Her Private Party (The Fireworks Series)

by Alexis Adaire

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Alexis Adaire

  Other Wedding Season Books

  The Flirt Club

  About the Author

  It’s already nearly eighty degrees when I step out into the bright morning sunshine. I have Buster, my parents’ French Bulldog, with me, or to be more accurate, pulling me. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to Milltown Bakery, but it takes me through my favorite part of Milltown, past the hill with a view of Lake Jefferson in the distance.

  I considered leaving this place for Denver, but when it came time to make a decision, I just couldn’t break away. I grew up in Milltown, and my heart and soul are here. Probably always will be, too.

  Most dogs will interrupt a walk by repeatedly stopping to pee or sniff something, but Buster knows the morning routine and is a pup on a mission. It’s all I can do to keep up with the little guy.

  The aroma hits me before we even get to the door. There’s no place on earth that smells as good as a bakery in the morning, and this may be the best-smelling bakery of them all. The place is buzzing this morning, with some twenty people sitting at tables or waiting at the counter. I spot Milltown’s two biggest celebrities, Mayor Wilton Rosedale and former actress Amanda Radford, seated at the same table, talking over coffee and muffins. You’d think Amanda would be a little gun-shy about being seen with a politician, considering her affair with a presidential candidate a decade ago ruined her career and sent her running from Hollywood back to Milltown with her tail between her legs.

  “Holly Jones! And Buster!”

  Dave Morton’s voice booms out across the room. He’s got a tradition of shouting people’s full names as they walk in. If it’s not a local, he shouts out, “Welcome, stranger!” I’ve known Dave and his wife Clara for years, and I even worked here part-time for a couple of years during high school. They’re such great people, and I’m distraught that they’ve sold the bakery to an outsider from Rhode Island. I told them as much, but they said they’re ready to retire and relax. At least they’re not moving away.

  “I’m not talking to you, Dave,” I say as I slip behind the counter for a quick hug. “You either, Clara. You two are abandoning me. Who’s gonna shout my name when I walk in?”

  “We won’t be gone forever,” Dave says. “Eventually that RV will start to feel way too small for the both of us and we’ll come back to Milltown. And I promise if ever I’m here eating and you step through that door, I’ll shout your name.” He laughs and gives Buster a treat. That’s the reason the dog is always in such a hurry to get here; he knows what awaits him behind the counter.

  “What’s the matter, don’t you like Serena?” Clara asks, looking at the woman at the other end of the counter making fresh coffee. Serena May is the new owner who’ll be taking over completely the day after Independence Day. Today is the very last day Dave and Clara will work here, since the bakery will be closed tomorrow for the big holiday.

  “I like Serena all right,” I whisper, “but I love you guys!”

  “Free breakfast for you for saying that,” Dave whispers back, adding a wink. “Grab whatever you want.”

  I look to see if the apricot-cinnamon muffins have sold out, and am disappointed to see an empty tray in the display case. They’re always the first to go because they’re the best thing ever.

  “Looking for this?” Clara says, holding a plate with a single muffin on it. “I set one aside for you.”

  “Oh my god, you’re an angel!”

  “Clint Reynolds!” Dave shouts. “And Titus Peet!”

  I turn to see my former boyfriend and his best friend walking in. Holy fuck, are these two guys looking extra hot today in their simple jeans and T-shirts. I honestly think they’re the best-looking guys in the entire town, and I’m not just saying that because I occasionally sleep with one of them.

  Clint is six-one and built like a linebacker. In fact, he was a linebacker when he played defense for the Milltown High Miners, and a tight end on offense. His formerly long blonde hair is now buzzed on the sides and just a tad longer on top.

  Clint and I broke up last summer, just a week after senior prom. Looking back, I’m pretty sure we only stayed together those last couple of months because it increased our odds of being prom king and queen. Lo and behold, it worked! The split was amicable, though, and we’ve remained close friends. We even hook up occasionally, when we get bored. I haven’t had a steady boyfriend since Clint, and his only relationship post-me fizzled after just a few months.

  “Hey guys,” I say as they approach. Clint has his patented cocky smirk—something I loved and hated equally about him—and Titus’s shy smile is just about the polar opposite of that.

  Titus is six-three and played point guard for the Miners’ basketball team. He’s got the kind of sweet look that not all girls go for, especially the ones who like alpha guys, but I’ve always thought he was adorable. He has beautiful slate blue eyes, plump kissable lips, and an amazing body I used to drool over at the pool during the summers. I had a mad crush on Titus during my freshman year, but he never looked twice at me and the next year I ended up with his best friend Clint instead.

  Titus used to have kinda-curly brown hair, but he’s now sporting the same hairstyle as Clint. That’s what the Marines want for their new recruits, and neither of these guys wanted to risk letting someone on base cut their hair. Lucky for them, they’re both handsome enough to where they’d look good in any hairstyle. I happen to find their new conservative look pretty sexy. And I’m so proud of both of them for enlisting.

  “You guys ready for boot camp?” Dave asks.

  “Ready to kick ass,” Clint says. Titus nods in agreement.

