The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (8 page)

“Oh,” I cry out, grasping his forearms. My muscles clench tight around him as I climax with soul-shattering intensity.

“Yes,” he hisses as he lets go, finding his own release. He closes his eyes tight and tilts his head back as he pulsates inside me. Our bodies are glistening in a thin sheath of sweat. I love sweaty sex.

Once he catches his breath, he stares down at me. I no longer see anger, jealousy or a misplaced ego.

All I see is his love.

And despite the fact that he just banged me like I was a cross between the creamy center of an Oreo and a whore, it was perfect. Dirty, rough, sticky and… strangely romantic.

“I love you,” he whispers as he brushes his lips lightly against mine. “I love you,” he whispers into my mouth. “I love you.” He kisses me softly.

I reach up and touch his cheek with the back of my hand. “I love you too. Only you, Ben. Only you.”

He looks down at me; his expression softens, and he smiles.

~o0o~

We’re lying in bed; Ben’s arms wrapped around me, spooning, my back to his front.

“I’m a sticky mess,” I complain. I feel his smile against my neck. “You know, you’re a jealous idiot,” I say, half-joking.

“I know.” He kisses the back of my head.

“But you’re my idiot.”

“That I am. Julia?” he asks quietly.

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For being rude to Pierce?”

“No. The bastard had it coming.”

“For what?”

“For hurting you.”

Yeah, the sex was a little rough and tumble, but he sure as hell didn’t hurt me. I turn around to face him and frown.

“Last winter. It’s my fault you invited him in. I’m sorry I hurt you. I wish I could take it back.”

I snuggle close to him, grabbing his arm and pulling it around me.

“It’s okay.”

He rolls on top of me, supporting his weight on his forearms, his expression serious.

“No, it’s not. I wasted weeks loving you from afar. There are times I close my eyes and remember the look of pain on your face when you left me. It kills me. You’re right, I should have manned-up and admitted my feelings. You are everything to me. I love you, Julia. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. I wish there was something I could do, anything, to make it up to you.”

“Oh Ben,” I reach my hand up and stroke his cheek. “You just did.”

He rolls to his side and pulls me back into an embrace. We lie together wrapped around each other.

“I never want to let you go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Chapter 5

After spending half the night and most of the morning jumping each other’s bones in various positions and on several different surfaces, reality has hit us like a cold splash of water. I glance at Ben’s carry-on luggage parked near the bedroom door. He’s leaving for Pittsburg this afternoon. This sucks. I’ve hardly had him here and he’s leaving again.

A cloud of steam fills his bedroom as the bathroom door opens. Ben walks out with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is towel-dried messy. A few droplets of water on his chest glisten when the sunlight filtering from the window reflects off them. Damp, delicious, and steamier than the steam around him.

Sundays are for cuddling in bed and making love in the afternoon, not watching Ben get dressed and leave. I wonder if we have time for a goodbye quickie. I’ll have a few days to recover from all the sex. I can pre-empt a UTI with the bottle of cranberry juice at my apartment. A quick wham-bam won’t kill me. I may walk a little funny— Fuck it; it’s a small price to pay for that towel wrapped, glistening, sex-on-two-legs man.

“What are you gawking at?” he asks, amused.

“You.”

“Oh? Like what you see?”

I tap a finger on my cheek a few times and purse my lips. “I’m undecided. Drop the towel and I’ll make a more informed decision.”

He tilts his head slightly and smiles. Unceremoniously, he drops the wet towel on the floor and stands in front of me in all his glorious nakedness.

Someone should declare a national holiday every time he drops a towel. I squirm a little, my nerve endings tingling as my teeth sink slowly into my bottom lip. He’s scrumptious.

“Well?” he asks, amused.

“So far, I like what I see. Why don’t you turn around and flex that ass of yours for me? Then you can come back to bed and stick that bad boy inside me. He looks depressed. I know just how to perk him up.” I jut my chin toward his crotch.

“Flex my ass?” he asks, shaking his head. “That will never happen. Anyway, I have a plane to catch. Didn’t I give you enough over the last twelve hours to hold you over?”

