Sensational

by Janet Nissenson

  So she’d held back – at least until high school where she had eagerly cultivated a reputation as the bad-ass chick, the one you just didn’t mess with. And it hadn’t been just her physical strength and athletic skills that had gained her such a reputation. Rather, it had been her quick wit, smart mouth, utter fearlessness, and the way she never backed down from a confrontation that had scared off the clique of popular girls who normally would have taken great pleasure in making all types of catty comments about her; that had caused all the nerdy kids to quake in their shoes whenever she sauntered past them; and that had even made the jocks keep their distance. And nobody actually wanted to date her – ballsy, tough-talking Lauren who could cut a guy down to size with just one scathing glance. And especially not after the incident junior year where – on a dare, of course, because she could rarely resist taking a dare, no matter how stupid or risky it was – she’d landed a roundhouse kick on Sam Patterson’s head. She’d knocked the popular high school quarterback – her own sister’s longtime boyfriend – to the ground, causing him to black out for a few brief seconds.

  She’d been damned lucky that Sam and his buddies had been too mortified by the incident to report it, though of course word had spread like wildfire around campus until it had reached the level of urban legend. Julia had been furious, and it had been one of the very few times in their lives that she’d refused to speak to Lauren for more than a week. They had eventually mended their fences, but word of the incident had made guys stay even further away from Lauren.

  College had been an opportunity to start over, someplace besides the affluent but admittedly small town of Carmel where everyone knew her. She’d made friends easily at UCLA, her outgoing, vibrant personality attracting both men and women. Guys had hit on her constantly, multiple times a day, and while she’d flirted like mad she had continued to keep her V-card intact until nearly the end of freshman year. Since the lack of opportunity hadn’t been an issue, Lauren had always figured that her rather unimpressive sex life thus far was due to the simple fact that she was picky. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to any of the clean-cut, well-to-do, preppy guys, or even most of the jocks. Instead, the ones who caught her eye were either the rugged, outdoorsy types who liked more extreme sports like ocean kayaking, rock climbing, and mountain biking, or the ones who looked like they should be playing lead guitar in a rock band – long hair, pierced ears, tattoos, and ripped jeans.

  Ben, she noted with an admiring smile, possessed the very best attributes of both types of men. His ripped biceps, defined six-pack abs, and well-muscled legs spoke of years spent outdoors engaging in the same sort of extreme sports that she thrived on herself. It was likely that he also did some sort of targeted weight training, but judging from the deep golden tan that covered his face and body he spent the majority of his time outside.

  And while the short, close cut of his hair wasn’t exactly rock star material, he did have both a piercing – a small gold hoop in his left ear – and a tattoo. Unable to resist, she idly traced her index finger over the stark black, intricate design that covered part of his bicep. The sleeve of his T-shirt had covered the bulk of the unusual design, and she’d been fascinated to discover it after he’d stripped.

  Impulsively she reached for the digital camera she’d left on the bedside table a couple of days ago. Lauren usually took much better care of her camera equipment, making sure it was always packed safely away, and chided herself a bit now on her carelessness. But at least this particular camera was not a very expensive model, and its proximity now was proving to be extremely convenient.

  She focused on the tattoo, then snapped an even dozen shots in a row from various angles. Ben flinched slightly when the flash went off but otherwise didn’t wake. Grinning impishly, Lauren then proceeded to take dozens more shots of the really fine male specimen sleeping in her bed – his face, chest, arms, before carefully easing the sheet downwards so she could photograph his lower body.

  “That last shot had better not wind up on a porn website somewhere. I’m a pretty shy guy, after all, and I really don’t want my junk on display to the public eye.”

  Ben’s voice was raspy and sounded vaguely amused as she glanced up at him guiltily. Laughing merrily, she set the camera aside and scooted back up the bed until she was cuddled alongside him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

  “No worries,” she assured him breezily. “These are going to be for my super-secret, private collection. I’ll triple password protect the file I store them in. And,” she added with a quick kiss to his pec, “you’re way, way hotter – not to mention having much bigger, uh, junk – than those icky, hairless guys in pornos.”

