Neighbors (17 page)

“I can’t have cham
pagne you know,” I say.

“It’s not champagne; it’s apple cider mixed with club soda.”

“Oh. You think of everything.”

“I try, Mrs. Towns
end,” he says. I like the way that sounds.

I walk toward the bed, but stop just before my knees touch it. I stare at my new husband. Reaching
up I pull out the fancy clip that’s held my hair in all day. My blond curls fall to my shoulders. Then I place my hand behind my back, I pull the zipper to my dress down, and lean forward so that it falls over my arms. It drops to the floor revealing the blue lacy corset and garter Tracy insisted be my ‘something blue.’ Dylan’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Quickly, he puts the two glasses down on the bedside table and lifts the edge of the blanket to give me a small hint of what lies beneath. He pats the open space on the bed next to him.

“Come here, Mrs. Townsend.
I want to make love to my wife.”

“With pleasure, Mr. Townsend.” I snuggl
e next to him and he cloaks me with the blanket. Light kisses caress the tops of my breasts above where the blue corset holds me in. His deft fingers work to unhook it. As he unwraps me, my hand searches under the blanket for my own prize. I find it as he gets the last hook undone.

His mouth travels from my lips to my left breast. He takes it in his mouth and sucks. I’m tender and the sensitivity pulls down in my groin. He flicks my hardened nipple with his tongue. I’m so aroused.

I fish for him, and when I find him, I take hold. He gasps and I feel his firmness in my hand.

His mouth moves to the other breast and his tongue is busy again. I jerk and pull at him as I try to reel in my own excitation. His teeth graze my hardened nipple. It sends a shock wave through me. My back arches a
nd I squeeze him. He moans and swivels his hips.

“I have to have you now,” he says.
He pulls off my panties and he moves so that he’s above me. The tingle between my legs is strong. He places the head of his erection at the apex of my legs and I open them to welcome him. Slowly he eases into me and he fills me. It’s glorious. My head is spinning trying to absorb the feelings that are swirling inside me. He pulls back slowly. It’s just as stimulating. And then he eases in again. I’m all sensation.

His breathing is rapid and so is mine. He pulls back again. I moan. This time he thrust
s into me.

“You’re mine,” he says. It exhilarates me.

“Say it again,” I beg.

“You’re mine,” he says firmer.

I claw the sheets and arch my back.

“You. Ar
e. Mine,” he says again.

I can’t hold on any longer. I come loudly, screaming his name.

Dylan pushes again. I gasp and the feeling is more intense. He pushes again. I’m over the edge. Another push and I explode again. He pushes one last time and stills as I feel him pour into me, consummating our marriage.

Twenty-Seven

O
ver the next few weeks the small bump where my stomach was once flat grows into a basketball-sized bulge. Food stays down now, but my clothes are tighter. Gladys’s daily ritual is to pat my middle. I don’t mind. I know she loves us.

“I want that baby to know
his Aunt Gladdy’s touch,” she says.

Before I know it, it’s Thanksgiving. We’
re invited to my parent’s house for dinner. Joey and Cheryl are there as well. She shows off the ring my brother proposed with. It’s beautiful and I tell her so. Dylan and I are both asked to be in their wedding.

“Don’t worry,” Cheryl says looking at me. “The ceremony won’t be until August.” That’s two months after the baby i
s due. “That should give you some time to lose a little of that baby weight so you can go for dress fittings,” Cheryl says. I’m glad my brother proposed. Cheryl is really great and she’s good for Joey.

Everyone
enjoys dinner and Dylan seems very comfortable with my family, despite it being the first time we are with them since the rehearsal dinner.

I fa
ll asleep in the car on the way home. Dylan attempts to carry me after he parks in the driveway.

“What are you doing?” I ask
as he slides one arm under my legs and another around my neck.

“I’m going to carry you in.”

“You are not,” I say in a stern voice. “I can walk by myself.” I get out of the car and walk to the house. It’s a sweet thought though.

