Ground Rules: Rewritten

by Roya Carmen

  I finally turn to him and pull his hand to my face. I rest my cheek against his warm palm, and close my eyes. I pull my face away and bring his beautiful fingers to my mouth and kiss every single one of them softly.

  He stares into my eyes with that familiar expression. “I want to take you home,” he breathes.

  We finally make our way out of the exclusive club. My shoe scrapes against the concrete as he pulls me swiftly and presses me against the rough brick-covered wall. He pins me with a hot kiss. And God I’ve ached for that kiss. It’s been forever since I’ve tasted his mouth. The kiss is amazing but I want more. His large body swaddles me, protects me from the cold wind. His kiss is perfect, soft. The taste of expensive scotch lingers on his lips. His tongue is hot on mine. My hand has already made its way under his shirt, searching for his warm skin.

  He tears his mouth from mine. “I want to take you home,” he breathes against my ear. “I want to make love…”

  Yes.

  I want that too, so much.

  He finally manages the two big buttons on my jacket and wraps his warm hand around my waist. “I want to kiss every inch of your skin. I want to study you all night, like a complex algebra equation, and solve the hell out of you.”

  I laugh. The sound vibrates against his throat. “I’m not sure that even makes sense.”

  “I don’t care,” he whispers. “I just want to go deeper.” His words linger in the cool air.

  Deeper.

  We can’t. As much as I’d love for us to make love, this isn’t what this is all about.

  I trail my hand south, feeling him hard against my palm, through the thick fabric of his pants. “You know what I want?” I ask, my heart beating at rocket speed. “I want you to fuck me in your car.”

  We’ve never actually had sex in a car.

  He trails kisses along my jaw. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, like he knows I’m putting on a show.

  No, it’s not what I really want, I desperately want to tell him. I want to make love.

  I’ve got to sell this. I can’t let him sway me. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. “I want you to fuck me raw.”

  He stills for a moment, and then he does something unexpected. He trails his tongue along my collarbone slowly and bites my neck. Hard.

  God.

  I feel my insides melt and swell at the same time. I’m throbbing. Suddenly, I really do want him to fuck me raw.

  “Stay…right…here,” he manages to say through ragged breaths. As he makes his way to the town car, his driver Tony steps out—Edward must have the night off tonight. I don’t really know Tony, I’ve only met him once before. They talk for about three seconds and Tony goes to take a walk.

  Weston beckons me over with a curve of his finger and a smile. I race to him in my heels. As soon as I reach the car, I pull him to me in a frenzied kiss. I pull down the shoulders of his heavy jacket.

  He laughs in my ear. “Settle down, butterfly,” he whispers as he opens the door behind us. He swivels inside and pulls me in by the hand. I land in a heap right on top of him.

  He closes the door as he kisses me. His kiss is rough, intense…wild. Everything happens so fast. Talk about a quickie.

  He hikes up the skirt of my dress and pulls down my lace panties, over just the one leg; they dangle on my left ankle. He grabs a condom from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth. I free him from his pants and he glides it on quickly. I swivel over him, so wet, he slides right into me. He sinks into me deep. It’s so deep in this position and he always hits just the right spot. I pound into him hard, up and down, as I hold on tight to the headrest of the seat. The car rocks with the motion of us fucking. I feel the waves coming on me fast, towering over me, I breathe into his ear. “Damn, you are so good at this.”

  “We are…good at this…you and me.” He breathes, just a second before we are both brought there, together.

  I’m nice and warm, completely spent, pressed comfortably against Weston, still reeling from my orgasm. “It’s kind of chilly out tonight, are you sure Tony is okay out there?”

  He laughs against my ear. “He’s fine, Mirella. If he gets too cold, he can always go in the club to warm up.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure all those gorgeous women could raise his body temperature.”

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were lovely tonight,” he says out of the blue, “the most beautiful woman in there.”

  I smile shyly. “Yes, you’ve mentioned, but I’m not quite sure about that.”