  Ben’s dark blue eyes widened. “Uh, would you be speaking from first hand viewing experience?”

  She gave him a flirty little wink. “Absolutely. One of my soccer teammates in high school – Erika – lived in this huge-ass mansion in Pebble Beach – pool, tennis courts, the works. So naturally everyone wanted her parents’ place to be our hangout after the last practice of the week each Friday. Especially since her parents always went out that night, and kept both the fridge and the bar stocked to overflowing.”

  “What does all this have to do with watching porn flicks?” he asked, puzzled.

  Lauren ran her tongue along the side of his neck, pleased when he gave a little shiver of reaction. “Getting there, Blue Eyes. So, this mansion also included two playrooms. One was the PG-rated version – pool table, video games, that sort of stuff. And the other playroom – the one Erika stole a key for – was the X-rated version. In addition to housing a very disturbingly large collection of porn flicks, the room was sort of a – well, I guess you’d call it a dungeon.”

  His mouth gaped open in shock. “You mean like - ”

  She nodded. “Whips, chains, shackles, all that kinky shit. But Erika didn’t believe for a minute that her parents ever actually used any of it, that they just liked to fantasize about stuff. And given that her father had a stick about a yard long wedged up his ass, while her mother would have had a panic attack if she broke a fingernail, I’m pretty sure she was right.”

  Ben began to laugh, the vibrations rumbling in his chest. “So you and your soccer teammates used to spend Friday nights eating snacks, getting drunk, and watching dirty movies? Well, that sure as hell beats how I used to spend my Friday nights during high school – working some lousy minimum wage job.”

  “Well, we didn’t watch porn every week. Sometimes we’d mix it up with a slasher flick or an action/adventure movie.”

  He began to massage the nape of her neck gently. “What? No chick flicks or rom-coms?” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes at him in mock disgust. “God, no, never that crap. Look, lots of girls play soccer these days, starting from when they’re little kids. But in most cases it’s because their parents push them into it. If you’re still playing sports competitively by your junior or senior year of high school, it’s because you want to, because you’re a true athlete. And you don’t – ever – watch chick flicks.”

  He grinned at her passionate little speech. “Got it. No chick flicks, no rom-coms. You know, sweetheart, the more I learn about you – which I’m beginning to think could take a lifetime – the more you’re sounding like the perfect woman. Let’s see – you like beer, you do martial arts, you drive a pick-up truck but really want a motorcycle. You’ve got those dogs so well trained they’re like a small army, got a mouth on you like a sailor, and like to watch porn. And I believe I noticed at least one tattoo. May I?”

  He picked up her left wrist, turning it slightly until the small mark on the inside was revealed. “What is this?” he asked, his long, blunt fingers tracing gently around the ink.

  “The Gemini. You know,” she explained as he looked puzzled, “the twins. When my sister and I went away to college – she’s back east at Cornell – it was the first time we’d ever spent a significant amount of time apart. So I got this done as a little reminder of Jul
ia – so that I’d always have a little part of my twin with me.”

  “And did Julia get a matching tattoo?”

  Lauren hooted with amusement. “Julia? You’ve got to be kidding. We may be identical in looks and shoe size and even our bra size, but the resemblance ends there. Jules would probably faint just from looking at the tattoo needle.”

  “Should I assume she also doesn’t play sports or know how to take an adult male down with a chop block?”

  She shook her head. “While I was at judo class, Jules would be in the dance studio at the other end of the strip mall doing ballet. And instead of soccer or softball, she did gymnastics. Now,” she turned up her nose with a little sniff, “she’s obsessed with yoga of all things. Every time I talk to her she’s either scurrying off to a class or just getting back from one.”

  Ben continued to rub the roughened pad of his thumb over her tattoo. “Is this your only ink?”

