by S. M. Shade
I give him what I hope is a creepy, scary smile, but he doesn’t look the least bit intimidated.
“There’s a shower door. Not a curtain,” he chirps.
Is this guy for real?
“Accidents still happen.” My eyes narrow as the threat leaves my lips.
“Don’t worry. I won’t accidentally leave it unlocked.”
I’m not sure why that sounds like something dirty, but it does. He winks before walking away, and I go back to praying for that damn hole to open up again.
When I reach my table, Lydia and Henley are both staring and in attack mode, pouncing in unison.
“Who was—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I interrupt, waving my hand for emphasis before guzzling down the rest of my champagne.
Hey, my robot hand can hold the glass without breaking it. Dad really pulled out all the stops with this one. It’s soooo much better than the one that caught fire and broke all my pencils.
“Did he give you your underwear?” Henley asks.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble, grabbing Lydia’s champagne and downing it as well.
Their eyesight is too good if they could tell that was my underwear.
“O…kay…” Lydia bites back a smile.
“What was with spiking all the drinks?” Henley asks, redirecting the conversation.
I sag in relief when they drop the mystery asshole encounter, and I let a dark grin emerge.
“This party has a stick up its ass. I just made things more interesting. Or it will be soon, rather. Henley, you have the next shift. As soon as they refresh the refreshments, you’re on.”
At least I won’t be the only one who has made an ass of herself by the end of the night.
Should be a hell of an evening. Good times. Good times.
My eyes discreetly find Mr. Asshole as a girl loops her arm through his. He casually disentangles himself from her, and I watch like a stalker as he moves toward a couple to speak to.
Shit. I don’t know if I want to stab him or fuck him.
When he looks up and catches me staring, he smirks again, smugly gazing at me like he owns me.
Stab him. Definitely want to stab him.
“Okay,” Henley pipes up. “This party is seriously painful. I’ve seen coma patients with more enthusiasm than this crowd. It’s time to mix it up.”
Chapter Three
Henley
This may be the most tedious party I’ve ever been to. Snooty people, dressed to the nines, mingle and chat before moving on to talk shit about the person they were just trying to outdo. I feel as out of place as a nun at a strip club. Kasha is right. We need to liven it up or die of boredom.
No one seems to notice that she upped the octane of the punch and lemonade. Classical music plays through the outdoor speakers while people move about the dance floor as if they’re at a formal ball. I can’t take any more. “Do you know where the sound system is?” I ask Kasha, gesturing to the speakers overhead.
Kasha points to a small building adjacent to the pool. “It’s in there, why?”
“Does it play CDs or will an iPod work?”
A smile climbs across her face. “Plug the iPod into the auxiliary slot and hit play.”
That’s all I need to hear. It only takes me five minutes to rush back to our room and grab my iPod. No one pays any attention to me as I slip inside the fence surrounding the pool and into the small building. It’s a pretty simple setup. I find my “shake your ass” playlist of all my favorite dance songs and hit play. The music switches from symphony to sinful in an instant.
I sneak around the back of the building and return as if I’m coming from the house. The looks of confusion on the guests’ faces are priceless. Kasha doesn’t hesitate to grab Lydia and meet me on the dance floor, which has cleared out for some strange reason. We don’t care.
“Let’s show them how we do it.” Kasha grins, rotating her hips and getting into the music. Lydia giggles, and we join in. Guests surround the dance floor, watching like we’re putting on a show just for them. So, we do. We dance with each other, laughing and having a great time. A few others filter onto the dance floor, mostly young men and women like us, probably dragged here by overbearing parents.
The party is on. I keep expecting someone to switch the music back, but Kasha’s mother—who I’m sure chose the soundtrack—is still inside barking orders at the staff. I take a short break to guzzle some more of the hard lemonade before returning to the dance floor that’s now mostly filled with dancing bodies.
