Page 31 of Misbehaving

Ben laughed, a warm, throaty laugh that made her toes curl. “Mine, too.”

She moved slowly against him, wanting to stay like this all day long. She wished the wedding could be postponed, if just for a day or two, anything to give her and Ben more time together.

Ben brushed her hair off her back and over her shoulders. He kissed her neck, the center of her spine, bit her little bee tattoo. He took her hips in his hands and ground her against his lap as his cock tunneled deeper into her. He pushed her thighs wider apart, draping each leg over his knees. Beatriz groaned as Ben found her clitoris and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. It swelled against his touch. The deep muscles in her vagina clenched around him as her clitoris throbbed against his fingers.

She reached down between her legs and touched him where he entered her. She felt so connected to him right now, and in more ways than just physically. So many men were intimidated by her sexual confidence and her work as a sex blogger. Her vibrators and dildos and array of sex books and erotica made them nervous, made them feel emasculated as one former lover told her. You shouldn’t need all this stuff, he’d said, pointing at her sex toys. I should be enough for you.

Beatriz had smiled when she answered, But you’re not.

So much for that guy. She didn’t even remember his name.

Ben seemed to find her work funny and sexy, and he’d even admitted he masturbated reading her columns. Not what she’d ever intended, but she certainly couldn’t complain about the mental image of Ben touching himself while reading about her touching herself.

“What would you do if I showed you my vibrator collection?” Beatriz asked as Ben rubbed tight circles around her clitoris.

“I don’t know. Probably ask if I could use them all on you.”

“Good answer.” Beatriz relaxed against his chest again while Ben continued to play with her clitoris. She closed her eyes and focused on her own pleasure as scenes from last night’s lovemaking flashed across her mind’s eye. The memories morphed into fantasies. She’d love to take Ben to the very edge of sex where all the walls of shame and fear came down, where flesh met fantasy, where the two of them could tell each other all their secret desires and then live them out every night in their bed.

Every night of her life…

Beatriz orgasmed in near silence, the force of the climax sucking the air out of her lungs.

“Stand up,” Ben whispered. “Put your hands on the bed.”

Beatriz did as instructed. She’d do anything Ben told her to do. That was one of the fantasies she longed to share with him. Some nights she’d love it if he took total possession of her body, made her his toy, his pet, his plaything, his slave.

Ben pushed her sundress up and entered her again from behind. He thrust hard into her, hard enough she gasped a little. But she didn’t ask him to stop or slow down or go easy on her. That was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to feel his cock ramming into her, wanted to feel like his desire for her had overridden his reason, restraint and self-control. She relished the feel of his fingers digging into her hips. She wanted to feel every inch of him as he pulled out and slammed back into her.

“Fuck,” Ben breathed, his voice barely more than a strangled whisper. It was the sexiest word he could have uttered. She heard the echo of his pleasure in that one word, the primal cry of a man lost in ecstasy, lost in her. She steadied herself against the bed as best she could even as Ben pounded into her, putting his entire body into his brutal thrusts. She loved that about him. He was always so nonchalant, so relaxed and cool out in the world. But during sex he dropped all pretense and threw his whole being into pleasing her, and himself.

Pounding…pounding…she was lost in the pounding…. With a fierce final thrust Ben came, his hand on her shoulder, holding on to her as if she alone kept him from collapsing. Ben slowly pulled out of her as she remained bent over the bed, trying to catch her breath. The sex had ended, but the pounding continued.

“What the hell?” she asked.

“Shit,” Ben said, laughing. “Someone’s pounding on the door. Can you get that?”

“Bea, it’s Claudia!” came a voice through the door.

“Just a second,” Beatriz yelled back.

Ben disappeared into the bathroom while Beatriz pulled her dress up over her breasts and grabbed a tissue. She wiped herself off between her legs, pulled on the first pair of underwear she found and threw open the door.

Claudia rushed into the room and started pacing.

“What’s wrong?” Beatriz asked, seeing the panic on Claudia’s face. Ben came out of the bathroom looking much more put together than he had when entered it.

“Henry called off the wedding,” Claudia said, her face a mask of pure fear and shock.

“What?” Beatriz nearly shouted the word.

“What the fuck?” Ben asked, sounding as shocked as her.

“Henry got up at lunch to run to the bathroom. I asked him to stop by the front desk…” Claudia wrung her hands. “I got this text message from him.”

She handed Beatriz her phone.

Beatriz stared at the message in disbelief.

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