The Reunion (2 page)

Adam shook his head, his dark hair
curled over his collar. “Impossible.”

“Good. Give me a minute. I’ve got to
freshen up,” she said, rising to her feet and heading for the bathroom.

When she returned to the bedroom,
Adam Granger was gone.

- o -

He’d always known he was a bastard. He
just never knew how much of a bastard until the last twenty-four hours. Adam
Granger leaned his seat back on the jumbo jet headed for LAX and mentally whipped
himself.

Sarah Atkinson. She was as stunning—more
stunning—than he’d even imagined. And, oh yeah, he knew she existed. She’d
always existed. Just out of his reach.

He could still recall trying not to appear
too obvious staring at her light blue panties when she did back flips. He’d
spent hours obsessing about what lay under those panties and the bulky cheerleader
sweater with the large B highlighting her cleavage. How many times had he
jerked off imagining her body squirming beneath his?

Jesus. Even in her late thirties,
she made his mouth water. And she had passion. He hadn’t counted on that. He’d
been with many women over the years. Passion was much more important than
technique. Truth be known, passion was a rarity.

Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked her
when they were in high school. He would’ve been even worse than last night, if
that was possible. Back then it took longer for him to masturbate than to fuck
a girl.

Perhaps because of his mother’s
situation, he’d hoped to marry. But he was getting a little old for that. He’d
never found the right girl.

Thank God for older women. It was a
couple older women who’d taught him sex wasn’t something to be rushed, but
rather to be savored, as if sipping an aged claret. He’d never known the first
thing about a girl’s body, her orgasms, or how to help her have a good
experience. He’d rutted girls like any animal in the wild.

Once he’d graduated from high school
he’d become fresh meat in his little town—or so it seemed. A thirty-something
waitress working with his mom at the café was first to initiate him into the
art of lovemaking. Next was the local librarian—he’d always had a voracious
appetite for reading. After she took him to the store room he’d developed an
equally voracious appetite for librarians. Perhaps it was Mrs. Samuelson who
had taught him best to sort the wheat from the chaff. Passion counted more than
looks or technique—not that they all couldn’t be related.

Mrs. Samuelson was a fair-skinned
woman. Her body was well rounded and her passion ran as deep as the ocean. They’d
spent many an hour searching for rare books at the small library. She’d met him
a couple times at an out-of-the-way motel. She enjoyed riding on the back of
his motorcycle down remote gravel roads. She’d taken him home to her bed and
continued his education there.

Until Mr. Samuelson came home early
from a business trip one afternoon. Two days later, Adam had enlisted in the US
Army. Many other women contributed to his learning the ways of love, but none
surpassed Mrs. Samuelson. She never had told him her age. She’d certainly have been
over forty.

It was in the Army that he’d decided
to make something of himself. He’d earned an associate’s degree by the time he
got out. He passed through Bumper, Iowa on the way to California and never
looked back. He’d finished a financial planning degree, but soon discovered he
preferred working alone. He hit it big in the stock market during the high tech
surge of the nineties. His smartest move was to get out before those high
flying stocks plummeted.

He still dabbled in stocks as well
as a lot of other adventures. He owned pieces of four race horses and a healthy
portion of a stock car. He’d co-produced a few porn flicks as well as being a
minority producer of a couple Hollywood films.

Adam’s lips thinned. Yes, he’d had
plenty of access to women, and Mrs. Samuelson was right—passion was more
important than technique. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Sarah’s
technique. Son of a bitch, would she really have blown him back in high school?
Or was she teasing him?

He groaned, remembering a group
paper assignment in American History. While Sarah had talked easily with him,
he’d felt tongue tied. It was easier fantasizing about her from a distance. He’d
had no idea how to behave with a classy chick. And she’d always exuded class. She’d
been his fantasy girl—seductive, but out of reach.

As they worked together in the
library one afternoon, her soft breast grazed his bicep. He’d been flustered
and crossed his legs trying to control his erection. She never seemed to
notice. Looking back on that experience, he was fairly certain now that her
tantalizing touch had been no accident. Where the hell was his brain back then?

Where the hell was his brain now? He’d
fucked her like she thrived on explosive sex. Why hadn’t he practiced those
lovemaking arts he prided himself on possessing? He could be a gentle lover. Passion
didn’t always have to mean frenzied sex. But he certainly hadn’t been gentle
with her.

Not that she hadn’t played to his
unruly side. Whenever he’d begun to slow, she’d yelled harder. Her fiery
display had shocked him. She’d certainly climbed off the prudish pedestal he
constructed for her years ago. Had he misjudged her that much? Had she actually
been the bad good girl? He’d never even heard a rumor about her, but then he
rarely associated with anyone in her crowd.

He stifled a chuckle. So even if he was
wrong years ago, could she really match the good bad guy? Did he care to know?

She’d looked quite smug licking her
lips after bringing him off earlier this morning. Surely, she didn’t think she’d
tamed him.

He might feel like a bastard because
he’d had such unrestrained sex with his teenage vision of the right girl. But
he was thirty-eight now—way beyond visions.

Sarah Atkinson hadn’t even begun to
tap his sexual energy. She was better off not trying. Apparently, he’d
fulfilled one of her high school fantasies. That was enough. He smiled. He
would treasure the memory.

Damn, she had a body worthy of
sacrifice. But did she really have the passion to match his? He sighed. Sometimes
visions were best left as visions. There were fewer disappointments that way. That
Sarah Atkinson had climbed off her pedestal to spend one night with him hardly
made for a relationship.

