Make a Scene

by Mimi Grace

  “New Zealand,” Irene replied, clapping her hands and practically bouncing in her seat.

  “New Zealand?” Retta squeaked.

  She said it so loudly and like it was a cuss word that everyone involved in the conversation turned to look at her.

  Shrinking in her seat, Retta said, “I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Well. Um,” the bride said, fidgeting with her cutlery. “I’m sure you’ll go one day.”

  “Duncan,” Irene’s mother said. “Your gym would be perfect for building stamina, right?”

  “Mom.”

  The older woman waved off her daughter’s protest and said, “They’re doing a lot of hiking on their honeymoon, and Irene mentioned that she wanted to build up her stamina.”

  “Definitely,” Duncan said, placing his fork and knife down. “A lot of our classes are suitable for all fitness levels as well.”

  “Do you have a business card?” Irene’s mother asked.

  Grabbing one from his wallet, he presented it to the bride. “No pressure.”

  Irene glanced at Retta before accepting it. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve never understood boxing or any other sport where grown men hit each other,” Christopher said, taking a slow drink from his glass. “Seems mindless.”

  Before Duncan could defend his sport, Retta said, “It’s not just about force or power. It also requires a lot of skill and agility.”

  Something warm bloomed inside Duncan in response to her words.

  The groom shrugged, and it felt more dismissive than if he’d said something outright insulting. But what did he care about the opinion of a random man?

  “You must enjoy having each other so close by,” Margaret said, nudging Retta with her shoulder.

  “She definitely takes advantage of it more than I do,” Duncan said, laughing. “Recently, she came over unannounced for one of my full body conditioning classes.”

  Retta jumped in her seat as if she’d been pinched.

  He turned to her with a very serious expression and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Screw you,” she mumbled, hiding a smile behind her napkin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he said, leaning in.

  This was the first time all night he’d seen Retta truly at ease. He was happy he could at least provide her a bit of respite.

  As the catering staff cleared their plates, Retta pointed to his elbow and said, “You got sauce on your jacket.”

  Duncan twisted his arm to take a look. This was his one and only suit, and he planned to wear it to the wedding as well. “I’ll be right back.”

  Getting up, he headed toward the back of the condo where he’d spotted a washroom.

  He found a small line up in front of the door. While he waited, he smiled to himself about the night so far. They were really pulling this thing off.

  His ears perked up when the two people directly behind him mentioned Retta. He turned his head and found a middle-aged man and woman studying him.

  “Sorry,” the woman with long red acrylic nails said. She leaned forward and whispered, “You’re Retta’s new man, right?”

  “Yeah,” Duncan said, the word sliding from his mouth with very little effort.

  “I was just telling him how it’s real big of you to show up,” the woman said.

  The man crossed his arms and sucked his teeth. “It couldn’t be me though. An ex stays in the past. You don’t go to their weddings.”

  Duncan paused for many seconds as his brain worked to draw a conclusion. It came as the restroom door opened.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Upon reentering the hub of the party with a clean jacket, a burning sensation stirred in Duncan’s chest. Everything made sense now. The awkward introductions, the tense exchanges, Retta’s anxiety. There had to be unresolved feelings there. Why else would she be here and require his presence?

  People had abandoned their seats to grab dessert and mingle, but Retta was still seated at the table with Margaret.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said as the two women looked up. “I’m going to steal her for a moment.”

  Margaret sat back and winked at Retta. “Go ahead, love.”

  Standing up, she squeezed the older woman’s arm before turning to Duncan and saying, “We can’t leave now.”

  “We’re not,” he said as he guided her to the dim semi-populated dance floor.

  They found a spot amongst the people swaying to smooth jazz. He hooked his arms around her waist, and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

  Retta’s feelings were none of his business. The new information was irrelevant, and he wouldn’t bring it up. He had one job to do tonight: be the best fake boyfriend.

  “This feels very ‘09 prom,” she said after a few minutes.

  “Ah-oh.”

  “No,” she said, moving her head to look into his eyes. “I liked my prom.”

  They continued to sway until she faltered in her step. He held her fast.

  “Sorry, it’s these ridiculous shoes,” she said, fixing her skewed glasses.

  But she also seemed distracted by something over his shoulder. Duncan casually turned his head in that direction and found Christopher and Irene dancing on the other side of the room. The churning heat in his chest returned.

  When he turned back, she was studying him, and for a moment he thought she’d figured out what he’d been told.

  “You’re playing the boyfriend role like a real thespian,” she said, brushing his shoulders. “With your suit and everything.”

  “I had to borrow this tie.”

  She smiled. “I’m returning this dress.”

  He assessed the silky fabric that cascaded down her curves. “That’s a shame. I like it.”

  Several seconds passed before she asked, “What do you like about it?”

  Her warm breath snuck past his collar, sending shivers down his body. From the way her voice dropped, there was no mistaking the flirtation behind the question. Today had been rough for her; he understood that now. If she needed a distraction, he was willing to be that.

