Shouldn't Be

by Silvey, Melissa

  He groaned loudly as her tongue gently touched his earlobe. He placed his palms flat on the couch beside her calves. Her hands caressed the back of his neck, then her nails scratched up over his scalp through his hair.

  “What does your lip gloss taste like today?” he wondered, as his hips bucked off the couch, grinding the hard-on he’d had for over a week into her. She reacted eagerly, wiggling her round ass against it.

  “No lip gloss today,” she pouted as her teeth grazed against his skin. “It’s just me.”

  “What do you taste like?” He couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. They circled her waist, and held her against him. His mouth attached to her shoulder.

  “This guy I met at a bar told me I taste like watermelon,” she whispered.

  He effortlessly flipped her over, placing her on her back against the couch. Her hands went out to caress his chest, and he practically ripped his shirt off to expose his skin for her.

  “I want you,” she moaned without prompting.

  “Yea?” he asked, as his hands found her breasts, while hers travelled down his chest to his stomach.

  “Yea. I want this,” she stated fervently, as she grabbed his cock through his tailored dress pants.

  “You want it, do ya?” He pushed it into her hand as he leaned forward to kiss her roughly. He drowned, and was revived at the same time in her mouth. He helped her with his pants and underwear, and jerked hers aside fluidly. And then he was inside her.

  He moaned loudly, the battle cry of a man who had fought for and won what he desired. She felt so warm around his throbbing cock. Tight, wet, and oh, so velvety smooth. His mouth covered hers as she cried out against him. He moved into her slowly, feeling a sensation he’d never felt before. It was so soft around his cock he nearly lost his mind.

  Abruptly he realized why. He was so eager to get inside her, he’d forgotten the condom. He pulled away from her mouth and stopped moving inside her. He had to make himself breathe, before he asked, “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yes,” she said raggedly.

  “I forgot the condom.” He didn’t do it on purpose, and he’d never done it before. But he couldn’t tell her all that right now.

  “I know.” She tried not to sound angry, but some of her emotion bled over into her voice.

  “Do I need to…” He didn’t finish.

  “Yes,” she insisted.

  He pulled out quickly, and sat down on the couch between her legs. He grabbed a condom out of his pocket, and pushed off his pants. She placed her forearm over her eyes, as if shielding herself from him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve never…”

  “It’s okay,” she sighed, but her eyes were closed tight.

  He could see she was upset. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, as he took one nipple in his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said over and over, as his hot tongue moved over her stomach to find her light red tuft of pubic hair. He blew on it lightly, then took her clit and lips into his mouth hungrily. He didn’t say he was sorry again, but she knew. He brought her to orgasm with his mouth and his fingers, and when he finally entered her again, they were protected.

  She had to admit it felt different, but it was right. She nodded up to him when he was all the way inside her.

  “You like it?” he asked tenderly.

  “I like it,” she moaned, as he moved slowly in and out.

  “Good,” he sighed as he kissed her. He deftly brought them both to climax.

  * * *

  He lay with his head on her breast, still inside her. Her heart raced, but gradually returned to normal. He traced the veins over her chest and up her neck gently. He’d never met anyone like her. She was beautiful and desirable, had a keen legal mind, and an intellect he envied. She wasn’t only perfect, she was unreal.

  And for whatever reasons, she wanted him too. “Are you okay?” he asked, as he moved to gaze up at her.

  She stared at the ceiling. Was she okay? She was sleeping with her boss, who was gorgeous, rich, and charming, and played the guitar while singing like an angel. Surely there was a catch somewhere. “I think so,” she said with a grin.

  “Good,” he said, as he quickly pulled away. He stood up and searched around for a trash can, and then deposited the used condom into it. When he turned back around and walked toward her, he was still hard.

  “Does that thing ever go down?” She tried really hard not to let out the slightest hint of a laugh when she said it. His eyes squinted and his brow furrowed when he turned toward her. “I’m just curious,” she said innocently.

  “When I’m not around you,” he said honestly, as he pulled up his boxers. “No, wait, even then it’s hard if I think about you.”

  “I’m serious,” she said with a smile as she watched him.

  “I am too,” he said sincerely. “Get dressed, I’m hungry.”

  “Okay,” she said dolefully as she sat up.

  “What are you in the mood for?” he asked as he pulled his shirt on. “Chinese?”

  “I hate Chinese,” she said as she also pulled on her shirt. She felt empowered saying it out loud.

  “Thai?” he asked, glancing over to watch her dress.

  “Nope,” she shook her head. She stood to pull on her skirt, as he pulled on his pants.

  “Italian?” he questioned, as they both pulled on their jackets. She flipped her ponytail from underneath it, then adjusted it and squared her shoulders. “You will have dinner with me, won’t you?” He pulled her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

  The emotions she saw there frightened her, and excited her at the same time. She smiled then, and kissed his lips. “Mexican?”

  “I hate Mexican,” he teased her lightly. She pouted as she followed him toward the elevator. “Mexican it is.” He grinned when she smiled up at him excitedly.

  “Good night, Mr. Aronson,” the receptionist said when they walked past.

