I point the pen at her and freeze.
“Frequency?” Her nose crunches up, and her freckles tease me.
“Fur-ee-quen-cee,” I sing. “It means how many times you do something.” She wants to play? We’ll play.
She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head. “I’m aware. What exactly do you mean fur-ee-quen-cee with regard to this contract?”
I stay with the game. “You wanted a contract. I want to know when I’m going to get some.”
She gasps. “Ben!”
“Wuh?” I drop my jaw, giving her the dumbass face I’d learned from my brothers.
“When you’re going to get some? Really?”
I put the pen and notebook down and hold her chin so she looks at me. “I’m an eighteen-year-old guy. I’m very horny. At all times. If I’m going to service you—”
“Service me?”
“—then I want to know how often I can expect it.”
Megan pulls her chin out of my grasp. “‘Service’ makes it sound like a chore.”
“Would you prefer ‘fuck’?”
Megan’s jaw drops. “I’m not agreeing to fucking you on a certain frequency. I mean, what if… it’s…” She waves her hands. I wait to hear her excuse.
Game on, Smith. “It’s a deal breaker. No frequency clause, no fucking.”
She studies me, but I act uninterested, tsk-ing and waiting. “Your choice.” I cross my arms over my chest, bluffing like a madman. There’s no way I’m letting her back out of this over terms now.
Those blue eyes look me up and down, while silence hangs between us. For a second, I worry she’ll call my bluff. In an offensive power play, I trace my finger over her cheek, her neck, and then down over her shoulder. Meg shivers under my touch; her simple reflex makes my body come alive. Let’s move this along.
I trail my finger toward her chest. My breath catches at the feel of her soft skin. “What do you say, Sweet Meg?”
She inches closer, and I move my lips toward hers.
Just when I think I’ll finally get to kiss her, she pushes me away. “Terms, Riley. We’re still on terms.” She looks around for the notebook. “Frequency… right. This is turning more and more crazy as we go along. How about…” She picks up the pen and starts to write again. “Monthly.”
“Ha!” The sexy vibe lifts as I double over, grabbing my stomach, fake laughing. “You’re kidding, right? I was thinking more like…daily.”
“Are you insane?” She swats at me again, but then starts laughing too. “Okay, how about weekly?”
“Twice weekly,” I counter. “I’ll make it better each time.” I have a brief panic attack that if this does happen, the first time is going to be a disaster. With Meg, though, I know that even if the first time sucks, I won’t have to be embarrassed. She knows me well enough that she’d probably just laugh at me and we’d get to try again.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you will. Two times per week, max. Deal?”
She extends her hand and I lift it to my mouth and kiss her fingers, one at a time. “Deal.”
Then she whispers. “You really want to do this? With me?” Insecurity drips from her words, and I hate that I’m the one who probably put it there.
“Hell yeah, Smith.” I nuzzle her neck then kiss her under the ear as gently as I can. Under my lips, she’s soft and warm. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed her, but the memories of our night invade my mind and my body. “You’re adorable,” I murmur in her ear, careful not to say “cute.”
She shrugs her shoulder to push me away, but her voice quivers. “What about your ninety-five percenter? You were pretty set on finding the woman of your dreams a few hours ago.”
I forgot about the ninety-five percenter. Here, with Megan, I could not care less about the matchmaking experiment, but I take the notebook from her lap. “Number six,” I recite as I scribble. “We date other people if we want to. No jealousy. Refer to number… what number was the Pooja Rule?”
She looks down at the notebook and takes it from my hands, studying it. When she looks back up at me, I forget what we’re talking about. “Number three.” Her words are a whisper.
Number three what? “Huh?”
“The…” She holds up the notebook, keeping my gaze. “The thing.”
This is going too slowly. Why is Meg waving a notebook at me?
I decide to be honest, Pooja Rule. With a step back and a shake of my head, my mind clears. “Listen, Meg. I know you have a match out there somewhere from today, and you aren’t interested in me as a boyfriend. But I think this arrangement can satisfy both of us. You know, take the edge off. We’re friends, it’s convenient, and as long as we both know what we’re doing, what to expect from each other, how can we go wrong?”
