The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (4 page)

He positions himself between my legs, his lips nearly touching my sex, but not quite. I feel his warm breath on my sex and his beard’s stubble rubbing against my skin. The friction is driving me wild. A thrill runs through me in anticipation of what I know is coming. My breathing is getting harsher, ragged.

He reaches up to the side of me and grabs a pillow, then takes it, lifts me slightly and places the pillow under my pelvis.

“Look how wet you are,” he murmurs, gazing at my throbbing sex, dripping in its arousal, then he looks up at me. “I’m going to get you wetter.”

His tongue teases me, tracing the outer edges of my swollen folds, slowly gliding it up and down, up and down. I whimper and squirm. This is torture, the best possible kind of torture.

“Ohhh,” I moan softly. I wriggle on the bed; my fingers slowly curl into a fist and my nails dig into my palms.

He spreads my folds open with his fingers and flicks his tongue on my clit. Four days away from Ben and his magical mouth were far too long… I’m already on the brink of letting go.

I gasp, closing my eyes tight, trying to hold out a little longer. He senses I’m close, he can read my body well, and he changes to long, slow, luscious, flat licks. His tongue strokes my clit and inside walls repeatedly, up and down, big and broad.

Holy fucking shit. This particular move is always a winner—The Lick of Champions. Ben certainly knows how to use his tongue and he uses it well.

Very well.

My body begins to tremble, as the build up becomes too much. I can’t hold back anymore. My muscles tighten; my need for a release is now beyond my control. Attempting to keep still is futile; I’m squirming all over the place.

He knows I’m there. His tongue concentrates just on my clit, licking it, sucking it, owning it. My pelvis arches up to his mouth as I orgasm, my muscles clenching and relaxing, confused and ecstatic at the same time. My muscles are pulsing, pulsing, pulsing. I’ve lost all self-control, free-falling.

“Ohhh,” I cry out, panting ragged and hard.

Ben looks up at me with a satisfied smile, wiping my arousal from the sides of his mouth with the back of his hand. Pulling the pillow out from under me, he throws it to the top of the bed and crawls over my body.

“What do you think tastes better… that hot dog you were licking? Or what I was just licking?” He swoops in, sliding his tongue into my mouth, kissing me hard and passionately. I moan.

A cocky smile plays on his lips. That smile is his personal pat on the back. He knows I’m too spent and wrapped up floating back down to earth to give him a coherent answer.

He lies on his side, nibbling on my earlobe that sends electric currents straight down to my already throbbing sex. Nuzzling my neck, he presses delicate kisses slowly down my neck and shoulder then traces my collarbone with his fingertip, gliding it lazily to my breast. I shutter when his fingertip traces my nipple and skims across my chest to my other nipple.

My hunger for him is building again as his hands freely roam my body, caressing my warm skin, my breasts, my stomach, my hips… sensually exploring what’s his.

I try to stay still but my body has a mind of its own, squirming and wriggling to his touch. My nerve endings are oversensitive, frantic with need.

In effort to cool myself down, I roll over and kneel on the bed. Ben watches me with a slow sexy smile. He knows where this is going.

I position myself to his side and grab his throbbing erection, curling my fingers around his impressive girth, circling my thumb on his wet tip. I lick my lips and lean down, licking his tip, his erection twitching in my hand. I feel sexy and powerful as I listen to him blow out a long breath.

My tongue swirls around his tip and I press a few soft kisses on it. Then I go for it, wrapping my moistened lips around him and sucking hard as I glide my mouth up and down. My hand is still wrapped around his shaft, moving up and down in tandem with my mouth. Occasionally, I let go and caress his balls, inciting a low, sexy groan from him.

That groan fuels my fire. I push my hair to the side, assuring that nothing is blocking his view. I know watching me do this to him drives him wild.

“You like watching me suck you, don’t you?” My voice is breathy and mischievous.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to, the carnal glint in his eyes answers for him.

I make long flat licks up and down his shaft, the knowledge that he’s watching and getting off on it, is turning me on. I swirl my tongue around his tip again then take him in, as deep as I can, sucking hard up and down, up and down. My nipples occasionally brush up against his thigh. I don’t know who’s turned on more right now—the sucker or the suckee.

