The Anniversary Party (2 page)

"Thank you, Kylie.” Terri sighed and then said her goodbyes. As she hung up, Kylie was sure the other woman had known the truth. Had known she was lying through her teeth.

His hands were on her. Large, broad hands that anchored her hips solidly to his. His thick cock nestled snugly in the crack of her ass as he pushed against her. The hands wandered, traveled the smooth soft flesh of her belly, traced the outline of her hips. He arched against her and she could feel how eager he was. How very ready he was to dip into the needy moisture between her thighs. Those callused hands cupped her breasts, smoothed over the side-swells. Plucked her nipples into perfect erection.

She sighed out her pleasure, relishing the soft but strong feel of his hands moving over her. His lips brushed the nape of her neck, bringing all the tiny hairs to attention. He kissed along her hairline and stopped to trace the fragile shell of her ear. “I will love you forever, Kylie,” he whispered and she shivered. “I can't wait to get on with life with you. Doing this every night. Marriage. Babies. I will want you till the day I die.
Need
you till the day I die,” he said on a kiss and then he was in her. Sliding into her with one long thrust. His cock brushed the sweetest spots.

She felt a rush of pure pleasure, pure wanting. They moved together in a perfect dance, his thrusts every bit urgent and aggressive. The pure male need evident in his movements ratcheted her pleasure higher. And when he became frantic, expressing himself with nothing more than grunts and harsh hisses of air, she felt her own pleasure unfurl like brightly colored ribbons in her mind. Her body followed, swimming in a haze of pleasure so intense it walked the fine line of pain. He pumped inside her as her pussy quivered. She milked each drop of his seed, enveloped each thrust of his cock until there was no more to be had. He was all she ever wanted. This. Here. With him. Forever...

Kylie sat up in bed. The sheets fell away from her shivering body. She wiped her forehead and her hand came away covered in cool, clammy sweat. Her heart pounded and a smaller, more frantic pulse had started in her sex. She flung the covers back and stood, grabbing the nightstand for support. Her knees felt rubbery and she put her head down to clear the woozy feeling that threatened to send her sinking to the floor.

Wade. Damn Wade.

She hadn't had the dreams in ages. Had healed. Or so she thought. But here he was again tonight. Fucking her. Taking her. Making her love him.

"I don't love him,” she growled in the dark. But down in the deepest part of her, she knew it was a lie. She had always loved him. Hated him too these past few years. Despite the hate, though, the love had survived. And now she had to see him. Be in the same room with him. She would have to survive the embarrassment. The twitters and whispers.
That's Wade. At one time Wade and Kylie were an item. We all swore they'd end up together. We were sure they would settle down and start a family. Then one day, Wade up and left! Joined the Army. Left Kylie broken-hearted and lifeless. That girl wasn't right for at least a year.
Then they would tsk and shake their heads and pity her.

Kylie sank to the bed and hugged herself. The sweat had started to dry and a chill swept over her. She shivered in the dark and wrapped the damp sheet around her shoulders. She would have to bite the bullet. Not let the pity and the gossip get to her. She would hide her feelings. Hide her anger. She could do it.

The pulse between her legs beckoned. It hadn't let up in the slightest despite the calming of her heartbeat.

"Great. Not only does he leave me. He comes into my dreams, gets me all worked up, and leaves me horny.” She sighed and then she was laughing. Half laugh. Half sob.

Her fingers found her clit and moved in gentle circles. Her body instantly responded. A pleasant, half-forgotten warmth spread through her. It had been too long since she had experienced any kind of physical pleasure. Kylie fingered the delicate organ harder. She thrust a finger into her weeping sex. Not enough. She needed more. A second joined the first, a third joined the second. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide as she worked herself. Her motions grew harsh and demanding as her thighs trembled. She hooked the trio of fingers, stimulating her G-spot with a come-hither motion. She stroked her clit harder, tighter circles, firmer pressure. This need was overwhelming. The need for orgasm. The need to purge the demons from her dreams. The need for release.

Kylie let out a harsh bark of laughter in the dark. Quickly the laughter turned to an echoing sob. Her body shook as her thrusting fingers became more frenetic. She forced them into her in an almost angry tempo. She was powerless to stop it. Unable to rein in her scattered emotions. She was driven purely by the intense animalistic desire to come. And she did. Tears streaming down her cheeks as her skin began to tingle and then heat. The first warm rolling lick of pleasure coursed through her and as her body bowed beneath the orgasm, she cried.