I can hear Kasha’s rowdy laugh as the next song starts. Okay, maybe it’s a little raunchy for the occasion, but it’s not like I planned ahead. The thinning circle of stuck-up onlookers gape in horror when the crowd reacts. There’s some serious grinding and humping going on as the alcohol drains inhibitions, and everyone gets low.
Two warm hands grab my hips from behind and I go with it, grinding my ass into him, my eyes closed, just feeling the music. “I’m sure Monica Harper did not choose a song where sweat drips from balls,” a deep and strangely familiar voice murmurs in my ear. I may not immediately recognize it, but my body does. My face flushes with heat and a knot forms in my stomach. Holding my breath, I turn and come face to face with him. Davis Lane. Holy fuck.
My first love and only true heartbreak stands before me, grinning that familiar lopsided grin that always knocked me off my feet. Apparently, it still does since I’m standing frozen, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, finally pulling my head out of my ass.
He laughs and his eyes roam over my body, stopping when they meet mine. “It’s good to see you, too, Hen.”
My first instinct is to run, so I do, well, I walk fast. This night suddenly requires a lot more alcohol. On my way past the refreshment table, I grab a random bottle which turns out to be bourbon. Ew. Not my favorite, but tonight, I’ll drink anything.
My feet sink into sand as I make my way down the trail to the beach, the full moon lighting my way. Davis is here. I can’t even wrap my mind around it. Eight long years I’ve thought about this moment and how I’d react to seeing the man who took my virginity, then ran like hell. I was eighteen and in love the way only an eighteen-year-old can be. He was my brother’s best friend, and for two years, we hid our relationship. I lived for the day when we wouldn’t have to keep it secret anymore, the day I was supposed to leave for college. I was an idiot. It was never about him being two years older than me, or my brother’s friend. He was just ashamed to admit he slept with the skinny nerd.
Kicking off my shoes, I flop into the sand, letting the small waves just brush my toes. It’s such a beautiful setting, and here I sit. Alone. Pathetic as always. Some things never change.
“You’re still beautiful when you pout.”
Shit. Of course he followed me. Staring at the ocean, I sigh, “Why are you here?”
“The bride is a distant cousin.” He sits beside me, and I do my best not to look at him. I’m drunk, and he looks even better than he did when we were kids. Those dark eyes are the same, and that crooked smile still makes me weak, but he’s grown up. His jaw is sculpted and covered with a light scruff. Even through his suit, I can see he’s far more muscular than he used to be. This could end badly.
He grabs the bottle of bourbon from my hand and takes a drink. “Since when do you drink bourbon?”
“Since I’m not a teenager anymore.”
His gaze sweeps over me and his lips curl into a grin. “You’ve definitely grown up.”
I’m still skinny, but my body has filled out. I still don’t have the big boobs I used to hope for, but they’re not tiny, and my hips and ass are curvy. The glasses have been traded in for contacts and I finally outgrew the acne breakouts. Light brown hair falls in waves just past my shoulders. I know I’m not beautiful, but I don’t exactly scare kids on the street.
When he scoots closer, offering me the bottle, I relent and
take another shot. His scent is killing me and I can feel the heat from his body. Desire surges through me, and blood rushes to color my cheeks. I only slept with him once, and the first time is never exactly fun. It hurt and it was awkward, but I wanted him to be my first.
Even though I’ve bounced between missing and hating him all these years, I’ve also thought about that night and wished I could have him again. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but part of me wants to drag him back to his room and show him I’m not a pathetic, ugly kid anymore.
“Do you think if you just ignore me, I’ll go away?” he asks.
“Guess that’s too much to hope for.”
His hand goes to his chest as he feigns offense. “Ouch! Are you trying to hurt me? Because the Henley I remember could do much better.”
My anxiety over seeing him again starts to wane, and I try not to smile. Same old Davis. He could always make me smile no matter how pissed or upset I was. “That’s better,” he says, grinning at me.
“What do you want, Davis?” I take another drink of bourbon. I can feel it rushing through me, giving me strength and courage.
