Men at Work: Through the Roof / Taking His Measure / Watching It Go Up. Cindi Myers
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still abundant.
She’d given her clothes away for him? In spite of the silliness of it all, his heart turned over. She was trying, in her unique way, to let him know that he wasn’t just a plaything to her. That she would make an effort to live on his terms.
He deposited her onto the unmade bed, disturbing Gnarly, who had crawled under the covers to escape the chaos of the movers.
Gnarly evaluated the prospects for petting and decided that they were not good, based on the overabundance of pheromones in the air. He shot them a disgusted glance and headed for the closet.
Ben peeled off Marina’s aerobics outfit piece by piece, kissing every inch of skin he bared and loving the way her hair spread across the pillow. Her quick intakes of breath, her soft moans, the way she involuntarily arched her back—everything about her turned him on.
And when finally they were both completely naked, her heels pressed into his back, he reveled in the way she accepted him into her body, her gasp as he slid all the way home.
He withdrew and drove in hard, making her squeak. He changed their angle so that he rubbed against the spot that would make her the hottest, make her beg for release. He pressed her knees farther apart and filled her, possessed her completely.
She closed her eyes, her breathing coming in shallow gasps.
Ben bent his head and captured a nipple between his teeth. He tugged lightly, then swirled his tongue over the tip while she moaned. “Now, about my small penis. You were saying?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” was all Marina could manage.
“I think you have an excellent point there,” Ben told her, tonguing the other nipple.
“Oh, yes!”
“So, mi vida, you were in actuality trying to tell me that I’m hung like an…elephant. Right?”
“Mmmmpphf. Yes—oh, yes! Oh, Ben…”
His own breath began to come in pants. He ground against her.
She started to tremble all over and he thrust deeper, slower, the way he knew she liked it. Her body tensed around him and, with a small cry, she climaxed while he took pleasure in her pleasure before seeking his own happy ending.
Ben stayed embedded in her afterward, resting on his elbows and between her soft, warm thighs. Her beautiful face was flushed and her eyes had gone dreamy. At times like this, it was easy to forget that she wore money like a heavy perfume. Right now, she was just a woman—and he was just a man—and they were in love.
He stirred inside her; she clenched around him in an intimate embrace. And to his surprise, he hardened again. He couldn’t ever seem to get enough of her; make her quite enough his.
Was her friend, Chloe, right? Did the luxury surrounding Marina make him feel as if he had a small penis? Because he, the man in her life, hadn’t provided her with that luxury?
Ben almost snorted. Ridiculous. Chloe and her poppsychology.
Marina moved under him and, as he started making slow love to her all over again, a crash came from downstairs. She winced, and he rolled off of her. “Marina, really—what is the meaning of all this?”
She sighed. “I want to show you that I can live a different life. That I can exist within a budget like a normal person. That you don’t have to be intimidated—”
His spine stiffened and he held up a hand. “Who said I’m intimidated? This is crazy. I don’t want you to prove anything to me! I don’t want to—I don’t want to bring you down, damn it.” He got out of her bed and pulled on his jeans.
“Then what do you want, Ben?”
The question made him unexpectedly furious. “I don’t know!” he shouted at her, feeling like a jerk.
“So why, in God’s name, did you come over here?” Her face had gone white, taut and angry. “Just to torture me?”
He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have broken up with you in a letter. I’m sorry.” There—he’d said it. Now, why didn’t he feel better?
The words hung in the air between them, not solving a damn thing.
At last, she said in brittle tones, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stared at each other.
Ben hated the blank, frustrated expression on her face; hated even more that he was the cause of it. It made him crazy, but he didn’t know what to do. “What the hell do you want from me?” he yelled—which only cemented her expression. He saw her shut down emotionally behind it, saw her hurt.
She sat naked with her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands clasped over them. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. “Just your love, Ben,” she said simply. “Just your love.” She looked away from him, her expression miserable and lost.
He swore. He threw his hands into the air. Then he grabbed his shoes and walked out.
I am shit.
She was making a huge sacrifice—giving up her income, home and lifestyle. She was doing it for him. Why was he so angry instead of being grateful and touched? He didn’t want her to have to lower herself to his level, damn it.
He drove home barefoot and shirtless, leaving the shifty, avidly curious glances of the moving men behind him. Yeah, he was total shit. But he couldn’t seem to change that. Or could he?
6
“THE PROBLEM,” wailed Marina to Chloe by phone, “is not a small penis thing!”
“Yes, it is,” insisted Chloe.
“No, I’m telling you. Now he’s mad because I’m moving to a condo for him and he doesn’t want to bring me down. Can you believe this? I can’t win! What the hell does he want?”
“He wants to be top banana. The big, swinging dick in the relationship.”
“Chloe, can we please move away from the phallic imagery? I think you’re a little fixated.”
“Nope. Because what we have here is truly a case of encephallus, my highly scientific term for screwed-in-the-head. Didn’t you say that when he was just a kid, Ben’s mother left his father for a richer man?”
“Yes. But—”
“So he probably has an unacknowledged fear that the same thing will happen to him. Especially since he’s just lost his whole business. He’s subliminally convinced that now you don’t respect him anymore and he has to leave you before you leave him.”
“But that’s just stupid! I’m not going to leave him. I love him—God knows why.”
“He’s in the process right now of forcing you to leave him because he’s left you so that you can’t leave him first.”
“What? I’m so confused! That doesn’t make any sense at all, Chloe!”
Her friend said cryptically, “No, but that’s penis logic for you.”
They weren’t getting anywhere with this. “I think I need a nose job,” Marina told her. “Maybe he’ll come back if my nostrils are exactly the same diameter. I’ve noticed that the left one is slightly larger. By at least half a millimeter.”
“Marina, stay away from the mirror. You do not need a nose job, you need a lobotomy! If you schedule any more unnecessary cosmetic procedures, I will never speak to you again.”
“Fine,” Marina snapped. “Because I don’t understand your strange and tortured theories. anyway.”
“They may be strange and tortured, but they’re true, babes. So let go of your nose and step away from the mirror. Go eat something fattening and call me when