Page 37 of Dead Serious with Benefits
It took a few minutes to get the order and make sure the delivery woman had her tip before I made it back. I looked at his cup and snorted when I saw he had ordered a cup of tea, herbal tea no less. Apparently, caffeine in the afternoon wasn’t allowed any more than alcohol in Arlo’s book. It was nothing short of amazing that someone who clearly didn’t like to alter his brain or body chemistry with drugs, legal or otherwise, was so blasé about the lifestyle I led.
Moving from humming to whistling, I walked back into my bedroom and saw that the closet door was open. I peered inside, finding him dressed in everything but the jacket, vest, and tie. Iset the drinks on the table and looked him over. It was a little long in places, and not nearly as snug as you’d want in others, but from a glance, as someone who wasn’t a tailor, it didn’t look like it needed much work.
“Not too bad,” I said, thinking that once the outfit was fully tailored, his hair was a little more presentable, and well...yes, he was going to clean up nicely. “Now, let’s see what we need to work with.”
He didn’t speak as he stepped under the lights. Opening the drawer on the underside of the table, I pulled out the tailor’s tape and set my phone on one of the cushioned benches. I wondered if he had figured out my game yet or if he still believed I knew a thing about tailoring. I knew enough to have a bit of fun, though, and I hoped he continued to be a good sport.
I wrapped the tape around his chest, looking at the measurement before turning to my phone and tapping it in, knowing I’d delete it later. “Arms out, please.”
His head tilted slightly, but his expression gave nothing away as he did what I said. I stepped around him, pressing the tape against his back. I could feel his warmth through the shirt. After pausing, I pressed my fingers against his back to pin the tape and held them there for a moment. He was good about not moving, but I could feel the micro movements of his shoulders as he held his arms out. I could feel the slight flutter of his muscles.
My eyes flicked to his head, unable to see his face as he resolutely stood facing forward. The curve of his neck was in shadow, but I could see just enough to see his pulse. One of his shoulders rolled slightly, and my breath caught. It was supposed to be a harmless tease, a little joke for me to harass him playfully over later. Instead, I found myself enchanted by the movement of his body and hypnotized by the pulse under his skin.
Clearing my throat roughly, I shifted to wrap the tape around his biceps as he continued to hold his arms aloft. He wasn’t built as big as I was, but he wasn’t weak. His muscles were tightly corded, and I suspected they came from frequent use doing the same tasks, enough weight to make a difference, but not enough to build up any bulk. It was the kind of strength you could be surprised by when someone like that got their hands on you. It was deceptive, surprising, catching you off guard, especially when they used it to pin you down or hold you up.
His head turned slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Are you going to jot those down or wait until the end?”
“Of course,” I said, marveling at my reaction and wondering if it was a sign that I should give up or keep going. Despite my mother’s insistence to the contrary, I had never been one to give up easily, so instead I kept up the charade. I tapped randomly on the phone screen since he couldn’t see it before setting it back down. “Now?—”
“I believe the waist is next,” he said calmly, his arms at his side.
“Not your first time dealing with tailoring,” I said with a chuckle.
“A fitted suit is nice, but a tailored one has a more professional, clean-cut look that gives a much better impression,” he explained, moving his arms out of the way.
“Fair enough,” I said as I got on one knee. My hand brushed his hip as I tried to wrap the tape around where it needed to go to get the proper measurement.
If the measurements before had been unnervingly intimate, this was blatantly sexual. My hands were pressed against his stomach, and I felt his muscles shift again as he breathed. Warm skin occasionally pressed against my hands as I held the tape. More blatant was the fact that I was kneeling, my face level withhis groin. To my credit, I kept my eyes on the tape, even though I was sorely tempted to let them drift to his groin.
If allowed, it would be as simple as letting the tape drop, and sliding them down to cup him. Maybe I could reach behind and cup his ass, see if it felt as good as it looked. I wondered if he would let me, and if he did, how far would he let me go? Would he let me unzip the pants and pull his dick free, take him into my mouth, and... What would he look like, standing over me in my clothes, his cock in my mouth? Would his mouth twist in pleasure, would his breath come in harsh gusts that I would hear, or would he moan? Would his hands find their way into my hair? Would he stand there and let me do my thing...or would he thrust and move, egging me on while taking control?
“Feeling alright?” he asked in that same calm tone, his face giving nothing away.
“Dandy,” I said, wondering when my mind had gone from playboy with plenty of experience to horny teenager touching a tit for the first time. No, scratch that, I hadn’t been that wild and weird the first time I’d copped a feel.
“I believe...seam of the thigh?” he said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
It felt like the little game of mine had been twisted and aimed against me, though whether that was by his design or sheer accident, I couldn’t tell. I was helpless to do anything but continue with my original ploy, however, and moved my hands against his thigh as he spread his legs slightly. I was more careful than I had ever been around another person as I tried to make sure I didn’t shove my hand on his groin.
The pants were thicker than the shirt, but I could still feel the warmth of his skin bleeding through. Probably because the thighs were more insulated than his shoulders, but the intensity held my attention, demanding it. I could feel the thigh muscles just as I had with his arms, but these were thicker, built solid,and just as corded with strength. Now I wondered what it would feel like to have them wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper, or pressed against my body as he moved his hips to bury himself inside me.
My mind was yanked back to reality when I felt something brush against a knuckle as I moved the tape to look like I was getting a precise measurement. Face growing warm, I suddenly realized what I was feeling, and it was then that the battle I’d won at his waist was lost at his thigh. My eyes snapped up to his groin before I could think about what I was doing. The pants weren’t as loose as the shirt, hugging his hips and legs firmly. Enough that they curled against his groin, and I could see the outline of something steadily moving down his leg toward my hand.
Still growing.
There was a tightness in my chest that I’d felt before a few times, but it had been so long that it took me a moment to realize I was practically overwhelmed by an intense need. My eyes moved to his, and he stared right back. His eyes never wavered, never shifted from mine, and his expression never changed. Yet there was an intensity there that I had never seen before, as if a fire had been lit at the back of his eyes and projected its heat into my face and down my body.
“That should do it,” I said, pulling my hand away with almost painful reluctance. I had started the game, and now it was time to finish it. I didn’t know if he would have let me continue all the way to ‘finishing’ things, but I realized I didn’t want to go that far...not yet.
I was familiar with lust, desire, and passion. I’d felt all three to different degrees over the years. Yet I was having a difficult time remembering when I had felt all three bouncing around inside me to the point that it was hard to think clearly. Maybe never, because even when I was horny, even when I was deepinside someone or them in me, that loss of control, the intensity of desire growing to the point that I lost all sense of self and coherence, only came at the end of sex...or with the aid of drugs.
And one half-drunk cocktail did not count.
His head tilted slowly as I got to my feet, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “Find what you were looking for?”
Apparently, the game was up, and probably had been for a while. I thought about touching him again, but kept my hands away. As much as I was bewildered and a little frightened by the intensity burning inside me, I was intrigued. I wanted to chase it, see where it would go if I let it grow. To touch him now would ruin the potential that could never be regained after the first time. I was well known as a man who had no fear of indulgence, and didn’t tell themselves no very often, but I knew how special it could be when I finally did.
“And then some,” I said with a smile, resisting the urge to look down. “Got all the information I needed.”
