Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked her when they were in high school. He would’ve been even worse than last night, if that was possible. Back then it took longer for him to masturbate than to fuck a girl.
Perhaps because of his mother’s situation, he’d hoped to marry. But he was getting a little old for that. He’d never found the right girl.
Thank God for older women. It was a couple older women who’d taught him sex wasn’t something to be rushed, but rather to be savored, as if sipping an aged claret. He’d never known the first thing about a girl’s body, her orgasms, or how to help her have a good experience. He’d rutted girls like any animal in the wild.
Once he’d graduated from high school he’d become fresh meat in his little town—or so it seemed. A thirty-something waitress working with his mom at the café was first to initiate him into the art of lovemaking. Next was the local librarian—he’d always had a voracious appetite for reading. After she took him to the store room he’d developed an equally voracious appetite for librarians. Perhaps it was Mrs. Samuelson who had taught him best to sort the wheat from the chaff. Passion counted more than looks or technique—not that they all couldn’t be related.
Mrs. Samuelson was a fair-skinned woman. Her body was well rounded and her passion ran as deep as the ocean. They’d spent many an hour searching for rare books at the small library. She’d met him a couple times at an out-of-the-way motel. She enjoyed riding on the back of his motorcycle down remote gravel roads. She’d taken him home to her bed and continued his education there.
Until Mr. Samuelson came home early from a business trip one afternoon. Two days later, Adam had enlisted in the US Army. Many other women contributed to his learning the ways of love, but none surpassed Mrs. Samuelson. She never had told him her age. She’d certainly have been over forty.
It was in the Army that he’d decided to make something of himself. He’d earned an associate’s degree by the time he got out. He passed through Bumper, Iowa on the way to California and never looked back. He’d finished a financial planning degree, but soon discovered he preferred working alone. He hit it big in the stock market during the high tech surge of the nineties. His smartest move was to get out before those high flying stocks plummeted.
He still dabbled in stocks as well as a lot of other adventures. He owned pieces of four race horses and a healthy portion of a stock car. He’d co-produced a few porn flicks as well as being a minority producer of a couple Hollywood films.
Adam’s lips thinned. Yes, he’d had plenty of access to women, and Mrs. Samuelson was right—passion was more important than technique. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Sarah’s technique. Son of a bitch, would she really have blown him back in high school? Or was she teasing him?
He groaned, remembering a group paper assignment in American History. While Sarah had talked easily with him, he’d felt tongue tied. It was easier fantasizing about her from a distance. He’d had no idea how to behave with a classy chick. And she’d always exuded class. She’d been his fantasy girl—seductive, but out of reach.
As they worked together in the library one afternoon, her soft breast grazed his bicep. He’d been flustered and crossed his legs trying to control his erection. She never seemed to notice. Looking back on that experience, he was fairly certain now that her tantalizing touch had been no accident. Where the hell was his brain back then?
Where the hell was his brain now? He’d fucked her like she thrived on explosive sex. Why hadn’t he practiced those lovemaking arts he prided himself on possessing? He could be a gentle lover. Passion didn’t always have to mean frenzied sex. But he certainly hadn’t been gentle with her.
Not that she hadn’t played to his unruly side. Whenever he’d begun to slow, she’d yelled harder. Her fiery display had shocked him. She’d certainly climbed off the prudish pedestal he constructed for her years ago. Had he misjudged her that much? Had she actually been the bad good girl? He’d never even heard a rumor about her, but then he rarely associated with anyone in her crowd.
He stifled a chuckle. So even if he was wrong years ago, could she really match the good bad guy? Did he care to know?
She’d looked quite smug licking her lips after bringing him off earlier this morning. Surely, she didn’t think she’d tamed him.
He might feel like a bastard because he’d had such unrestrained sex with his teenage vision of the right girl. But he was thirty-eight now—way beyond visions.
Sarah Atkinson hadn’t even begun to tap his sexual energy. She was better off not trying. Apparently, he’d fulfilled one of her high school fantasies. That was enough. He smiled. He would treasure the memory.
Damn, she had a body worthy of sacrifice. But did she really have the passion to match his? He sighed. Sometimes visions were best left as visions. There were fewer disappointments that way. That Sarah Atkinson had climbed off her pedestal to spend one night with him hardly made for a relationship.
And he liked his love life the way it was—uncomplicated. Maria, his live-in companion, had a passion that not only fueled his, it could even surpass. At thirty-two, her energy seemed boundless. Her passion, perhaps fed by the island lore of her ancestral homeland, Puerto Rico, had no bounds.
He’d known her for two years and they’d lived together for a year and a half. It wasn’t a committed relationship, but then he hadn’t had another woman—until last night. Maria had told him she wouldn’t take on another man while they were together. Women? Adam smiled. That was another matter. Maria had her share of women lovers. When she found a partner she thought he’d appreciate, she invited him to join them.
Maria never spoke of marriage. They had no future. Yet she never left him, and he stayed by her. They shared much in common, having pulled themselves up beyond most peoples’ expectations. Both of them had stayed out of jail.
Basically, Maria helped keep his life uncluttered. He appreciated that a lot.
