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“Then hurry up,” he said, throwing his shirt off. “You’re late.”
Ben stepped into the shower and Beatriz joined him. He wrapped Beatriz in his wet arms and kissed her hard and deep. She tasted like toothpaste and heat. He pushed her under the shower, soaking them both as he drank the water off her lips and neck.
“I didn’t get to read the blow job chapter in the book,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I read it,” she said, wrapping her hand around him and stroking. He breathed deep as he grew even harder in her hand.
“What did it tell you to do?” Ben asked, slightly panting as she stroked him from base to tip and back again.
“This,” she said, and went down on her knees in front of him. She held him by the base while her lips focused their attention on the tip of his penis first, licking and teasing it while her hand gave it gentle squeezes. The blood started pounding and he grew thicker as she took him deeper into her mouth. Had he ever seen anything sexier in the world than her full lips surrounding him? No. No, he hadn’t.
She took every inch of him into her mouth, until he nudged the back of her throat. He started to pull back, not wanting to choke her, but she grabbed him by the hips and held him in place. She sucked him deep before letting go to lick him again and again. He reached down to touch her face but Beatriz grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of her neck. He took the hint and started to move his hips in small undulations, fucking her mouth with careful, controlled thrusts.
A breathy “yes” escaped his lips along with a few more grunts and gasps of pleasure. He never recalled being this vocal during sex before. Then again, he never recalled having this much fun during sex before.
Beatriz took his full length into her mouth again and cupped his testicles. Within a matter of seconds he teetered on the edge of coming. He held back, though, took a few deep breaths. He wanted to enjoy this moment as long as he could. As long as he could was about thirty seconds more. Beatriz’s hands on him, her mouth all over him, the heat of her tongue, the wetness of her lips… It all felt so good he couldn’t hold on anymore.
“Bea,” he gasped as a warning. Gentlemen always warned.
Beatriz ignored the warning. He came hard in her mouth and she swallowed every drop of him.
She turned her face up and let the water cascade over her skin. He pulled her back to her feet.
“That was…” he began. “No. I’m done. I don’t have the words. You sucked my vocabulary out with my cum.”
“You don’t need to talk anyway. I’ve got better plans for your mouth.” She kissed him again, kissed him as if she meant it—the best kind of kiss.
After they finally broke off the kiss, Beatriz turned around and handed him the shampoo. He had way too much fun washing her long, thick hair. The back scrub turned into a massage. As the water poured down on them, they kissed and touched and licked and held each other until Beatriz pulled back and kicked him out of the shower. He apparently took up too much room for her to shave her legs. Outside the bathroom, he dried off and dressed in yesterday’s clothes again. As soon as Beatriz emerged wearing nothing but a towel in her hair, he kissed her goodbye.
“I have to go back to my room and change,” he said.
“I’ll see you at lunch.”
“We can go in together,” he offered. “You know, like a date.”
“A date? Us? Together?”
“Is that weird?”
“Incredibly,” she said, but he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
“So no?” Ben asked.
“We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. I don’t want people to think something’s going on that isn’t,” she said.
Ben stared at her. “I just came in your mouth.”
“Okay, good point,” she said, smiling. “Lunch it is then. Come back here when you’re ready?”
“Absofuckinglutely.” He kissed her again and left her naked and wet in her hotel room. Why was he always doing that? Walking away from her when she was naked? He considered this habit a personal failing, on par with heroin addiction or serial killing, something to be overcome as soon as thoroughly as possible. He’d get medical attention if necessary.
He changed clothes in his room. He gave himself a once- and then twice-over in the mirror. Lunch was a casual affair today. He’d put on khaki shorts and a fitted T-shirt, which was his usual day-off uniform. July in upstate New York. He had every right to wear shorts, right? And he did have good calves, or so his ex-girlfriend always told him. But was this outfit too casual? Would Beatriz like it? Would she think he looked homely? Or would she think he looked cool and confident?
“Oh, my God,” he said to himself. “I’m a man. Men don’t worry about their outfits.”
He changed clothes twice more before leaving the room. When he knocked on Beatriz’s door he was wearing slacks and an Oxford shirt.
Beatriz answered the door wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
