by S. M. Shade
“There you are,” Kasha exclaims as they approach. “I looked for you after the dinner.”
“We went out the servant’s entrance.”
“Servant’s entrance!” I cry, pointing at Davis. “That’s another good one!”
“That’s it!” Davis announces, grabbing me and throwing me over his shoulder. Kasha and Roman try to laugh themselves to death while Lydia and Simon look on in confusion. “Excuse us,” Davis says, as if carrying a woman around is completely normal behavior.
He tramps up the beach, and I’m starting to get a little motion sick from bobbing over his shoulder. “Put me down!”
“Are you going to stop running your mouth?”
“I’ll do my best,” I giggle, and he places me on my feet.
His hand brushes my hair out of my face, and he chuckles, “No one can ever accuse you of being dishonest.”
Moonlight illuminates his face, reflecting in his eyes and making him almost too gorgeous to look at. How many nights had I spent sitting beside him on our back porch, watching the moonlight fall across his features just this way? Only a few more than the mornings we spent in the front yard, gazing at the way the light crawled across the grass to reach us. It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did.
We had dreams.
We had plans.
We were going to be together forever.
We were stupid fucking kids.
Twenty-six years old and I’m still stupid, dreaming of having more with him when it’s just not possible. “What’s that look about, Hen?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Just tired I guess,” I murmur. One more day. I only have one more day with him.
“Let’s sit down.” He sits in the sand and pulls me down beside him.
“Why did you leave the way you did?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He sighs, and I go on. “I know it’s stupid, but I need to know. Was it because I wasn’t good in bed? I mean, we only did it once. It wasn’t fair to judge—”
His finger lands on my lips. “Stop. It had nothing to do with you, Hen.”
Anger takes over. “Are you kidding me? It had everything to do with me. When you said we would be together after I graduated, I believed you. Did you even…” My voice cracks. “I loved you.”
I’m pulled into a warm lap, and I lean back against his chest, reveling in the feel of his arms around me. Soft lips press against my temple before he says, “I loved you, too. You were my little chicken.”
“But you left without even telling me goodbye.”
“My mom overdosed.”
Everything falls quiet at his admission, even the waves seem to fall out of their rhythm, holding their breath in anticipation and dread. Or maybe it’s just me. “You went to your mother’s?”
Davis spent a lot of time at our house when we were kids because he was being raised by a single dad. His father was a police officer who worked a lot, and didn’t have much time to deal with a kid. His mother had left them when he was very young, and I didn’t even realize Davis was in touch with her back then, since he never talked about her.
“She was living in Nashville and she used my dad as an emergency contact. The hospital left a message on our machine, and dad ignored it. When I pressed, he said to forget about her. He said she was a junkie who would never change and wasn’t worth our time.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I went home before you woke up, planning to be back by lunch, but I heard that message and got into it with Dad. He was pissed I called the hospital, and even more pissed I wanted to go to her.” He squeezes me tighter. “The doctors didn’t think she was going to make it. It didn’t matter that she left us. I thought it was my last chance to see her, so I jumped in my car and went.
“She was somewhat better by the time I arrived, but it was still awful. She looked like she was going through chemo she was so skinny, but her face lit up when I walked in the room. I swore to her I’d stay and help her get better if she’d try, and she agreed.” He rubs his palm across his face. “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”
“You couldn’t have called me?”
“I wanted to, but I knew the life we planned couldn’t happen. I was facing months, if not years of taking care of her, and I was right, Hen. Years of cleaning up puke and hauling her into the shower to sober her up. She drank and took any pill within reach. That was my life and I didn’t want it to be yours as well, because I knew you’d join me if you knew. I went to school, studied, and took care of her while she got worse and worse. Rehab didn’t help, even when I took out an additional loan to send her again. She died just after I graduated from college.”
My mind is whirling with all the new information. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why I left. I wanted to call so many times, but I knew how hurt and angry you’d be, and I was chicken shit. Every second of my day was miserable and stressful and I just couldn’t handle it. You had every reason to hate me, but I couldn’t bear to hear it from you.”
Turning in his lap, I place a soft kiss on his lips. “I never hated you. I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
Silence falls over us. I lean against his warm chest, listening to the music of the ocean. We share a few brief, soft kisses before he whispers, “We only live three hundred miles apart, Hen. Tomorrow doesn’t have to be goodbye.”
My chest aches with longing, but I know better. I’m not a naïve kid making plans that can’t pan out. We were kids who loved each other, but those days are long gone. We have our own lives to live, and even if one of us was willing to uproot and move, they’d eventually resent it. It’s better to leave the past in the past. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left together.”
I can feel his disappointment in the rise and fall of his chest, but he agrees.
Hand in hand, we walk back toward the bonfire, where it becomes clear Roman wasn’t the only one to bring alcohol. “No!” Kasha shouts. “I’m not taking it off! Fuck off or I’ll wear it to the wedding ceremony!”
Uh-oh. Anderson stands across from her, glaring at her chest. Davis chuckles when her llama shirt comes into view. She must’ve kept her jacket zipped up until Anderson and his buddies arrived. Everyone but Anderson seems to think it’s hilarious, though I doubt half of them get the joke.
