Текст книги "Outside the Lines"
Автор книги: Emily Goodwin
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Fuck it, who cares?
The risk of being seen—and heard by anyone in the gallery—turns me on. I’ve never done anything like this before. Never had someone who makes me feel so passionate, who turns me on so quickly, and makes me so hot.
Desperation comes on and I’m taking Ben’s pants off, stroking his beautiful cock, and urging him to me. My pants come off next and Ben drops to his knees, tossing my legs over his shoulders. I go back on my elbows, knocking a stack of papers and something heavy off his desk. The papers scatter and the three-hole punch lands with a thud.
Oh well.
His mouth is pressed to me, five o’clock shadow rough on my delicate skin. The combination of rough hair and soft, smooth tongue almost pushes me over the edge. He stops when I’m on the cusp of coming and I want to slap him, push his head back between my legs, and tell him not to stop until I’m finished.
I’m still panting, head still back when I hear a little crinkle. Oh right, condom. Duh. Once it’s on, he puts his mouth back to me and finishes the job, keeping his mouth tight on me, licking, sucking, flicking, as I come, contracting against him. Without giving me time to recover, he pulls me forward and pushes in.
I can’t help but cry out. My body is alive with pleasure, unlike anything I’ve felt before. I never knew I could feel this good, be so turned on. My ears are ringing and my toes tingle. Ben thrusts in and out, with short, fast movements. I hold onto him and he takes a handful of my breasts, circling my nipples with his thumb.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he pants and bends down to nuzzle my neck. I’m still riding the pleasure train, not caring where the fuck I’ll get off. Because I’m getting off again right now.
I clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle a moan as I come the second time, the orgasm rolling through me with so much force my body shudders. I open my eyes for half a second and see that Ben is watching me, and seeing me orgasm turns him on. He pushes me back onto the desk, grabs my thighs, and pushes in deeper than before. So deep it almost hurts.
Almost.
He pulls back until his dick is almost out, then rams in again. And again. And again. Then we both moan and climax together. My legs quiver and he pitches forward, panting. I hold onto him, unable to catch my breath or slow my heart rate.
Holy fucking shit.
He lets out a final deep breath then brushes the hair back from my face. My breasts rapidly rise and fall as I gasp for air. His eyes meet mine and he gives me that devilish grin, then straightens and pulls me upright as he slides out.
“Hopefully that solved your computer issue,” I say, still breathless.
“Hopefully,” he says back. “Because if there is another problem next week…” he trails off, raising his eyebrows. I laugh, wishing I could get called out for this kind of customer service call every day, but I know Cameron would catch on.
“Mmmm,” I say as he grabs my waist. He gently kneads the extra loving I have on my sides and I feel self-conscious … but I actually think he finds it—dare I say—sexy? Because he’s looking like he wants to bend me over the desk and fuck me again.
“You’re something else,” he says and right away I know that one is a compliment. “What are you doing to me? I can’t get you out of my head.” He pulls me to him and kisses me passionately. Wind blows the curtains wide open and rattles the locked door. Ben tears himself away, turning to take the condom off. He tosses it in the trash and I vaguely wonder if he’s going to cover it up later, which gives me a flashback to my pretending-to-be-a-virgin days when I’d double wrap used condoms in toilet paper or paper towels so my parents wouldn’t see. I did the same thing with tampons for a while so my mom wouldn’t know I started my period and give me “the talk.”
“Same to you,” I say back. Ben hands me my bra. I put it on, watching him get dressed. Someone knocks on the door, and I freeze.
“It’s okay,” he says when he sees my panic. “The door is locked.”
I nod and get my pants up. Ben pulls his shirt on, straightening the hem as he walks to the door. I madly reach over the desk for my shirt and put it on, then take a seat at the desk, putting my hands on the computer keyboard.
“Someone is downstairs, looking at the bronze statue,” Mindy says when Ben opens the door. He only opens it halfway, and I can see Mindy craning her neck to look at me. “They want to talk to you. They are thinking about buying it.”
“I’ll be right down,” Ben says and turns to look at me. “You’re logged in, right?”
“Yes,” I say and press down on random keys. Then I realize the computer isn’t even on. Oops.
“Good,” he says, eyes meeting mine. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to assist you.”
I nod again, cheeks flushing, though they’re still red from fucking. Ben opens the door all the way and steps out. I keep my eyes focused on the black computer screen. I know Mindy is looking at me, waiting for me to look up and meet her gaze so she can give me a snarky smile or make some bullshit comment.
Finally, she turns and goes down the stairs, heels clicking on the wood. I lean back and let out a breath, realizing how close we were to being caught. Maybe Mindy had come up the stairs earlier and heard? Then that means she stood there and waited, listening for us to finish. What a sick freak.