“I want more,” I murmur.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You made me this way. Come on, big boy.” I pat my hand down on the empty spot on the bed next to me. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You know, you haven’t taken your eyes off my dick since I dropped this towel.”

“What can I say? It’s awfully pretty.”

He tilts his head back slightly and laughs. “Well, my pretty dick and I have to go. You’ll have to wait until we’re back. And no touching yourself while I’m away.”

“Sorry, Ben. I’m not abiding by that insane request. You sex me up with your dirty talk and flirty texts while you’re gone and leave me no recourse to soothe it. I’m using my fingers, BOB, the showerhead, the washing machine… whatever I can find to get off while you’re away.”

“Washing machine?” He frowns as he slips on his boxer briefs.

“Don’t ask. Just come back soon. You haven’t left and I already miss you.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, holding his arms out toward me. “Come here.” I scoot in close to him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I already miss you too.”

“How many days will you be gone this time?”

“Three days/two nights. I don’t want to be away too long…” Aww
, that’s sweet; he’s rushing to get back to me.
“With my grandmother’s health the way it is.”

Time for me to swallow a humble pill. Ben’s entire life doesn’t revolve around me.

“She’ll be fine. Try not to worry.”

“There’s so much shit on my mind. I wish I could delay this trip but baseball season is only so long, and as you know…” He arches a brow. “I have deadlines.”

 
I don’t like his tone. The deadlines aren’t my fault. You want to blame someone, blame my boss. I’m just the messenger.

He continues. “On top of that and my grandmother’s health issues, when I fly back I’m meeting with my father and his lawyers.”

“For what?”

“To get my grandmother’s estate in order. And likely listen to more digs about me wasting my life.”

Talk about morbid. She’s still breathing, and they’re acting like she’s six feet under already.

“I’m sorry. Is that photographer on the same flight as you?”

“No. She’s flying out from Charleston. She had a family wedding or something down South. She’s meeting me at the hotel.”

“Okay.”
I nod, looking down at my lap, and hugging myself, feeling a sudden burst of emotion.

Ben lifts my chin up to meet his gaze with his index finger. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“I know what’s going through your head, Julia.”

“I told you, I’m going to miss you.” I look away; unable to make eye contact.

“That’s not what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about what Marcello told you about the photographer.”

I swallow hard and shrug a shoulder. The only information Ben knows about my Ex is that he was an asshole. I’m too embarrassed to admit to him that I was stupid and blind to all the cheating and lies.

“My only interest in her is her photography. I don’t care what her reputation is. I don’t care if it’s true or not. It’s none of my business. It has nothing to do with you and me.”

“I know. I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know why the rumors Marcello gabbed rattle me so much,” I lie. I know exactly why. I’ve been burned before—Burned to a crisp. And the fact is that this man-eater prefers taken men… I have to stop thinking and trust him.

“
You
are the sole owner of my heart, my soul… and my pretty dick.”

I smile and manage a small chuckle.

“There’s that beautiful smile.” He smiles back at me, his love shining from his eyes. “I love you, Julia.”

“Oh Ben, I love you too. I don’t want anything to ruin this.”

He pulls me in close to him, his arms wrapped around me, gently rocking me back and forth. “Nothing will,” he whispers softly in my ear, kissing my hair. “Nothing will.”

~o0o~

*Just landed. Catching cab to the hotel. Call you when I’m settled in.*

*Ok. Talk to you later.*

It’s been well over an hour. He should be at the hotel by now. He didn’t have to wait at the baggage carousel at the airport. He only had carry-on luggage. The hotel is right by the airport and even if he went straight to the ballpark, it’s only a twenty-minute drive from there. Where the hell is he? I grab my cell and text him:

*Is everything OK? Did you make it to the hotel?*

After tapping my foot in the air for five minutes, trying to convince myself that he’s not lying dead on the side of a highway; I finally get a response.

*Sorry got sidetracked. I’m here.*

Typical man. He probably stopped for some fast food to bring up to his room. My cell pings with another text before I could answer.

