Reunited (BDSM, Ménage Romance)

by Jennifer Bene

  Reunited

  Jennifer Bene

  Text copyright © 2016 Jennifer Bene

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by James, www.goonwrite.com

  This story originally appeared in an anthology with The Erotic Collective, a delightful group of authors who always put out the hottest stories, but I knew the story wasn’t quite done for Megan and Eric and Colby. So this individual release has been re-edited, and a very special extended extra has been added to the end. As always, I have to thank my kick-ass editor for how hard he works to make my stories as perfect as possible. This story is light-hearted and fun, and I hope it fuels many fantasies, I know it did for me!

  Chapter One

  Megan pulled into the parking space and immediately dropped her forehead against the steering wheel. “This is dumb, Meg. This is the absolute stupidest thing you have ever done.”

  Lifting her eyes on a groan she couldn’t believe she was actually staring at Whittaker High. It looked almost exactly like she’d left it. A reddish brick building, rows of bike racks near the flagpole, and Henry, the huge brass wolf that served as their mascot, dominating the front walk. It wasn’t completely the same though. There was a whole new extension to the right that had taken over the old soccer fields where she’d played a decade ago.

  A. Fucking. Decade.

  Most people returned to their ten-year high school reunion with something awesome to show off. A fancy job, a success story, an awesome new body that may or may not be cosmetically enhanced. Meg was a vet-tech and was struggling to put herself through vet school on top of the apocalyptic debt her douchebag ex-husband had left her with. As far as an awesome body? A little too many Netflix marathons, accompanied by the not-so-occasional pint of ice cream, had left her softer than she’d like to be showing back up at her alma mater where she’d been captain of the varsity soccer team. Even her manic crash diet for the last four weeks had only seemed to enrage her scale into mocking her by only dropping a single pound.

  The bottle of wine she’d chosen for dinner the night before probably wasn’t helping her confidence in wearing a little black dress, with heels. The last time she’d worn heels had been for her baby sister’s wedding the year before. In fact, Meg was pretty sure these were the very same pair.

  From her parking spot she could see people starting to file into the gymnasium, and almost every one of them was arm-in-arm with their special somebody.

  Perfect. I’m going to be the under-employed, unfit, failure, divorcée. Welcome back, Meg!

  Reaching into her little purse she pulled out her cell phone and unlocked it, tapping out a quick message to her middle sister – the only sane one in the family: I’m not going in. I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.

  Sighing, she leaned back against the seat and watched as lights lit up the front of the school in white and blue, their school colors. Her phone vibrated: Shut up and get inside. Don’t be a pussy.

  Megan bristled. Cameron was just as competitive as she was and their trash talk was legendary, it’s what she loved most about her and why she had never been able to relate to their prim, proper, baby sister Stephanie. She looked up at the open doors to the gym one more time and responded: Fine, but if tonight blows you owe me wine, bitch. A lot of wine.

  Throwing her phone back in her purse she shoved her door open as the stifling warmth of a Georgia evening hit her. She tried to smooth down the dress, tugging at the hem to get it farther down her thighs. It felt too short, but Cameron had insisted it was ‘the one’ for tonight. How her sister had even heard about the reunion for the class two years ahead of her own graduating class Meg still wasn’t sure, but once she had there was no stopping the endless harassment. It had been either agree to go or suffer one of Cameron’s never-ending taunts. They’d be eating pudding in a nursing home and her sister would have still called her a whiny little bitch for wimping out.

  “I’m not a whiny bitch,” Meg muttered under her breath as she slammed her door and locked it. The walk towards the school felt like the green mile. The stupid event only lasted four or five hours, but it was going to be too many grueling hours of avoiding questions and smiling at people she either barely remembered, or didn’t want to recognize because she wanted them to remember the smiling, happy, successful girl she’d been in high school.

  Holy shit.

  The inside of the gym looked like a party supply store had exploded in a sea of white and silver and blue streamers, balloons, table covers, decorations, and banners. Gwen Stefani was blaring from the speakers about not being a hollaback girl, lights and lasers were going on the mostly empty dance floor, and people were gathered in small groups around it chatting.

  “Hi!” A chipper voice burst into life to her left and Meg turned to see a woman with platinum blonde hair sitting behind a table. “Welcome to the Whittaker High Class of 2005 Reunion!”

  “Uh, hey.” Meg tucked a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear, annoyed once again by the curl her sister had insisted she keep in. She’d just wanted to be in jeans, a t-shirt, and to have her hair in a ponytail. Instead she was dressed to the nines and wearing everything in Cameron’s make-up bag on her face.

  “Can I have your name please? And can you tell me if you attended Whittaker or if you’re here as a guest?” The girl tilted her head, her plastic smile not moving, and Meg suddenly remembered her.

  “Trisha? Trisha Cook?”