  She incorrectly read his long pause because she shook her head and straightened. “Sorry, that’s a weird question.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he said as he pulled her close to his body and pressed his face near her ear. “I like how flimsy and tearable it looks.”

  Her chest slowly rose and fell before she whispered, “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Moving his thumb up and down her exposed back, he smiled and said, “I thought you wanted to stay.”

  She looked him in the eye before brushing her lips against his. “Now I want to leave.”

  An electrical current run between them as they said their farewells. It was as if they’d combust if they didn’t get out of there.

  He thought they were almost in the clear when she stopped mere paces from the door. “Ah,” she said, turning to him. “You’re about to meet my parents.”

  He knew who they were the moment he spotted them. When it came to meeting parents of people he dated, it never happened. To him, this step was a big move in a relationship, an ushering into the in-group. It came with pressure to please and impress people beyond his partner.

  Duncan smiled and extended his hand out to Retta’s parents. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Majors,” he said to the two people before him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  They seemed pleasant, and he could see Retta in both of them. She got her mom’s rounded nose and her father’s large, expressive eyes. And both her parents were tall.

  “Well, we’re heading out,” Retta said.

  “But the party’s just started,” Mrs. Majors said.

  “I know, but we both have early mornings,” Retta said. “I’ll call you later this weekend.”

  She hugged her parents, and he only had a literal second to say goodbye himself. Duncan didn’t know what the night would bring, but he knew once they left this place, nothing would be the same.

&n
bsp; They calmly walked down the hallway, washed in yellow-tinged light. With each step they took toward the elevator, the butterflies in her stomach multiplied.

  His hand on her open back was reassuring but maddening. She wanted more. He said this would happen when they’d been on his desk, but a part of her had thought it was something said in the heat of a moment. As soon as they entered the empty elevator and the doors closed behind them, Retta pushed Duncan against the wall.

  She grabbed his head and brought his lips to hers as he pulled her leg up and around his waist. For several seconds, they shared fevered, heedless kisses before Duncan flipped her so she was the one pressed up against the elevator wall. His cologne, body, and touch all enveloped her.

  The ping of the door opening on a different floor had them quickly separating. They demurely stood next to each other with the tips of their fingers the only thing in contact.

  While a few people loaded onto the elevator, Duncan whispered, “Did you drive here?”

  She nodded. “But we can take yours.”

  It was a long fifteen seconds to the parking level.

  They were in his truck within minutes. But as much as she wanted to recline their chairs and go at it right then and there, two tall people were not comfortably fucking in that tight space.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked, shoving the keys in the ignition.

  “Whichever is closer.”

  He straightened in his seat and pulled out of the underground parking onto the road. The sound of people enjoying the downtown nightlife filled the otherwise quiet vehicle.

  Duncan’s hand came to rest on her exposed thigh. Her breathing slowed down as she watched his hand knead her flesh. When he began a laborious ascent up her thigh, she spread her legs as wide as the truck would allow.

  Retta thought her heart might fly from her chest when he finally reached the outside of her damp panties. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath in the silence.

  “How long have you been like this?” he asked, his voice sounding rough.

  “Since we started dancing.”

  Duncan seemed spurred on by her answer. Even at the awkward angle, he was able to caress her into a state. There was something reckless about this, and she loved it. But she also wanted to make it to his apartment in one piece.

  “Focus on the road,” she said, pushing his hand away before pressing hers down the front of her underwear.

  “Are you touching yourself?” Duncan asked.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, watching him as she circled her clit.

  He looked away from the road to confirm her answer. “Fuck.”

  A low, breathy moan slipped past her lips.

  “You’re killing me here, Retta,” he said.

  “Sorry about that.”

  When she’d asked him to be her fake boyfriend, she’d expected him to do the bare minimum of performances. But all night Duncan had been attentive, comforting, and entertaining. He’d gone above and beyond what was necessary.

  With heavy lids, she watched his jaw clench and unclench. He held the steering wheel like he was trying to impress his hands into it. By the time they arrived at his apartment, she was on the verge of an orgasm. But he swiftly unfastened her seat belt and hauled her into his lap.

  “This is what you want?” he asked, grabbing her hand to press to the front of his pants. “Me hard and risking speeding tickets for you?” His voice was distorted into a low bass that skated across her skin.

  She brought her mouth to his, breathless from the knowledge he wanted her as much as she did him. They maneuvered themselves out of the vehicle without breaking or spraining anything, and they sped up the stairs to his apartment. It wasn’t clear if Duncan locked the door behind them, but she was already circling her arms around his neck and kicking off her heels.

  He groped for the light switch while guiding her into a bedroom where crisp air circulated.

  “Last test?” she asked him, pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

  Scattering kissing down her neck, he replied, “Three months ago. You?”

  “January,” she said, but her voice caught as he grabbed her ass and pulled her even closer to his hard body.

