Breathless 3 (Breathless #3) (7 page)

Chapter
Eight

The party was in full swing and Johnny and I were left
to our own devices as the groups of businessmen got involved talking to
themselves, discussing boring financial topics and politics that seemed way too
ridiculous for me to even care about while their wives talked about whatever
rich women had in common. We were wandering around the living room, Johnny
making low-voiced comments and jokes about being a country boy, asking how much
money my parents would sue him for if he broke this or that. “Show me around
your house,” he said, giving me a playful poke in the ribs.

“It’s not
my
house,” I countered, sticking my tongue out at him. The wine was starting to
fuzz my brain and in the relaxed, approving atmosphere, I was less
self-conscious than I could ever remember being around my parents’ friends in
my life. It was good to be there with Johnny; my mom didn’t even bring a single
boy over to talk to me and I loved the envying looks I was getting from all the
women who’d come.

“Well show me around anyway,” Johnny said, nudging me.
I led him through the living room and out to the backyard where he pointed out
the hot tub. “You know, I bet your parents have had sex in there.” I made a
gagging noise.

“I
know
they
have. I’m pretty sure it’s why they had it installed. I try not to think about
it.” I showed him the little sauna, and we poked around the garden for a bit,
barely avoiding the slightly tipsy party guests who had gone out to the back
porch for cigarettes. We went back into the house and I led Johnny through the
kitchen and dining room; we snagged hors
d’oeurves
off of trays as the waiters passed by and I got a refill on my wine, sipping at
it while I told Johnny about the library and study and how many hours I’d had
to spend at the stupid little desk being berated by my tutor because quadratic
equations just never quite made sense to me.

We left the party behind and moved upstairs and I led
him through the hall to my bedroom. “Don’t laugh,” I told him as I opened the
door. “It’s pretty sickening.” My mom had nearly refused to let me take
anything at all from my room when I’d moved to college, insisting that I should
have new things — new linens, new rugs, new drapes, everything. So when we
stepped into my room, it was exactly the way I had left it when I’d left for
campus: posters clashing with the tasteful paintings my mom had insisted I had
to have, my little desk for doing my homework and playing on the computer with
the matching dresser and vanity, all in Provincial French style that Mom had
forced on me as a teenager.

“This is great. What are you talking about?” Johnny
pulled me close and kissed me on the lips, breaking away to look around. “I
thought you’d have some embarrassing like…a pink and purple room.”

“Oh God, no. Even when I was a kid, my mom would have
insisted on ‘blush’ and ‘mauve’ — tasteful colors.” I rolled my eyes, laughing,
and wandered over to my vanity. None of my makeup was on it, it had all come
with me, but I could picture where everything had been. Johnny was meandering
around my room, taking everything in, and I watched him in the mirror, smiling
to myself. I was so glad that he hadn’t been either disgusted by my parents’
wealth or opportunistic about it, that he wasn’t overly impressed but he wasn’t
filled with contempt. I heard the bedroom door close and looked up to see
Johnny approaching me from behind, his face in the mirror showing a little
mischievous grin.

He began to kiss the back of my neck, his hands
sliding over the front of my body, caressing me through my dress. I shivered,
leaning back against him instinctively before the reality of the situation set
in. “
Mmm
— Johnny, no…we can’t do this, we’ll get
caught.” Johnny was already reaching down, his hands slipping along the hem of
my cocktail dress, pulling it up slightly. His fingers brushed against my
thighs, leaving a tingle in their wake and I found myself starting to get wet
as he nuzzled against me, as he nibbled along the back of my neck. He slid his
hand between my legs and began to rub my pussy through the thin lace of my
panties, his teeth sinking into my shoulder just enough to make me gasp and
shiver.

“No one will come up,” Johnny murmured, his fingers
somehow finding my clit. He brought one hand back up and cupped my breast,
giving it a playful squeeze. “Think of how hot it would be…no one knowing
you’re up here having your brains fucked out while they’re talking about stocks
and casseroles.” I giggled. I couldn’t help but feel incredibly turned on as
Johnny’s hand slipped under my panties, stroking and rubbing me.