And he liked his love life the way
it was—uncomplicated. Maria, his live-in companion, had a passion that not only
fueled his, it could even surpass. At thirty-two, her energy seemed boundless. Her
passion, perhaps fed by the island lore of her ancestral homeland, Puerto Rico,
had no bounds.

He’d known her for two years and
they’d lived together for a year and a half. It wasn’t a committed
relationship, but then he hadn’t had another woman—until last night. Maria had told
him she wouldn’t take on another man while they were together. Women? Adam
smiled. That was another matter. Maria had her share of women lovers. When she
found a partner she thought he’d appreciate, she invited him to join them.

Maria never spoke of marriage. They
had no future. Yet she never left him, and he stayed by her. They shared much
in common, having pulled themselves up beyond most peoples’ expectations. Both
of them had stayed out of jail.

Basically, Maria helped keep his
life uncluttered. He appreciated that a lot.

Sarah Atkinson brought along a lot
of baggage, and that meant lots of clutter. He’d done right to leave. He’d been
more than rude. But he couldn’t afford getting tangled up with a goody-two-shoes.

 His eyes popped open.
Damn, she
didn’t fuck like a goody-two-shoes.
Adam closed his eyes and drifted off to
sleep deciding he’d never attend another class reunion.

Later that evening, Adam pumped his
cock in and out of Maria’s ass. She met him thrust for thrust.

“Give me all you got, lover. Don’t
leave anything for next time. Claw my back, Adam.”

He scraped his fingernails down the
length of her back.

“Yes! Pound my ass.” Maria lifted
her head and howled. “I’m coming. Come with me.”

Perspiration beaded his brow and he accelerated
faster, sensing his own storm surge. “Son of a bitch,” he moaned. Maria milked
him with her ass just as thoroughly as Sarah had with her mouth. Would he ever
come again?

Maria’s body shuddered beneath him. “Don’t
pull out,” she said, lowering them to the bed. He tongued the back of her neck
and rolled them onto their sides and cuddled her body close.

“Very nice, Adam,” she purred. After
a long pause, she added, “So are you going to tell me about her?”

Adam froze. “About who?”

“The woman you were with at your
class reunion.”

“But...”

Maria giggled and scrunched her butt
against his groin. “It’s not a big deal, Adam. We’re not in a committed
relationship.” She canted her head around and grinned at him. “Though I believe
this is the first woman since I moved in with you.” She looked away, apparently
waiting for him to say something.

“You’re right on both counts,” he
said at last. “There hasn’t been any other women. And yes, I was with a woman
at the reunion.”

“Your childhood sweetheart?”

“Something like that. We never dated
in high school.”

“She was too good for you?”

“Uh, huh.”

“So you made up for lost time?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah. Sarah Atkinson.”

“Was she good?”

Could Maria feel his heart pounding
against her back? “Better than I expected.”

“I thought so.”

“Why? How did you know?”

“Maybe it’s women’s instinct. You
were so determined, so passionate. It was as if you were trying to convince
yourself of something. Of what, I don’t know. And,” she wiggled her butt, “I
smelled her scent.”

“But I showered.”

“But not enough to erase her scent
away. Would I like this Sarah Atkinson?”

Adam grinned and pulled on one of
Maria’s nipples. “Always thinking with your pussy. That’s one of the many
things I adore about you.” He kissed her shoulder.

“So? Would I like her?”

“Probably. But I doubt she’s into
women or three-ways.”

Maria shook her head. Her long black
hair brushed his face and he drank in her scent.

“You should’ve learned by now,” she
teased, “never to underestimate a woman.”

“Doesn’t really matter. I don’t
intend to ever see her again anyway.”

“You are a man who loves tempting
fate, Adam. It’s not exactly like you can prevent her from finding you.”

“She won’t try.”

“How good was it for her?”

“Good, I think.”

“You think. You ought to know. Did
she boot you out of her bed?”

“No, I left.”

“Bastard.” She squeezed his
semi-hard cock, still encased in her ass.

“Probably.”

“I’ll lay odds you haven’t seen the
last of her.”

“On what basis are you willing to
wager?”

“Call it women’s intuition,” Maria’s
voice tingled with laughter. “So lover, are you done for the night?”

Adam blinked. Was he never quite
enough to satisfy her? “Yeah, I’m drained.”

“Damn, this Sarah Atkinson must be
good.” Maria pressed his hand against her breast. “I hope I have the chance to
meet her.”

- o -

Two weeks later, Sarah stood before
the floor to ceiling windows of her Chicago high rise condo overlooking Lake
Michigan. Sailboats dotted the harbor, and she could make out three large
tanker ships against the horizon. She watched a sailboat shifting back and
forth, looking as haphazard as she felt.

She’d returned from Bumper, Iowa
with an amazingly well fucked body and a badly bruised ego. Couldn’t she even
hold onto a man for twenty-four hours?

 She’d spent at least a half a dozen
years safeguarding her virginity before actually giving it to her husband on
their wedding night. She’d blown a lot of guys from the time she was sixteen. She’d
even learned to love a cock in her ass—anything to save her highly valued virginity—and
she’d had a blast making love with a couple sorority sisters.

Wistfully, she recalled those reckless
years. Too bad Adam Granger hadn’t been more of a risk taker with her, or more
aware of her proclivity for giving head. Oh well. It wasn’t exactly like she’d
gone up to him in the hallway and told him she wanted to suck his cock.

But her flamboyant years came to a
silent halt after she was swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance by a law student
from a very classy and very wealthy family. She would have gladly given him her
virginity before their wedding, but he refused take it. Daniel wanted her fresh
and virginal for their wedding night. And she was—at least, that small secluded
spot had been.