When she pauses, I’m convinced she’s going to call the whole thing off. Instead, she smirks and draws two lines on the bottom of the notebook. “This is the best bad idea you’ve ever had and probably the worst choice I’ll ever make.” She signs her name on the first line and offers me the notebook. ”But I’m in.”
That’s my green light. She’s holding the book in one hand and the pen in her other. Her blue eyes lock on mine, daring me to sign, tempting me, seducing me. Always a competition with Sweet Meg. I take the notebook and pen. Keeping my eyes on hers, I scribble something on the page somewhere and immediately throw the damn thing over my shoulder to the other side of the room. Then I jump on the bed and cover her lips with mine.
Chapter Three
Megan
There are a handful of times when I think to myself, I love being a girl. When I walk out of the salon and my hair looks amazing. When I wear fancy lingerie, even though I know I’m the only one who will see it hidden under my clothes. When I’m upset and my dad’s huge arms wrap around me. When it’s snowing and some nice man offers to shovel while I sit inside all cozy warm.
Mostly though, I love being a girl when I’m pulling off a guy’s clothes.
I love men. I love the way my hands look as I run them over a guy’s chest. I love the way their skin is warm but rough, and how their facial hair scratches me and gives me chills. I love that I can be so small but so powerful as I tease them. I love everything about boys and sex. Everything but the intimacy.
With Ben, the physical stuff is all magnified, and the intimacy aspects are in check according to our signed sex contract. Hey, whatever works.
In three seconds, he’s on top of me pulling off my clothes, and I don’t even care. I just want to feel him. To feel something. Fast. I push his flannel off and tug his tee shirt over his head as he struggles with my layers. His giant hands search under my sweater.
He murmurs into my neck. “Megan, God, how many shirts are you wearing? I can’t get to skin.”
I nudge him away, and he looks down at me, lifting my sweater, then another shirt. “Where’s your body? Is it under here somewhere?”
“I was cold! It’s snowing.” I smile up at him as he peeks under my camisole and run my fingers over his warm skin. Ahh.
“But it’s like you’re wearing everything you own, and it’s all tucked in.”
I let him fumble with my clothes then lean up to kiss his chest. His body looming over me holds so much promise. “It’s called ‘winter layering,’ Ben. Us city kids are used to being outside in the winter. We don’t have fancy, heated SUVs like you soft suburban kids.”
He pushes his hips into mine. “This suburban kid is anything but soft right now, Sweet Meg.”
At the feel of him hard between my legs, I cup his cheeks and pull his mouth to mine. As our tongues tangle, he groans something about something. Between kisses I say, “Can we stop talking now?”
He pulls away, his breath hot against my mouth as he whispers, “Okay.”
He touches his forehead to mine. His hand travels up and down my side, sending a trail of sparks with it. “I want you naked. And not on my roommate’s bed. I’m going to get up and shut off the light. Remove your layer
s of armor, and let’s execute this contract.” Ben hops off of me, taking his heat with him and moves to the light switch.
“Ew. You sound like a lawyer.” I pull off the camisole.
He freezes in the doorway with his hand against the light switch, watching me strip. I take a minute to stare back and appreciate his bare chest. His body’s smooth and hard, like a wall waiting to be climbed. I try not to focus on the scar on his shoulder from the bullet wound and surgery, but it’s there—pink, noticeable.
He flips the switch off then turns it back on. “Actually, my dad’s a lawyer. I worked at his firm last summer and learned all the terminology.”
I put my hands on my hips and tilt my head. “Really? Let’s talk more about your dad.”
“Ha. You’re funny.” He points at me from across the room. “Keep going. Bottom half. Now.”
“You’re extremely bossy.” I pull off my boots and jeans, and finally I’m in my pretty black bra and matching panties. Despite my odds of being in this situation, I’m glad I decided to wear nice underwear. I wave my arms from my head to my toe. “Happy?”