He pushed me forward gently, and I let out a soft moan
as he lifted the skirt of my dress up over my hips. It was like the closet at
the country club; I bit my lip, watching both of us in the mirror. Johnny
tugged my panties down over my hips, his fingers brushing against the curve of
my ass, and he flashed me a grin in the mirror. “God, you look so hot like
this, Becky,” he told me. I watched as he quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his
fly, not even tugging his pants down, just moving his boxers aside to free his
hard cock.

I closed my eyes as he thrust into me from behind,
hard and fast, his hips slamming into my ass. I grabbed at the vanity, pushing
back to meet him as Johnny started moving inside of me right away, rocking
against me, his cock sliding deeper and deeper every moment. I could just
barely hear the sound of all of the people downstairs, the dull roar of their
conversations muted by the closed door. Any moment, someone could take it into
their heads to come upstairs. They might hear me moaning out as Johnny pounded
into me from behind, his hands moving over my hips, holding me tight right
where he wanted me.

One of his hands slithered up along the front of my
dress; I’d chosen one with a lower neckline than what I’d worn to the country
club. Johnny tugged the front of it down, pulling my bra with it, and I opened
my eyes to see my breasts shaking from the force of his thrusts and his hand
cup me, his fingers finding my nipple, rolling and twisting it to send a jolt
of hot, electric pleasure through me. We started moving together faster and
faster, and Johnny’s hand slipped down between my legs once more, rubbing and
stroking my clit in tight little circles that sent tingles through me with
every thrust of his hips.

I hit my orgasm all at once, crying out — forgetting
everyone downstairs completely as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me
with the force of a tsunami. Johnny came a few moments later, thrusting into me
hard and fast, and I felt the gush of his orgasm, felt his cock twitching
inside of me even as his fingers continued to work me, even as he kept
thrusting into me, bringing my climax higher and higher. We both slowed to a
stop, me barely holding myself up against my vanity, my breasts still shaking
from the force of my panting breaths as Johnny sagged against my body.

As I came back to myself, I started laughing, shaking
my head at my own reflection. “God, I look like a total slut,” I said. Johnny
stood upright, and I felt his cock move inside of me, twitching slightly in
renewed desire.

“Nah. You look gorgeous. Both in the mirror and from
back here.” He slipped out of me and I took a deep breath to compose myself,
knowing that we had to get back downstairs before someone noticed we were gone.
I pulled up my panties, still feeling the sticky slickness of my fluids and
Johnny’s mingling, soaking into the fabric of my underwear. Johnny fixed the
front of my dress, giving my breasts a lingering caress before he leaned in to
kiss me.

We held hands as we went back downstairs; my cheeks
were still flushed, but as far as I could tell, no one had noticed where we’d
come from or even that we’d been gone. We grinned at each other over and over
again, amused at the fact that we’d been able to screw like horny rabbits so
close to the stupid party full of people. Every so often, I gave Johnny’s hand
a playful squeeze and he looked at me, and I could see that he wanted more; so
did I. But as fun as it had been, I wanted to wait until we could be alone
again — I didn’t want to entirely make a mess of my parents’ anniversary.

Chapter
Nine

We were finally on our way home; I was tired, but
pleased. Mom had liked Johnny even better than she had the first time she’d met
him, and Dad had made a point of telling me while Johnny was off looking for a
bottle of water for me that I’d picked a great guy and that it was obvious that
Johnny felt really strongly about me. Everyone had loved him, and it had been
great to put one over on people who I knew would look down their nose at Johnny
just because he hadn’t grown up with wealthy parents.

I yawned and stretched, pulling my hand free of
Johnny’s just long enough to get the tension out of my shoulders. I was tired,
but part of me wished I could bring Johnny up to my dorm again and have one
last, quick session of lovemaking before I went to sleep. I grinned to myself,
remembering the way we’d looked in the mirror, remembering the illicit,
forbidden pleasure of Johnny taking me from behind in my own teenaged bedroom
while my parents mingled with their pretentious guests below.