  “I don’t know what it is about you,” he says, not quite looking at me. “But you are so beautiful to me. You always have been. The first time I met you, I thought you were the most beautiful person I had ever met.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought too.”

  He bites his bottom lip. “I suppose that’s what they call chemistry.”

  I laugh. “Yes, we sure have that.”

  He pulls me to him and holds me tightly. I like lying in his arms like this, whether it be in a bed or in the back seat of a car—it’s wonderful in any case. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. As great as this is, I’m getting a little antsy. What we did tonight was definitely sex; a quickie in the back of a car, but what’s going on right here—that’s intimacy. Part of me knows I should pull away, and the other part of me longs to stay like this all night.

  “I’ve been thinking about another trip,” he says.

  I jerk back. “What? What kind of trip?”

  He smiles. “New York. I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned Chloe a while back. You said she was obsessed with The Lion King, and that she had never seen the musical. The Lion King at the Minskoff Theatre is amazing.”

  He wants us to all go on a trip. My heart hammers in my chest. “You want to take Chloe to New York?”

  He laughs. “Well, not just Chloe,” he clarifies. “Claire too. You and Gabe. All of us. My private plane seats nine people.”

  “Private plane?”

  A huge grin stretches across his face when he says, “Geez, Mirella, don’t look so terrified. You’d swear I’ve just invited you to go skydiving.”

  I wince. “Is it a small plane?”

  He smiles again, seemingly amused by my phobia—yet another phobia—small planes. “It’s a good size. Two professional pilots. The airline company has a perfect safety record.”

  I think about it for a second. What I should be really worried about is not the safety of the plane, but rather what Gabe will think of this little plan.

  I hold the small clear bottle in my hand. I press the nozzle, and spritz a soft jet of water on the thick paper. I dip the nib of my carved wooden pen in the midnight black ink and tap the tip of the pen. A gray cloud spreads across the paper, taking on a life of its own as it creates a beautiful ragged burst on the pebbled paper.

  “That one turned out great,” Gwen says, paintbrush in hand.

  I smile at her. “Yep, if I keep practicing, maybe I can finally get this right.” All it takes is a little perseverance.

  If only life were this easy.

  Gwen is working on a picture of a green barn, a watercolor and ink wash. It’s looking pretty good, she’s gotten a lot better than she was when we first joined this class, two years ago.

  I’m working on a somewhat abstract rendition of a vase of colorful flowers. My goal is to get it to look something like the gorgeous one in our teacher’s demo.

  “I love this one,” Gwen says. “Do you think you might want to donate it when you’ve finished it?”

  I smile up at her. “To whom?”

  “To moi, of course. It would look amazing in a simple matted black frame hung up at The Dunes.”

  “The Dunes” is the name Gwen has bestowed onto her beach house on Miller Beach. Gabe and I usually go with the kids once a summer, and it’s always so amazing.

  I smile at her. “Consider it yours.”

  “I can’t wait to get down there again
,” she says, a hand moving meticulously over the paper. She adds a stroke of ultramarine blue to cast shadows along the edges of the barn.

  I smile, brought back to those lazy summer days at the beautiful blue clapboard cottage. “Me too.”

  “We should all get together this summer for a weekend. You guys can use the house again for just you four,” she goes on as she takes a break from her painting. “But wouldn’t it be cool with all of us?”

  I smile. “It would.”

  “Or are you two too busy with Weston and Bridget?” she asks, a teasing tone lacing her words.

  I laugh. “Nope. We’re never too busy for you guys.”

  “Good.”

  After a beat or two, I venture carefully, “So Weston wants us all to go to New York…with the girls.”

  She sits up straight. “With the girls?”

  “Yep. I know it sounds crazy. But the girls have never been. Chloe’s never seen The Lion King. You know how much she loves it, and I would love for her to see it. It could be so much fun.”

  “Wow,” is all she manages to say. But then, after a few seconds of silence, she adds, “I’ve been thinking about you and Weston.”

