Deep (26 page)

His tongue played behind his cheek. “I, ah, I didn’t really keep count.”

“They didn’t infer you were some kind of slut, and you’ve probably slept with dozens more people than me.”

He gave a careful nod.

“Hundreds?” I hazarded.

He cleared his throat, turning away and scratching at his beard.

“Right. Not that it matters. And yet I’m the slut because I’m the woman. Like it’s anyone’s fucking business how many either of us has slept with or if I enjoy going out for a beer occasionally. I’m not getting behind the wheel of a car and driving drunk. I’m having a few drinks with friends at a party and organizing to get home safely. And if I’m taking someone home, that is none of their business. Those hypocritical motherfuckers, condemning me for these things. What consenting adults do in private should not be entertainment for the world at large. Nor is it in any way a viable judge of a person’s character.”

“Liz.”

“Mother-fire-truckers.” I gave my belly a pat of apology. “Sorry, baby.”

“Liz.”

“That double standard between men and women drives me insane.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “You want me to sue for defamation? I can get the lawyers onto it now, if you want. See what we can do. But they probably can’t do much. The press had a field day with Jimmy, and we could never get a retraction on even the most out-there stuff they wrote. But if that’s what you want…”

With a sigh, I went back to pacing. “It’s out there. No matter what, it’s out there now.”

A slow nod. “Yeah, sweetheart. It is.”

“I just … I never thought this would impact on my future this way. I knew studying would have to take a backseat for a few years to motherhood.” I pulled my blond hair back off my face, giving it a fierce tug. “I knew Bean would have to come first, that’s the reality of it. But I thought one day…”

“You will get to finish your study and practice psychology. Don’t you dare give into this shit.” Ben sat forward, elbows on his knees. “There will always be some fucknut out there saying something, trying to bring you down just to make a buck or because they can. Because their own lives are shit. You cannot let them win.”

“They’re saying it to a potential audience of billions on the Internet, Ben.”

“I do not care,” he said, eyes blazing with anger. “You will not let these shitheads win. You’re better than that. Stronger.”

I stared at him, amazed. “You really believe that?”

“I know it. From the minute word got out you were pregnant, you weren’t looking for someone to blame. You were pulling yourself together, planning ahead for your baby.”

I stood taller, just looking at him. It was as if I could feel myself being stronger just because he believed it.

“Well?” he asked.

“To be honest, I was kind of upset with your penis and testes for a while. I may have called your sperm some bad names.”

He chuckled. “Yeah? How you feel about my reproductive organs now?”

A sudden urge to burn up the panicky energy raced through me. “I feel that I’d very much like to fire-truck you.”

Once more he sat back, arms spread out along the back of the couch. Such a slow, filthy smile on his handsome face. “Just so happens, I’d very much like to be fire-trucked by you.”

“Child-appropriate dirty talk. There’s something very wrong with that.” I wandered over to him, kicking off my flats. Next came unhooking my hairband waist rigging so I could push down my jeans. My top and bra disappeared in a flash, leaving my panties for lucky last.

And all the while Ben sat there, taking me in, mouth slightly open in appreciation. “Fuck, you’re pretty. And I love it when you get all riled up and righteous.”

“My bearded beauty.”

He laughed, hands reaching for my hips. “At your service, sweetheart.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” I straddled his lap, bare-ass naked and perfectly content to be so. This was trust, giving him all of me, no holding back. “No more slow.”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled hard. “Whatever you want.”

“You. Just you.”

Our mouths met, kisses hard and soft, sweet and greedy. Everything all at once. Perfect. I slid my hands up beneath his T-shirt, pulling it up over his head. How annoying, leaving his mouth for even a moment. But for skin on skin, these sacrifices must be made. And holy hell, Ben’s skin. All of the art of his tattoos and the hard of his muscles. His hands covered my breasts, ever so gently massaging.

“More or less?” he asked.

“A little more.” Fingers toyed with my nipples, turning me right the hell on. “That’s it.”

I rubbed my bare pussy against the ridge in his jeans. Who even invented clothes? What an idiot. My hormones ran rife, my skin alive with sensation. Calloused fingers slid down to my round belly, spreading out over it.

