5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Derek
T he only reason I'm letting Wally take me to this damn holiday party is because it's only marginally better than being alone in an annoyingly quiet house. With a huff of irritation, I yanked out a pair of dark jeans and a black button-down, making an effort to stand out a bit despite my annoyance. After all, it's just a party where the only people I know are Wally and a couple of other buddies.
"Holiday parties aren't really my thing either," he says when I get into his Dodge Charger. He hands me a mask, reminding me that this party is some masquerade nonsense. "Hell, one of the reasons I'm going, is because I haven't seen my military buddies in a while."
"Well good luck, with mask on. I can’t stand parties anymore. My goal is to keep a constant buzz," I say as we turn onto the main road.
He chuckles. "I don't blame you, but I'm glad you're getting out of the house."
The second we're let inside the house; I regret my choices. We put on our masks, and the door is answered by a mutual friend of Wally's, one of his buddy's girlfriends, Kate, who I can only tell is a blonde with a lot of energy. But she's not the problem. The busy house is. It's already rowdy with strangers who have had at least a drink or two, judging by how pink their cheeks are. Kate puts a holiday drink in my hand before disappearing somewhere else in the house, and Wally has already broken off with his marine buddies, leaving me to take a lap on my own.
As I wander through the house, I finish at least three more drinks that go down a little too easily, numbing the edges of my thoughts. By the time I have a fourth in my hand, I receive some judgmental stares from those in the kitchen and no longer smell the booze when I bring it to my lips. It might as well be minty chocolate milk at this point, but the warmth is spreading through me, dulling the ache in my chest.
Maybe it's unhealthy, but when I'm feeling particularly lonely, I imagine Chelsea at my side, keeping me company, even if it's just in my head, makes the silence bearable.
"If you weren't such a scrooge, you'd be having a blast right now," she says as I head towards the backyard, where a fire pit is roaring and few people are hanging out. In my head, she's wearing my favorite red dress, which shows off her fuller figure, making her a blonde Jessica Rabbit with a sparking red mask to match.
"If you were here, I wouldn't be thinking about the party," I mumble to my drink. "I'd be thinking about how soon I could see that dress on our bedroom floor."
"Always thinking ahead," she chuckles, sitting beside me and linking her arm around mine.
"I close my eyes, trying to conjure up the scent of her vanilla perfume, the one that used to linger on my clothes long after she was gone.
"Why do you torture yourself like this?" she asks like she eventually does. "Why don't you flirt with that redhead over there?"
She nods to the brunette who just walked in, wrapped in a black dress that shows off her fuller figure, similar to Chelsea's. She, too, wears a silver mask lined with red ribbon, but I can tell she's just as uncomfortable being here as I am.
“She’s more of a brunette, don’t you think?”
"Get closer to her, you can see the red then. What's the worst that could happen?" Chelsea says, then disappears completely when the mysterious brunette steps outside.
"As stunning as you look, you're going to freeze in that dress," I say, taking a long swig of my drink that I believe is Bailey's and something chocolaty. Whatever, it'll do the trick.
"I'd rather freeze out here than be warm in there," she says, taking a seat next to me by the fire. "What are you doing out here?"
"Same thing you are," I reply. "Hiding from a party I don't really want to be at."
"Is that why you're drinking that thing?" she asks, pointing to my half-drunk glass.
"You're not a fan?"
"It tastes like medicine to me," she shakes her head. "I'm someone who needs a bit of grenadine with her booze."
"It all tastes the same to me," I shrug. "As long as it does what it's supposed to."
"And what are you trying to numb this holiday season?" she asks. Her question surprised me, but I could see the same pain in her eyes that I felt on my own.
"You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine," I say, leaning my forearms on my knees. She turns until her knee brushes against mine.
"Something I've learned no amount of booze can take away," she admits. "I'm like a lot of the population around the holidays. They remind me of the things I've lost."
"I'm in that same boat," I admit as I down the rest of my holiday concoction. "But in the pursuit of trying to numb things, I have found a few that are more fun than others."
"Yeah? And what might that be?" she smirks. I may be buzzed, but I can hear the flirtation in her voice and see it in how she holds herself. I could test the waters.
You know what, fuck it.
"How do you feel about a stranger's company?" I ask as I get to my feet and hold my hand out for her to take.
"As long as it does what it's supposed to," she says, taking my hand.