  “How are you going to spend your last two days of freedom?” Clara asks. The boys leave for the Marine base in San Diego bright and early on July 5th.

  “Going to a little party tonight,” Titus says, “then the fireworks tomorrow, of course.”

  “What party is this?” I ask. “And why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Clint says. “The party’s out behind the old power plant.”

  “Jordana Bolton!” Dave shouts. I turn to see the new bank manager walking in.

  “You should come with us,” Titus says to me. “We can all ride together.”

  “A date with two Marine Corps privates? My own private party, so to speak? Sounds sexy! Count me in.”

  It’s a tight squeeze in Clint’s small Ford pickup. The three of us are scrunched side-by-side on the bench seat, thighs touching. Do they still even make trucks or cars with bench seats? Every little bump or turn pushes one of my shoulders against one of theirs.

  It’s not a bad way to travel, to be honest. It definitely gives me a warm feeling to be rubbing up against two young men at the same time. I’d love to go on a road trip with these hotties.

  I spent some extra time getting ready, taking care to get my makeup just right and giving my medium-length brownish-blonde hair just a bit of curl. I opted for jeans because they show off my best asset: my butt. And this loose button-up shirt makes my tits look not quite so big. Funny how girls with small breasts always want to make them look bigger, while girls with big breasts always want to make them look smaller. Nobody’s ever happy with what they’ve got.

  The old power plant is a long-time hangout for Milltown kids. It was closed back in the sixties, and ever since then the building has slowly eroded. Most of it is still there, on the banks of the Kiowa River. The cops
keep boarding up the doors and windows, and the kids keep taking the boards down. It’s a tug of war that’s been going on for decades now.

  Most of the partying is done between the building and the river, where there’s a wide bank and people have brought old chairs and benches. For a while, there was even a sofa, though it got grungy after a few weeks and was finally hauled off.

  The adults in Milltown, including the cops, know there’s underage drinking and weed smoking going on down here, but they choose to look the other way unless things get out of hand. Hey, it was fine for our parents, so they apparently think it’s fine for us. Cord Clawson, a young cop whose dad is the police chief, has even been known to have a beer with the older kids once in a while.

  The three of us have a cooler in the back of the truck for beer. Clint and Titus are nineteen, like me, so we can’t buy alcohol legally. But Clint is good friends with a mechanic named Brock who buys it for him.

  Tonight starts off weirdly enough, with everyone talking about the latest big Milltown gossip. It seems that Jordana Bolton, who has been the bank manager since early May, was robbed at gunpoint this evening as she was closing down. No injuries, but the poor woman was scared shitless, as I would have been.

  Everybody’s also talking to Clint and Titus about their haircuts. Half the kids seem to think it was crazy of them to enlist, while the other half admire them. All I know is that I’m going to miss them both while they’re gone. Maybe it’s time I get serious about finding a new boyfriend. I just hate the hassle of dating, and it was always so easy to just booty-call Clint whenever the urge hit me.

  Speaking of the urge, it always happens once I’ve had a couple of beers. Tonight is no exception. It’s not long before I find myself looking at Clint in that way. I would look at Titus in that way also, but there’s no use getting my hopes up. Hooking up with Titus is just a fantasy, but Clint is a reality if I just say the word.

  And I’m ready to say the word.

  “Having fun?” I ask, sidling up to him.

  “Always.”

  “Are we still going to take a blanket to the town square tomorrow night to watch the fireworks?”

  “Of course,” Clint says. “It’s my last night in town. We have to be together. Titus is coming, too.”

  “Great. Hey, you wanna take a little walk?”

  He looks into my eyes and knows immediately what I’m really saying. He finds Titus and tells him we’ll be back in a few minutes, then takes my hand and leads me toward the side of the power plant. After a quick check to make sure nobody’s looking, he slides a large piece of sheet metal out of the way and reveals a window with no glass left.

  He helps me up inside, then climbs in after me and replaces the sheet metal. It’s dark and musty inside, and I can barely make out the trash strewn everywhere and the graffiti covering every available surface. Clint takes my hand and leads me past the twin giant turbines which haven’t turned an inch in years, then up a metal staircase, down a hall that’s even darker, and through a door, closing it behind us.

  We’re in a small room that was once an office. It’s hardly our first time here, though, and I have no doubt that others have gotten nasty here as well. There’s a metal desk and nothing else. Because it’s not ventilated, it’s stuffy and smells like the same air has been in here since the sixties. It’s a little scary, which makes my heart beat faster.

  Then Clint wraps his strong arms around me and my fear instantly disappears, my horniness returning with a vengeance. He kisses me hard and I return it with equal fervor, our tongues playing as our hands already start to explore each other’s bodies, which we both already know so well. He slips a hand up my shirt and under my bra, squeezing my breast and thumbing the nipple.

  I break the kiss and look into his eyes with the dirtiest expression I can muster. Sucking in a breath, I slide downward, my hands running over his chest and his belly. When my knees hit the floor, I feel his jeans and find the hard-on I knew from experience would already be waiting for me. He unzips and opens his jeans and I reach into his underwear and pull out the thick shaft, putting my mouth on it immediately.