  “Good night, Hilda,” he responded with a wave.

  “Does she know?” Kaitlyn asked after they were on the elevator.

  “That we’re going to dinner?” he teased.

  “That we had sex?” she whispered.

  “How could she possibly know that?” He led her to the parking lot. Not many cars remained at that time of the evening. She didn’t realize he was leading her to his car, until they stood beside an indecently expensive automobile. “Am I driving my car, or…?”

  “Your car,” she agreed. He pushed a button on his fob, and the doors opened upward. “That is insane!” she exclaimed as he helped her inside, before he pushed the button again and the doors closed.

  When they were inside and he had started the car, he turned toward her and asked, “Am I staying at your place tonight, or are you staying at mine?”

  She sat in stunned silence. Alex had never spent the night at her place, and she hadn’t even seen his. She assumed he lived in the dorms. “What are you thinking?”

  How did he know every time she thought of Alex? She exhaled and said, “Are we ready for that?”

  “Well, it’s just that I have this raging hard-on for you, and I think it’ll take one or two thousand more times having sex with you before it’ll go down.”

  His answer was the brightest smile he’d ever seen, from the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And it was good enough. He revved the engine of the car, and put it in gear. “Can you drive a stick shift, or will I have to teach you?”

  “I don’t…” She answered with wide eyes.

  “You’ll learn, sweetie,” he said confidently, as he peeled out.

  Chapter Eight

  When they arrived at the restaurant, he handed over his keys to a valet. She watched the car drive to the intersection, wait on the light, then turn left and disappear down the side street. “Aren’t you ever worried that you’ll hand the keys over to that car and never see it again?”

  “That’s what insurance is for, sweetheart,”
he chuckled in her ear.

  She enjoyed the sound. His voice was magical; she was immediately drawn in by it. He would make an exceptional trial lawyer; no jury would stand a chance. He would give his final arguments and the jury would probably give him a standing ovation.

  He took her arm and led her inside. She had no idea how he did it, but he found an upscale Mexican restaurant on the outskirts of the city. She’d never heard of the place, much less eaten there. But several couples waited on the front porch enjoying the summer evening, and the bar was nearly full. He placed his name on the waiting list, and they took a seat at the bar. He ordered a Mexican beer, and she ordered a margarita.

  He gazed at her longingly, and after several moments took a sip of his beer. “So Mexican is your favorite, huh?”

  She shrugged. “Ask me tomorrow and it might be something different,” she admitted. “My favorites are fluid, like my taste in music.”

  “Except no to Chinese,” he noted. She got that faraway look in her eyes again. He watched, but didn’t comment this time. She was so easy for him to read it was almost unfair.

  “I like white rice,” she chuckled. “Some of it is okay, sometimes I guess.” The hostess called his name just then, and they were seated in a booth near the back of the restaurant. She wondered if people turned to stare when they walked past, since she was with the son of Levi Aronson. No one seemed to notice, though.

  “Tell me what kind of music you like,” he asked after they ordered.

  “I like pop, a little bit of classic rock, some eighties.” She casually played with the stem of her glass, shyly hoping she’d said the right thing. “But my favorite, to be honest, is you with your guitar.” She looked up just then to see his reaction. He tried to hide how happy it made him, but she could see that the corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks were a tad bit pink.

  “Really?”

  “Umhmmm…” He seemed shocked by her revelation, as if no one had ever told him that. “You have the most amazing voice. Do I have to keep telling you that?”

  “Yes, you can keep telling me until I believe you.” His fingertips found hers, and she knew he meant more than just his music.

  “Why are you so insecure? You know you’re amazing.” She opened her hand and allowed his fingers to play over her palm and the inside of her wrist. She grinned at him as chill bumps rose over her skin. “And you know what I mean.”

  “It’s, you know, unhappy stories.” He avoided her question, but he didn’t stop strumming his fingers over her skin. “Normal young kid angsty stuff, too much to talk about.”

  “We’re in the middle of waiting for dinner, we have nothing but time,” she challenged. He pulled away from her, though, and returned to his beer.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He shook his head for emphasis. “I was an ugly kid, but I eventually beat puberty.”

  “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you were anything but an adorable kid.” She dug into fresh chips and salsa, enjoying one of her favorite foods with gusto. He watched, but didn’t join her.

  “I was a fat kid. I was teased pretty regularly.” He had a melancholy tone. She could tell he was hurt as a child, and possibly still carried some residual pain.

  “But you’re so fucking hot now.” She couldn’t emphasize it enough. “Do you understand how hot you are? I mean, you have eyes. Don’t you look in the mirror and think, ‘Wow, I’m extremely attractive now’?”

  “Quit,” he blushed. He refused to say anything else, but his hazel eyes flirted outrageously.

  Their meals were delivered, and she noticed that he only ordered a salad. She ordered a little of everything, and she ate heartily.

  “Is that all?” she asked when he finished his salad and she started to slow down.

  “Isn’t that enough?” He ordered a glass of water while she finished eating.

  No, she wanted to say. There weren’t a whole lot of kids who weren’t teased. Being a redhead, she herself experienced plenty of it. But there was something in his tone, especially before they had sex. He constantly needed reassurance.