Every minute or two, someone shouts, “Yama!” and they all laugh again.
Davis slips his arm around my waist and angles us toward the house. “Let’s skip tonight’s drama.”
“Sounds good to me.”
***
“Join me in the shower,” Davis offers.
“Nah, go ahead. I’ll be waiting in your room.”
“You’d better be naked.”
He disappears into the bathroom, and I quickly whip out my other purchase from Scarlet Toys, a twelve inch dildo and panties designed to hold a strap-on. I can barely control my giggles as I strip down and put on the pink panties, threading the head of the huge cock through the opening in the front. I can’t resist standing in front of the mirror to see how it looks, especially when I jump up and down a little.
It must be fun to have one of these all the time. Giggling to myself, I swirl my hips, making the dildo spin around. I’m so amused, I don’t notice the shower has stopped running until I hear Davis exclaim, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Um…the helicopter?”
I’ve never actually seen someone do a face palm before, but he does, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “What’s so funny? I have a huge cock!”
Running toward him, I shake it. “Fear my weapon of ass destruction!”
Grabbing my shoulders, he shakes his head, still trying not to laugh. “You are insane if you think I’m letting you anywhere near my ass with that.”
Voices and laughter start to filter in from the hall. The bonfire must be over. I can hear Gretchen and Monica chatting about the decorations for tomorrow’s ceremony. “Make sure th
e door’s locked,” Davis says, pulling his towel around his hips.
The man must move like a damn ninja because I don’t hear so much as a footstep behind me when he comes up and yanks the door open, pushing me out into the hall. “Payback’s a bitch, Hen,” he calls.
Monica and Gretchen freeze, their jaws on the floor like they’ve never seen a woman wearing only a T-shirt and panties, sporting a huge dildo. It’s not just them. No less than ten people are gaping at me, including Kasha, Roman, and Anderson.
“Uh… Henley? Trying a little role play, are you?” Kasha asks, laughing.
There’s no graceful way out of this situation, so I’m taking that asshole Davis down with me. “Well, you know, Davis begged to try pegging, so I thought we’d give it a shot.”
I hear him curse a few seconds before he joins me, fully dressed, in the hallway. “I do not take it in the ass!”
“Now, there’s no reason to be ashamed. There’s no judgment here… well, there’s a lot of judgement, but not from me or Kasha. Right, girl?”
She’s laughing too hard to respond, so I look at Roman. He throws his palms up. “Hey, whatever gets you off, man.”
Davis fumes and tries to grab my arm, but I shrug it off. “Kasha, look, I can do the helicopter.” Kasha holds her side, tears of laughter leaking from her eyes as I gyrate while making a whirring noise.
“Awesome. Love your cock,” she says, stepping toward me.
I thrust out my hips. “Touch it. I know you want to.”
“That’s enough!” Monica exclaims, finally overcoming her shock and finding her voice. It was probably Kasha stroking the massive, plastic penis with her robo hand that pushed her over the edge. Or maybe the way I groaned when she did. Either way, the small crowd begins to disperse, and Davis pulls me back into his room.
“I can’t believe you did that!” he huffs, locking the door behind him.
“Me? You threw me into a crowd of uppity bitches wearing a bright red dildo.”
“Everyone thinks I want it in my ass!”
We glare at each other until a small smile cracks his lips. That’s all it takes for both of us to lose it, laughing at how ridiculous we sound. His arms creep around my waist as I peek up at him. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” He closes his eyes when I kiss his stubbly jaw. “I’m not letting you go again, Henley. I don’t know what my future holds, but you’re in it.”
“No promises,” I warn. “Just take me to bed and fuck me until I can’t walk.”
Kneeling, he removes my panties and looks up at me with a devious grin, the dildo in his hand. “No. No way. Get whatever thought you just had right out of your head.”
“You made my ass sore, it’s only fair.”
“My ass has an exit only sign. Never going to happen.”
Davis strips off his clothes and mine, throwing me onto the bed. His warm body covers me, and his words pull at my heart. “I’m going to make sure you don’t forget me when you go home.”
I bite my lip to stop the truth escaping from my lips. I could never forget him. He feels like home.
We make love until the early hours of the morning, and I relish every second I have him. Our usual desperation for each other is present, heightened by the knowledge that this is our last night together. He explores my body as if he wants to remember every inch of skin, and I lock the sound of his deep voice and low moans into my memory to pull out on the lonely nights I have ahead of me.
His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek when he finally falls asleep. I’m exhausted, but I hate to close my eyes when I know I’m opening them to a painful goodbye. I was stupid to think I could sleep with him and not become attached when I was never unattached. Eight years of no contact didn’t change my feelings for him. In a little over twelve hours I’ll be in a car, heading back to my life that seemed just fine without him in it until now. I set myself up to get hurt again, but everything in me is screaming it was worth it.
He was worth it.
Voices in the hall wake me a few hours later, and I creep out of bed. As quietly as possible, I get dressed and grab my stuff. I’ll see him later in the day, at the wedding and the reception, but right now I need some space. I need to pull back a bit, distance myself, though I know it’s too little too late.
