “Julia, would you mind grabbing two plates? They’re in the cabinet above you.”

“Sure.” I open the cabinet and reach up on my tiptoes to the stack of plates on the second shelf. My skirt rides up when I stretch my arm up to the shelf. I look to my side and see Ben, with a lascivious grin, staring at my ass.

I blush. He did that on purpose. Damn, he’s good.

“That’s a very pretty skirt.” He chuckles.

“You don’t think it’s too Catholic School girl, do you?” I know guys have this weird erotic fantasy about women in Catholic School uniforms. I’ll plant the idea in his head. It’ll make him think of sex.

He tilts his head to the side and smiles. “No one would ever mistake that outfit for a Catholic School uniform, especially with those boots.”

“Are the boots good or bad?” I ask, fluttering my lashes, feigning innocence. I know they’re hot.

“Good, definitely good.” He nods.

We take the plates, napkins, and utensils then walk back into the living room.

~o0o~

Our legs are stretched out under the coffee table as we sit. Remembering that I’m au naturel under my skirt, I cross one leg over the other. It feels strange to be so exposed…. even though I know no one is on the other side to get a glimpse of the goods.

“Would you like to watch TV?” Ben asks as he’s piling both plates with our dinner.

“How about we talk?”

“Okay.” He places my filled plate in front of me. “What would you like to talk about?”

My foot rapidly taps as I fidget with my fingers. This question has been gnawing at me for days, but I’m terrified to know the answer. “You and me.” I purposely did not say
us.
I don’t want him to get the wrong impression and think that I think we’re a couple.

“What about you and me?” he asks as he takes a bite of a stuffed moo-shoo chicken pancake.

“Well, we said we were going to be casual. And that’s exactly what I want.” I quickly make clear.

“Good. That’s what I want too.”

“But there is something we need to clarify. Something I need to know.” I swallow hard, trying to hold on to my nerve. “Are you seeing other women while you’re seeing me?”

There… it’s out there, my personal elephant in the room. I’m terrified to hear the answer because I know in my heart that although I’m truly not looking for anything more than some fun with Ben, I don’t want to be a number. The boyfriend part I can live without. In fact, I like that part… but I don’t want to be a member of Ben Martin’s Speed Dial Harem.

“Are you asking me if I’m a man-whore?” He laughs.

“I suppose I am.” I smile shyly.

“There’s no bullshit with you, is there?”

“No, I guess not. Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a very good thing. I like that you’re upfront and honest.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”
Please say no.

“No,” he answers.

“No, you’re not avoiding my question? Or no, you’re not a man-whore?”

“Both.” He laughs. “I told you, I don’t like things complicated. When I was younger, I played the juggling game, but in my advanced age I’ve learned that one woman at a time is complicated enough.”

“Yes, twenty eight years old, so advanced. You have one foot in the grave already,” I joke.

“Are you asking me this because you want to be with other men?” he asks softly.

“No. Not at all,” I assure him.

“Would it have been a deal breaker for you? If I saw other women?” he asks.

“Yes, I think it would,” I answer honestly.

“Good.”

I tilt my head from side to side, puzzled by his answer. He must sense my confusion as he continues. “I know it’s a contradiction in terms, but for the sake of safe sex, I like to keep it casually exclusive. And if I’m completely truthful… Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else touching you while we have something going on. If you want to hang out, I want to be the one you hang out with.”

“Is ‘hang out’ code for have sex?”

“It sure as fuck is,” he snorts with a wicked grin. “There’s chemistry between us. Why would I want to share that? As long as it’s working between us, we’ll go with it. When it doesn’t anymore, we’ll just stay friends.”