I call
Tracy to wish her and her family a nice holiday. Since the wedding, she and Kyle have been in a serious relationship. This is the first time he’s meeting her family. “Were they part of a fraternity or club, or something?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

Tracy laughs. “Because he knows how to treat a woman, too. I thought they both learned it from a club. We can send all men.” She laughs again. I’m happy that my friend is happy.

By C
hristmas, there’s no doubt that I’m pregnant. Dylan and I have a nice routine being husband and wife, although we have to start to get creative with our sexual positions.

“So, we’ll go to my dad
and Maria’s after you come home from work,” Dylan says, handing me the bagged lunch of all healthy foods he made for me.

“Okay. What will you do while I’m at
the hospital?” I ask, looking out the window at the snow floating down from the sky.

“Well, the flurries have forced me to have a day off, so I’ll be wrapping presents.” His large grin
confirms that he has ignored my insistence not to buy me any gifts. He kisses my nose and watches me get into the car. “Please drive safely. The two most important people in the world are in this car.” He bends down and kisses my belly through my coat.

* * *

To my surprise, the ER is somewhat slow. Gladys and I spend most of the time talking about our Christmas wishes and her telling baby Townsend all about his, or her, Aunt Gladdy. At the end of the shift, Gladys and I walk to our cars in the lot.             

“I hope your step-mother-in-law behaves herself tonight. I know she can get a bit flirty with the m
en that surround her.” Gladys has always been very perceptive about people, particularly Maria, whom Gladys read like a flashing neon sign from the moment they met. “She was perched in the corner with a sour face the whole time at your wedding. If I had a man as fine as that Stuart Townsend, I wouldn’t be trying for nothing else.”

“She doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s sad.
Dylan’s father is so good to her and she acts like a spoiled child.” I hug her and wish her and her family a nice holiday.

“Never mi
nd,” she says, changing the subject. “You just drive carefully with that little bun in your oven.” She tilts her chin down and gives me a stern look.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Flurries make traffic slow.

“Just give me
a minute to freshen up,” I say, walking into the house.

Dylan
smiles. “I’ll give you two.”

When I co
me out of the bathroom, Dylan wraps his arms around me and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. “I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you, too.”
He kisses me again.

One kiss turns
into two, then three, then four. Before I know it, he’s undressing me. Slowly, unbuttoning the blouse I had just put on. His hands skim up and over my shoulders as he floats the silky fabric over them. It falls to the floor.

Dylan glides his hands over my breasts. The increase in hormones
coursing through my body makes everything more sensitive. My nipples immediately become erect. Deft fingers waste no time. They harden and elongate at his touch. The tingle travels to my groin. I try but I can’t suppress my groan.

I reach down and grab him through his rough jeans. “Mmmm, I see that someone has missed me,” I whisper in his ear. He moans his response. It makes my heart beat faster. “I suspect you want to use this tool on me,” I say
with feigned innocence, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Yes, I do,” he says with heavy breaths.

“Well then, I think we have to lose these pants.”

“Yes,”
he says again, still breathy, but swiftly undoes his pants and pushes them to the floor.

Using my index finger, I place it on his sternum and make a slow, steady
line down his happy trail until I reach his pubic line. Delicately, I grasp him and his moan is spontaneous. I tighten my grip slightly and caress him. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth opens. He’s so sexy at my mercy. With each stroke his hips press forward. I feel powerful with him under my control.

I
lean in close to him and press into his chest. He smells delicious; the concoction of his shampoo, clean cotton, and him. I whisper in his ear, “If I promise to take care of you, will you let me get dressed so we won’t be late?”

The look in his eyes tells me he’d promise me anything at this moment. “Yes,” he manages
in a whisper.

With my free hand, I cradle the rest of him.

“Oh,” he moans. His hips swivel as I massage him with my hand. I govern the tempo. His hands are in my hair, tugging gently, trying to control what he’s feeling. I move up and down him gently, then tighten my grip and increase my movement. The sudden change has him unsteady on his feet.