Kasha looks as bleary-eyed as me when I enter our room, but Lydia is awake and alert, already dressed in a cute yellow dress.
“You look pretty. Where are you off to? The wedding isn’t until this afternoon,” I tell Lydia.
“Oh, I’m supposed to meet Simon for breakfast.”
“Is that code for sex?” Kasha asks.
“How could that be code for sex?” Lydia replies, rolling her eyes.
“Anything can be code for sex. Seriously, give me any word.”
“Ocean.”
“He can dive into my ocean,” Kasha instantly replies.
Lydia groans. “That fell a little short.”
“That’s what she said.”
“I’m out of here,” Lydia laughs, and makes a quick exit before Kasha really gets ramped up. She can do the “that’s what he or she said” all day.
“So, who’s walking funny today? You or Davis?” Kasha asks, turning her attention to me.
“He was determined to hold onto his virtue,” I reply, forcing a smile.
Kasha sees right through it. “You’re going to miss him, huh?”
I fall back onto the bed and roll over to look at her. “I don’t want to talk about it. Talk about anything else.”
“Roman and I walked in on my dad fucking a blowup doll.”
See why I love her?
Chapter Fourteen
Kasha
Earlier…
Once upon a time, there was a one-armed princess who lived in a junkyard with a mad inventor. Her prince, Roman Hunt, came to rescue her from her life of blowup dolls and molesting prosthetics, but alas, life was just too fucked up to allow the two to be together… Unless they magically found a way to make the long-distance thing work, although it never worked for anyone else.
My fairytales officially suck, but I’m not giving up hope just yet.
“Don’t pout,” I tell the mirror as I tug the blue dress from the hanger that Mother Dearest insisted I wear today.
Heaven forbid I wear something I chose and disgrace the pedestal she thinks she’s on.
I angrily fight my way into the stubborn dress that refuses to go down my body. My shoulders bend and weave like I’m a contortionist trying to squeeze through a tiny hoop.
This thing is at least a size too small. My left arm—yeah, the one that’s half gone—gets stuck, and there’s no way to budge it. My right arm is through the arm hole, waving like a freaking flag, stranded in the upright position with no flexibility. Only my left eye can peek over the dress to see how ridiculous I look in the mirror.
Panicking, I rush over to the wall and start pressing against it like it’s going to grow fingers and help me tug this condom over me. Yes, I called the dress a condom. A condom that’s a size too damn small. And I’m the penis losing my circulation to the damn thing.
Desperate, I try to turn into the Incredible Hulk and bust through the dress, but the suffocating grip isn’t allowing me to grow huge muscles and turn green. Even my pathetic little Hulk roar sounds more like an asthma wheeze.
“Kasha?” Lydia’s voice is like a beautiful angel’s blessing right now.
Okay, so maybe that’s dramatic, but…
“Help,” I strain, sounding like a ninety-year-old woman who has smoked for seventy years.
She rushes to my side, and starts trying to pull it off me, but that seems more impossible. I cry out when my shoulder feels like it’s being dislocated.
“They make dresses in your size, you know,” she grumbles.
Deciding getting it off is too hard, she starts tugging it down.
“Monica,” I wheeze.
“This is a freaking size four.
You’re a six!”
“I… know,” I hiss through labored breaths.
“We need butter,” she decides, nodding her head once.
I glare at her.
“Got any lube?”
I glare at her harder.
“Got any better ideas?” she snaps.
This earns her a murderous glare.
“Cut it off,” I manage to say through strain.
“It’s a five thousand dollar dress! I’m not cutting it off.”
She begins struggling with it again, slowly tugging it over my hips. It finally goes down, and even though I have no idea how I’m going to sit, the fucking dress is on.
“Can you breathe?” Lydia asks with a hint of a mocking smile.
I flip her off then move to the mirror. Surprisingly, I don’t look like a can of biscuits about to bust free. The dress actually has a very slimming effect. Then again, there’s no room for anything to bulge out. Not that I normally bulge out when I’m wearing a dress that actually freaking fits me, but you know what I mean. Squeezing into something a size too small usually means some serious lumps, humps, and puffs.
The green in the dress matches the green in my eyes, which has them popping. Usually my eyes are dull and not noticed. Mom did good in that respect. Too bad she wants me to be smaller.
Shrugging, I test out my walking skills in it. Walking isn’t hindered, so I should be good. I’ll worry about how I’m going to eat—since my stomach has zero room to expand—later.
A knock at the door sounds just as I finish re-fixing my hair, and Lydia pulls it open to reveal a very sexy man holding a single rose.
Holy hot guy in a designer suit. I never knew suits could look that good.
Roman flashes a grin as his eyes rake over me with definite lust sparking in their depths. Totally worth not breathing to see that look in his eyes.
I’ll die looking sexy, at least.
Life goals. Gotta love them.
“You look…” His words trail off like he’s at a loss, so I decide to offer a few suggestions.
“Awesome? Amazing? Angelic? Sexy? Skinny? Wicked? Hawt?”