Expired Regrets

by Megan C. Smith

  Bryant hit the door with so much force that it slung open and bounced back at us.

  “Easy there, killer. I’d like to get my deposit back,” I teased.

  Bryant nibbled on my earlobe and trailed his teeth down my neck. He tugged my dress up my thighs a bit more so that he could lift me up and wrap my legs around his waist. I could feel his hardness pressing into me through my panties, and I dragged his lips back to mine, biting his bottom lip harshly to urge him on.

  He turned toward the bed and dropped us on it together, as his hands explored my body and made my dress feel uncomfortably tight.

  “This, get this off me,” I breathed at him, gasping for air as I attempted to undo the buttons on his shirt.

  Forget this — I’ll buy him a new one!

  I grabbed the shirt and ripped it open, popping a few buttons off in the process. My hands went for his belt buckle, but he beat me to it and then he leaned back, dropping his pants to the floor. I reached for the zipper on my dress to escape the confinement.

  Bryant stopped my fingers’ search and slowly unzipped it. He peeled the dress off me and kissed a trail down my body, inch by inch, as he exposed skin he’d left behind. He took the time to admire each breast before moving further down to my inner thigh. I shifted myself, getting his lips to shift to the juncture between my legs, but he just chuckled, blowing cool air on my wet hot core.

  “Payback, Rose. Payback.”

  I reached my hand down, determined to relieve some of the tension building within.

  Bryant sat up on his elbows, watching a moment, before pushing my hand out of the way and sealing his lips over the same spot.

  Within minutes of his tongue and fingers thrusting inside me, I felt my body climax, and I shivered in delight as I came back down from cloud nine.

  He scooted himself up and flipped us to where I was on top of him and in control. I traced his chest and abdominal muscles with my fingertips ever so softly, watching the desire pool in the depths of his heated eyes.

  Bryant seized my hand and brought it to his mouth then suckled on my fingers, before nibbling on each pad.

  With each graze of his teeth, I could feel myself growing warmer and wetter, aching for him to be inside me. I grabbed the foil packet I had set out when I’d dressed earlier and unrolled the condom over him as I caressed his erection and admired his size. I climbed up, angling myself just over the tip of his cock and stroked it between my folds to get it wet before lowering myself and thrusting him in to me.

  I moaned at the tightness and pleasure that coursed through me as I set a pace of torturous rhythm. A few long deep strokes and Bryant flipped me onto my back, taking control and dominating my petite frame. He pounded me and brought his hand down to rub my clit, making me curl my toes and pray this would never end.

  Feeling my end near, I tilted my head to expose my neck, and he leaned down, biting first before placing soft kisses on my neck.

  “I’m right there, Bryant,” I moaned out at him with a mixture of other noises as he angled himself so that each thrust hit a bit deeper.

  “Come for me, Rose,” he whispered in my ear as he sucked on the lobe.

  A few quick thrusts later, we both screamed out in ecstasy, riding the waves of pleasure that coursed through us, until he collapsed on top of me, covered in sweat.

  After spending a blissful night together making love and napping in between, we woke up to load up the rest of my belongings. I said my goodbyes to Tallahassee — a bittersweet moment. It had been my safe haven for four years, but I’d now made it to heaven and was more than ready to see what the future held for Bryant and me. I knew with confidence that together we could accomplish anything. I picked up my phone to call Leslie.

  “Hey, Rose, you on your way back?” she said as she answered her phone.

  “Hey, Les, we’re on our way home now. Are you ready to get married?

  Leslie squealed in delight. “Yes! Drive safely. Oh! And as soon as you get here, I have to tell you about the girl Jordan met!”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Megan C. Smith was born and raised in beautiful Tampa, Florida where she spent her days falling in love with fictional characters from a very young age.

  After marrying her best friend she relocated to North Carolina to support her husband’s career as a U.S. Marine. During her time in North Carolina Megan was blessed with 3 beautiful children who have kept her constantly busy chasing after them and enjoying the daily routine of motherhood.