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"I don't see what the big deal is.” Fawn sighed. “You're both adults now. It's not like you're lovesick teenagers anymore. You are over him, right?"

Kylie bit her lip and thanked her lucky stars that she was talking to Fawn on the phone. She would have choked her sister by now it they'd been in the same room together.

"Right, Kylie?” Fawn nagged.

"Yes!” Kylie nearly shouted. “Right! I'm over him. I've been over him for a long time,” she lied. “I just think it will be awkward is all."

"Ah, you've done awkward before. No big deal. There's going to be close to fifty people there. You might see him once or twice all night."

"Fifty!? I thought the total at last count was about forty.” Silence. “Fawn, what have you done?” She sighed, too tired to shout.

"Not me. Aunt Marie. She called me the other day and said she had invited the Marshalls, Sue and Tom Weiss, Marilyn and Gil Dubois, and a few others. What was I supposed to say?"

"How about you learn to say no! You know she only called you because I would have told her to take a hike. Now it's fifty. Fifty! Fifty people wandering through my house.”
Fifty people whispering behind my back as I try not to lose my mind.

"It is a party, sissy. You know. Lots of people? Fun? When did you get so uptight?"

"When will you grow up?” Kylie snapped and slammed the phone down. She knew she was taking her frustration out on Fawn. Her sister's intentions were good. She wanted to have a big party to celebrate their parents’ thirty years of devotion. Thirty years of happy marriage was a friggin’ miracle these days. The problem with Fawn was despite her admirable ability to come up with brilliant ideas, she was unwilling to put in the hard work to make them a reality. That's why her little design firm would always be little. She did just enough to skate by.

And you are an overachiever. You do too much and are never satisfied. There's no happy medium with you.

Enough self-analysis!
She had grocery shopping to do. Kylie shut the door as the phone started to ring. That would be Fawn, whining about how she'd hurt her feelings. That was tough. They weren't kids anymore and sometimes the truth hurt. Kylie shut her cell phone off as she started the car. If Fawn wanted to whine she would have to do it on voice mail. Then Kylie could listen to it when she didn't feel so homicidal.

She found her favorite radio station and cranked up the volume. Her heart sank a little as she sang along with Otis Redding.

Her dreams from the night before filled her head as she drove. Wade's hands. His lips on her skin. How warm and soft his lips had been. His cock buried deep in her eager body. Thrusting and riding her as his hands cupped her breasts, tickled at her nipples until she shuddered. She could almost feel his breath snake across her skin. Her pussy responded to the mental barrage and her heart ached to the point of pain as the song's sad words filled her head.

She had been doing so well. Had been so far beyond the pain of losing Wade. Now he was back and she had returned to square one. Surviving. Functioning with what felt like the equivalent of a mortal chest wound.

"Were you really over him, though?” she spoke out loud in the car. She met her own eyes in the rearview mirror. Eyes that were bloodshot and puffy from lack of sleep and tears. “If you were really over him it wouldn't have been so goddamn easy to bring it all back up. The wound wouldn't have opened right back up at the mere mention of his name. You've been kidding yourself, Kylie,” she whispered. “You weren't over him at all. You'd just learned to bury all the feelings."

She cranked the radio higher and let the melancholy song wash over her. She would simply focus on the task at hand and do her best to stay away from Wade at the party. The less she saw of him, the better off she would be. Kylie stolidly ignored the thump of arousal inside her damp leggings. She had gone without a man this long. She could go a lot longer. Like it or not.

She'd been muttering “seedless cucumbers” to herself when the collision occurred. One moment she was wheeling her grocery cart along, the next she was on the floor looking through the metal grid of her cart at her jars of pickles and fresh vegetable.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't—” the man began. Then he stopped cold as Kylie fumed.
Geez!
He couldn't even finish his apology? So intent on feeling like an ass she hadn't looked at him yet. When she finally did, she realized why the apology had died in his throat.

Still lying on the floor and now wishing it would open up and swallow her whole Kylie said, “Wade?"