Sarah Atkinson brought along a lot of baggage, and that meant lots of clutter. He’d done right to leave. He’d been more than rude. But he couldn’t afford getting tangled up with a goody-two-shoes.
His eyes popped open. Damn, she didn’t fuck like a goody-two-shoes. Adam closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep deciding he’d never attend another class reunion.
Later that evening, Adam pumped his cock in and out of Maria’s ass. She met him thrust for thrust.
“Give me all you got, lover. Don’t leave anything for next time. Claw my back, Adam.”
He scraped his fingernails down the length of her back.
“Yes! Pound my ass.” Maria lifted her head and howled. “I’m coming. Come with me.”
Perspiration beaded his brow and he accelerated faster, sensing his own storm surge. “Son of a bitch,” he moaned. Maria milked him with her ass just as thoroughly as Sarah had with her mouth. Would he ever come again?
Maria’s body shuddered beneath him. “Don’t pull out,” she said, lowering them to the bed. He tongued the back of her neck and rolled them onto their sides and cuddled her body close.
“Very nice, Adam,” she purred. After a long pause, she added, “So are you going to tell me about her?”
Adam froze. “About who?”
“The woman you were with at your class reunion.”
“But...”
Maria giggled and scrunched her butt against his groin. “It’s not a big deal, Adam. We’re not in a committed relationship.” She canted her head around and grinned at him. “Though I believe this is the first woman since I moved in with you.” She looked away, apparently waiting for him to say something.
“You’re right on both counts,” he said at last. “There hasn’t been any other women. And yes, I was with a woman at the reunion.”
“Your childhood sweetheart?”
“Something like that. We never dated in high school.”
“She was too good for you?”
“Uh, huh.”
“So you made up for lost time?”
“What’s her name?”
“Sarah. Sarah Atkinson.”
“Was she good?”
Could Maria feel his heart pounding against her back? “Better than I expected.”
“I thought so.”
“Why? How did you know?”
“Maybe it’s women’s instinct. You were so determined, so passionate. It was as if you were trying to convince yourself of something. Of what, I don’t know. And,” she wiggled her butt, “I smelled her scent.”
“But I showered.”
“But not enough to erase her scent away. Would I like this Sarah Atkinson?”
Adam grinned and pulled on one of Maria’s nipples. “Always thinking with your pussy. That’s one of the many things I adore about you.” He kissed her shoulder.
“So? Would I like her?”
“Probably. But I doubt she’s into women or three-ways.”
Maria shook her head. Her long black hair brushed his face and he drank in her scent.
“You should’ve learned by now,” she teased, “never to underestimate a woman.”
“Doesn’t really matter. I don’t intend to ever see her again anyway.”
“You are a man who loves tempting fate, Adam. It’s not exactly like you can prevent her from finding you.”
“She won’t try.”
“How good was it for her?”
“Good, I think.”
“You think. You ought to know. Did she boot you out of her bed?”
“No, I left.”
“Bastard.” She squeezed his semi-hard cock, still encased in her ass.
“Probably.”
“I’ll lay odds you haven’t seen the last of her.”
“On what basis are you willing to wager?”
“Call it women’s intuition,” Maria’s voice tingled with laughter. “So lover, are you done for the night?”
Adam blinked. Was he never quite enough to satisfy her? “Yeah, I’m drained.”
“Damn, this Sarah Atkinson must be good.” Maria pressed his hand against her breast. “I hope I have the chance to meet her.”
- o -
Two weeks later, Sarah stood before the floor to ceiling windows of her Chicago high rise condo overlooking Lake Michigan. Sailboats dotted the harbor, and she could make out three large tanker ships against the horizon. She watched a sailboat shifting back and forth, looking as haphazard as she felt.
She’d returned from Bumper, Iowa with an amazingly well fucked body and a badly bruised ego. Couldn’t she even hold onto a man for twenty-four hours?
She’d spent at least a half a dozen years safeguarding her virginity before actually giving it to her husband on their wedding night. She’d blown a lot of guys from the time she was sixteen. She’d even learned to love a cock in her ass—anything to save her highly valued virginity—and she’d had a blast making love with a couple sorority sisters.
Wistfully, she recalled those reckless years. Too bad Adam Granger hadn’t been more of a risk taker with her, or more aware of her proclivity for giving head. Oh well. It wasn’t exactly like she’d gone up to him in the hallway and told him she wanted to suck his cock.
But her flamboyant years came to a silent halt after she was swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance by a law student from a very classy and very wealthy family. She would have gladly given him her virginity before their wedding, but he refused take it. Daniel wanted her fresh and virginal for their wedding night. And she was—at least, that small secluded spot had been.
They’d had a good marriage. The sex was pedestrian, with the primary purpose of procreation. She hadn’t realized how traditional Daniel and his family were. They were conservative Republicans and fundamentalist Christians. After the fact, she learned she’d been quite the sinner in her earlier years. She did feel guilty about her past, but she wasn’t about to confess her sins to Daniel or to his mother.
She’d figured out how to fit into a conservative lifestyle and how to dress to conform to the image her husband desired. She gave up her aspirations for a career in the art world and channeled her energies into being an advertising exec and the best wife she could be. She’d stood by Daniel when he campaigned and won a seat in the statehouse. She’d been instrumental in his advertising campaign.