  Most recently Megan and her family have relocated to St. Petersburg, Florida where she has spent the past few months achieving her lifelong dream of publishing her very first novel; as well as continuing to submerge herself in some of her favorite books while appreciating a glass of wine and her favorite, salted pretzel Milanos.

  http://authormegansmith.blogspot.com/

  DROWN

  Orders of the Sky #1

  by Jennifer Rae Gravely

  June 1988

  Into the wide, wide world

  Like a soldier at attention, the air stood motionless awaiting the orders of the sky.

  I uncurled my legs and climbed from the black car. Out of habit, I pushed my hair from my forehead, thankful I had piled the curly blonde mess on top of my head that morning with the expectation of much needed thunderstorms.

  My hand slid down my pale green sundress as I straightened and lengthened the clingy cotton cloth to my knees. First impressions were important, and I wanted to present a picture of respectability and professionalism.

  The glare from the cars parked along Main Street intensified the afternoon light despite the pollen that clung to their hoods. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I marched to the real estate office at the corner.

  A bell tinkled against the glass doors. A gray-headed lady with a round face sat behind a high counter. She closed the magazine in front of her. “Yes, dear?”

  “I’m Andie Drown from Keowee High,” I said. “My government teacher arranged for me to volunteer for the upcoming election.”

  The lady stood and I noted the bold colors of her floral print dress accentuated her hips in a less than flattering way.

  “Mr. Richland is expecting you. This way.”

  I followed the woman as she waddled down a hall. She entered a room to the left and flourished her hands toward two rectangular wooden tables. A pile of papers and envelopes covered the corner of one. She cleared her throat, sounding like a goose. “He’ll be right here.” Despite the hum from the window unit, beads of perspiration dotted her hairline.

  “Thank you,” I said and watched her leave.

  I inspected the room. Although blinds covered the windows, the afternoon light still checkered the opposite wall. Framed black-and-white pictures of local waterfalls reminded me of all the trail hikes I took when I was younger.

  “Hello. I’m Keith Richland.”

  I spun to face the doorway.

  A man with a touch of gray in his brown hair stepped forward, offering his hand. “You must be Andie. Good of you to offer to help with my campaign.”

  I smiled and shook his proffered hand. “I appreciate the opportunity to perform my civic responsibility. I’ve been working on the presidential campaign but look forward to dealing with politics closer to home.”

  He motioned for me to sit. I did. “That’s wonderful.” He leaned over my shoulder, opened a notebook, and pointed to a list. Then he moved a stack of envelopes to my left. “I need these to be addressed.”

  “Not a problem.” I felt a twinge of disappointment. I understood I wouldn’t be writing speeches and planning fundraising campaigns, but the task did seem simple and mundane.

  He joined me at the table, and my spirits soared again when he said, “I understand that you will be attending college in Reedville this fall?”

  “Yes, on athletic and academic scholarships.” I straightened my back. “I had to work hard in school and in the gym because my family doesn’t have the money. I also have three sibl
ings still in high school.”

  “Hard work is always appreciated and valued. It should be rewarded.” When he reached across me for an envelope, his hand brushed my shoulder. “What’s your intended area of study?”

  “I want to triple major in Politics, History, and English. I plan on getting my juris doctorate.”

  “Ambitious.” He put his other hand on my knee. “I know several lawyers in the area that may need an intern in the future.” His hand moved slightly. “If you’re interested, that is?”

  His touch made me uncomfortable, but I was interested in making contacts in the legal world. “Yes, sir, very.” I shifted my legs enough to cause his hand to fall from my thigh.

  “Good.” His hazel eyes shifted downward. “What a beautiful heart.” He reached out, grabbing and caressing the gold locket that hung around my neck.