  “Uh, yeah, but it’s Trisha Henderson now. Do I… I mean, did we know each other?” Trisha tried to keep the plastic smile in place, but Meg just laughed to herself. They’d spent two years in English classes together, and had even been in Freshman band together before Meg realized she couldn’t read music to save her life. Not being recognized was the opposite concern she’d had when she had walked in.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m Meg, I mean Megan Harper.” Meg forced a smile for the girl who looked flustered and embarrassed at not remembering her. Her name was quickly scrawled on a nametag in flowery handwriting and handed over to her. She peeled it off and slapped it over her heart.

  “Well, Megan, have fun! It’s an open bar thanks to the alumni activities committee, so please enjoy yourself and relive your memories!” Trisha smiled one more time at her and then turned to the people behind her. A happy married couple, and as she stared at them Meg figured the woman’s big purse was probably brimming with baby photos. Grumbling she headed straight for the bar across the dance floor.

  “Vodka.”

  The bartender glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow, “Did you want anything with that?”

  “If it will make you feel better, go right ahead.” Meg leaned forward on the bar and the bartender laughed and started to mix something. It landed pink and fizzing in front of her and Meg looked up at him like he was joking. “Does this even have vodka in it?”

  “Yes, it does. You know, just a tip, before you turn something down you should at least try it, it’s a good life motto.” He shrugged a shoulder at her and pushed the drink a little farther across the bar, and then he was serving someone else. She picked it up, watching the bubbles slide up the interior of the glass as Missy Elliott pumped onto the dance floor and t
he lights moved to the beat. At least if she drank enough she could dance the night away and enjoy herself, nothing like a flashback to high school dances to make her feel a little further from thirty.

  “Cheers to the Whittaker High alumni activities committee and bless this open bar.” Meg grinned to herself and took a drink. It was a little sweet, but definitely had the strong finish of a drink with a good portion of alcohol.

  Time passed and she said hello to a few people who recognized her. Natalie from her soccer team – now married with three kids to a guy who looked like he probably ran a book club. Maria, her old French study buddy, was married, no kids, but they had just traveled to Europe the year before and backpacked in Spain. Daniel Palmer had been on the guy’s varsity soccer team. He was married, but his wife was home sick, and he looked exhausted, with a button down shirt a full-size too tight. When he asked if she’d like to sit at his table, Meg looked over at the bar and pretended she recognized someone and ditched him quick. She was not going to torture herself with awkward conversation all night.

  “Can I have another pink fizzy whatever the hell it is?” She sighed and leaned her head on her hand as the bartender appeared in front of her.

  “Decided you liked it?” He grinned.

  “It wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

  “See? Sometimes trying something new ends up working out perfectly. Here you go.” He slid the glass in front of her and wandered off. Just as she took a sip she heard a voice shout from halfway across the room, breaking through Gold Digger like it wasn’t on top volume.

  “MEG?! Megster!” Her eyes tracked until she landed on the one face she had completely dreaded seeing, while at the same time secretly hoping for more than anything.

  Eric Lewis.

  His smile was still Colgate commercial perfect, his dimples looked like they’d been punched into his cheeks by God himself, and he was all broad-chested muscle as far as she could tell through the very sharp suit hugging his body. Meg had to remind herself to shut her mouth, and stop drooling, and to fucking smile and not gawk at him openly.

  How had she ever dated him and why on earth had she ever broken up with him?

  Eric engulfed her in a hug that smelled like heaven and her arm slipped around his back to hug him in return, “Holy hell, Eric! I haven’t seen you in –”

  “Ten fucking years, Megster.” He leaned back and grinned at her with that same wicked smile that had quite literally melted the panties off her in high school. He’d been her first, and to date he’d still been her best. How many women could say that?

  With an internal flinch she couldn’t decide if that was actually depressing or not.

  “Are you really going to call me Megster all night?” She wanted to look irritated but it was impossible when Eric Lewis was standing barely a foot away from her, smiling like the devil offering her a deal.

  “What, do you go by Megan now? Are you now Megan Harper, esquire? Or did you get married?” Eric grabbed her left hand in a sudden move and then leaned forward to gallantly kiss her noticeably unadorned ring finger. “No ring? Now how is that possible? You’re pretty much the hottest girl on the planet.”

  She was shocked by his compliment, a blush reaching for her cheeks as she stammered out a response, “I’m divorced, switched back to my maiden name because I didn’t want to be Megan Broadway, and uh, thanks?” She winced when he burst into loud laughs that earned irritated glances from the couple behind him.

  “BROADWAY? Holy shit, that sounds like a porn star name! Ha!” He slapped the bar and whistled for the bartender, “Losing a name like that, and whatever idiot came with it, is worthy of some shots. Hey, man! Two double vodka shots!”

  “I’ve got a drink,” Meg’s cheeks were already hurting from smiling so much and he sneered at the pink fizzy concoction in her hand.

  “The Megster I remember liked vodka, or are you too grown up to do vodka shots now?” He grabbed the two shots off the bar as they arrived and waggled his dark eyebrows at her. She felt like she was sixteen again, sitting in the woods with him and their friends around a fire, about to drink vodka out of a coffee mug.