His eyes run the length of me. “That’s an understatement.” With his hands laced on top of his head, he looks to the ceiling. His chest and back flare out from under his raised arms, and my body heats in all the right places. When he looks back at me, with his hands still resting on his mop of hair, it’s like he’s posing for the February picture in the hot guys on campus calendar.
“What?” I look down at myself.
“That’s the same bra from September.”
He remembers. “Is it?” I look down again, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, and see my nipples hard against the lacy material.
“It is. You look amazing. I’m not shutting off the light.”
“Good. Leave it on.” I have zero problems with the light as long as I get to touch.
He drops his arms. “We’re really gonna do this?”
“We did sign a contract.”
He smirks. “Seriously.”
“Oh I’m serious, Riley.” I look him over and think about where to start. “Are you still with me?” I know he is. I can tell from the bulge in his jeans.
“Hell yeah, Smith.”
Ben strips to his boxers then joins me on the bed, and we’re tangled up in record time. His hands are all over me. His mouth devours mine, until he kisses down my neck, to my chest. In seconds, he yanks down the straps of my bra, and I smile when his mouth finds my breast. His torso moves against my thighs, our skin rubs together, and I stretch underneath him. I love being a girl.
I run my hands over his shoulders, and they dance over every ripple of muscle I’ve appreciated since I’ve met him. He moves his mouth back up my body, over my neck again, until he reaches my lips again.
My head spins. I can’t get enough of him. I can’t kiss him hard enough. I can’t have him inside of me fast enough.
I make an effort to flip him over, but he’s too heavy. Must use my words. With my hands in his hair, I yank him so he’s forced to look up at me. “I want to get on top of you.”
In a flash, he rolls to his back, pulling me with him as I hug my thighs around his waist. He grabs my ass as I straighten up, unfasten my bra, and throw it. When I lean down flush against his hard, bare chest, I want to melt into him. Since September, since that night, every time I’ve seen Ben, I’ve thought about touching him just like this, being on top of him, stretched against him. God knows I tried to forget, but being here with him underneath me—the scent of him, the scratch of his beard on my neck, those rough, calloused hands on my skin—brings all those feelings I’ve been trying to push aside to the forefront.
Ben weaves his hands through my hair and takes a second to look into my eyes. “You feel good, Sweet Meg.”
He slows me down with a smile. His warm eyes search mine until he kisses me gently, our lips barely touching. Holding the back of my neck, he keeps me close, running his thumb over my jawbone. I kiss him back the same way, eyes open, seeing a different Ben from that crazed September night in my dorm room.
For a few long seconds, I can’t tear my eyes from his. I sink into thoughts I don’t want to revisit. Thoughts about how much I like to look at him, how much I love feeling him, how perfectly matched we are, in every way. I’ve been trying to forget… this isn’t helping with that.
He moves my head closer to his and touches his forehead to mine, then he kisses my nose. My eyes water—he’s so damn adorable—and I’m past melting, I’m sinking. I grind my hips and move my body along his, kissing him harder, teasing him with my tongue and reminding him why I’m here. I don’t want intimacy, I tell him with my actions. Give me what I want.
In response to my action, Ben rolls me over onto my back. He’s as desperate for me as I am for him, and suddenly we can’t go fast enough. His tongue invades my mouth, and I hold it between my lips as he rolls his hips against me.
“Jesus, Ben.” I murmur at the contact, feeling him in all the right places. I hook my thumbs over the waistband of his boxers and yank them down as far as I can reach. He kicks them off the rest of the way and then slides my panties down my legs. When he presses against me, we both moan.
I talk against his lips. “I almost forgot how awesome this is.” I reach for his dick, stroking him between our bodies, rubbing his hardness against my softness.
He curses and moves his hand between my legs. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”
I smile at the way his fingers touch me and at his dirty talk. Unexpected from Nice Guy Ben, but maybe Sex Contract Ben is a whole different ballgame.
