She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What has gotten into you? Did you hit your head when the SWAT team threw you on the ground last night?”
He gestured to the food. “Eat.” He picked up a piece of bacon and held it out to her.
She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You know damn well I’m not eating that. Same goes for the eggs. What are you trying to pull?”
He sighed and put the bacon back on the plate. “Okay, how about a pancake, then?” He slathered one with butter and held it out to her.
“Butter, Ben? It’s made from milk, which comes from cows, which are animals, in case you’ve forgotten. And pancakes have gluten. You know I get gassy and unpleasant when I eat gluten.” She picked up her tea. She wrinkled her nose before taking a timid taste.
“Okay, butter is made from cows, but they gave it up willingly.”
“Don’t argue with me, Ben.”
He exhaled. After a moment, he nudged the plate toward her. “You have to eat something. I need you fit and healthy.”
Christian Grey’s words verbatim. Ben was enjoying getting into this persona.
“I am fit and healthy,” she snapped. “I run every day, drink smoothies, eat Vegan and organic. This breakfast is the opposite of healthy, by the way. I’m not clogging my arteries with this crap.”
“Okay, how about a pancake without butter? What could it hurt to eat one pancake with gluten?” He pushed the plate closer to her. “This food was expensive, you know. Almost fifty bucks for room service.”
She choked on her tea. “Fifty dollars?”
“Honey, this is one of the most expensive hotels in L.A. Pancakes alone cost thirty bucks a plate.”
“Holy crap.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair, staring at the plate in front of her. “I could make a double batch at home for less than five dollars. Gluten free, too.” She paused. “I guess at ten
dollars a pancake, a few bites wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yes,” he commanded. “You will eat.”
She put a warning finger up.
He zipped his mouth shut.
As she picked at her pancake, he got up and went to his overnight bag. He pulled out a piece of paper, approached the table, and laid it next to her teacup.
She looked at him quizzically. “What’s this?”
He gave her a mysterious smirk, the kind he imagined Christian Grey got whenever he let Anastasia know who was in control. “It’s a contract.”
“A contract?” She picked it up and perused it. “It says I have to do what you tell me to. That you’re the master and I’m the slave.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
She stared at the paper. “What are all these rules? I’m supposed to take out the trash—your job—for the next six months straight? Fix the garage, too? In exchange for hot sex? Is this some sort of joke?”
He shifted in his chair. “I supposed some of the fundamental terms could be renegotiated.” He nodded toward the contract. “Have you read over the details of the sexual terms?”
A deep line appeared between her brows. “You need to get your head checked. I really think you got a concussion last night.”
“Doesn’t any of this seem familiar?” he asked. “You know, similar to a certain book you’ve been reading?”
She stared at him. After a moment, her eyes grew large with realization. She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god. You’re trying to be Christian Grey.” She paused, then let out a giggle.
“Damn right,” he said, and lunged at her across the table.
CHAPTER 12
Time for Toys
When Ben knocked the table over in his amorous excitement, the hot tea spilled all over Kate’s lap, sending her shrieking to the bathroom. Ben didn’t know whether or not he should call 911. She yelled through the door that she was taking care of the burn with cold water, thank you very much.
When she emerged fifteen minutes later with a towel wrapped around her body, she informed him that, luckily, her velvet dress had soaked up most of the hot water so she only got minimally scalded on her thighs.
“This skin is just a little red,” she said, glaring at him. “It might blister a bit, but nothing major.” She took a deep breath. “You need to stop with the whole Christian Grey thing. I mean, the helicopter ride was a nice idea and all, but to say it ended poorly is an understatement. Same with the elevator idea and this . . . highly dangerous breakfast.” She gestured to the broken dishes and bits of food scattered all over the rug. “Such things are fine in fiction but don’t always work in real life.”
“Sure they do. We’ve just had terrible luck.” He rubbed his chin. “The helicopter ride wasn’t that bad, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“That we could have died. And we didn’t.”
“That’s looking on the bright side, Ben, I’ll give you that.” She crossed her arms. “Really, you need to stop now. This whole charade is getting to be too much. I mean, I appreciate what you’re trying to do and all, but it’s really not my style.”
“But I thought you liked the book.”
“Of course I liked the book,” she snapped. “Every woman in America does. But that’s because we’re reading about Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele, not Ben and Kate Weaver!”
“Just give me a chance. You’ll see I can woo your socks off.” What would Christian Grey say right now? “Fuck them off you, too.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck them off with my big, hot, red, throbbing love-rod.” No, that didn’t sound right. He should have read the book in more detail. “I mean, big throbbing cock.”
She gasped. “Jesus, Ben!” She shook her head. “That kind of vulgar language doesn’t suit you. Doesn’t turn me on, either, in case you’re wondering.” She crossed her arms and glared. “For your information, the only thing throbbing right now is my head. I want to take some Tylenol and go home. Now.”
“Wait,” he said. “Not yet. I have something else. A surprise I’ve planned. A big one. You’re going to love it.”