His hand reaches down, fisting my hair. He wants me to stop. I knew he would, the promise of condom-free sex trumps a blowjob. Today, anyway.

I stop, sliding back up at the top of the bed and kiss him hard. He rolls on his side and in one swift motion manages to flip me over.

“This way good for you,” he whispers.

Any way is good for me.

I nod, breathing heavy with anticipation.

He moves behind me, sliding his hand under my waist and pulling me up until I’m on all fours.

His hands skim down my naked back, caressing the round curve of my ass.

“When I see you bent over like this, it’s so fucking sexy. All I want to do is lick you.”

“Then lick me,” I murmur.

I can’t see him, but I know he’s grinning wickedly. His wet tongue glides up my spine, his body pressed against mine. Fuck, that’s hot. He reaches around my hips, his fingers brushing lightly over my wet swollen folds. He spreads open my folds and caresses my clit with his thumb as he sinks a finger inside me. His erection is rubbing up against my ass. God, he’s so fucking hard.

“Oh Julia, you’re so ready for me.” His voice is raw, sexy.

He removes his fingers and grabs hold of my hips. I brace myself for him.

He teases my entrance with his tip, rubbing it against my swollen clit, building the anticipation even more. My body is silently begging for him not to stop.

He thrusts hard into me, stretching me, filling me, and forcing the air from my lungs. He stills, holding himself inside me. Holy shit, I knew no condom would feel good, but I had no idea it would be like this. We’re a perfect fit.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good. Oh Christ,” he murmurs. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

He slams into me again, pounding hard, thrusting powerfully inside me over and over. I move my hips, meeting his thrusts. He holds my hips tighter, pulling closer to him as he slams inside me, increasing the pace.

One of his hands travels up my body, fondling my breast.

“You are so wet for me. You feel so fucking incredible,” he moans as he tilts his hips slightly.

“Ahh,” I cry out, my muscles clenching around him, greedily holding on to him.

“Fuck, Julia. Fuck,” he hisses, his breathing labored, and with one final hard thrust, he explodes violently inside me. He holds my hips in place, still pulsating inside me, my muscles clenching in spasms around him.

He leans down, kisses my back and exhales a long breath. Slowly, he eases out of me and we lay down on the bed, facing each other.

Sated.

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. Then leans to me and sweetly kisses my lips.

“I need a cigarette,” I say.

“You don’t smoke.”

“After that, I may need to start.”

He chuckles. “You are amazing,” he says. “Just amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. So, no condom… works for you?”

“We’re not getting out of this bed for the rest of the year.”

I laugh. “So I guess that’s a yes?”

“Sex with you is always incredible, but that was intense.”

“I thought so too.” I smile. “You know, you said you were going to worship and make love to me.”

“Yes.”

“I think you may have accidentally fucked me too.” I laugh.

He nods and laughs with me. “You’re right. Got a little carried away in the moment.”

“I like when you get carried away.”

“You do that to me.”

“There are worse things to get blamed for.”

He smiles, reaching his finger across and tracing my lips. “I love you.”

I smile back. “I love you too.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m not letting you out of this bed.”

“Good. I have no intention of leaving it.”

“Come over here. I want to hold you.”

I scoot over, turning around so my back is to his front.

“Get some rest, you’re going to need it,” he whispers in my ear.

“Before we rest, do you think we can eat the red velvet cake I brought first?”

He laughs. “Sure. I’ll get it.”

Chapter 3

“Come on Al, it’s almost eight. The guys will be arriving soon,” I yell out.

Allie joins me in the kitchen. “Relax. I’m here. What the hell are you so anxious about?”

“It’s our first couples’ dinner. I want everything perfect.”

“It’s dinner with friends. It’s not a couples’ dinner,” Allie insists.

“Marcello and Peter. Ben and I. You and Vince. Couples.”

“Vince and I are not a couple. We’re two individuals who occasionally enjoy giving orgasms to each other.”

“Occasionally? You practically live in each other’s apartments.”

She stares at me blankly. “They’re orgasms, Jules. Why wouldn’t I want as many of those as I can get?”

“You’re delusional. You like him more than you’re willing to admit.”

