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I open the door to my bedroom and find my sexy handsome lover lying on my bed, his shoulders pressed against my pink headboard, his legs stretched out, one over the other. I gulp, closing the door after me and taking a step deeper into the room. I can merely see the shadow of him since the lights are out, but I see his brooding expression, tailored suit and his fingers entwined over his lap. There’s nothing I want more than to kick everybody out of this goddamned house and ride him rodeo-style until my whole body is aching and bruised.
“Thank you for the party,” I say. He doesn’t answer, just reaches one hand toward me. I stand still, staring at his hand confused. Should I take it? It doesn’t look like an invitation.
“The keys,” he commands simply after a beat of silence, and I release the breath I’ve been holding inside me since I walked into this room. I hand him the brown paper bag and switch on the light.
“What’s in the bag?” He raises an eyebrow at my question.
“Keys. Like I told you.”
“If It’s just keys, then why couldn’t I open it?” He holds out the bag for me to take.
“Go ahead, open it.” He smirks. Why is he being so weird? Why did I have to pick up the keys? Don’t locksmiths usually come to you for this sort of thing? My hesitance to open it is beat out by my nosiness. I rip the top open, and spill the contents out onto the bed. What the fuck?
They’re keys, all right. Plastic, baby keys, in every color of the freaking rainbow. At least Carter’s baby comment makes sense now.
“Baby toys, Graham? Really? You sent me to the Bronx for this shit?” He chuckles at my perplexed face, explaining that he had to get me out of the house to let Jade set up the surprise somehow. “You guys are ridiculous. But thank you.” It’s totally over-the-top and unnecessary, but it does feel good to have people in my life who care about me enough to celebrate my birthday.
His expression turns serious. “What’s the matter?” I ask.
He ignores me. “You know what happens when you turn eighteen?”
I lick my lips top to bottom, staring at his hands, wishing he’d move them so I can take a better look at his groin. Seeing his erection, his cock saluting for me, is the hottest thing in the world. I’ll never get enough of it.
“You’re going to finally make love to me.” I bat my eyelashes.
“Wrong,” he sing-songs in his Irish accent. “Try again.”
“You’re going to screw me?” I joke, cocking one eyebrow, but he obviously cannot see this in the dark. He scoots closer to the edge, sitting down now, and his huge tall frame covers half my queen-sized bed. God, I want all his weight on top of me.
“Bzzz. Wrong. Getting warmer though.”
He gets up, saunters over to me and my heart pounds so fast there’s a ringing between my ears. I suck in a breath, my eyes scanning his broad chest, and I’ve completely forgotten about the people downstairs despite the loud music and the shouting.
“You’re going to fuck me,” I whisper. He nods, his face inches from mine.
“I’m going to take your virginity, and not gently. I am going to come inside you, and not once. See, I planted a seed. I watered it, took care of it. I gave it sun and oxygen and a nice place to grow. And now…” His lips meet mine, but he’s still talking, not kissing me, but teasing. “Now I’m going to harvest. All my hard work boils down to this….” His index finger slices through my body, running down my stomach and between my legs. I moan, leaning into him, but before I could rub myself against him, he leaves my proximity, opens the door and stands in the threshold, still looking cold and nonchalant.
“Have fun, and make sure this shit folds up before one a.m. If I were you, I wouldn’t get too tanked or push my limits. I want you sober, conscious and willing. Understood? Oh, and don’t wear anything too revealing, unless you want your little boyfriends to lose their eyeballs.”
I nod slowly still in shock. It’s going to happen. It is really going to happen.
“Words. Fucking use them,” he prompts me, but his voice is not as cut and dry as he usually is.
“Understood,” I answer back.
And oh, I can’t wait.
I’m wearing a baby-pink Herve Leger number and the kind of heels only a pin-up girl can feel comfortable in. I let my hair air dry after my shower earlier, so a few loose curls is all it takes. I look good, and I know it. Not because of the dress I’m wearing or the way I did my makeup, but because I shine. I smile widely, an honest to God, happy smile, something you don’t see very often on my face, and fantasize about tonight. About having sex with Graham and about spending my life with him. About moving to the master bedroom and fulfilling a dream I didn’t even know I had, to be someone’s beloved. To have a steady boyfriend. To live with a man.
“Oh my God, Dahl, bomb-ass party!” Jason, a quarterback, flings himself over me with a huge hug. He is talking to me over the music, I think Jade is playing “Hype” by Dizzee Rascal, his arm over my shoulder casually as he yells into my ear. Normally, I wouldn’t even think about it. But tonight? Tonight I’m afraid Graham is going to barge downstairs and strangle him. I know he’ll never willingly get out of his office to join the party, but he’s got cameras everywhere in this house. I can’t chance it.
“So nice to see you, Jason, hope you enjoy the party.” I kill the conversation prematurely, worming out of his touch and scurrying to the other side of the living room. The lights are dim and people are dancing with each other, thrusting hips, giggling into ears, leaning against the walls and making out. Some kids are sitting on the stairway, making it harder for couples to climb up and look for a quiet room to do filthy things in, and I find it comforting. I don’t envy the person who bumps into Graham Savage late at night trying to sneak into his room.
“You look weird,” Britn
ey tells me, elbowing my ribs. She’s wearing a cherry-red mini dress and her hair is a messy bun of auburn locks. “Like you can’t wait for us to fuck off. Now why’s that?” She slurps her drink with a noisy sound that makes me cringe. I guess I am too distracted with my step-dad to enjoy this. But I just shake my head, a thin smile finding my face.
“Sorry. Just…turning eighteen. It’s heavy, dude.”