There was something definitely more thrilling about
fooling around like that where we could get caught; it was exciting, knowing
that at any moment someone could pass by and hear us, come into my room. My
parents could have seen us go upstairs — anyone could have — and then not come
down immediately, they could have gotten suspicious and decided to investigate.
It had been the same way with our tryst in the closet, the need to try and keep
just a little bit quiet, and with Johnny’s scheme of getting into my dorm room
to have sex. I definitely wanted to mostly stick to having sex in places where
we weren’t going to be overheard or at least, where neither of us was going to
get in trouble for it. But every once in a while, it was so much fun to take
the little risk, to get more and more excited at the prospect of maybe getting
caught.

“I know you don’t think very highly of your parents,”
Johnny said, giving my hand a squeeze, “But your Dad’s not that bad with a
hockey stick.” I laughed.

“I’m telling you, I had no idea at all that he even
knew what hockey was. I swear, they live double lives.”

“Next thing you know you’ll find out your mom was a
drug-runner in college,” Johnny joked.

“Oh God, that would actually be pretty cool and
daring. No, I’m sure she was just as boring as ever — color-coordinated sheets,
sorority pin, pledging her eternal sisterhood.”

“Hey, sororities get pretty wild. Maybe she ran afoul
of a drug cartel on a trip to Cancun.”

“I am not joining a sorority.”

“Aww, not even our sister organization? You could get
your mom to help us plan our parties and themes!”

“Ugh, everything would be so sickening. No. No
sororities for me, no eternal sisterhood of the traveling pants.” Johnny
cracked up, reaching over to give my thigh a squeeze.

“I had a great time,” he said, smiling in the glow of
the dashboard lights. “It was really good meeting everyone.”

“Everyone liked you so much! I was really pleased,” I
smiled, remembering all the envying glances. “Just don’t follow any of those
old cougar trophy wives into the garden, please. I’d have to kill you. And
them. I’d bring so much shame upon my family.”

“Why would I go anywhere with them? I’ve got you.”
Johnny glanced over at me with a smile and I felt my heart skip a beat.

We talked about the party, about how ridiculous
everyone was, about stupid little things we’d seen on campus as Johnny sped
down the highway heading back to campus. My parents hesitantly had invited us
to stay the night and get a fresh start in the morning, but they had made it
clear that Johnny would have to spend the night in one of the guest rooms; I
figured I could sleep alone as well in the dorms as I could at home and Johnny
was almost as anxious to get away as I was, once he knew that there wouldn’t be
any chance of sneaking into my room after everyone had left.

I worried a little bit about what he had said — and
what had hung in the air unsaid — about the fact that he didn’t go home very
much, that he lived so far away from his parents. I wondered if there was
something wrong between him and them; while I was irritated by my own parents’
pretentiousness and insistence that I should marry a good rich boy and not have
to work for a living, I still loved them and even enjoyed spending time with
them from time to time. It seemed strange for Johnny to have no real connection
to his parents at all.

We talked about our classes, about the things going on
in the frat and in the dorms, and I started yawning more and more. I could feel
the tenderness between my legs, the ache in my hips from taking Johnny from
behind. I giggled quietly to myself, squirming and feeling the lingering
dampness of my panties. It had been a thrill of its own to walk around after
our tryst, able to constantly feel that little reminder of what we’d done and
knowing that no one else in the entire house had a clue what had happened — not
even my parents.

I felt stupid for my paranoid, panicked thoughts as
Johnny drove us the long distance from my parents’ house back to campus. How
could I have ever thought he was some kind of girlfriend-killing sociopath?
Claire White’s suicide had been a tragedy and it was cruel of me to have even
thought for a second that someone as kind and sweet as Johnny was could have
done anything to make it happen. I had seen him in action and he had had a
dozen opportunities to show any hidden “true colors” of darkness if he had
them. No one could be that wonderful one moment and a total unrepentant abuser
the next. It just wasn’t possible.