by Alice Ward
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just leaned over and kissed him. He reached behind him and grabbed a bag, pulled a graffiti style baseball hat out of it and put it on.
“That actually looks really cute on you.” And it did. He looked both goofy and adorable.
“Actually?” he raised his eyebrows, so snide.
I stuck my tongue out at him. Maturity wasn’t always our strong suit.
He said goodbye to Robert, but I detected something may have been brewing because of the weird way he said it, like encoded language. But I wasn’t gonna dwell on it, it was my party, and we were going to have some fun.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked playfully.
“Oh, I am very ready for this,” he said, flipping his hat to the side.
The party was so much fun. Some people brought a massive canvas to create a communal graffiti painting in the backyard, which would be a gift for me to take to school. It was so amazing. Others brought musical instruments and jammed together. We danced, we drank, we ate off the hamburger bar. The party was on fire.
KP did his best to keep up. I mean, here was this guy, a billionaire, who knew everyone…from the former presidents of the United States to Johnny Depp. He was close, personal friends with the guy, but a room full of talented people who were vibing on love and creativity and had their names on nothing but their dreams made him completely out of his element. I had to come to his rescue.
“Are you hating it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so miserable.” It was the truth, he looked so uncomfortable.
“I’ll never be as cool as even one of these people. I’ve never felt so obsolete in my life.”
Wow, how was that possible?
“KP! You’re KP, Oscar winner guy.” I patted his cheek, trying to make him smile. “Come on, get your game face on. I sent out the email like you said, and people are just doing their own thing, letting you be you. Only you’re not being you. You’re being freaked out guy in the corner wearing a goofy hat. Come here.” I grabbed his hand and shepherded him to the bar. “You’re going to do a Cuervo shot with me then we’ll get you one of Ricky’s famous lavender margaritas.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Lavender? Eww, really?” I think he was truly disgusted.
“Well, no wonder you feel obsolete, you’ve never tried one. Ricky will fix you right up. Ricky, he needs a Lavarita and fast, make it nice and strong. I’ll get us a round of shots going,” I said, feeling so happy.
“Why don’t you just scoop out my insides and put them in a jar of formaldehyde. It might be a quicker way to end me.”
“And you think your brother is the king of drama?” Seriously, where was his sense of fun?
“Okay. I’m here, I’m ready, let’s go for it.”
I handed him a shot after passing them out to Ricky and Tammy, who had heard KP kvetching and came over.
“KP needs to drink with us, so don’t let him weasel his way out of this.” Tammy glared at him. He raised his shot glass and smiled as she continued. “Okay friends, to Caitlyn’s new adventure!” She raised her glass, and we all took the shot.
“Ahhhh,” KP wailed. “That’s such shit tequila!”
Everyone laughed as KP grimaced and choked.
“Time for your Lavarita,” Rafael yelled from behind the bar.
He produced five large martini glasses filled to the rim with a light purple drink, glistening with sugar on the rim of each glass. KP eyed the beverage with trepidation. We each took our glasses up.
“It’s my turn to toast now,” KP said.
I think everyone was a bit surprised he spoke, thinking he would slink around the party pretending he wasn’t there when it was such a big deal that he was there. When he raised his glass and looked at me, my heart started thudding, and my throat went dry.
“To a fantastic artist and an incredible woman, who I’m happy agreed to be my girlfriend… finally. I love you.” He brought the glass to his lips and eyed me with a stare so carnal it sent shivers to my loins.
“Cheers.” We all chugged.
“This isn’t half as disgusting as I feared it would be,” KP interjected, which brought fake laughter from the group who he sort of just insulted.
Wow, he was awkward in a crowd. I guessed if he wasn’t the lord and master of the game he didn’t know how to play. Ricky and Jamal made sure that he had another two or three drinks before we released him into the wild. We kept him close to us until we thought he could handle the party. He probably hadn’t ever been to a party where just having fun was the ultimate goal. Money may have bought toys, power, and world dominance, but it didn’t know shit about having fun.