Or maybe not.
Probably not, or she would have knocked sooner. I pull out my phone from my purse and log onto a gamer site instead, checking for updates and reading through forums for entertainment. People lose their shit over the littlest things. Five minutes turn to ten, then fifteen. Twenty minutes later, Ben texts me, saying the people interested in the piece are talkers, and want to discuss getting a few custom paintings. It’s going to be a while, like an hour or more since they have to draw things up and go over some sort of contract. He says I can leave if I need to get back to work and he’ll call me later.
I gather up my things, knowing I can’t stay that long even though I want to. I have some work left to do on the site I’m coding, and I don’t want to stay at work late. I text Ben back: I do need to get back to the office, as much as I don’t want to. I can plug in your router anytime. I add a winking emoji and smile after I send.
I take another minute to gather my composure. My panties are damp since I pulled them on without cleaning myself up, and Ben makes me pretty fucking wet. I’m feeling pretty damn empowered as I go down the office steps. A middle-of-the-workday fucking is always something I wanted to do, but never thought I’d be with someone who could give that to me.
Ben glances at me and smiles when I step off the last stair. He’s standing next to a tall statue that kind of resembles a tree. I haven’t stopped to get a good look at anything yet, but I remember the price tag on that thing could pay for four months’ worth of rent for me. Holy shit.
“Felicity,” Mindy says when I walk past her desk, voice sickly high pitched. Why does she purposely talk like that? I turn around to see her staring at me, lips pressed together, and eyes narrowed. I rack my brain for a witty comeback to whatever the hell kind of insult she’s planning to throw at me.
Then her eyes widen. “Your shirt,” she starts and for a brief moment I think she’s going to make fun of my WOW polo, then I realize she wouldn’t recognize the emblem.
“What about it?” I ask and realize it’s not tucked in. But I never tuck in my shirts for work. It’s wrinkled? No, I did my “mist with water and throw in the dryer” trick this morning. Maybe it wrinkled in the few minutes it spent on the floor? Nah, I doubt that.
Then she says it the exact moment I realize what’s wrong.
“It’s inside out.”
Fuck. It is. There is no mistaking that seam. I blink a few times, trying to come up with a lie. It was always this way. Yes. I put it on inside out this morning. Silly me.
“It wasn’t like that when you came in.” Her wide eyes narrow as she puts two and two together.
Damn it, Mindy fucking Abraham, calling me out. Oh well. I’m fucking your boss, so … so I have no idea what that makes me. Probably a whore in her eyes.
“Oh,” I stammer. “Maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t really pay attention.” I scurry toward the door, catching one last glimpse of Mindy’s face. For a moment, it’s pulled down with sadness. Then jealousy takes over and her jaw sets in that I’m-gonna-cut-a-bitch way that sends a shiver down my spine.
She’s fucking pissed, and then I realize something else. Married or not, she’s crushing on Ben. Big time.
CHAPTER NINE
“You’re such a better sewer than me,” Erin sighs.
“Not really,” I say back, leaning in to get a better look at the computer screen, and in turn, her costume. We’re talking via Skype, going over the progress of our Comic Con costumes. “That looks awesome.”
“Meh, it’s not so good in person.”
“If you need me to help with the fine details, I can,” I say. “I’ll be home for my parent’s annual Fourth of July party,” I remind her. “We can work on costumes then.”
“I might take you up on that offer.” She sits down and pulls her hair into a clip. “Are you inviting Ben?”
I make a face. “I don’t know.”
“Why not? I think it’s safe to say he likes you after the office booty call yesterday.”
I smile. “True. He likes having sex with me, I know that. But I still can’t decide if he likes me.”
Erin waves her hand in the air. “You’re too hard on yourself. Why wouldn’t he like you? My best friend is awesome.”
“Thanks. And I don’t know … It’s just a feeling? He said he dates other women, remember? I assume he goes out with plenty of other chicks who are…” I trail off, not wanting to voice my concerns out loud, not even to my BFF of over ten years. Compared to anyone else Ben is dating, seeing, fucking—whatever, I’m just not going to measure up. I want to believe I can, but the realistic part of me wins this one.
“We’ll just see,” I conclude. “He’s busy a lot anyway. That weekend might be big for art shows.”
“Sure,” Erin says with a roll of her eyes. Something clatters inside her house and David shouts. Erin lets out a slow breath, trying to stay calm. “I should never have let him get a puppy,” she says through gritted teeth. “Yeah, the little pooch is adorable, but my house, and my sanity, cannot handle this.”