“You’re fucking beautiful, carrying our baby.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Ah, sweetheart. You got no idea. You drive me out of my fucking mind.”

A hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place for his mouth. He kissed me till my head spun. His tongue exploring my mouth, teasing and tantalizing. I could happily kiss him forever. If only my insides didn’t feel so empty and needy. A thumb toyed with my clit, sliding back and forth through the ample wetness, raising my awareness of just how turned on I was. Like I needed reminding. Him in me now was the only beat running through my brain. The abrasive rub of his jeans felt … interesting good. For sure I’d left a hell of a wet patch to testify to that. But I seriously needed to get at what lay beneath, and I needed it now.

I raised up as high as I could on my knees, hands tugging at his belt buckle. “Off!”

“Where’s the manners, sweetheart? What kind of example you setting, hmm?”

I groaned. “Please, Ben, will you take your pants off for me? It’s kind of important.”

“Sure thing, Liz. Thanks for asking so nicely.” He wriggled down a little, dealing with his belt and jeans button and zipper far more effectively than I ever could. The thick head of his cock prodded at my slick opening. “Easy. It’s been a while since we did this.”

“I don’t think we’re going to have any problems this time.” Wet as I was, my only fears were for staining the suede couch. No way, however, was I stopping. Expensive furniture be damned.

Slowly, I lowered myself onto him. The swollen lips of my pussy parting, my body opening, letting the thick length of him go deep where he belonged.

“Oh god, that feels good,” I moaned.

“Yeah.”

Teeth grazed my neck, nipping, sending a thrill racing down my spine. Finally, I sat on his bare thighs, the waist and zip of his jeans lightly scratching my ass. Next time we’d make it to the bedroom. Get all naked and go for it. Next time. Because there had to be more and it needed to be soon.

I threaded a hand through the longer hair on top of his head, fucking up his too-cool rock star do, tugging just a little. He opened his mouth wide, nipping at my lips, smiling. Two could tease.

“You want to play, Lizzy?”

“With you? Always.”

“You’re killin’ me.”

Despite my dare, he settled for licking my bottom lip, sucking on it. Then the strong hands beneath my ass took the lead, gently lifted me up, before letting me slide back down. We both moaned then. Holy hell, it all felt so good. His cock was a thing of pure man magic. Don’t get me wrong, though, only this man would do. He made every piece of me light up with sensation, loving it. Loving him.

No matter his teasing, with his strength, he was so careful with me. Delicate even. No one had ever done that, made me feel like I was precious. Only him.

I got in on the action, raising and lowering myself with his help, riding him harder. Careful was all good and well, but a girl knows what she needs. I needed him. He filled my body in every way, gave me what I needed in a way my own nimble fingers never could. Also, emotionally, he left my hand way behind. No way could I wrap me up warm and safe like this. Fingers dug into my ass, his thick cock powering into my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on. His beard brushed against my cheek, then his mouth pressed into the corner of my lips.

“You’re so fucking close, I can feel you,” he said, breath hot on my skin.

“Ben,” I panted. I’d be embarrassed at being so easy to please, but psycho baby hormones, etcetera. I needed it bad with him, no excuses. “I need to come.”

“Get to it, sweetheart. Show me how it’s done.”

His slid further down, giving me more room to rise and fall on his lap, moving me into a better position without putting pressure on my belly. With one hand on his shoulder and the other between my legs, I got busy. Thighs working hard, keeping the sweet slide of him going in and out of me.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Hottest thing ever.”

His language truly was appalling during sex. Later, after I’d come, I’d definitely have stern words with him about it. In the meantime …

“Harder,” I ordered/begged. One or the other. With all the panting it was a little hard to tell.

The grin on Ben’s lips was its own reward. “That’s my bad girl.”

The hands on my hips slammed me down onto his cock. I centered my efforts around my clit. Close. So damn close. Felt like my body was about to go
bang.
Energy gathered at the base of my spine, all around where we were joined. I wanted that peak as bad as I never wanted it to end. Then his cock moved over something wonderful inside of me and I gasped. Bright light blinded me, my whole body tensing before releasing completely. My head fell forward onto his shoulder, all of me shaking and shuddering.