  “Nope.” She wriggled onto her stomach. “Two more. But you’ll have to find them on your own.”

  Lauren shivered in reaction as his hand began to slowly trace its way down her spine, taking his time as he leisurely explored every curve and dip. There hadn’t been time for this during either of their previous encounters – they’d been far too frantic and wild, intent only on pushing each other over the edge as quickly and savagely as possible. Now, though, when the edge had been take off a bit, there was time to enjoy the moment, to savor each touch, to memorize each caress.

  His big hand squeezed each cheek of her buttocks before continuing its lazy glide down the backs of her leanly muscled hamstrings all the way to her calves.

  “Ah. Here’s number two,” he declared triumphantly as he lifted her left foot, running his fingertips along her inner ankle. “And even less idea of what this one means. Are those Chinese characters?”

  Lauren didn’t even try to muffle the little groan of pleasure as he began to gently massage her foot. “Mmm, no. They’re ah – wow, that’s good – erm, Japanese. It means – ooh, yeah, go over that spot again just like that – bravery. I got it in honor – oh, honey, you’ve got like magic fingers, you know? – of my first judo teacher – Yamashiro Sensei. He died a year ago, just two months after his eighty-fifth birthday. He – well, that’s another story altogether – but let’s just say he was like a second father to me, except that he had a lot more patience than my own dad. Especially when I was five.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone losing their patience with you,” jibed Ben. “I would have just assumed you were a sweet, docile little girl.”

  Her snort was loud, derisive, and extremely unladylike. “My father would be rolling around on the floor with hysterical laughter right now to hear you say that.”

  “Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t want to think about your father at this exact moment,” he drawled sardonically. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, searching for that elusive third tattoo.”

  She gasped as his hand slid up between her thighs, to where she was already wet, a fact he quickly discovered as he slowly pumped two long fingers in and out of her with controlled deliberation.

  “Um, I, ah, definitely don’t have a – ah, God – tattoo – um, there,” she panted.

  “No?” Ben’s body covered hers now – chest to back – as he used his superior strength to pin her to the mattress. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’ve heard about guys getting their dicks inked or pierced – two images I’d really rather not visualize.”

  “Mmm, well I’ve seen pictures of both at the tattoo parlor I go to. And while some women get their clit hood pierced, I doubt that anyone has ever gotten ink way down there.”

  He eased his body from hers, only to flip her over onto her back. His dark blue eyes were filled with what she guessed was very uncharacteristic mischief.

  “Well, I still think I should check it out just the same,” he taunted. “After all, tattoo number three must not be very large or I’d have noticed it by now. In fact,” he added, as his mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the side of her neck down to her collarbone, “I’d better check this side of you very, very carefully. I mean, when you consider all of the places that pesky little tattoo could be hiding away.”

  Lauren’s breath hissed in sharply as Ben cupped a breast in his big hand, his thumb teasing the nipple as he pretended to inspect the underside carefully.

  “Hmm, nothing on this one,” he murmured in a voice that had grown decidedly husky. “Gotta check the other one now.”

  She squirmed eagerly beneath him as he plumped the other breast up, and then ran his tongue over the nipple. “Just so you know,” she told him breathlessly, her hips lifting off the bed as he sucked the entire areola between his lips, “my breasts are off limits for any sort of ink. No nipple piercings, either.”

  “Good.” Ben squeezed both breasts roughly before kissing a path down her cleavage towards her belly. “Because your tits are works of art, sweetheart, and to deface something so sensational would be the worst sort of crime. Now, where’s number three hiding?”

  He continued to kiss and caress his way down her abdomen, parting her legs as he did so to nuzzle her vulva. She clutched his head to her, cursing him silently for not having the sort of long hair that would have allowed her to tug him in even closer.