  “It was my grandmother’s on my father’s side. She—”

  He jumped from his chair. “I need to inspect a house that I’m listing.” Mr. Richland stared at me. “Would you like to see the place? It’s not far from here.”

  I tilted my head. “What about the list?” I didn’t really want to transcribe addresses but couldn’t comprehend why he needed me to come with him.

  “Don’t worry about that.” He motioned toward the paperwork. “I’ll have my secretary finish.” Sensing my hesitation, he added, “I need a woman’s opinion on the place.”

  I considered his request. It would be more interesting than sitting here, and I’d have the chance to make a lasting impression. “Sure.” I stood, smoothed the wrinkles from my dress, and then brushed the loose locks of hair from my eyes. “I’ll go along. I don’t have any plans until later this evening.”

  “My car is in the back lot,” he said.

  We left through a different door. The sun still exerted dominance in the sky, but dark clouds threatened from the west.

  Mr. Richland held the car door open and offered apologies as he rolled down my window. “The vehicle’s air conditioner isn’t working at the moment.”

  “No, problem,” I said. “The wind seems to have picked up with the rain coming. But let’s hope we get inside before the storm hits.”

  “We’re due for some relief from this oppression,” he said. “The lack of precipitation this spring and summer has taxed the lakes and hurt the tourism in the area.”

  We talked about economics as we drove away from town. Mr. Richland veered off the main road. Based on original trade routes of the Indians, Southern roads were notorious for their serpentine trails, and I quickly became confused about our location. A sense of direction wasn’t one of my strengths.

  We turned onto an unpaved drive. The Richland Realties SUV rumbled along the path, kicking up puffs of red dust from the parched dirt. We pulled up to a white cottage desperately in need of new paint.

  Black clouds loomed overhead by the time we got out of the SUV. A dilapidated outbuilding stood to the right of the house under a pecan tree. Mr. Richland stepped across the pavers leading to the small front porch. Nothing but red clay stood between the walkway and the exterior wall of the house.

  “A few more flowers and shrubs will add to the curb appeal,” he said. Weeds grew between the stones, dandelions the only thriving vegetation.

  “And some general maintenance will help,” I added.

  Big drops of rain started to fall. Another step and the heel of my sandal caught in the gap as the storm unleashed. By the time I made it to the porch, I was soaked. The dress clung to my body, and the rain dripped from my bare arms.

  I stepped into the cottage and wiped water from my forehead. The outdated kitchen had canary yellow walls and brown appliances. A ceramic mushroom clock hanging on the wall opposite the stove caught my attention. “This room will definitely need a loving touch.”

  “Exactly why I brought you here.”

  I turned to him. His pants were open. This pillar of the community stood with his own column undraped. Stunned, but awake to my situation, I averted my eyes from his manhood.

  I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. “How dare you expect that from me!” I fumed. “Take me back—I’m not interested in your little proposition.”

  Spinning on my heels, I stormed out of the house. Tears poured down my cheeks as I hustled through the blinding rain. I waited in the car, weathering the emotions waging war in my mind.

  PART ONE—BOOZE, BRAWLS, AND BREAKUPS

  Chapter One

  Gods of Gossip

  “Yuck. He’s old enough to be our father,” Katie said. My best friend sat on the edge of her bed listening to my story and waiting for me to change out of my wet clothes. We were on our way to her church for a dinner held to honor the graduating seniors.

  I shrugged. The rain pelted the windows of her upstairs room.

  “Why don’t you report him? Or go public? Ruin his political career before it even begins.” Her hazel eyes grew wide with indignation.

  “Offer myself up to the gods of gossip in this small town?” I turned back to the closet and rummaged through the hanging dresses. “You’ve lived here all your life. You know that when they get finished with me, I’ll be the vixen rather than the victim. All those cackling hens at Piney Grove Baptist Church would have me as the fox.” I picked a blue dress and held it out for her approval.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “His hen goes to my church. March up to her tonight right after preaching and say, ‘Mrs. Richland, your husband is a slime ball.’“

  “I’m sure she knows that she’s married to a pervert. He’s probably done this before.”