“More than I have a right to ask for, but for now, I just want to see you again.” His eyes meet mine, a thin slice of moonlight reflected in them. “What do you want?”
I want to tear off his clothes and ride him like a stolen bike, and not just because the attraction is still there between us, that magnetic pull we couldn’t resist when we were kids. It’s clear from the way his gaze travels over me that he feels it, too. I always wondered if he left me because I wasn’t pretty or because I wasn’t good in bed. I mean, it was my first time. What did he expect?
My one big regret has been that I didn’t get another chance, that I never got to show him I could please him in bed. A small, hurt part of me never got past that. Now, I kind of want to fuck him just to show him what he’s missed out on. I’ve certainly never had any complaints. I want him to try to come back for more so I can be the one to leave and he can wonder what the hell went wrong.
You know what? To hell with it. One time. One night of out of this world fucking and I’ll never speak to him again. It’ll be like closure to help me put that part of my life behind me.
His eyes widen when I shove him back onto the sand and straddle him, grabbing his lips with mine. There’s no hesitation on his part, though, and he wastes no time slipping his tongue into my mouth. His hands run down my back to grip my ass as I devour him. God, he tastes good.
“Your room,” I mumble against his lips.
“Good idea,” he gasps, lifting me off of him and getting to his feet. His hand wraps around mine and we practically sprint back up the trail to the house. I feel like a kid sneaking in after curfew and I can’t help but giggle as we hurry through the decadent halls. He’s a man on a mission.
Of course, his room is right across from mine. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. It’s going to be hard to avoid him the rest of the week, not that I expect him to pursue me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to expect a morning after with Davis. Or a kiss goodbye.
His hands sliding up my thighs kill any second thoughts. I need to get laid. God knows Casey couldn’t get me off, and I can’t remember the last time I had sex that was even decent, much less as good as I know this will be. I don’t have to let any feelings get involved—love or hate. He’s not the ex-love of my life, just a guy I’m going to have a rare one night stand with. I pull my dress off while he shoves his jeans and underwear down at the same time.
His muscles aren’t the only things that have grown. He’s going to tear me apart. He pauses to grab a condom from his wallet and slips it on.
The chemistry between us hasn’t dissipated over the years, and we go after each other ravenously. I fist his hair, kissing him long and hard while he yanks my panties off. A yelp jumps from my lips when he bites my nipple, then sucks away the sting. My back collides with the wall, and he hesitates for a second. “You’d better be sure you want this, darlin’. Once I take you, you’re mine.”
I know drunk sex talk when I hear it. “Are you going to fuck me or keep blabbing?” I demand, wrapping my hand around his cock.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With a chuckle, he dips a finger inside me. “Fuck, Hen, you’re soaked.” His hands slide under my ass, lifting me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he drives himself deep inside me.
The line between pain and pleasure blurs while I struggle to take him, and I bite down on his shoulder, eliciting a growl and another hard thrust. Christ, he wasn’t even all the way in. Pain fades and mind-numbing pleasure takes its place as he rocks in and out, his lips exploring my neck while he holds me against the wall like I weigh nothing.
Pressure builds fast. My whole body tightens to the breaking point, and I try to hold off. Even drunk and out of my mind with lust, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got me off so quickly. His deep voice is raspy in my ear. “You can’t fight me, girl. Give it to me.”
His words set me off, and I lose all control, a garbled version of his name falling from my lips. Three hard thrusts later—it’s like he’s trying to nail me to the wall—he stills and a long groan rumbles his chest. He rests his forehead against mine while we catch our breath, and my lips are met with a soft, sweet kiss that surprises me.
It’s not the sort of affection you show a one night stand, and I get a quick flash of the sweet boy he used to be. Images of him walking home from school between me and my brother, eating at our kitchen table, giggling over cartoons, and running through the yard during the warm evenings. We had six years of innocent fun before we started messing around. It was stupid, but what the hell did I know at sixteen?
