by Joanna Blake
Nevada
I held the tray aloft and put another used plate on it. I was only cleaning up. I had yet to be trusted with a full glass of anything or an hors d'oeuvres.
It was exactly the sort of party that made me uncomfortable growing up. Not that I'd been invited to many. But my mother and I always attended the Westfield's Christmas party. And sometimes other holidays. Like Thanksgiving. And the Fourth of July, which was actually kind of fun.
Mr. Westfield had his own fireworks most years. People sat out on the veranda and watched them while sipping cocktails. I usually found a quiet spot and watched alone or with Frannie.
I knew it was childish but I loved fireworks. They made me feel like anything was possible, kind of like I did on Christmas mornings as a kid. Before our lives had gone to hell.
Bringing me back to this particular hell.
I walked through the room, feeling invisible. Trying to sink into the carpet. Clay had been right. I'd crossed over into a different realm by taking this job. Sure it was just one time, but I felt painfully uncomfortable at the thought of crossing paths with him or any of his friends.
Thankfully, that had yet to happen.
I scooted into the servants hallway and headed for the kitchen. My tray was full. I was pretty sure I'd end up doing dishes at some point. I wasn't really looking forward to that.
I bumped into someone and looked up.
My stomach did a little flip flop.
My luck had just ran out.
Clay's bright blue eyes were scanning me appreciatively.
"I approve."
"Excuse me?"
"I was wrong. You look incredible in that uniform. I would let you serve me all day."
He leaned forward as I stiffened in shock. One arm braced against the wall and the other reached out to stroke my cheek.
"And night."
"Clay! Not cool. I'm trying to work."
He stepped back and toasted me with an overfull glass of booze. Bourbon I thought, not that I knew much about alcohol. I tried to brush past him but instead he grabbed me and backed me against a door. I was trying not to drop the tray of waterford crystal glasses or fine porcelain plates. That's how I missed him turning the knob and opening the door behind me.
The next thing I knew I was in a dark pantry. Alone. With Clayton Westfield.
A very, very drunk Clayton Westfield.
He took the tray from my hands and shoved it onto the counter. He looked at me hungrily for a spilt second. And then he pounced.
His hands were on my hips, dragging me against his body. His lips found mine. I opened my mouth for air- out of surprise- and his tongue swooped inside my mouth.
I stopped thinking at that moment. The feel of him against me was overwhelming. His arms felt so powerful and strong around me. Wonderful really. He leaned over me, molding his body against mine. His hand slipped down, yanking my thigh up to his waist. Then he maneuvered himself between my legs so that I could feel him.
Oh God.
Clay was hard.
Really, really hard.
I heard a soft, needy whimpering sound and realized it was coming from me. My hands were all over his chest, shoulders and arms. I'd waited a long time to touch him, and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I couldn't seem to help myself.
"Jesus Nev, you feel good."
He came up for air and was staring down at me. He looked perplexed, hungry and very, very horny. For me. At least I knew for sure now that it was for me.
He dipped down a little and scooped his hips up, circling his cock against me. I felt him slide the skirt of my maids uniform upwards and grind himself into my panties. His fingers traced the edge of them.
"I can't believe I am finding Grannie Panties this fucking hot. Promise me you'll never wear a thong Nev. I'm not sure I would survive it."
"I hate thongs."
He laughed and kissed me again, his tongue swirling into my mouth. He had one hand on my ass, holding me in place so he could work himself against me. His other hand was moving restlessly upwards until it closed over my breast.
We moaned in unison at the contact.
Then he pulled away a little bit and reached down.
He was sliding my panties down.
That's when it hit me. Clayton Westfield was trying to fuck me in the servants pantry. He was going to try and fuck me. Here.
Oh hell NO.
"Stop!"
"What? I thought you wanted this Nev?"
His hands froze but his cock was still pulsing against my pussy. I felt naked, exposed. I felt really, really pissed off.
I reached for his chest and pushed.
"Get off me Clay. I'm not fucking you in a fucking closet."
He grinned at me, not letting go of my hips.
"So let's go upstairs."
"No! You are really predictable you know that?"
"It's no big deal. You want me. And I want you."
I stared at him, angry red splotches on my cheeks. He was right. I did want him. The bastard.
"What's the matter Mouse? Are you still a virgin or something?"
I said nothing but something in my face must have given it away. His eyes widened.
"Holy shit girl how the hell did that happen?"
He laughed drunkenly.
"Or should I say, not happen!"
He leaned forward and breathed into my ear.
"I will be very happy to relieve you of your virginity Nevada Jones."
I held very still, humiliation coursing through my veins.
He started messing with my panties again and I shoved him. Hard.
Clay's big eyes widened in shock.
"Okay, okay. Jesus Nev!"
He stared at me as I grabbed the tray and brushed past him. I was close to tears as I hurried down the hallway to the kitchen. I needed to unload this tray and get back to work. Really all I wanted to do was run somewhere and hide.