  I suck him for a bit, then stroke his cock with my hand as I look up at him.

  “Hey, I had a great idea,” I say. “After the fireworks tomorrow night, let’s get a hotel room and have a little firework show of our own.”

  Clint says, “We’ll have to get rid of Titus first. He’s coming to watch the fireworks with us, remember?”

  I lick a drop of pre-cum off the tip of his cock, then grin devilishly. “Nah, we can bring him to the hotel with us.”

  Clint laughs. “He’d be all over that idea. Dude’s had a crush on you since before you and I got together. Plus, he’d finally lose his virginity.”

  “What?” I don’t know which surprises me more, than Titus had a crush on me or that he’s still a virgin at nineteen, as handsome as he is.

  “I thought I told you that. Titus has never gotten his dick wet.”

  “Then we’d have to let him join in, wouldn’t we?” Before he can answer, I have his hard-on in my mouth again. As I suck him, it dawns on me that he might not realize I was kidding. Then again, of course he does. Clint and I have never talked about having a threesome, much less one with his best friend. That would just be weird.

  Hot, maybe, but still weird.

  For the next few minutes, I suck Clint eagerly, one hand sliding up under his shirt to feel those hard, chiseled abs. My excitement rises quickly as my fingers trace the muscles, his cock throbbing against my tongue.

  “Get up,” Clint says. “Let’s get your pants down.”

  In no time at all, my jeans and panties are at my ankles and Clint has me bent over the desk. I’m so much shorter than he is that I have to tiptoe to get my butt high enough. Then I feel his tongue running along the crack of my ass until he reaches my thoroughly wet pussy. “Just fuck me,” I implore, not wanting to wait. It’s hot in this little room and I want that cock in me while it’s still bearable in here.

  He positions the head against my bare lips and pushes his length into me.

  And it feels SO. FUCKING. AMAZING.

  It’s been a couple of months and I didn’t realize how much I missed dick until now. With my palms on the dusty desk, I hold my position as Clint grabs my hips and starts pounding away. After the blowjob, he’s already halfway there. It doesn’t take long before he starts moaning and slamming into me harder and faster.

  “I’m gonna come,” he says hoarsely. I could let him come inside of me, since I’m on the pill, but when he pulls out, I instinctively know what he wants this time and I spin around, kneeling in front of him. I open my mouth wide and look up into his eyes, porn-style, as he strokes his slick cock and aims it. Clint has always been into this, and I have to admit, I find it insanely hot.

  “Fuuuuuck!” he groans as he erupts, sending several sprays of warm cum directly onto my tongue. I provide the target until he’s spent, the last couple of weak streams hitting my lip and chin. I lean forward and take that hard-on back into my mouth, sucking every last drop he can give me before I release him and swallow. Clint grins as he uses a finger to wipe the cum from my chin and offer it to me, and I gobble it up. He loves how cum-crazy I am. While other girls are reluctant when it comes to semen, I look at it as my reward for a job well done. The taste? I love that, too, because to me, it tastes like sex.

  And I love sex more than anything.

  I stand again, my hand finding his cock.

  “My god, you’re amazing,” he says. “Now we’ve got to get you off.”

  I squeeze his cock. “Don’t worry about it. That was awesome. But it’s really hot in here. Let’s go; we can do me later.”

  “We’re going to do this again later?” Clint asks, trying to sound sexy.

  I laugh as I tuck his cock back into his underwear, then pull up my own pants.

  “Tomorrow, after the fireworks, remember?”

  “How could I forget about get
ting a chance to see you in your birthday suit on our country’s birthday?”

  We exit the office and make our way back out. I’m still stunned about Titus having a crush on me. I was smitten with him for so long, but always thought it was unreciprocated. And he’s so sexy that I have to believe that he’s only still a virgin because he’s shy.

  The cool night breeze feels delicious when we climb back through the window and rejoin the couple dozen others down by the river. Titus gives me a strange little look and I can’t help but wonder if he knows what Clint and I were doing. It seems like there’s more to it than that, though.

  I really wish I could read his mind.

  Milltown is buzzing with activity today, despite most of the businesses being closed for the holiday, except for a handful of restaurants, bars and hotels.

  My brain is buzzing, too, with thoughts of that blowjob I gave Clint last night. I purposely refrained from masturbating when I got home, despite being insanely horny. Now by the time I get him into a hotel room tonight I’m going to be really worked up. I’ll fuck his brains out and give him something to think about while he’s going through drills in boot camp.

  I pass the town square and see Marnie Reynolds, who owns an antique store. She’s middle-aged and never married, and seems to derive her self-worth from being more or less permanently in charge of the 4th of July festivities. The truth is it’s a big job that nobody else wants to do, but since Marnie is a total control freak, it works out perfectly. Just don’t cross her, from what I hear.

  I stop for a moment to talk to Jed Benson and his son, Rick, who produce the fireworks show every year. They enthusiastically tell me that this will be the best show yet. As I watch them unloading the various explosives from their van, I can’t help but think about Clint and Titus, who might be deployed overseas and have to deal with actual explosives in life-or-death situations. It’s not out of the question that one of them comes back injured—or worse.