We flanked him as I encouraged him to add his part to the graffiti project. It started out cute, mostly, he signed it with his famous signature then intertwined his name with mine and drew a spectacular heart around the names. It turned out beautifully. I was touched.
He asked us to take our picture with the heart.
“Wenton will love this,” I said as we looked at the photograph.
He smiled. “It’s not carved into a tree, but let’s hope it passes the test.”
Whether the drinks had let him relax enough to be himself or he was finally feeling comfortable, he looked like he was having fun. After the graffiti, we let him try his hand at party DJ. He definitely switched up the vibe with some of the tunes he selected, which were unexpectedly great. Eighties music certainly wasn’t dead, but when it was time for drunken Pictionary, the party really got started.
First, it was unanimously decided by a room full of drunken, creative people that KP and I split up. He had been under cover long enough, and it was time to unveil him. Most of the people left at the party were close friends I trusted, so we detached. He only protested a little because he had no artistic skills and was planning on riding on my coattails to victory. Not so much, buddy.
“You don’t have to be a good artist, you just have to be a persuasive one.” I winked at him. “You got this.”
He slurred a little. “I got this!”
And so the game began. I got the word “fragment” and nailed it with a picture of a shattered glass. He got the word “nutmeg” and drew eggnog with sprinkles on it, referring to a second picture he drew of an egg, N + the picture of a log. One very smart person on his team got it. He nearly flipped his lid. And so it went, with the teams getting louder and more rambunctious as we went along. I took a moment just to watch him having fun. He was really funny, sarcastic, and so gorgeous. I think I fell in love with him a little more, seeing him finally feeling loose and free-spirited. I’d watched him let go a little with Wenton but never to this degree. This felt so right.
As the game winded down, it was time for gifts. I absolutely didn’t expect gifts at all. While it wasn’t being said outright, this was a chance for people to give me their love since Gran’s passing. It was sort of just a lovefest all around. It gave people a chance to play, express their creativity, and share good times together in the wake of change.
“I thought the graffiti project was my gift. This is too much,” I protested.
“Just shut up and open your gifts!” Tammy playfully scolded.
Most of what I received were original artwork, handmade pottery, and a piece of gorgeous poetry that expressed the enormity of birth and death in the legends of our memory and the capacity of our hearts.
Then KP stood up, still a little rickety in his drunken state. “I want to give you my gift!”
I rolled my eyes. It was bound to be some outrageously expensive, totally inappropriate gift that was sure to embarrass me. So imagine my surprise when he walked out of the room — which was buzzing with people whispering their guesses — and returned with just a simple potted plant wrapped in a bow. While I was relieved, I was also strangely disappointed, only I shouldn’t have been.
“I got you something you wouldn’t throw at me or run away from,” he prefaced as the guests laughed.
“Orchids, how beautiful
.” I was pretty sure I sounded grateful. Hopefully, the oh my god, all you got me was a plant! tone had not registered.
“They’re the symbol of everlasting male love,” he explained proudly.
Ah, it had a story. Okay, that was sweet, he was being sensitive. Now I liked the plant.
“I love it,” I squealed as I threw my arms around him, “and it’s not made of diamonds. I am so proud of you.”
His chest puffed up, “Me too.”
I placed the orchid on the mantel in the middle of everything and snuggled close to KP as the party wrapped up and people started to leave. I was sure to thank each guest and let them know how much it meant to me that they came and also cleaned up. My place looked surprisingly clean. Everyone had done a little to wash dishes, throw away dirty napkins and stuff lying about. It was nice not to have to worry about facing all of it in the morning. It was around two in the morning, and people had either already left, were passed out, or were so sloshed they could barely speak comprehensible English. We woke the crashed-out friends, called cabs for everyone, and just kept their cars at the house. We would have to play parking attendant in the morning, but it was worth it to make sure everyone was safe. Pretty soon, it was just KP and me standing on the corner of my street, hustling the last slurring drunk person into the back of a cab. Finally, we were alone.