I push him
to sit on the bed. I continue to fondle him and his breathing is heavy. He’s solid in my grip but his skin is silky. He falls backward onto the bed and his legs hang off the edge.
Hmmmm, this has possibilities,
I think.

I bend and lower myself to the floor
and spread his knees apart. Starting on the right, my tongue travels up his thigh to his inner apex. He moans and I know I’ve hit the right spot. I lick his scrotum and he gasps. His hips flex as I roll my tongue over and over. This time,
he
grips the sheets. “Aaaaaaaahhhhh!!”

I continue and his hips gyrate. I
slide his impressive length into my mouth. His whole body contorts. His teeth are clenched and he flexes his hips. The grip tightens on the sheets. I glide back up and down quickly in the same way at the same time I gently squeeze him beneath. His back bows and he’s so stiff in my hand. One last push into my mouth and he screams, “Holy fuck!” And I swallow what he has to offer.

Twenty-Eight

We’r
e only forty minutes late to Stuart and Maria’s Christmas party. Of course Maria is dressed elegantly in an imported designer dress, with a plunging neckline. The whole thing does little to cover her amazing body. She presses against Dylan in her version of a hug as we enter the house.

“I’
m so glad you’re here,” she says with dramatic enthusiasm.

As I step
into view, she measures me up and down in her usual fashion, like a cattle rancher eyeing a potential purchase. “I guess they don’t make nice couture for pregnant women.”

Normally,
I would ignore the insult she makes at my expense, but this time I answer back. “I’m not worried. It won’t matter later when Dylan undresses me.” I offer a sardonic smile.
Take that bitch!

Dylan
’s brow arches on his head as a guilty smirk spreads across his face. With my hand in his, he leads me into the living room where there are a multitude of guests. With overflowing pride, Dylan introduces me to relatives and Stuart’s business partners as his new bride and the mother of his unborn child. I’m received courteously by everyone; everyone except Maria.

Mid-way through the party, I need to use the restroom.
When I’m finished, I pass Stuart’s study. The warm glow of a lamp beckons me in. The walls are painted a butterscotch color, the furniture a honey wood. Several photographs hang on the walls. Some of them are of Dylan and Michael at various stages of their lives. There are a few of a stunning woman with the same eyes as Dylan’s. Dark ringlets frame her face. A sense of kindness emanates from the photo.

“She was bea
utiful, wasn’t she?” Stuart’s voice is behind me.

“Yes? Is this
Dylan’s mother?”

“Yeah. That’s Olivia. She was the most amazing woman in the whole world.
” Stuart’s voice is full of reverence. “She saw the good in everybody and never judged anyone harshly.” His eyes shine. “She was always the first one to help. She didn’t believe in lying, and when giving her opinion, she always presented it as positively as she could, whether she agreed or not.” He pivots toward me. His love for her is obvious. “She was the best mother; was always there for Dylan and Mike. Whatever they wanted to do, she made sure it was possible.”

His voice caught. “
One time, they wanted to go camping in the yard in March. Livvy didn’t want them to catch pneumonia, so she took our sheets and made tents in the living room. She stayed up with them for two nights, singing campfire songs around a bucket filled with strips of orange paper. They roasted marshmallows over the stove.” A smile formed as he recalled his first wife.

I
wondered,
Why’d he choose Maria after being married to such an amazing woman?

“
Dylan told me about her battle. I’m so sorry.”

Stuart looks at
me, and smiles. “Thank you. She would have loved you, you know. You have the same goodness she had. And she would agree on how beautiful you are.” I blush and look down at my hands. He must recognize my discomfort with his compliment. “Come, let’s go eat.”

Gretta has outdone herself with
several wonderful dishes. I make it my task to tell her so. I find her wrapping the leftovers.

“Thank you, Miss Melissa.”

“Gretta, please just call me Melissa.”