And cry my fucking eyes out.
Not because he had touched me like that.
Because I'd wanted him to.
I hadn't wanted him to stop either. A big part of me wanted him to keep going. All the way.
Yes, even though he was a jerk pawing at me in a pantry.
I could still smell him all over me. Bourbon, yes, but also fresh and clean... just him. I could still feel his lips on mine. I could still feel his cock.
His very large cock.
Damn him.
I spent the rest of the party avoiding Clay. He was getting increasingly wasted, sitting in corners and staring at me balefully.
I'd definitely pissed him off.
It was better than the alternative.
Safer.
Because if he tried to fuck me again, I wasn't sure I would have the strength to stop him.
Chapter Eight
Clay
I swigged from a bottle of mineral water between sets with Matt. He'd won the first one, but barely. I was off my game today though.
The massive hangover didn't help.
Neither did the state of frustration I was dealing with because of the Nev situation.
I still could not believe she turned me down.
I should forget her, move on. Just text Jen or one of the other eager girls I knew. There were plenty around.
But they weren't her.
Not even close.
Nev was special. Her looks were a part of it but it was more than that. She had an innocence, a purity that drew me like a moth to a flame.
It was the same thing that had made her push me away last night. I was sure of it. She wanted me too, no matter what she said.
Now I just needed to convince her of it too.
Matt let out a low whistle and I looked up.
"What?"
"New girl. Unbefuckinglievable."
Of course. He was looking at Nevada as she walked by with a cart full of clean towels. Awesome.
We'd talked about girls before. Or women. Matt gave me a ranking of who
were the horniest housewives at the club, the most desperate. And he'd rate the ones he'd bagged.
So far he'd been keeping himself real busy.
But now he was looking at Nev like she was just another conquest. As usual, she looked insanely hot no matter what she wore. This outfit was no exception. She was wearing white tennis shorts and a pale green polo shirt, the club colors. I'd never noticed how cute the club uniform was before.
Fucking A.
"Forget it. It's not going to happen."
Matt's head swiveled towards me. I better nip this shit in the bud right quick. He was clearly after her.
"Jesus, she looks good enough to eat. You know her?"
"Yeah."
I gave him a steady gaze that said 'keep off the motherfucking grass.'
"How well?"
"Well enough to say she's not up for grabs."
Matt stared at me, a slow smile spreading over his face.
"Yeah right. You are so not the relationship type dude."
"And you are?"
He shrugged.
"With the right girl, maybe."
"Well she's not it. She's a nice girl, don't fuck with her."
He laughed. Matt was clearly not taking me seriously. And then I caught the predatory look in his eyes. I'd just made Nev even more appealing to him by staking my claim. I knew in my gut this guy was going to cause trouble.
"Hey man, I do what I want. Ready for next match?"
I shook my head.
"Nah I'm not in the mood. See ya."
I went into the club lobby to sign up for the tournament and take myself off the schedule for lessons with Matt. Fuck him. I'd win without the club champs help. He'd look like a dick and his lessons would get less valuable. If he stayed away from Nev maybe I'd relent. For now though, he was the fucking enemy.
I went home to shower and change. Then I went right fucking back to the club.
I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
Nevada.
Nevada
I carried a fresh stack of towels over to the pool area, trying to ignore the feeling that I looked like an idiot. A pack of screaming children ran past me, ignoring me completely. I felt something sodden hit my thigh and glanced down.
Ice cream.
Chocolate ice cream.
On my white shorts.
Fantastic.
I sighed deeply and continued to the pool area to drop off the towels. I stopped in my tracks.
Clayton was lounging right next to the towel station. I would have to walk right past him to get to it. He wasn't alone though. That Jen girl was sitting next to him, along with a couple of his asshole friends.
My mother always said you could judge someone by the company they keep.
This day couldn't possibly get any better.
I took a deep breath and walked quickly along the edge of the pool.
"Hey Nev."
I glanced at him over my shoulder.
"No fraternizing Mr. Westfield."
He laughed and let his eyes slide over my ass. Deliberately. Very deliberately.
"Rules are made to be broken."
I bit back an angry retort but the truth was I was entertained by him. I felt stimulated. I felt alive.
Damn him.
"Would you like a towel Mr. Westfield?"
He grinned at me and leaned back, his chest gleaming in the sun.
"Yes I would."
I handed him one, even though my instinct was to drop it on his head.
If only to cover the arrogant smirk on his face.
His perfect, handsome, beautiful face.
Ugh.
He grinned and draped it over his groin. Then he slipped his hand underneath it and grabbed.
"Perfect timing Nev. Wouldn't want to scare the children."
My mouth opened and I stared at him. I couldn't help it. The implication that I'd given him a boner was obvious. I wondered for a moment if he meant it.
Not that it mattered.
Right?
"You have some crap on your shorts."
I turned and looked at the blond girl sitting next to Clay.
Jen. Perfect. She was one of the worst offenders when it came to being queen bitch back to me and Frannie in high school.