  I perk up. “Have you?” I ask, plopping my paintbrush in my bowl of water. She has my full attention.

  “Yes, a lot. And I came up with this sort of analogy.”

  I smile, eager to hear Gwen’s words of wisdom.

  “Well, let’s say you’re at the mall and you see this beautiful jacket.”

  I stifle a laugh. “I should have known this little analogy of yours would involve shopping.”

  She smiles a big toothy smile. “Shut up. Let me finish. Anyway, this jacket is beautiful. The craftsmanship is fabulous, and the details are exquisite. You’re instantly drawn to it.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing exactly where this is going. “Yes…”

  “You know it’s probably very expensive, and you long to touch, to put it on. But you already have a jacket, a beautiful jacket which suits you, which fits perfectly.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, humoring her.

  “The jacket you wear is a little old. You’ve had it for a while. It’s a bit frayed at the edges.”

  I sit up straight. “Wait, are you comparing Gabe to an old ugly jacket?”

  She laughs. “I said the jacket was beautiful and comfortable. This new jacket might be all snazzy and all, but you don’t know if it’ll fit you right, if it’ll be too snug at the waist or under the arms, if it’ll be warm enough, keep you cozy.”

  I roll my eyes, having had just about enough of this little analogy of hers.

  “And another thing I didn’t mention, this jacket is not for sale. Another woman is wearing it. You’ll have to literally rip it off the poor woman’s back if you want it.”

  I see where she’s going with this. “I get it.”

  “Now, I’m sure Bridget has an extensive collection of jackets, but still,” she says with a sigh.

  “I get it, Gwen. Please stop.”

  I don’t need to hear it from her. I’ve thought about this stuff myself, plenty.

  After another beat, she asks, “How did it go in Hawaii? You never did talk about it much.”

  She wants the dirt.

  I’ve told her about the villa, the food, the helicopter, the martini club, and the snorkeling. I even told her a little about the night Weston and I had sex, but I left out a lot of details. I’ve talked more about the furniture in my bedroom than I have about our sexual escapades. I didn’t even dare go anywhere near that night with the three of us—Weston, Gabe and I. Gwen is pretty liberal, she’s been around and has a lot more experience with men than I do, but still, I don’t think she would understand. That little tidbit will remain my little secret.

  I add a few strokes of cerulean blue to a pink rose. “I told you it went surprisingly well.”

  “So the four of you? It’s not a problem?” she asks, a brow cocked. “That seems so weird to me.”

  “It isn’t. It really isn’t.”

  She gulps down a drink from her pink neon water bottle. “And this New York trip, you think that’s a good idea, bringing the kids?”

  “Why not?” I say, trying to convince myself as well. “We’re all friends. Families go on trips together all the time. Like us and you and Greg…we hang out at your beach house. This is not exactly revolutionary.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, but we’re not all switching it up on a regular basis.”

  I lean in close. “It’s just sex, Gwen,” I whisper. “We can keep the two entities separate, sex and friendship.”

  She bites her bottom lip, mulling it over. “So you’re telling me you guys are all best friends now. Like you are with Greg and me?”

  I smile at her. “Well, no. It’s not the same.”

  “Oh Hell, maybe you should start doing Greg and I can have a go at Gabe.” Her words float in the air, drenched in sarcasm. I know she’s kidding.

  I laugh. “Eww,” I whisper. “No offense. You two are great and all, but eww.”

  She laughs so hard, the sound travels across the room, and eyes dart toward us. “Yes, that would be so wrong.”

  “So wrong. We’ve been friends too long. That’s why it works with Weston and Bridget. We were practically strangers, from two different worlds, brought together only by this mutual attraction we all had for each other.”

  She sighs, “I know I’ve been hard on you about it, but one thing I have to admit,” she concedes, her words a whisper against my ear. “It is pretty damn fucking hot.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Something kinky.