She smiles and bows
slightly before leaving me to collect the other dishes. I’m alone in the kitchen. It’s nice to be in a room by myself. I walk to the door that leads to the pool house atrium. I blush remembering what Dylan and I had done in the water of that pool only months ago.

I pat
my belly. “You were already growing inside me when that happened, little one.”

A m
ovement in the pool house catches my attention. Two figures are at the far end. One is Maria. There’s no mistaking her. The other is a man, but they’re too far for me to see his face. The only light in the room is the moon shining through the glass. Dark shadows shield the mystery man’s identity.

Maria leans
closer to him. She runs her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t move. She inches her body closer to his. Still, he’s motionless.

“Something interesting out there?” Stuart’s voice
startles me. I jump. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh,
that’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out who Maria is talking to.”

Stuart dodges his head as if it will
cause the shadows to move from the mystery man. Both of us focus our attention on Maria and Mr. X. “Hmm, if I had to take a guess, I’d say its Dylan.”

I look again and I can see why Stuart would think that; the broad shoulders, his tall stature, Maria’s interest.

Maria leans in and tries to kiss him, but Dylan, if it is him, grabs her hand. He pulls her toward him. I can see his lips move and Maria’s hand reaches up to his cheek. I look at Stuart to gauge his reaction.

Through clenched
teeth he says, “Excuse me, Melissa. I think I have to have a word with my wife.” He doesn’t wait for my response as he pushes his way through the door to the pool area. The mystery man disappears through the exit that leads outside.

I watch as Stuart stomps
toward Maria. Although I can’t hear a word he’s saying, his posture tells me that he isn’t happy. Their confrontation becomes heated and it’s then that I realize I shouldn’t be watching. I hurry out of the kitchen and pass Gretta, who is carrying in some dirty dishes.

The living room
is empty. The party is over. Everyone must have gone home. Feeling awkward, I walk to the wall with all of the expensive art. And although I’m no aficionado, I can tell that everything is expensive. There’s no doubt in my mind that, with Stuart’s success and Maria’s expensive taste, any one one of the pieces on the wall costs more than my car. Instead of the couch, I opt to sit on the chair. I lean into it and put my feet up on the matching ottoman. I think about the exchange I saw between Maria and Mr. X, and wonder if Stuart was right in his guess of the man’s identity.

Insecurity volleys in my head.

What were they talking about?

I’m sure it was nothing.

But why
was he out there with her?

Maybe she followed him out there.

Or maybe
he
followed
her.

Don’t be ridiculous. Why would he follow her out there?

She was very close to him. Maybe…

Stop that. He loves me
.

Yeah, but you
’re getting fat. Maybe she was right about what she said the night of the rehearsal dinner; he’s lining her up for when he’s not interested in me any more. He won’t want me when I’m the size of a bus.

Oh no. He won’t want me
?

Would you want to have sex with a fat, pregnant woman?
That was why Greg never touched you after you got married.

Soft lips touch my forehead. “Ready to go?”

My eyes flutter open. I look
around. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I guess you did.”
Dylan offers a small smile. He holds my coat out for me to slide my arms into.

“Where were you?”

“I was saying good-bye to some of my father’s guests.”

“Where is your father? I’d like to say good-night and thank him for a wonderful evening.”

Dylan doesn’t look at me. “He and Maria are arguing. It’s best if we just leave.”

During the car ride home,
I am not in the mood to talk. I think of Stuart and his guess as to who Mr. X was. I try to reason it all out.
Could he have been wrong?
I shake my head.
Don’t you think he knows what his own son looks like?

I decide to ask instead of driving myself crazy.
“Were you talking to Maria by the pool earlier?”

He does
n’t answer right away. “I saw her a few times during the evening, but for the most part, I was mingling with my father’s guests.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He’s not telling me something. Anger blooms inside me, but I don’t want to talk about this right now.

For th
e remainder of the ride all I can think about is what I witnessed. Is there something going on between Maria and Dylan? Maybe she isn’t a part of his past. Maybe she’s part of his present.