I laugh. “Aren’t huskies like super high-energy dogs?”
“Yes,” she says. “But that’s what he wanted. Something that reminded him of Balto.” She shakes her head and I laugh again. “I better go see what kind of trouble they got into now. And clean up the mess. I swear, David is such a child himself he cannot take care of a dog. It’s a good thing neither of us want kids any time in the near future. Or ever.” Erin isn’t a “kid person.” It surprised me when she let her hubs get the dog, honestly. She’s laid back and so fun, but she likes things neat and orderly in her house.
“Just call him Grey Wind and pretend he’s a dire wolf in training? That doesn’t get his head cut off,” I suggest.
“Maybe.” She shakes her head. “Bye, Liss.”
We end the Skype call and I go about working on the top of my femme Batman costume until I can hardly keep my eyes open anymore. Instead of putting away my sewing gear, I close the door to the spare room, aka my work room, to keep Ser Pounce from stepping on pins or fucking with my material. That asshole likes to fuck with my material.
I shower, realize I haven’t eaten since lunch, and bring a bowl of Fruit Loops to bed, too tired to make anything else. I flip through channels and grab my phone, wanting to meaninglessly scroll through Facebook as I eat. I have a text from Ben, sent over two hours ago. Whoops. I didn’t hear my phone dinging from the other room.
He wants to know if we can meet for lunch or dinner tomorrow. Or both. He says he misses me. I’m smiling as I respond, telling him that both would be nice. He responds quickly, telling me to let him know when I’m taking my lunch break. We plan to meet at the cafe again.
I drift to sleep with Ben on my mind, eager to see him in the morning.
*
“Hey,” I greet Ben as I step into the cafe. It’s lunch time and crowded, and if Ben hadn’t gotten here early, we wouldn’t have gotten a table. He gives me a hug and a kiss, then we sit. I put my purse and umbrella on the chair across from Ben and slide in next to him on the booth seat.
“I ordered already,” he says, arm going around me. “Same thing as before. Hope that’s okay. It was getting busy and I know you’re on limited time.”
“Thank you,” I say, eyeballing the long line and the frazzled girl behind the counter.
“It should be here soon. Hopefully. I’m starving.”
“I usually am,” I say. “But there was a birthday at the office so we all got cake.”
“Nice.”
A college-aged boy brings us two iced coffees and says the food should be out soon. I peel the wrapper off the straw and stick it inside the cold mocha.
“I heard something interesting today,” Ben says, taking a drink of his own coffee.
“And what is that?”
His eyes narrow just a bit. “Mindy said you two had a class together in college. I know she’s not smart enough to get into MIT.”
Crap. Shit. Busted.
Fuck.
“Yeah … we did.” I grab my straw wrapper and start twisting it between my fingers, heart hammering.
“So you didn’t go to MIT?”
“I did,” I say and let out a breath. “But I didn’t graduate from there.”
“Why do I get the feeling there is a story behind this?”
“Because there is, but it’s not a good one. Trust me.” I tie a knot in the wrapper and pull it until it breaks. I still feel sick about it, the fact that I was so close to getting a degree from one of the best tech schools in the country. I still feel humiliated that I was dumb enough to let someone control me, manipulate me, trick me into doing something that could have ruined my whole life.
He was the first guy to tell me he loved me, that he didn’t want to live without me, that we were meant to be.
And I fucking believed him. I trusted him. I loved him. He was my first long-term boyfriend, and finding out I’d been used caused all the confidence I’d gained since high school to crash and burn into a pile of oblivion, not to resurface until adulthood. Hell, I’m still trying to get some of it back, still trying to have faith in the people of the world not to bend me over and screw me in the ass with no lube.
I take a breath, drop the straw wrapper, and look up at Ben. “This guy, Micah, I was dating convinced me to hack into the grade book and save him from failing pretty much all his classes.” Ben doesn’t say anything. His face is neutral and he patiently waits for me to keep going. “It was untraceable, but one professor noticed his grade went from a 48% to an 84%. And then something was said and the other professors noticed and called Micah out on it. He didn’t even hesitate to tell them I did it.”
I run my finger down the outside of the plastic coffee cup, collecting condensation on my finger. “The dean and the head of the tech department were actually impressed at my hacking skills—they didn’t word it that way though—and were disappointed I did something so stupid my last year. They let me transfer my credits instead of kicking me out. Hence the degree from the local college. I was young, and I made the mistake of believing Micah when he said he loved me. Live and learn, right?”
A few seconds of silence tick by. Then Ben reaches out and puts his hand on mine. “You’re a hacker?”
I tip my head up. “Only by night.”
Ben chuckles. “That is impressive, actually.”