  With clumsy fingers, Retta unbuttoned his shirt but quickly abandoned the tedious task to work on his pants. Her movements were rushed and fevered, but she slowed down once his trousers were off. His thighs, a testimony of the work he did every day, stood as unyielding columns. She dragged her fingers along them, feeling his coarse hair and hard flesh. And this was all before she got to his erection pressing against his briefs.

  “You’ve gotta do something, baby. I’m trying to—”

  He hissed as she finally pushed down his underwear. Her stomach actually fluttered seeing him in all his glory. Taking a hold of his dick from the base, she looked up as she placed her lips on the tip. His eyebrows drew closer together, his mouth fell open, and the veins in his neck made an appearance.

  She used her tongue to tease the head before moving down the length. It was only when she returned to the top that she took him fully into her mouth.

  His hand automatically traveled to the back of her head. He gently wrapped his fingers around her hair and guided her mouth over his dick at a steady pace. The sight of him with his head tilted back on the doors of his closet, sweat on his dark chest, and a smattering of hair that started at his navel was almost too much.

  The low groans he made were loud and unencumbered. She felt them in her body, and they were enough for her to spread her legs and work her wetness around her clit.

  Their gazes finally met, and she fucking loved him watching her suck.

  “That pretty mouth, wants to take me all, huh?” he rasped.

  It was the smile and the gentle way he cradled her head. It was tender. Too tender. It felt like that moment he was helping her calm down at the party. She didn’t want this to be soul revealing or anything. It was just sex.

  Relaxing her jaw and flattening her tongue, she pressed herself forward even farther, feeling every vein and contour fill the space in her mouth. Duncan’s smile dropped, and the grip on her hair tightened as he quickened the pace.

  “Dammit, Retta,” he shouted after she increased the suction and dug her fingers into the side of his thighs.

  Without warning, he pulled his dick from her mouth, dragged her upwards by her shoulders, and kissed her deeply. He guided her to his bed, and the sound of her dress ripping filled the room as she fell backward onto the mattress.

  “Did you get that pussy ready for me?” he asked, hovering over her with strong arms on either side of her head. “I want to slide right in.”

  His words settled on her like molten lava. She could only manage to nod as he removed her soaked panties and tossed them over his shoulder.

  While he worked to remove her dress, his gaze fixed onto her chest for several seconds. For a moment, Retta thought he’d become overwhelmed by the absolute beauty of her modest chest. But when she took a look at them herself, she saw the flesh-colored nipple coverings she’d worn with the backless outfit.

  “Oh, just,” she slowly peeled each pastie off and flung them somewhere to the left of her, “done.”

  “There they are,” he said, briefly rubbing his thumbs over them.

  When he dropped to his knees in front of her open legs, she thought he’d go straight to her pussy, but he started on the inside of her left knee and worked his way up with soft love bites and kisses. Each one sent her deeper into the embrace of her desire. Her capacity to breathe waned as he neared where she wanted him to be.

  His warm breath caressed her and elicited a shiver that made her toes curl and her back arch.

  “Look at you,” he rasped, moving his fingers along her slit before holding them up for her to bear witness to her own need.

  The sound of him breathing her in was almost her undoing. “Please, Duncan.”

  Lowering his head, he gave her a long lick that ended at her clit.


  “Oh, God,” she said, her head flopping backward.

  She felt him smile as he closed his mouth around her sensitive bud and swirled his tongue. As she edged closer to her release, she fisted the sheets and tried to prolong the moment. But seconds later, everything tightened and she was catapulted into an orgasm.

  While she recovered, he reached into the drawer of his side table to retrieve a condom. She watched him as he deftly rolled the latex on. He positioned himself over her, bracketing her torso with his arms. As he placed his dick at her slick entrance their eyes locked. She told herself to look away, but the focus and interest he was studying her face with made it impossible.

  Her eyelids lowered as he slid ever so slowly into her. She clamped her lips together to avoid moaning his name. He withdrew his dick from her pussy only to drive into her once again just as slow but with more force. She whimpered as she felt him stretch and fill her. Pleasure permeated her body.

  Every time he retreated and entered her something in her lower belly tightened. Her clit had a pulse of its own, and her skin grew damp and heated.

  Digging her short fingernails into his lower back she whispered, “Faster.”

  He gave her that crooked smile of his before he straightened and hooked one of her legs over his arm. This sent him sliding deeper inside of her.

  “Yeah, like that,” she said as she grabbed her own breasts.

  He barely gave her a chance to adjust to the new position before he started fucking her at an unrelenting speed.

  “This good?” he asked, watching her with a fierce expression.

  She didn’t answer right away, occupied with the jolts of pleasure.

  “Huh?” he asked again as he leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

  “So good. Don’t you dare stop.”

  His continued caresses and movement inside her triggered sounds and moans that came from the depth of her body.

  “That’s right, baby,” he said without ceasing his powerful thrusts. “Get loud.”

  She could see the light. It was beckoning her to surrender. She needed a few more—