To my surprise, she lets me guide her around the corner of the house where, yes, it's colder, but we're far enough away from prying eyes when I press her back against the side of the house.
It's not until I feel her hands on my chest that I realize how starved I am for physical touch.
"I feel like I should at least know your name," I say as I set my hands on her hips.
"I doubt we're ever going to see each other again; don't you think?" she asks, sliding her hands up, gently caressing my face, her touch warmed by the fire.
"Good point."
Despite it being my idea, she takes the sides of my jacket and pulls me in, locking me in a kiss that tastes sweet, like cinnamon. My heart pounds in my chest as her lips meld with mine, and I waste no time sliding my tongue against hers, savoring the taste, the feel, the electric connection that ignites between us. A deep groan escapes me, a sound born of a desperate yearning finally fulfilled.
I press my body closer to hers, feeling her hips grind against mine, her moans mingling with my own. Her body is a masterpiece under my hands, every curve and contour an exquisite detail. My fingers trace down her back, caressing each voluptuous curve, each dip and rise, as if committing them to memory.
In the intensity of our embrace, her mask slips down. The world around us fades, leaving only the two of us, bodies pressed together, the electricity between us almost tangible. I press my hard bulge against her, the ache of desire consuming me, the longing to feel a woman's touch after so long nearly unbearable.
Her lips are soft against mine, her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, deeper. In this moment, nothing else matters. All the longing, all the pent-up desire, everything I've kept locked away, finds release in her touch, her kiss. Spreading her legs with my knee, gliding my hand down to raise her leg around my waist, I push in closer to her snatch. Within seconds, her hands find their way to my belt, and the cold breeze of the air only makes me hungrier to bury myself in her.
To feel her warmth. A growl escapes as I deepen my kiss; her hands are graceful yet eager, moving up and down my shaft, begging for more.
"Please," she purrs into my ear. "Please - now I want to feel you inside of me." I grasp onto her thigh, yanking her dress up above her hips just enough to feel her lips; she was wet, dripping wet. Just the thought of a woman being wet for you is a turn-on, but when you feel their wet pussy dripping, my dick felt like it grew two more inches, begging to get in. Sliding my fingers out of her, guiding my dick right to the hole that is better than a whiskey bottle, I finally look up, not realizing I had my eyes shut this whole time.
Driven by curiosity, I slowly open my eyes, eager to glimpse the woman who has reignited this fire within me. The sight of her stops time itself, my body freezing as my blood runs cold. The mystery woman who had stirred such passion in me is someone I never expected.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap at the mystery woman who's no mystery but Faith Richardson.
"What?" she says with apparent confusion. It's only now that I realize my mask is still on, and she doesn't know who I am. I rip it off and watch confusion turn to panic in an instant.
"Derek?"
I wipe my hand over my lips as if it's enough to wipe her taste from my mouth. I step back and shove my still-hard dick back into my jeans. I don't know who I am, angrier at myself for making out with Faith or for whoever invited Faith to this stupid party.
"I can't believe this," I shake my head.
"Yeah, well, it's a rude awakening, and I sure as hell didn't expect you to be here," she says.
"You're so desperate that you thought you'd try to fuck me and make it all better?" I ask, but panic turns to shock, and it's written all over her face.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Are you that drunk? Five seconds ago, neither of us knew who the other was. What makes you think I'm trying anything here?" The anger in her eyes explodes. "You were just about to shove your dick into me; I assume you do this often. Just go around shoving your dick into random women?"
"Because you're that pathetic, that's why." My voice is dripping with contempt as I sneer.
"I'm the pathetic one?" she says, shoving me away from her with massive force.
"You heard me."
"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," she scoffs. "Making out with a stranger to numb the pain? You're no better than I am."
"At least I didn't cause anyone's death," I spit back, my words like venom. Her face goes pale, and for a moment, silence hangs heavy between us. We glare at each other, the air thick with animosity, a battle of wills playing out in the cold night.
With a harsh, bitter laugh, "I fucking told you not to talk to me ever again, and here you are trying to ride my dick; true ride or die bitch aren't you, but in your case, you’re a "ride after you die bitch." I turn sharply on my heel and storm out the side gate, leaving her standing in the shadows, a monument to my pain, a statue frozen in time. The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, bouncing off the cold, unforgiving walls around us. It echoes through the night, a brutal reminder of the hurt that’s too deep to heal. My heart pounds as I force myself to keep walking, every step driving home the painful truth.
She can go to hell.