  “Are you sure there’s not something else?” She finished her dinner and her second margarita, and gazed at him as he struggled with her question.

  “Shiksas,” he shrugged.

  “Should I ask,” she wondered.

  “Probably not,” he shrugged, as he pulled out his wallet to pay the bill.

  “I’ll pay for mine,” she stated as she grabbed her purse. “I ate way more than you did.”

  “You will not pay when I asked you out,” he countered, and handed over his card.

  “That’s not fair,” she grumbled, “But thank you.” She said it sweetly, and smiled brightly.

  “You’re very welcome, shiksa,” he grinned mischievously.

  * * *

  “Let’s do it in the car,” Ruben practically begged. One hand had already found its way under her navy skirt, the other tugged at the ponytail in her flame red hair.

  “I can’t stretch my legs out, and I’m barely over five feet tall,” she complained half-heartedly; his car really was incredible.

  “I’ve had it for almost a year, and it needs to be christened.” He pushed the seat all the way back, put the convertible top down, and patted his thighs for her to sit on them.

  “Do you think that’s all I need?” she asked with a grin on her face.

  “Oh, I know exactly what you need,” he groaned, and opened the fly of his dress slacks. “Come over here and get it.”

  As she stared at it, it seemed to grow bigger. She didn’t think it was possible. “In the car?” she protested again. But she was already trying to figure out a way to carefully climb into his lap, and not pull a muscle in the process. Thank God for yoga.

  “Take off your shirt,” he ordered. “I like to see you in just your bra.”

  “Ben.” She whined it in three distinctly different syllables, and he loved every one of them. He started to stroke himself as she unbuttoned her shirt. “That’s mine,” she stated possessively, as she pushed his hand away.

  He didn’t realize until that moment how much he wanted her to be possessive of him. He craved it. He ached for her to exert her authority, as if she understood she already owned him. “Do you want me?”

  “You know I do,” she said, as she flung the shirt out of the car. It landed on his garage floor. As she scooted into his lap, her breasts were shoved right into his face.

  “I love your boobs,” he said, as he leaned forward to nibble them.

  “Ow!” she exclaimed, but didn’t move away. “Why do you have to bite me all the time?”

  “I’m marking my territory, sweetie.” He sucked her pale skin into his mouth as his hands rubbed over her thighs and up to her ribcage. “So you won’t let anyone see this skin but me.”

  “How in the hell do you do that to me?” The jolt of electricity she felt up her spine only intensified with every encounter. Her body’s reaction to him increased with the knowledge of his prowess. The more he made her orgasm, the more she wanted it, and her body knew it somehow. “How do you say things that should make me angry, but they totally turn me on?”

  “Why would my being jealous make you angry?” His hands guided her body against his. He loved the feel of her silk panties against his cock, but needed the feeling of being inside her even more.

  She looked away for just a moment, and thought of Alex. Alex hadn’t returned yet from his “basketball camp”, so she hadn’t confronted him about their relationship. She didn’t even know what to say to him. “Sorry, I’m fucking my boss,” just didn’t seem appropriate.

  “Don’t fucking think about him,” Ruben spat out.

  “About whom?” She returned her gaze to his hazel eyes.

  “I have no idea,” he groaned. “Don’t think of anyone but me.” His fingers weaved their way inside her, and her lips quivered as she exhaled.

  “I’m going to ruin your pants,” she said into his neck, as the
tension inside her became unbearable.

  “That’s what dry cleaners are for.” His tone was casual, although a little huskier than usual. He withdrew his fingers, as if he had a fetish for torture. “Tell me why I should make you cum, counselor.”

  “Fuck Ben, why do you do this to me?” she groaned. She was on his lap in his Italian sports car, parked inside his garage. She was half naked, and way past aroused. And he had to continue to play with her. She wiggled against his huge manhood, and he moaned loudly. But when she reached down between his legs, he grabbed her hands roughly and held them behind her back. She was trapped in the most awkward position, and she was exactly where she wanted to be.

  “You know why, Kaitlyn,” he whispered into her ear, then bit her earlobe. “Because I need to know how much you want me.”

  “Jesus, you know I want you,” she murmured.

  “Then why do you still think of him?” he pressed. “Do you still want him?”

  “If you only knew.” Her words were ragged; aching with a level of desire that she had never experienced before Ruben Aronson came into her life. She’d never had such intense orgasms with a man before him. And he was jealous of Alex?

  “Tell me,” he insisted. His fingers lightly traced the top of her bra.

  She shuddered as she whispered, “Please, Ben.”

  He jerked her ample breasts free, not caring if he ripped the expensive garment or not. “I want to know why you still think of him.” He flicked at both nipples with his tongue, then grabbed them both and pinched them. “Tell me.”

  “He’s small,” she yelled after several moments. “It’s hard as hell to get him turned on, and most of the time he can’t keep an erection.”

  His fingers lessened their pressure, and his tongue returned to lap at her hard, sensitive buds. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way a man could be alone with you, and not ravish you.”

  “You’re not ravishing me,” she reminded him.