He raced to his bag and pulled out the economy pack of sex toys he’d purchased from the online store, Pandora’s Sex Dungeon.
He dumped the toys out on the bed and quickly sifted through them. He grabbed a purple riding crop from the mix. He held it up to her with a grin. “What do you think, babe? Shall we give it a whirl?” He cracked it against his hand.
She screamed.
CHAPTER 13
Multiple Virgins
Ben conceded after-the-fact that it had probably been a bad idea to break out the riding crop this early in the game. But hell, he’d panicked. He didn’t want Kate returning home before he’d had a chance to show her the full Fifty Shades experience he’d promised himself he was capable of. He should have eased her into the situation, though, with furry handcuffs or the blindfold instead of breaking out the big guns all at once.
The riding crop definitely hadn’t gone over well. After she’d gotten her bearings, she’d grabbed it from Ben, broken it over her knee, and flung the two pieces on the floor. Then she’d stomped into the bathroom. The shower had immediately turned on, and Ben had rubbed his jaw, forced to admit he’d failed yet again. He lay down on the bed, wondering what to do next.
Okay, maybe all of this was a little out-of-character for him, but isn’t this what she wanted? She’d said she wanted him to take charge, to be more like Christian Grey. That’s what he was trying to do. If she would just give him a chance, they could get their sex life back on track . . . and then some. These sex toys could be fun. Besides, he’d spent more than $250 on the “variety pack,” even after the online discount, and he didn’t want them to go to waste.
He sifted through the assortment of strange-looking devices spread out on the bed. There were the obvious things, like the pink furry handcuffs, a shiny vibrator, and a red leather blindfold. There was also a strange, pinwheel-looking device; a strand of flexible beads; what appeared to be a massive, two-pronged dildo; and othe
r odd contraptions. The only thing missing was the long, black whip he’d wanted to purchase except the company had been out of stock. However, Rick Johnson had said (with a nudge and a wink) that Ben could borrow his when the time “arose.”
Ben picked up the odd pinwheel apparatus and turned it over in his hand. He had no clue which body part this was supposed to titillate, or even how to use it. Where was the instruction manual? He rummaged through the black velvet bag. Nothing. They sure didn’t make it easy.
He went to his overnight bag and pulled out his dog-eared copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. While Kate was in the shower, he might as well do a quick refresher course.
She emerged with a fluffy white towel on her head and another around her body. Her damp skin and the swell of her breasts above the terry cloth sent a zing of fire through his loins. God, she was one beautiful woman, even at her age. He moved to pull her close.
She allowed him to enfold her in his arms but eyed the toys on the bed. “You’ve really lost your mind, you know that?”
“Don’t any of them look interesting?”
She reached over and fingered the pink, fur-lined handcuffs. “I don’t know.” She paused and gazed up at him. “I suppose our sex life has been pretty vanilla, huh?”
“Hell, I’d settle for vanilla at this point. I’ve been holding an empty cone all this time.”
She gave him a look.
He pressed on. “Vanilla’s a great base, you know. You can dress it up, add chocolate sauce, whipped cream, make it into a hot fudge sundae . . .”
“You’re doing the Christian Grey food thing, aren’t you?”
“Am I that transparent?” He stifled a grin.
She shook her head, a reluctant smile playing around her lips. “You’re ridiculous.” She paused. “I’m not knocking vanilla, Ben. Really, I’m not. I actually prefer it. These devices looks a little . . . scary.” She fingered the flexible beads. “After seeing all these weird contraptions, vanilla doesn’t seem so bad. I’m really not into pain.”
“How about if we make it vanilla spice?” He nudged her and winked. “It worked for Christian and Anastasia. We should give it a try. Heck, I’ll just be glad to have the ice cream truck come around again, instead of avoiding our neighborhood completely.”
“Enough.”
He clamped his trap shut.
She lifted the blindfold, examined it, then dropped it on the bed again.
After a moment, he straightened his spine, determined to re-channel Christian Grey. “Will you try something with me, babe? A little role-playing, perhaps?” He held out his hand to her.
She gave him a curious look but took his hand. He led her to the bed, then lifted her up and gently lay her down on the rumpled bedspread. He lay down beside her, then leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m a virgin. You’re a virgin. Play along.”
“What—?”
“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Think back to your first time. How sweet it was. Wouldn’t it be nice if we were sharing that first time together, instead of you with Johnny-whatever-his-name-was and me with that barmaid with the black eyeliner and fake tits?”
“Okay, we don’t need to go there.” She adjusted herself on the bedspread, the towel still tightly wrapped around her midsection. “But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.” She closed her eyes.
He grinned to himself. She was willing to give it a try. This was going better than he’d expected.
Let’s see . . . now how to make this realistic. He paused for a moment, thinking back to when he’d been a fumbling, innocent virgin. How nice it would be to share that first time with Kate, at least in their hearts. He just needed to make sure he recreated the situation realistically, so they both felt like teenagers again (okay, she’d lost her virginity as a teen and he’d been twenty-four, but still).