Dylan
parks the car. I walk into the house and haul myself up the stairs to the bedroom. As I gather my pajamas, I hear him drop his keys on the kitchen table. I’m still unsure of what I’ve seen. A headache starts and I decide that I need to get comfortable. I scoot into the bathroom before he makes it all the way up the stairs.

The warm water
of the shower feels good on my skin. Reason attempts damage control.
You’re being silly, you know
.
Maybe Maria was taking something out of his hair
. But it didn’t look like that.
I don’t buy that excuse at all.

A light
knock on the bathroom door breaks my thoughts. “Come in,” I say not really sure if I mean it.

The squeak
from the hinges is barely audible above the noise of the shower. “Would you like me to wash your back?” His tone is suggestive.

Just the sound of his voice mak
es me melt. I decide I’ve misinterpreted the whole event. I forget what is bothering me and hold the soap out through the curtain. He’s next to me in seconds, sans clothing. Just looking at him makes my blood race. He leans against my back. I can feel him against me. 

His voice is seductive.
“I waited all day for this.” The tingle between my legs snuffs out all other thoughts.

His hands
are better than the water as he massages the tension out of my neck and shoulders. “So, Mrs. Townsend, would you like to open your presents tonight, or wait until morning?”

I turn
to face him, unable to be very close now that my little belly is in the way. “There’s only one present I want tonight.” By the look on his face, I know he understands my intentions. The shower is too confined for what I have in mind. I step out of the tub, wrap a towel around my body as best I can, and hand Dylan its mate. He shuts the water and covers himself with the towel, then follows me into the bedroom.

A
t the foot of the bed, each cocooned within our own towel he kisses me. “Mmmmm, my favorite flavor,” I say.

He reminds me of my earlier promise. “You said I could have you if I let you get dressed before.”

“I said I’d make you feel good if you let me get dressed.”

“Oh, that’s right
.” His gaze is on me. I feel his heat. In the sultriest voice I can muster, I say, “Can I unwrap my present now?”

Throug
h rapid breaths he responds. “Please do.”

I pull
the towel from his body and toss it onto the floor. I inhale to steady myself. He is such a beautiful man and I enjoy looking at him.

“My turn
,” he says as he did the same with my towel. My hands wander over his chest and arms. He mirrors my actions then caresses my back. His lips are behind my ear and he trails butterfly kisses down my neck. Everything inside me tightens. I feel his smile against my collarbone.

“Should I stop?”

“No,” I say, breathlessly.

His mouth continues
its journey down the outside of my right breast. Electricity runs through my body. He crosses to my left breast and continues down. Inside me tension is building. I need him.

His lips are at my navel. “Your turn,” he says.

I’m confused until he offers me a place on the bed. I sit, but he helps me back. “Lie down,” he commands.

He lifts my left leg and holds my foot to his lips. They brush my instep and he deposits small kisses in a row that leads up to my knee. It’s sensual
and every synapse in my body is awake. He abandons my left leg for the right and he begins the process over. When he reaches my right knee, the kisses turn to nibbles and he continues up my inner thigh. Anticipation is building in me. My skin is on fire. I know where he’s headed and my thoughts are ricocheting.

One finger traces where his tongue leaves off. It moves further up and glides over my clitoris. A wave surges through my body. His finger travels downward and he slips it inside me. “So wet. I like that.” As I absorb his words his tongue makes small circles on my power button. My hips shift upward, but his hands press down on my hips.

He doesn’t stop. He licks and swirls his tongue around. I’m loosing myself in the deep sensation. I can’t see any thing. I can’t hear anything. I can only feel the intensity between my legs.

My body begs for relief. I can’t deny it any longer. And I come crashing down as my body is seized by my orgasm. I’m panting and trying to regain myself. Dylan climbs on the bed and
rolls me over and onto my knees. He moves behind me and very slowly, he takes me. Because I’m so sensitive now, it feels euphoric. He waits a beat then pulls back just as slowly.