  “Ben.” Her voice was a plaintive wail as his tongue teased the slick folds of her inner labia. “Ah, God.” She grabbed handfuls of the already rumpled sheets as he slid two fingers back inside of her and began to flick his tongue back and forth over her overly sensitized clit. “I’m all – I should really wash and – ohhh!”

  He had one hand splayed over her heaving belly, holding her down as her hips thrashed wildly beneath the twin assaults of his mouth and fingers. “You don’t need to wash,” he murmured hoarsely as he lifted his head for a moment. “Just like you didn’t want me to wash earlier when you were giving me head. Especially since you’re the most delicious treat I’ve ever tasted.”

  He sucked on her clit then, his fingers pumping frantically in and out of her slick, creamy pussy, and she fell apart – falling and falling until she feared she’d never reach the ground again. Her whole body was quivering in reaction to the stunning orgasm he’d just brought her to, and her arms reached out blindly for him, craving his embrace.

  But Ben ignored her outstretched arms as he resumed his quest to find the elusive third tattoo. “Ah. Found it at last. And this one at least I recognize. But tell me – why a seahorse?” he inquired, examining the tiny but perfectly detailed image that graced the instep of her right foot.

  She was still struggling to breathe, her head still spinning from the really fabulous demonstration of oral sex he’d just given her. “I, uh, need a minute here, okay?” she wheezed. “Just regaining consciousness.”

  He chuckled as he released her ankle and took her into his arms instead, cradling her against him. “Is that a good thing? Passing out after an orgasm, that is.”

  “It’s way, way better than good, Blue Eyes,” she whispered, caressing his heavily stubbled jaw. “It’s out of this world, fucking amazing. You’ve, ah, got a gift. Or maybe just a whole lot more experience than my previous partners.”

  Ben grimaced. “I doubt that. Don’t forget I went to college, too, and almost every roommate I had was a big manwhore. So I’ve got a feeling the guys you’ve been with more than likely have way more notches on their belts than I do.”

  “Okay. Maybe experience isn’t the correct word,” she agreed. “Let’s search our vocabulary and see if we can come up with the right one. How about expertise? Finesse? Or what about instinct or mastery or maybe - ”

  He laid two fingers over her lips. “How about,” he suggested in a low, sexy voice, “it’s just a matter of having met the right woman to uncover my previously undetected skills?”

  Lauren grinned up at him even as he nudged her thighs apart and began to slowly feed his fully engorged cock back inside of her an inch at a time. “I’d say that makes you
something of a bullshitter.” She gasped loudly as he gave a sudden, hard thrust, burying his penis fully inside of her. “But that, ah – oh, God, sooo good – if you keep making me – oooh – feel this amazing you can tell me whatever BS you dream up.”

  Ben’s mouth captured hers in another blistering kiss as he continued to ram his cock inside of her pliant body with hard, deep thrusts. “It’s not bullshit,” he whispered raggedly in between kisses. “I’ll never feed you BS, Lauren, or lie to you. But nothing would please me more than to make sure you keep feeling this way. And, like you reminded me earlier, I’ve got a whole year to make up for, don’t I?”

  For once she didn’t have a witty comeback, but it didn’t matter because what she was feeling quickly became way too intense for mere words to express.

  Chapter Three

  Ben took a sip of the mellow cabernet sauvignon, leaning over the deck railing as he observed that the view of the night sky was every bit as stunning as those of the sunrise, high noon, or sunset. It was nearing the end of his fourth day here in Big Sur, and still his breath caught in his throat every single time he saw this view – no matter what time of day, or whether it was sunny, foggy, or pitch black outside.

  These last few days had been almost unreal in a way – like a chapter out of time – and he knew with a sense of dread that this magical time couldn’t last forever. Or even much longer. While he didn’t have a specific deadline of any sort to finish this article – one of the few perks of being a freelance journalist – he also couldn’t afford to simply hang around here for weeks on end. He had to get the rest of the article finished up as quickly as possible, which entailed at least ten more stops en route along Highway One until his final destination in San Diego.