  I SIT COMFORTABLY ON THE BED, legs crossed. “This spread is amazing,” I tell Weston as I spread the rhubarb-strawberry jelly on a goat cheese covered cracker.

  He picks up the small glass jar and eyes the label. “I think it’s French.”

  “I can’t wait to eat those tiny cheeseburgers,” I tell him. “What kind of cheese is that?”

  “On the sliders? It’s Swiss cheese, I believe.”

  I smile up at him. He seems to know everything. It’s kind of hot and extremely annoying at the same time.

  “This was a great idea, the room service in bed,” I tell him.

  He bites into one of the tiny burgers. “It’s fun once in a while. But usually I’m partial to eating at a table.”

  I laugh. “You are so conventional, aren’t you?”

  “Not all the time.” He laughs.

  I smile up at him as I bite into my burger. I close my eyes—it is divine. Why have I never thought to put Swiss cheese on a burger? So simple.

  He bites down a smile. “How about if we flip things around tonight,” he says with a sly grin.

  “Yes?”

  “We eat on the bed, and we’ll have fun later on the dining room table.”

  I laugh, but the thought really turns me on. “Sounds interesting,” I say, biting into my burger. But somehow my appetite has suddenly taken a dive. All I can think about now is sex.

  We spend the next few seconds looking at each other, with smiles on our faces.

  “So, last time,” I venture, “that was kind of hot…at the strip club.”

  He smiles, putting down his burger to pick up his glass of beer. “You enjoyed that?”

  I’m taken back to that sensual room, the gorgeous nude woman with the silky long hair, his mouth against my ear, and his hand on my knee. “You love watching women, don’t you?”

  He loosens his shirt collar. “Yes. I especially love watching you. God, I remember when you first stripped down for me. You were wearing that little black dress.”

  I smile at the memory. As I set my glass of cola on the tray, the ice cubes clink. “I was so terrified.”

  He sets the tray aside. “You didn’t have to be. You were beautiful.” He eyes me with that something in his eyes. I can tell he wants to get started on that dining room table action. But always the gentleman, he’s taking it slowly.

  “Remember whe
n you watched me…”

  I don’t even get to finish my sentence, before he pulls me under him and grabs my thigh. “Hell yes, I remember. It’s all I could see for a week; the vision of you on my bed, with your legs spread, pleasuring yourself. I couldn’t concentrate on anything at work. I was completely useless.”

  I laugh. “I could do that again.”

  “I would love that,” he says as his hand hikes up the skirt of my cotton dress. “But at the moment, I’d prefer it if I took care of all things concerning your pleasure.”

  I laugh. “Oh yes, be my guest.”

  “I like this color on you. Yellow looks great on you. There’s something so innocent about it.”

  I trail my hand down to his pants, and pull at his belt. “That’s not what I was going for. I want to be the opposite of innocent tonight.”

  His laugh vibrates against my ear. “Oh, is that right?” he mumbles. “What do you want to be?”

  I think about it for a second. I know exactly what I’m in the mood for tonight. And I decide to say it out loud, without apology. “Kinky,” I whisper.

  He pulls back to look at me, a flash of something wicked in his eyes. “Like you were in Hawaii?”

  I’m brought back to that sultry night—Weston watching me, Gabe deep inside me. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says softly.

  “I did it for you,” I confess. “Because I knew you’d like it. I wanted you to come to me.”

  He swallows hard, and his eyes seem to darken. “I wanted to come to you too,” he breathes. “But Gabe was kind of in the way.”

  I laugh. “A little.”

  “God, you were beautiful that night.”

  “Had you ever done anything like that before?” I ask, my words a little shaky. I want to know. I’ve wondered about this. I’ve wondered about so many things. There are so many questions I want to ask him, but I don’t dare. Tonight, I’m feeling bold. “Have you?”

  He pulls his gaze from mine. “Yes. Once.”

  Part of me is shocked, but part of me expected this. With his penchant for voyeurism, of course he would have watched a couple having sex before. “Tell me about it,” I venture.