She flushes. “Well, I like the things he does to me. I’ll give you that.”

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes,” I sing.

She cuts me off and scowls. “If you say that next word, I will murder you, chop you up into little pieces, and serve you as pâté on crackers to our guests tonight.”

I laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. Can you grab your grandmother’s silver platter? It’s in the cabinet above you. I’m going to serve the chicken, vegetables, and roasted potatoes on it.”

“Why the fancy platter?”

“It’s our first real dinner party. I want it to look elegant and sophisticated.”

“I don’t know how elegant you’re going to get eating off a folding table in the middle of our living room.”

“Oh, that reminds me. When Mrs. Harrison lent you her folding table and chairs, did she give you a tablecloth?”

“Nope.”

“Did you ask for one?”

“Nope.”

“What are we supposed to use?”

“How the hell should I know? Use a sheet.” She shrugs.

“Crap, Allie. I only gave you one assignment.”

“You didn’t ask for a tablecloth. You asked for a table. You got a table. Loosen up, Jules. Nobody is going to care.”

“I just want everything perfect.”

“Give them enough wine and everything will be perfect.” She stretches her arm up, straining to reach the silver platter from the cabinet above her. “Damn, I think I pulled something in my shoulder.”

“Oh, sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” she says, rubbing her shoulder. “I’ll get a sheet or something.”

Allie leaves the kitchen while I open the oven and check on dinner. I spent hours and hours on the internet researching the perfect recipe. After a week of reading hundreds of ways to roast a chicken, I ended up calling my mother for instructions.

Luckily, she said it was okay to cheat on the gravy. I bought a jar of ready-made gravy. I’ll spoon some of the chicken drippings into it, so the fat floats on top and voila… it’s homemade-ish.

Grabbing the wooden salad bowl, I open a pre-cut bag of salad mix and dump it in. The one thing I have a massive amount of confidence in is my balsamic vinaigrette. My grandmother taught me the secret: salt. Lots and lots of salt. Blood pressure soaring amounts of it. I whip together my vinaigrette in a small bowl and put it to the side.

Allie walks back in with a cotton sheet full of cartoon dinosaurs in her hand.

“Dinosaurs? That’s what comes to mind when you think sophisticated dinner party?”

“It’s all I could find that’s clean. And it’s the only twin size sheet we own. Anything bigger would look ridiculous.”

“A dinosaur tablecloth won’t look ridiculous?” I ask sarcastically.

“It’s this or a shower curtain. Your pick.” She holds out the sheet to me.

I grab it. “Fine, cartoon dinosaurs it is. Why do we own this?”

“I have no clue. When my grandmother lived in this apartment, there were two twin beds in what’s now my bedroom—for me and my brother when we’d stay over. I think this was for his bed. I had tiny pink flowers.” She raises her hand up as I open my mouth. “Before you ask, I already looked for the flowers. This sheet is all there is. I’ll put it on the table.”

I close my eyes and count to ten to calm my nerves. I’m not going to let a little tablecloth misfortune ruin my elegant dinner party.

After arranging a few wedges of cheese selected by the cheesemongers from the Cheese Shop around the corner, I stick little silver knives in each wedge. I place a small cluster of white grapes on the wooden cheeseboard, fan out a few water crackers, and add a tiny bowl of Kalamata olives.

I take a step back and admire my masterpiece. It’s a work of art. No one will notice the cartoon dinosaur tablecloth/bedsheet when there’s food porn to adore.

Walking into our living room, I ignore the mess that is our couch and television pushed against the wall to make room for the folding table and chairs. I roll my eyes at the sight of the ridiculous tablecloth and place the cheese platter in the center of the table. Allie lights up two votive candles and plunks them down on either end of the platter. She puts a pile of six small plates on the side of the platter then dips two fingers into the bowl of olives. I slap her hand.

“Hands off. That’s for our company. And they’re going to be here any minute.”

“I’m testing it for poison,” she replies sarcastically.

“If they die after taking a bite, we’ll know it was poisoned. I want everything to look perfect. It’s bad enough we have this God-awful tablecloth.”

“Fine, fine.”

“Where did you hide the filth?” I ask.