“You’re one of the few to think so,” I say. “But thanks. It fucking sucked, but I was, and maybe still am, a little proud of being able to get into the system.”
“Have you hacked other sites before?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “But I never really did anything bad like that again. I swore to use my superpowers only for good after that. A few were just to see if I could do it. And once was to change my best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s Facebook page. But I don’t consider that really a hack. It’s so easy.”
“I don’t know how to do it,” he tells me and leans back in his chair.
“Not many people do,” I say. “Which is good.” I shrug. “Cybercrime is still a crime, ya know? I don’t want to get caught—again—and screw myself again. I got lucky with MIT. I probably won’t get lucky again.” I wipe the condensation from my cup. “So … that’s the story.”
“It’s not that bad of a story,” he says and puts his hand on mine. “And I think it’s fair to say you went to MIT. You said you were one semester away from graduating?”
“Ugh, yes. I can’t bring this up to my parents yet either. They’re still pissed at me.”
“I’d still consider you an MIT graduate, even though you lack the degree.”
“All I had left was one core class and electives. It would have been the easiest semester ever. But oh well, right? I made a bad choice, let someone convince me to do something I shouldn’t have, and learned the hard way. Dwelling isn’t going to change that.”
“Right. You have to move on or live in agony.”
“Exactly. Yeah, I regret it, but whatever. Every mistake made me who I am, and all that shit.”
Ben chuckles and laces his fingers through mine. His eyes sparkle and he opens his mouth to stay something when our food comes. We dig in, eating a few bites in silence before speaking.
“Did you and Mindy have a falling out?” he asks. “She seems to be holding a grudge against you, and I don’t know why.”
I shake my head and push my fork through the crispy crust of the veggie pot pie. “We were never friends.” I flick my eyes to Ben, and I’m shocked at how not self-conscious I feel. Thinking about my glory days as a teen usually zap me back to feeling like crap faster than the TARDIS can leave an exploding planet.
But not right now.
Because right now I’m having lunch with this gorgeous guy who’s looking at me like I’m his favorite person in the whole world. And maybe Mindy fucking Abraham can still make me feel like dog poo on the bottom of her expensive shoe with one belittling glare, but I don’t have to cower and let myself stink like shit this time around.
“I really don’t know why she didn’t like me then, or why she still cares now. She moved to our town our sophomore year and just needed someone to pick on, I guess.” I take a bite of food and sigh, feeling my give-a-damns go out the window. “She became the Regina George of our school in just weeks, and everyone flocked all over her. You know those types.” I shrug. “But that was years ago, and she’s never grown up, never moved on.” The realization crashed down on me as I speak. “Being the queen bee of high school was her peak. It’s kinda sad when you think about it.”
“Peaking in high school is sad,” Ben agrees, looking into my eyes.
I smile and nod. I don’t want to tell him that I’m still insecure about it, that Mindy brought me to tears and bullied me to the point of faking sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school and face her. I shouldn’t be ashamed of that.
Shouldn’t.
But I’m still scared he’ll think less of me, that hearing it out loud will somehow slap sense into him and he’ll see me as the nerdy looser Mindy and everyone else saw in high school. I’m so logical it kills me, I know.
“Well,” Ben says. “She’s still jealous of you if she’s talking shit.”
Still jealous implies that she was once jealous of me, and that’s not the case. I just nod again. I came into this conversation with a dozen fucks. I wanted to leave with all twelve of them. I want to get to the point where I don’t give a single fuck about Mindy. She’s not worth it.
“Have you been to the Gardens and Sculpture Park yet?” Ben asks.
I shake my head since my mouth is full. Once I swallow I say, “No, but I keep hearing about it. I want to go.”
“How about this weekend?”
“Yeah, I’d love to.”
“And tonight,” he says carefully, and for half a second I think he’s apprehensive about asking me out again, like I might for some crazy reason turn him down. “Dinner and a movie?”
“Oh yes, that’s perfect. A movie I want to see just came out.”
“Great,” he says with a smile.
*
“It’s so big!” I exclaim.
“That’s what she said,” Ben says with a grin.
I laugh and roll my eyes. He swings my hand as we walk down a path that leads through a peaceful section of tall grass, wild flowers, and statues and sculptures in the park. “Really,” I say. “I can’t believe I’ve held out on coming here. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he tells me and slows when we cross a wooden bridge. People mill about, enjoying the nature and the artwork spread throughout, soaking up the warm June day. We stop walking and Ben wraps his arms around me. I’m not wearing heels this time, just my Hufflepuff Toms, and Ben is several inches taller than me. I go up on my toes and kiss him. “Want to finish the tour or do you want to go back to my place for dinner now?” He raises his eyebrows and I know he’s thinking about dessert.