Of course it was Wade! How could it not be?
No other man had eyes that exact shade of dark chocolate. No other man had hair the exact color of rich espresso. No other man had shoulders that wide and hips that slim. Damn Wade. Wade watching her wriggle on the dirty floor like a cockroach. A cockroach dressed in a tattered sweatshirt and old black leggings. Her long hair shoved under a baseball cap. And no makeup.

He extended his hand and Kylie stared at it stupidly. “Miss Kylie,” he whispered. “Why don't you get off the floor, darlin'? Let me help you up."

Kylie was shaken by his use of his teenage nickname for her. So many times he had spoken those words with such obvious affection and need. Kylie felt her mouth open and close. She tried to speak but could only manage a shrill squeak of air. Her mind still busy with the indignity of not only her position but her attire.

Wade squatted down and touched her forehead gently. “You didn't hit your head, did you?"

Kylie felt her stomach do a slow lazy flip. Having Wade this close after all this time was not good for her mental health. She couldn't think or speak. Involuntarily, she heard herself take a disgustingly deep breath, trying to capture the scent of him in her nose. He smelled the same as he did all those years ago. Wood smoke, sandalwood, mountain air, and the distinct essence of man. She felt his callused hands do another gentle tour over her forehead and she closed her eyes. Her pussy thumped eagerly, apparently forgetting her promise to not give in to her frivolous sexual needs.

"You okay? Kylie?” His voice drifted into her ear. She felt out of sync. Like she was living in some parallel universe. Part real, part memory. “Kylie!"

She opened her eyes and gazed into his. Stared stupidly at his full lower lip, barely resisting the urge to lick it and then follow with a nip. Then Kylie felt it. Even as Wade pushed her hair from her face and cupped her jaw with his broad hand. Her body wanted to respond and turn to mush. Her traitorous body wanted to stoke the flames of arousal until they burned into a full-fledged hunger to be with him. Have him in her.

Instead her anger flared sudden and bright. Her belly warmed with it and her face burned. She wanted to slap him as much as she wanted to kiss him.

"Please get your hands off me, Wade,” she hissed. He obliged, pulling back as if she'd bitten him. Kylie struggled up off the floor, so eager to get up and save face that she didn't care how clumsy she looked. “I'm fine. Maybe you should be a little more careful how you're driving that thing!” she snapped.

Wade cleared his throat and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He fought a grin and quickly lost. “Actually, darlin', it was
you
who hit
me
."

"What?” she yelped. “That's not true! I—” She bit off the end of her sentence. Had she hit him? She'd been so lost in her own little world. So wrapped up in what she needed for the party that wouldn't die that she hadn't been paying much attention to anything but her list.

He nodded with a slight smile, keeping his hands shoved deep in his pockets. She was pretty sure that keeping them trapped was for her benefit.

"Well, I'm sorry. If I hit you, that is. My mind's going in a million different directions at the moment. I guess I wasn't paying much attention to anything."

"Let me guess. You're pretty much flying solo?” He laughed. His dark brown eyes darted over her, taking in every inch of her. Lingering on the swell of her breasts beneath her raggedy sweatshirt then sweeping to the tight leggings that hugged her hips and thighs.

Kylie trembled under his gaze as if she were naked. She tossed her hair and took a deep breath. Trying to control the tremor in her voice she said, “You obviously remember my sister, Fawn. The great and talented planner."

"And you are the great and talented worker bee.” Wade laughed. Let loose, his left hand reached out and traced the arc of her jaw, swept across her lips with a touch so gentle it was barely there. “The beautiful, talented worker bee."

Kylie froze, stunned by his brave and insistent touch. He smoothed the flat of his palm along the fragile skin of her neck and she felt her nipples tighten instantly as zings of pure pleasure skittered over her skin. His blunt-tipped fingers brushed her collarbone and the pulse in her sex increased to a demanding thump. She felt her pussy contract with arousal. Finding a steady rhythm of its own, contracting around nothing. Needy.

Kylie caught his wrist and gently pushed his hand away. There was no reason to be a bitch. No reason to hurl insults or spit venom. She took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. She had to center herself. She couldn't fall apart because the man had touched her. “Wade,” she said on her exhale, “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands to yourself.”
Before I come in my pants.