“That was a fun party,” he said as he turned to me and gently slipped something cold and metallic into my hand, squeezing my fingers around it.
“Thanks,” I said cautiously as I opened my hand to reveal a set of car keys.
I looked at him, but he didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at me with the love of the world in his eyes as he smoothed his hand over my arm.
“First of all, I know you don’t want it. I do listen to you and respect what you have to say. All I ask is that you listen to me too.”
Heat began to simmer between my ears. “Seriously. You didn’t get me a car.”
“Well, I didn’t get you a car if you don’t want one. In that case, it’s a loaner.”
“I don’t accept it.” I was being stupid, but while the plant didn’t seem like enough, the car was crazy.
“I knew you wouldn’t, so as I said, I’ll loan it to you. I absolutely do not want you driving to New York in your Beater Kia. You could break down on the road, then get hit by another car, stolen by a passerby, or put in some other form of jeopardy I haven’t the imagination to dream up when I sit up nights worrying about you driving your piece of shit car. So, you will drive the car I’m loaning you whether you like it or not. You don’t have to keep it, and you don’t have to drive it when you’re home.”
Silence stretched between us and I knew I was just being an ass. He was right. He would respect what I said. And I should do the same. I felt the walls inside of me break down. “I’m listening.”
He visibly exhaled. “Good, do you want to see the car?”
“Sure.”
He took my hand and walked around the block, where I saw a shiny new Volvo. “It’s one of the safest cars on the road,” he assured me.
I laughed and hugged him hard. While the car was in the expensive to mid range, it wasn’t a Bentley or some crazy expensive car designed to show off in. It was a freakin’ Volvo. A sensible SUV that would, in fact, be much safer than driving the Beater Kia around.
“I love it.” And I did, surprisingly so. I was excited and touched and pleased. I peered at the remote in my hand, pressed the unlock button. “I want to see the inside,” I shouted as I took off running toward my new car. My new car.
I’d never had a new car. The Beater Kia was a second hand car Gran bought off of a friend’s grandkid when they got a new sports car with their own money. I opened the door and was hit with that new car smell. The leather was buttery soft.
“I love, love, love it!”
KP was the picture of relief as he climbed into the passenger side. “I’m glad. The brakes stop on a dime, and Volvo has pledged to make a death free car by 2020, we can always trade up.” He was so enthusiastic, it was irresistible.
I leaned over and kissed him with all the passion inside me, trailing my hand over the bulge I knew would be there. “I see little KP likes the car.”
He grinned. “I think big KP likes your hand more.” His breath hitched and he placed his hand on top of mine.
I eased down his zipper and pulled the subject of our attention out. It was nearly three in the morning, on a quiet street in a tiny neighborhood. If people could see us through the tinted windows, then it was on them for looking. I leaned over and took his delicious cock into my mouth. I sucked his sweetness until he was rock hard and squirming, lifting his hips in a rhythmic pulse
“Do the seats power backward?” I asked as I straddled him, still wearing my jeans.
“They better.” He fumbled around the seat until he found the power button that moved us backwards, giving me more room to maneuver.
“That’s better.” I stood up until my head hit the roof and slid one leg out of my jeans and panties.
I then gently impaled myself on him. It was always a struggle at first getting him in, no matter how wet I was.
“Let me help you,” he whispered as he bit my ear, and I gushed a little more wetness onto him.
He opened up my shirt to bare my bra, which he pulled down to reveal my breasts. He began to suck as his finger found my clit and danced around the inflamed nub. As he played my body like a finely tuned instrument, he adjusted us until the angle changed and he was even deeper inside me. Leaning all my body weight on him, I began to ride, rocking back and forth as I did. Soon, the slow fuck was too much for both of us, and he started jackhammering under me.