He closed his eyes and went back to that moment in time when his dick had nearly burst out of his shorts in anticipation of that barmaid’s swollen, lopsided breasts and “Eat Shit” tattoo etched onto her overly-tanned shoulder. He mustered up his twenty-four-year-old self and flopped down on top of Kate, hoping he wasn’t crushing her with his weight. Yes, he’d put on a few pounds since that time so long ago groping around on the vinyl backseat of his Oldsmobile Cutlass.
Kate didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were pressed closed with a serene smile on her face. She liked this, he could tell. The imagination was powerful. And there was definitely something to the whole virginity thing.
He was going role-play her into sexual bliss. Christian Grey, eat your heart out!
CHAPTER 14
What Goes In Must Come Out
He watched Kate’s face with its serene, rapturous expression as he gently removed the towel from her body. She lay on the bed with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face. Her skin was smooth and hairless, glistening with the remnants of her shower. Thankfully, the red patches from the hot tea were fading. God, with her damp hair and perfect breasts, she was way more beautiful than that barmaid had ever been.
“I can’t wait to deflower you, baby,” he murmured in her ear.
“Mmm,” she replied, her eyelids fluttering.
He trailed a finger down her breasts toward her belly button, then around her C-section scar. Okay, the long, crescent-shaped scar tainted the illusion of virginity, but all he had to do was pretend. He pressed his eyelids together and lightly kissed her neck. Maybe a hickey was in order. Hickeys were big for him back in the days of being a virgin. He placed his lips against her neck and sucked hard, like a blowfish.
She gave a sharp intake of breath. “Okay, ouch.”
“Sorry.” He pulled back. He lightly stroked her taut nipples. Then he realized he was behaving with too much finesse. He needed to grope more to make it realistic, virginal. He grabbed one mound of flesh and squeezed it, then the other.
“Ben, a little rough there.”
“Sorry. I’m a virgin, remember?”
He leaned over and slobbered on her neck, giggling to himself. This was good—he was really recreating the inexperience of a first-timer. He was starting to feel twenty-four all over again. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his crotch with no other foreplay, just as he had with the barmaid all those years ago.
“Mmm,” she said again.
His eyes flew open. He studied her. She really seemed to be enjoying this, even with all the rudimentary groping. Was she . . . ?
Of course she was.
He sat up. “You’re thinking of Johnny-what’s-his-name, aren’t you?”
Her eyes flew open. “You said to remember back to being a virgin.”
“Yeah, but with me. Me.”
“But you weren’t my first.”
He let out an exasperated puff of air. “I know that. But we’re trying to recreate a virginal experience together. Remember”
“Yes, of course. Sorry.” She closed her eyes again. “Good job on the groping thing. Very realistic.”
“Glad it’s working for you.” He couldn’t control the slight note of sarcasm in his tone. For some reason, he’d lost some of his enthusiasm. But then again, here was his chance to have sex with his wife, something they hadn’t done in ages. He couldn’t let a little insecurity ruin the moment.
He nuzzled into her, sucking on her neck and groping at her body. He pressed his lower region onto hers, grinding himself into her.
She sighed.
His eyes flew open again. Her mouth was parted. She was enjoying this way more than she should.
“You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you?”
She opened her eyes and glared. “No, I’m not. I’m thinking of you.” She sat up and pulled the towel around her.
“No, you’re thinking of him. I can see it on your face. You’ve never gotten that look with me before.”
“I’m trying to get into the moment, Ben! You said to imagine being a virgin, so I’m doing it. But I’m doing it with you. You!”
“Yeah,
right.” He turned and crossed his arms, unable to control the sulkiness that had descended on him like a roomful of flies.
“Ben.” She touched his arm. “I’m not thinking of Johnny Steppanato, I’m really not.”
He whirled on her. “So that’s his name, huh? Johnny Steppanato. A real stud’s name. Probably hung like one, too.”
She frowned. “You’re killing the moment.”
“Tell me, did it hurt when he burst your cherry with his big dick? A guy with a name like Steppanato had a foot-longer for sure. Am I right?”
Her guilty expression confirmed his fears.
He jumped up. “I knew it! Your first guy was hung like a horse! Now it all makes sense. Why you won’t have sex with me. No one can compare to your first experience. How can I ever measure up to Johnny Steppanato with my thumb-sized cock?”
She sighed, running her hand over her forehead. “You’re too hard on yourself, Ben. You’re not thumb-sized. More like the length of an index finger. But that’s fine. I knew what I was getting when I married you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I meant to say I love you. That’s why I married you. Not because of your penis size. And I happen to love your penis, by the way.” She smiled at him. “You’ve always known how to use it right.”
“Really?” The anger dissipated from him like an open balloon.
She gazed at him with soft, blue eyes. “I love you, Ben. All of you. If I’d loved Johnny Steppanato, I would have married him.”
“Let’s not mention that name again, okay? It’s an ugly name, like Joey Buttafuco or Jerry Springer.” He pulled her close. “How about Christian Grey, instead?”
Spice Box; Sixteen Steamy Stories Page 198