And now she wanted Clayton.
But he wanted me.
There was something kind of amazing about that. Poetic justice or something. I suddenly felt a lot better.
I smiled at her with false charm.
"Oh, I'm sorry did you need a towel as well?"
I handed her one and turned away.
I knew that she heard what I really meant to say.
Something along the lines of 'go fuck yourself bitch."
I walked back to the staff locker room in search of something to clean my shorts with.
"Oh man, one of the kids get you?"
In front of me was a very tan, very hot, very cute guy. Scratch that. A man.
This guy was definitely a man.
He grinned at me, his eyes flicking to my shorts.
"Chocolate ice cream?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it. This day was going so badly, the only thing I could do was laugh.
"Hey, don't sweat it. I can get you club soda. And they always have extra uniforms in here."
I smiled at him gratefully as he led the way through the subterranean hallways below the club.
"Thanks. I'm Nev."
He looked at me sideways.
"Yeah I know. I'm Matt."
"How did you know?"
He turned around and smiled at me cheekily. This guy clearly knew he was hot. And he was definitely flirting with me.
"I asked."
He opened a door and led me into the kitchen. Two minutes later he was attempting to blot my shorts with club soda. I jumped backward. That was way too familiar, even if I had known him. Which I did not.
The way he was looking at me, touching me... The whole thing was making me nervous. No matter how sweet and cute he was.
And he was cute. Very cute. Not drop dead gorgeous like Clay, but definitely drool worthy. But for some reason, I wasn't drooling.
"Thanks Matt. I got this."
"Hey no problem."
He stood there and watched me dab at my shorts. It did take the stain down but not enough. I kind of was wishing he'd go away. I felt like such a dork. Plus, the way he was watching me was unnerving.
"There's a party tonight. Down by the lake. I'll take you if you are free."
I threw the napkin in the trash in disgust. I definitely needed new shorts. Way to go, Nev.
"Huh?"
"Tonight. Lake. Party. I'm driving."
He grinned at me winningly.
"It's a bit far to bike. You don't have a car do you? Plus this way you can drink."
Wow. He really had been checking up on me. I should be flattered but for some reason I kind of wasn't.
"Oh right, I heard about that. I was maybe going to go with my friend."
He leaned against the counter and stared at me intently.
"Boyfriend?"
I shook my head and he smiled even wider.
"I can drive you both."
"Uh... let me check with her. Otherwise, maybe I'll just see you there?"
"Sure. Let me get your number just in case."
"Right, okay."
I gave him my number and he pointed me back towards the locker rooms and told me where to find the laundry. I kind of wondered why he hadn't just done that in the first place. I shrugged.
He was obviously trying to be helpful.
That was all, right?
Chapter Nine
Clay
I nodded to people as I sat on the hood of my car drinking. The lake was packed with kids. At least half of them probably still in high school.
Of course they all knew who I was. I just sat there while people came to me. I used to like it when people kissed my ass. But now I found it all kind of boring.
I
needed to do something more with my fucking life than just being the king of shit. I'd always thought I'd go into business like my Father. Or law. Maybe politics eventually.
But my Father wasn't happy no matter how rich and successful he was. Look at him. He was in love with a woman from the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak.
Not that I was anyone to talk.
Fuck man, did I just use the word 'love' about Nevada?
I did. I fucking did.
This was not good.
I hadn't even bagged the girl yet and I was thinking long term.
Never mind the fact that Nev was going to freak out when she found out about our parents.
I had to get to her before she did. Otherwise, she'd never give me the time of day. She'd say it was all too incestuous. Maybe it was. But I needed her.
That was a scary ass thought.
I hadn't needed anyone since I was a scared little kid who wanted his mother in the middle of the night. I'd outgrown that well before other kids my age did. And now I needed this girl. This tough, sweet, earnest, hard working young girl who didn't know shit about men. Or sex.
And I'd seen it all.
I couldn't wait to teach her.
Hell, maybe she'd be able to teach me.
I took a swig from the bottle of bourbon I'd taken from my house. The staff knew to keep a case handy when I was in town. If I got too drunk to drive home I'd call the house and they would send someone to get the car in the morning.
But as of now, I was just starting to feel a buzz. The way I was feeling tonight, I needed to get much fucking drunker than this. And fast.
"Dude, look at your girl."
Like a jack-in-the-box my head popped up. I knew I was fucking ridiculous. Especially if Brett had noticed my interest in Nev without me saying anything. But I didn't care.
And then I saw her.
Nevada fucking Jones. With her chubby little friend in tow. Wearing those tiny little shorts and a soft looking blouse that skimmed over her curves. There was some sort of design on it. I squinted.
Flowers. It looked like tiny little flowers.
Every fucking guy here was staring at her. At her legs. And her ass.
God damn it.
I needed to buy her some new fucking shorts. Longer ones. Bermudas. And dresses. Ones that went down to her ankles.