I need to get out of here. I need to think of this as a random one-time thing with a stranger, because that’s what we’ve become. Strangers. When he goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, I grab my dress and jerk it on. With my balled-up panties and shoes in one hand, and my phone in the other, I dart across the hall to my room without being seen. Classy.
Kasha and Lydia aren’t back yet, and I haven’t had any texts or messages from them, so they must be having a good time. Wincing at the delicious soreness between my legs, I take a hot shower and crawl into bed. Just when I’m dozing off, the room is filled with giggles and cursing as Lydia and Kasha stumble in.
“Shut up,” Kasha says, rubbing her foot. “Table jumped right in front of me.”
“Henley,” Lydia says in an extremely loud whisper. “You awake?”
I can’t help but laugh. The people in the room next door could probably hear her. “Nope.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Too drunk,” I lie. “Just wanted to pass out.” I’m sure I’ll tell them at some point, but tonight when we’re wasted isn’t the best time.
“Ugh, me, too,” Kasha replies, falling into her bed. “None of these debutants better wake us up early.”
***
It’s nearly noon when we drag our asses out of bed and down to the beach. Avoid Davis. Lie in the sun. Those are my two goals for today. So far, I’m two for two. Kasha, Lydia, and I are stretched out on a large blanket on the beach, soaking in the gorgeous day. There are plenty of offered activities, but after our drunken night, all any of us wants to do is guzzle water and juice and lie around.
“You should’ve seen Mrs. Harper when she came out and saw everyone dancing,” Lydia says.
“I think it was the twerking that sent her over the top,” Kasha replies, rolling onto her belly.
“I wasn’t the only one doing it!” Lydia cries, making me laugh. I guess I missed out on quite the party.
It was worth it. Even having to avoid Davis the rest of the week is worth the orgasm I had last night. It was hands down, the best sex I’ve ever had. The way he took me, shameless and brazen, made me feel like he was as desperate for me and as turned on by my body as I was his. If it was anyone else, I’d be going back for seconds, but I know bet
ter. I barely managed to keep my feelings out of it last night. I can’t look at him as a stranger after growing up with him, loving him.
“Kasha has a sexy stalker,” Lydia remarks, sipping her water.
“What stalker?” I ask, sitting up.
“I don’t have a stalker,” Kasha sighs.
“Tall, dark, and handsy? Followed you around the dance floor all night, humping and grinding like an oversexed dolphin? Ring a bell?”
“Dolphin?” Kasha snorts.
“Dolphins are highly sexual,” Lydia informs us. “And they’re sexually aggressive.”
Oh my god, that sounds familiar. Images of Davis nailing me to the wall invade my mind until Kasha starts making dolphin noises. Now I can only picture Davis opening his mouth in ecstasy and “eh eh eh eh” coming out.
Fighting back laughter, I turn to Kasha. “Spill it, chick. Who is he?”
“Just some dickwad I ran into… in my towel.” She mumbles the last part.
“No wonder he was panting after you, you tease,” Lydia says.
“It was an accident. We’re sharing the bathroom with him. I went to the wrong room after my shower. It was no big deal.”
“That would only happen to you,” I laugh, and she swipes at the sand, making it land on my leg where it sticks to the sunscreen.
“You’re in a better mood today,” I tell Lydia. She’s actually smiling and relaxed.
“I’ve decided you’re right. I’m not going to think about why we’re here. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just here on vacation.”
“Maybe we can find you a dolphin,” Kasha says.
“We should go to that club down the street tonight!” Lydia says, excited.
Kasha glances at me and shrugs. If it keeps her mind off of Anderson, another night of drinking it is.
***
Pulsing music and sweaty, gyrating bodies surround us as we make our way to a table with our drinks. The last thing I want to think about is anything pulsing. Or sweaty.
“Now will you tell us why you’ve been so quiet and moody today?” Lydia asks.