And then her life imploded. Doctors informed her she would never conceive. Daniel became distant. His family wanted him to run for the US Senate. They concluded that he needed a family to have a successful go at the senate seat. She became dispensable. She and Daniel quietly and amicably divorced after ten years of marriage. It was amicable, in part, because she left the marriage a very wealthy woman.
So she was cast adrift at thirty-two only to make a second huge mistake. Russell caught her on the rebound. Vice-president of a Chicago bank, Russell had made a couple passes at her when she was still married. Once she was divorced, he was relentless in romancing her. He flew her to Paris and Vienna, where he proposed. How could she possibly have said no?
For him, it was all about the chase. Once married, he turned cold and ignored her almost as if she was a thought he’d forgotten. She was a piece of arm candy he’d wanted for years but couldn’t taste. Once he had her, the fun was over. She’d thought she found a compatible lover. He didn’t ring her chimes, but he wanted sex often, which had held some promise.
When their marriage started to crumble she thought refueling their sexual fire might be what was needed. She suggested that he take her in the ass. Russell turned putrid, dashed to the bathroom and threw up. He never joined her in bed again. Three years with Russell was like three lifetimes used up. Their divorce was also friendly enough, in large part because she became even wealthier.
Since Russell she’d given up on men and sex. She’d never seriously thought of striking up a relationship with a woman. Both of her former college female lovers were happily married, at least as of the previous Christmas.
Even her vibrators must’ve been in danger of deteriorating from lack of use. That was hardly a danger since she’d returned from her class reunion, though. Sarah smiled and padded across the living room. She flopped down on the couch and untied the sash of her robe.
She loved teasing her pussy while remembering how Adam had satisfied her the night of the reunion. Was she regressing? She’d played with herself incessantly as a teenager, often imagining the bad boy of Bumper High. Now she was doing it again, even as a woman too close to forty.
She threw her head back against the couch and pushed a finger past her moist slit into her warm channel. She licked her lips. Damn, he was good. Even better than she’d expected.
She pulled on her nipple before lowering her other hand to strum her clitoris. She brought her feet to rest on the couch cushion.
What would he think if he could see her now?
She held her breath, arching against her finger. Would he want her?
She didn’t think he’d walk away. She slowed and caught her breath. Was Adam Granger capable of slow? He certainly hadn’t demonstrated any desire for slow the night of the reunion, and she hadn’t complained at all.
Since returning to Chicago, she’d done some research on the ubiquitous Granger. He lived in Pacific Palisades, no doubt in one of those large California houses with red-tiled roofs overlooking the ocean. He probably had a gardener and a maid. Somewhere along the line, Adam Granger had hit it big. Apparently, he now had a number of ventures to keep him busy. He certainly didn’t have to work to make a living. Not bad for the son of short-order cook.
Sarah widened her pussy with a second finger, maintaining her edge. She clamped down on her lip. She could orgasm whenever she wanted. Would Adam want her to finish? Or would he try making her hang on that delicious precipice as long as possible before letting her freefall into orgasmic bliss?
She blew air through compressed lips as she probed her interior. She was going to have to do something about Adam Granger. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life brin
ging herself off pretending it was his fingers, his lips, his cock.
Her fingers moved faster. He hadn’t bothered to call her, but then she hadn’t called him, either.
She rotated her head from side to side, driving her fingers deeper. Furiously, she massaged her clit. She wouldn’t call the bastard. Rejection would be too easy.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, lurching forward, riding her fingers. “I’m coming. Adam, I’m coming for you.”
Chapter Two
Boldly, Sarah rang the doorbell. She cleared her throat. The house was as large as she’d expected and it did indeed have a red-tiled roof, as well as a spectacular view of the Pacific.
The door opened and an attractive copper-skinned woman dressed in a yellow smock greeted her with a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, please. I’m Sarah Atkinson. I’ve come to see Adam. Is he home?”
“Ah,” the woman said, assessing her more thoroughly than she thought appropriate for a maid.
“You are his maid, right?” Sarah asked, brushing back her hair that was being whipped by the wind.
The woman’s face lit up with a smile and her eyes snapped. “Do come in. I’m sure Mr. Granger will be pleased to see you. He does know who you are?”
“Of course,” Sarah stammered, entering a grand entryway. “We’re old high school classmates.”
“So you know him well,” the woman said, ushering her to a sitting room. “Wait here, and I’ll tell Mr. Granger he has a very beautiful visitor.”
Sarah blushed and watched the provocative maid sashay out of the room to inform her employer.
- o -
Maria entered Adam’s office without knocking. “Do I have a surprise for you,” she announced, sweeping into the room.
Would Adam be pleased with his visitor? She beamed a smile as he gave her a distracted look from behind his desk. He should be. Sarah Atkinson appeared to be a woman of much promise. Maria’s loins tingled with anticipation. The classy dark-haired woman she’d just ushered into the house was stunning. The Atkinson woman’s slight air of vulnerability only added to her allure. It took balls to track down a man like Adam Granger.
The Reunion Page 2