Ben held me down hard, his hips bucking, driving himself in as deep as could be. Amazing.

Then, I kind of died. Or did a very good impersonation of it, collapsing on top of him, totally limp. Maybe I’d just have a snooze right there, with him still lodged inside of me. Not an ounce of inclination to move. Hopefully there’d be no leakage of shared body fluids. Have to admit though, I didn’t really care.

Hands soothed down my back, tracing each and every ridge of my spine, massaging my ass, stroking my thighs. It went on and on. Him just touching every part of me he could reach. Soothing or claiming me, I don’t know. But I loved it. The scent of us lingering in the air, our sweaty bodies all but glued together. If I stayed sort of on my side there was plenty of room for the swell of my belly.

“Comfortable?” he asked. “Warm enough?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry they came at you like this, saying that shit about you.”

“It’s okay.” I sighed. “You’re worth it to me.”

“Sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head, the side of my face.

Nothing needed to be said, not right then. One day soon, I’d tell him. If he couldn’t feel it, however, with me basically trying to climb beneath his skin, to get as close as I could to him … well then, the man was a dumbass. My feelings for Ben Nicholson were huge. Epic. As far as his were concerned, with his hands traveling over me, treasuring me, they had to be good and real. They had to be.

Soon enough we were going to be a family. Already we were each other’s home.

Turned out Ben did get a somewhat hefty bill for the cleaning of the suede couch. The man swore it was worth every cent, bless him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Hell of a fucking coincidence,” said Jim, adding more baked salmon and broccoli to Lena’s plate.

“Thanks, babe.” She dove right in.

It was beautiful, the way he way he paid such keen attention to her. The woman was clearly his world. Lena had no sooner looked at something than he was serving it up. She shifted in her seat and he ran for more cushions. A queen couldn’t have been treated better. The love in her eyes and the soft smiles every time she looked at him made my heart ache. It was an intense love, so open and honest. Every love, every relationship, was different. And no way could anyone who wasn’t on the inside understand how that couple worked. Let people judge. People didn’t know shit. Shoot. At any rate, I didn’t need to be the center of Ben’s world. But I knew me. I did need to be up there, vying for top position with his music, having his trust.

One day Ben and I would get there. Without a doubt.

Each of the Stage Dive couples was pretty much variations of the same. Maybe that’s the way musicians and artists loved, how they committed. All or nothing. They were in touch with their passions, so those passions tended to run large through their lives.

We’d all attended the concert tonight to hear the first performance of one of the band’s new songs. Not a slow love song, though there’d been a lot of love in it. More of a hot, raw, rock ’n’ roll, doing-my-girl-makes-me-pretty-damn-happy kind of thing. A little awkward when you knew the guy and girl in question. David did like to write songs about his wife, and damn he did it well. The crowd had gone wild.

Yesterday we’d had a day off. Given that the news of my whorish money-making scheme had hit the papers just the day before, Ben and I had stayed in. It’d been nice. We’d slept until ten and had a late breakfast in bed. I’d even bravely dealt with all the missed calls from my mom. There’d been some yelling and tears on her part. A fair amount of
what would the neighbors think.
Thing was, my mom checked out of my life a long time ago, to Anne’s and my detriment. That I permitted her back in at all was sort of a miracle. Her opinion on my life was not required. I let her carry on for five minutes exactly and then told her I had to go and hung up. My life currently held enough drama without her getting involved. I didn’t want to hurt her, but nor would I allow myself to be hurt by her. The end.

Ben and I watched movies and caught up on some sexing. In the afternoon a plethora of boxes and bags from places like A Pea in the Pod, Neiman Marcus, and some boutique called Veronique arrived. All the maternity wear and then some. I didn’t dare ask what it cost. Ben gave me the Look. What with now being in a relationship and having my own Look, signifying a line which should not be crossed, I respected his need to support me and Bean and wisely let it go. At seventeen weeks, I looked rockin’ good that night in my maternity jeans and black tunic, both of which actually fit for a change.