“Harder!” I breathed as I bore down on him more.
“Did you start birth control?” he asked feverishly.
“Yeah.” I said as my head crashed into the sunroof.
I didn’t care. Didn’t stop. I wanted this to be hard and frantic, and as crazy as fucking in the front seat of my new car should be.
He slowed us down some and caught his breath. “Can you turn around?”
“I’ll try.” I laughed as I tried to catapult my leg over him and turn without dislodging his cock from my pussy. I didn’t want to lose the connection, but in the end, it was like the Twister game, and I was a complete failure. I had to lift off him for a moment, and his hard dick came out of me with a pop that made us both laugh. I turned around and settled back in a reverse cowgirl that… holy shit, made me feel everything.
When he started thrusting up again, I decided this was my new favorite position. The angle was perfect, primal, and the tension inside me began to build.
“Oh my god, KP!” I screamed out as my pussy clenched around him in an explosion that dimmed the outer corners of my vision.
“Give it to me,” he grunted as his balls slapped erotically before he stilled, pressing me harder onto him as he came.
What an amazing feeling to have him in me, unleashing his passion. He rocketed a few more times and then shivered. I felt raw and sensitive when he pulled himself out and took deep breaths. His cock was glistening with both my orgasm and his, and I felt his cum ooze out of me. It was surreal.
“Naughty girl.” He slapped my bare ass.
I kissed him on the nose. “Thanks for the car, and for my first car sex.”
It was another feat of magic getting ourselves dressed again. We also had a bit of tidying up to do on my brand-new seats. Some people smashed champagne bottles, others smashed pussies. It was all good.
When we got back to my house, we showered and cuddled in together. I was a little sore from the ramrodding I’d just gotten inside my new sensible mobile.
“I shall name him Rodney,” I said against KP’s chest.
He laughed and kissed my hair. “Fitting.”
I turned to look up at him and winced at my change of position. “Are you sure you didn’t have a construction crew in your pants back there?”
&nb
sp; “Sorry, love, I got a little carried away,” he said sincerely.
“The other women you’ve been with must have leather vaginas the size of the Grand Canyon,” I teased.
He wrinkled his brow. “Can we avoid the talk of other women and leather vaginas?” He kissed my hair again. “I’ll be more careful next time. In fact, I’ll make it up to you now.”
He smiled and slithered down under the sheets, gently spreading my legs apart. I felt his soft, moist tongue lap at my sensitive, bruised folds and he quickly had me gripping the sheets with need again.
Hurts so good.
The song was playing in my mind as he brought me to the brink of pleasure with only his tongue.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KP
I lay awake with Caitlyn curled up by my side. It was early in the morning, nearly dawn, but Sunday, so we could sleep in. Hopefully, Caitlyn wouldn’t demand too much “me time,” because the party was pretty much a lot of her time.
I don’t know why I felt so off about that. She accepted the car, which I frankly thought she would never do, and she was free with her body, even initiated a little car sex, and I appreciated the spontaneity. I was feeling off-kilter though. She wasn’t that much younger than me — less than ten years — but the diversity and utter coolness of her friends made me feel like a relic.
I was rich as all fuck and incredibly famous, and none of them cared. Caitlyn had given them the heads up to steer clear of me, but even when they were drunk, they didn’t seem at all interested in me. What they cared about was music, weird cheap drinks, and Caitlyn. That made me crazy.
After lying there awhile, I realized I was too wired, frustrated, and generally upset with myself to sleep, so I carefully slipped out of bed. I’d go to the kitchen to catch up on some work. I usually worked every day, and outside of sex, work was the best thing to calm me down.
As I tucked the sheet around her tighter, guilt bubbled up. I’d hurt her tonight, taking her as hard as I did. I was so pent up and ravenous, I just pounded her like I would Rachel, who loved that kind of thing. Caitlyn was vanilla with a little bit of spice — very little — but willing to try more, which was sweet. Still, I’d taken advantage.