*Met Laura in the hotel lobby. We’re grabbing a quick bite before heading off to the ballpark.*

Motherfucker. I was ready to buy the black dress for his funeral. I thought he was bleeding to death in the middle of a busy street with the Grim Reaper standing by his side. And the son-of-a-bitch is just “grabbing a bite” with that photographing floozy.

And now she’s “Laura.”

It’s Whora. Say it right. Refer to her by her proper name. I’m sure she earned it. Marcello knows his gossip. I text him back.

*Ok. I won’t keep you.*

*Call you later.*

Three words? A lousy three-word text is all I get? Was he trying to get rid of me? He probably lost his grasp of the English language when Blondie bounced her perky Swedish tits in front of him. I know girls like her. They bat their eyelashes and pretend they’re clueless when they’re the smartest person in the room.

I’m going to drive myself insane if I don’t stop overthinking. Just because Ben’s ridiculously handsome and has a dick he occasionally uses in lieu of his brain doesn’t mean he isn’t honorable. He is. It’s one of the things I love most about him.

Mankind as a whole isn’t doomed; there are just a few defects.

I peek at my laptop sitting on my nightstand, fighting the urge to do something I know I’m going to regret. Oh, screw it.

I open it up, click on a search engine, and type in her name.

Laura Whora Slutly

I blink a few times, and my mouth falls open as I gawk at the images displayed. Well, that name sure pulled up a shitload of porn. The Laura Whora Slutly I’m staring at sure is bendy… and friendly… with several men and a couple of women—at the same time. I didn’t think a few of those positions were possible. This girl has skills. Talk about getting your freak on. I better try her real name.

Laura Nutley

Unfortunately, I found some images, judging by the camera in her hand and the blonde bombshell smile I know I got the right Laura. Just like Marcello described, she has that Swedish Supermodel, tall, lean, blonde hair/blue eye thing going for her. In one image, she’s holding a mug of something, what’s that stuff they drink in Sweden? Oh yeah, Glögg. She probably has some lingonberries and a jar of pickled herring in the Gucci bag slung over her shoulder too.

I have to admit, she has an incredible body. I bet she runs; that’s something she’ll have in common with Ben. Maybe they’ll run together every morning. Ugh.

I hate this. There is nothing he has done to make me think he would ever cheat on me… but my past insecurities have crept back in my psyche. My ex, Mikehole, really pulled a number on me. I was completely blindsided at the extent of his cheating. He sweet-talked his way out of any suspicions I may have had. He made me feel stupid for doubting him. I fell for all his lies.

I trust Ben. I do. He’s a good man. He said it himself, he would never hurt me. And I believe him; despite the fact that he’s having drinks with another woman, who happens to be stunning… and slutty… in a hotel… with king sized beds… in another city.

I have to stop thinking.

“Hey Al, want to go shopping?” I call out to Allie’s bedroom. I haven’t heard any jungle howls, so I’m assuming Vince isn’t there. Some retail therapy is just the ticket to keep my imagination off the Swede.

“Sure. Give me fifteen minutes,” she calls back.

~o0o~

Some shopping and a messy falafel from a food cart was all I needed to restore my sanity. I thought we’d window shop, but Allie dragged me from one lingerie store to another. There was so much beautiful lingerie and the prettiest silk panties. I know I can’t afford it but how’s a girl to resist? Especially a slightly insane insecure girl who wants to remind her man how lucky he is once he gets home.

“Here.” Allie holds out her hand. In it is a matching white lace thong, push up bra, and garter belt. “Get this.”

I grab the items from her hand and look them over. It’s the prettiest and sexiest underwear I’ve ever seen, wedding night sexy. It screams virginal vixen. The lace is so soft and delicate, not the cheap scratchy stuff I occasionally buy. How do they do that?

“A garter belt? It’s practically the summer. I don’t wear stockings in the summer.” I glance at the tags. “It’s not even on sale. I can’t afford this.”

“Your man is away two long nights. Don’t you want to give him something to look forward to when he comes home?”

I think about how Ben would react to this little, and I mean
little,
number. It’s one of those outfits that will take me fifteen minutes to put on and take him fifteen seconds to rip off. I look at the price tag again.