Ben kisses my ear as our hands touch each other’s bodies. I’m about to come from the contact, whether or not he even makes it inside of me. With every stroke of my hand, he utters the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard, a deep groan that feeds my impatience. I huff out the one word repeating in my mind. “Please.”
Ben pulls back, out of my grasp. “Please what, sweet Meg. What do you want?”
My breath is heavy, hot, and with every inhale, my chest rubs against his, my nipples moving over his warm, hard skin. I’m dizzy and insane, and I want everything. “You,” I manage. “Now.”
Ben mumbles something that sounds like my name—maybe a curse, maybe a combination of both—then reaches his arms behind my back and jerks me upright, so that I’m sitting in his lap, straddling him. I take advantage of the new position to touch him everywhere, his chest, his back. I grip his hair and bury my face in that soft spot under his beard. When I lower my hips to grind against him, he gives me that groan, almost sending me over the edge.
I arch back into his mouth, into his groin, squeezing his hips between my knees. My whole body is alive with his touch. I love being a girl.
“Please.” I slide Ben’s hand between my legs. I press his rough fingers into my wetness. “Can’t you tell how much I want you?” He rubs my clit, and the pressure between my legs builds.
He moves his hand over me and tries to maneuver me onto my back, but I keep my legs latched around him, perfectly satisfied in this position. When he puts a finger inside of me, I open my eyes and find his. “I love your body.” He murmurs the words as he moves his hand.
I shut my eyes and drop my head back. It’s been so long… it’s so good. Ben. He’s so good.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben keeps talking to me—some of it I hear, some I don’t—as his hand works on me. Whatever he’s doing, it’s fantastic. I can’t help the noises that escape from my throat in response.
That ripple that starts from deep within rushes out, and I arch my back and pull Ben’s hair as I come, the whole world lifting off my shoulders. I gasp, feeling every wave, biting my lip to keep from screaming as I reach the best part, exhausted as I start to come down. My God. In the midst of my recovery, the heat of Ben’s body disappears, and I open my eyes and see him rolling on a condom next to me.
He shifts back on top of me. My smile comes from that place deep in
side that Ben just woke. I lift my head to meet his lips and wrap my legs around his waist.
He smiles as he settles over me. “Are you sure about this?” His voice shakes, and he’s so cute I almost can’t look at him.
I whisper, “Yes.”
Ben lowers himself into me, and I’m wet and relaxed. He fills me perfectly, making me feel small underneath him, so small with him inside of me. I sigh. I love being a girl.
He looks down at me his messy hair falls around his cheeks, and his eyes stare into mine. “Okay?”
“I’m pretty perfect right now. You?”
He stills and puts a finger over my mouth. “Don’t talk. Don’t look at me.”
“But I like looking at you. I like talking to you.” I bite his finger playfully then manipulate it into my mouth.
“Shush.” He holds his free fingers over my face. “La-la-la,” he sings.
I giggle underneath him. Keeping my teeth around the finger I’d managed to catch, I mumble, “I want to talk dirty to you.”
“La-la-la,” he says louder. “I can’t hear you.”
I set his finger free and shake my head to get his hand off of me. “Look at me.”
“La-la-la,” he sings, burying his face in my neck.
I smack his ass. “I need you to move.” I wiggle under his weight, attempting to lift my hips. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”
He lifts his head and finds my eyes, then pushes my hair away from my face. “I want you to come again.”
I appreciate Ben’s enthusiasm for my pleasure, but I’m done. “Not now. Let me make you feel good, like you did for me.” I grab his beautiful butt and push him into me again as I kiss him. Squeezing my thighs around his hips, I try to force him onto his back, imagining a sexy kind of flip thing happening. It’s like trying to roll a ton of rocks.
He fidgets over me as I ram my thigh repeatedly into his hip, and then he’s not inside of me anymore. He grimaces down at me. “Are you okay? What are you doing?”
She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2) Page 4