  “Exactly. Don’t you want to stop this from happening again? Don’t you want to see justice? You’re all about the law,” she said. “When it suits you, of course.” Her lips curved upward.

  “Underage drinking is not the same as exposing yourself to a minor,” I said, stepping out of the soaked dress.

  “Exactly. Make a point and change the world.”

  I took a deep breath. I wanted to make a difference, but this wasn’t the battle I needed to fight. “It won’t help. Perception is everything in a small town. I’ll get the blame. No one will believe that I was so blind.”

  “But you were that blind. You always are.” Katie giggled. “I’ll testify to that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. Mark my words, if he ever amounts to anything other than a small town politician, I’ll come out of the woodwork and haunt him.” I pulled the dress over my head. “Right now, I’m more concerned with tomorrow’s graduation. Then the countdown to escaping this place begins.”

  “Why worry about the future all the time?” Katie brushed her chestnut colored hair back from her oval face. “We’ve got all summer before the stress of school and volleyball.”

  Katie and I had been together since grade school, playing sports and chasing boys. Now she was going to a rival college in Saluda to play volleyball. “I can’t believe we’re not going to be on the same team ever again.”

  “What I can’t believe is that you’re going to a school with no boys.” She chuckled. “What were you thinking?”

  “Reedville has three other colleges.” I pulled the rubber band from my hair. “I’m going to school for an education and volleyball, not for boys. Plus, I’m not interested in boys.” I moved to her dresser to inspect my hair and make-up. Twisting my hair back up, I thought about him. “I’m interested in one incredibly sexy man.”

  “Are you talking about Stone again?” My best friend shook her head. “You’re chasing a phantom in the night with that one. He’s so far out of our league.”

  “A girl can dream, can’t she?” I closed my eyes.

  “Again, let’s not stress or worry.” She stood and searched for her shoes. “Think about all the fun we’ll have this summer.”

  “You’re right.” I inhaled. “Starting with the graduation parties this weekend.”

  “And every weekend after.” She slipped on her sandals. “You better get used to having m
e at your house all the time. My parents are being ridiculous.” Lowering her voice, she continued, “They think I should be in by eleven every night. I already told them not to expect me at church Sunday morning because I’d be with you.”

  “What did they say when you told them that?” I started applying blue eye shadow and mascara.

  “They asked why I couldn’t come home Saturday night after the barbeque at Five Forks. I said I was going to church with you instead. I seriously doubt we’ll be ready to come home by eleven from that party. Everyone’s supposed to be there.”

  “Did you go so far as to tell your parents we would be square-dancing at the BBQ?” My good humor returned with the anticipation of frivolous summer fun.

  “That’s a good one.” Katie grinned. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Knowing your parents, they’d believe that. You can do no wrong in their eyes.” I put my hand to my mouth. “Remember our senior trip to the Bahamas over spring break?”

  “Now that was fun,” she said.

  “I can’t believe they let you hang out with me—wild daughter of the heathen John Drown and his poor, sweet wife Rebecca.” Most respectable townspeople didn’t care for my father, but they adored my mother.

  “They believe that my influence will save you from Hell.” She shook her head.

  We grabbed our purses and headed toward the door. “Might take more than that,” I said.

  Heat

  At my house the following Saturday evening, I paraded in front of Katie wearing a blue jean mini-skirt and a tight-fitting black sleeveless top. We were almost ready for the lake party. “Do I look all right?” My golden blonde hair fell to my shoulders in loose curls.

  “You look great. Wear your hair down.” Katie held out two tank tops. “Do you like the blue or the red one with these shorts?” The modest outfit she wore to my house lay on the floor, and the short shorts she wore now highlighted her long legs. Like me, Katie was close to six feet tall. That’s one reason we dominated on the volleyball court.