And by dessert, I mean sticking his P in my V.
That’s a pretty good dessert.
“It’s up to you,” I say. “I like it here. It’s very calming. And pretty. I like calm and pretty.”
He slides his hands along my side and takes both my hands. “We can keep going. I come here from time to time when I want to think. And this place is really inspirational. Then again, so are you.”
We cross the bridge and walk in silence, taking in the sights for a few moments. I’m completely comfortable with Ben, which is kind of weird when I think about it too much. Not counting meeting for lunch during the week, this is our third date. We spoke on the phone Thursday night for several hours, and he called me Friday before the art event thing-a-ma-bob that he had to go to just to say hi and see how my day was going.
I’m starting to like him a lot.
We both slept in this morning. The event Ben went to was a few hours away, and by the way he spoke, he didn’t get in until late. I stayed up doing important things like arguing on an online forum about the sexism in Cosplay. And playing League of Legends. That’s important too, of course.
I called Ben when I got up, like he wanted me to, and we made plans to visit the gardens then go back to his house. He’s cooking me dinner. I assume I’ll be spending the night, like he had with me, but, again, I’m not sure the protocol on this kind of thing. Since he picked me up from my house, the ball is in his court. To an extent. Maybe? Hell if I know.
Instead of looking presumptuous and backing a separate bag, I used my biggest purse and loaded it with a few overnight things, like face wash, my toothbrush, and my travel makeup bag. I folded a new dress and a fresh pair of undies for tomorrow and put it inside, and for tonight, I’m wearing a matching bra and panty set. I like to be prepared.
Speaking of preparedness, I debated on bringing condoms. I didn’t, assuming since Ben puts them on his dick, he probably has more. I’m currently not on any sort of birth control. I stopped taking it six months into my dry spell because I was too lazy to take it every morning, and really, what’s the point when I’m not getting any? I have no problem getting back on it, but I don’t want to jump the gun and assume what Ben and I have will turn into anything … uh, lasting?
I’m afraid of jinxing this.
Because this—whatever the hell it is—is pretty fucking awesome.
“What do you think about that one?” Ben asks me a while later. I follow his gaze to a glass sculpture rising from the ground. It’s twisted yet graceful and is every color you’d see if you looked up at a starry sky.
“I like it,” I say as I inspect it. “It’s pretty, and reminds me of … I really don’t know. I’m bad at interpreting art, don’t be mad.”
Ben chuckles. “I wouldn’t be mad, and I think the interpretation is so open. What one person feels and sees is so different from another, and even more different from what the artist was thinking and feeling at the time.”
I nod. “Like maybe this artist only had midnight colors to work with, but everyone else says blue means depression or some psychological stuff like that. I happen to think blue is calming, by the way. And open at the same time. That makes no sense, I know.”
“I think I’m following,” he says.
“It’s probably because the TARDIS is blue,” I try to joke, then remember Ben isn’t a Whovian. That’ll have to change if this thing develops further. “And it reminds me of magic and the sky. And the sky is magic, really. The sky is the literal sky, but it’s so much more than that too. It’s like a symbol of not putting limits on things, and a dark sky reminds me that there is so much out there left to be discovered.”
He nods, eyeing the glass shapes. “You did a good job interpreting that one. Don’t say you’re not good.”
I shrug. “But who knows if that’s what I’m supposed to feel.”
“You’re not supposed to feel one thing or another. Just feel.” His arm goes around me and my heart does a skip-a-beat thing. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes for a long blink. “And the artist would agree with you about blues and limits, well lack thereof.”
“How do you know?” I ask, then realize Ben is the artist who made this. Duh, Felicity. “Oh, right. Do you have anything else here?”
“Yes, but we don’t have to search it out,” he says and I get the feeling he’s too humble to take me on a tour to show off his work. “And we’ve already been by one other one.”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t insult your work, did I?”
He laughs again, and fuck, I love when he does. “No, you didn’t insult anything. And I take criticism really well. I know not everyone is going to like something I make. You can’t please everyone anyway, so why try?”
“Very true,” I reply and his statement resonates deep inside. I take the words personally, thinking of how it’s taken me years to figure that out.
You can’t please everyone.
Not in art, not in life. Why waste the time and emotion fretting about it?
“Haters gonna hate,” I say and lace my fingers through Ben’s. We continue walking the path. “Life is too short to worry like that, ya know? It took me a while to realize that, to be honest, but I like doing my own thing. It makes me happy, so who cares what others think, right?”
He pulls me in for a kiss. “Exactly.”