  “It’s Meg, Eric, and I have been drinking vodka. You just got here and need to play catch-up.” With a wink she snagged the shot from his hand and tipped it up. The straight vodka burned her throat a bit as she swallowed and she looked up to see Eric’s eyes not-so-casually locked onto her mouth. She licked her lips and then he let out a loud whoop.

  “WHITTAKER WOLVES!” He did the shot as a cheer went up from the crowd, echoing his cry. When he finished he raised the empty glass into the air and cheered again, and Meg couldn’t keep herself from laughing. All her fears about the reunion started to fade as she and Eric fell back into old habits like an entire decade hadn’t passed.

  After another shot, and another battle cry from his football days, he gave her that award-winning smile and leaned back on the bar. As they had been cheering she had noticed his ring finger was blatantly empty as well, but kept all her hopes in check. He was a friend now, a good friend she had lost touch with when her ex-husband, David, had started dating her and jealously freaked out about any male friendships she had. “So, what have you been up to, Eric? What do you do? Where are you living? Give me all the trite reunion updates.”

  “Oh, well, after I became a super successful brain surgeon, I realized it wasn’t exciting enough and started doing motocross – for charity of course – and then after I placed in the X-games in 2011 I decided to just move to LA and settle down for some zen meditation practices to chill myself out.” He smirked at her and then reached over to snag the last of her pink fizzy drink, after he upended it he made a face at her. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I have no idea! I asked for vodka, I got that.” Meg shook her head at him, not even trying to wipe the dumb grin off her face anymore. She was having fun. “How much of what you just said was true?”

  “One of them is true. If you guess which one I’ll reward you.” His dark eyes were suddenly darker, and his voice had dropped a notch and Meg’s throat went dry. Forcing her brain into action she ran through the possibilities, and decided to gamble.

  “You live in LA, but it’s not for meditation.” She narrowed her eyes as she spoke, and he met her gaze without flinching. Their staring contest went on for a moment until she started to second-guess herself, and then he cracked. His lips curved up, he cursed, and then he kissed her. His hand was around the back of her neck, holding her firmly against his lips and they were so warm, and his chest was hard against hers, which she clearly hadn’t noticed well enough in their hug. He let her go just as quickly, and she felt stunned.

  “You got me! Shit, Meg, how have you always read me like a book?” He grinned and leaned across to the bartender to talk to him, and then turned back to her. “I’ve lived in LA since 2011, but I’m there for music promotion. I work for a record label and I kind of help them get the right venues, get the word out, make sure events sell out.” Eric shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but she just stared at him. He was still gorgeous, his hair looked like it should be in a catalog, he had an amazing job, and he had just kissed her like she hadn’t been kissed in years and now he was acting casual. As if the earth hadn’t tilted on its axis when her lips had met Eric Lewis’ again.

  Ugh.

  She tried to compose herself and ignore the mild inferno that was currently trying to cook her from the inside out. “That’s awesome, Eric, I’m really jealous! It sounds amazing!”

  “It’s… okay. There’s really only so much of the fake, plastic Los Angeles crap I can put up with. Tell me about you, same reunion shit. Go.” He had been overly serious for a moment, but then he smiled at her when two more fizzy pink drinks appeared. She laughed when he handed her one.

  “I thought you mocked me for this drink?”

  “It actually wasn’t half bad. Go on, Megster, give me your whole story.” He met her eyes, not even glancing around, and she felt the heat simmering
in her stomach move lower. She decided to meet his sarcastic response with one of her own.

  “Well, I went to college for a bit, for a degree in biochemistry, but then decided my real passion was fashion so I dropped out and lived in New York to pursue it. I premiered a line at fashion week, but then decided to get married instead and became a trophy wife in the Northeast. He died last year and I’m now a wealthy millionaire fashion mogul.” Taking a sip of her drink she stared at him over the glass, doing her very best not to break under the stress of lying to him.

  “How much of that is true? Because you look incredibly hot in that dress and I’m tempted to say all of the fashion design shit is right.” His eyes moved over her and she almost choked as a blush burned into her cheeks.

  “Um, same as you, just one is right.”

  “Then I choose fashion design, because you never dressed like this in high school, but you sure as hell know how to pull it off now.” Eric leaned forward, his mouth barely inches from hers, obviously waiting for another kiss, but she lifted her glass back to her lips instead and took a slow drink, maintaining stoic eye contact with him.

  “Wrong.”

  “Dammit!” He laughed and pulled back from her. Just then a blond guy in a gray button-down and jeans almost tackled Eric over the bar. Eric bumped into it but rebounded in enough time to grab the guy with a loud shout, avoiding the catastrophe of knocking over the bottles to his left. “What the-?!”

  “ERIC!” The blond guy yelled as he leaned back with a big grin on his face, and Eric punched him in the shoulder.

  “Colby, you dick! Can’t you see I’m talking to -”

  “Meg Harper?!” Colby turned towards her and she was instantly struck by his baby blue eyes and his trademark, all-American bad boy look. His hair was longer than most and he had to push his hand through it to get it off his forehead. There was a glint in his eyes as he stepped a little in front of Eric to face her completely. “I haven’t seen you since graduation! Where the hell did you run off to?”