6 comments/ 6996 views/ 9 favorites The Engagement Party By: Gigi82 Phillip sat in the corner of the sofa watching the other people interact. Some faces he recognized from other soirees but for the most part, they were all strangers. He smiled politely at a few of the guests who glanced at him but refrained from starting a conversation. He didn't get invited to a lot of parties so he never knew how to behave. Anything he said always sounded contrived so he preferred to sit in silence, no matter how uncomfortable. Upon receiving an invitation to this particular party, he had offered to make appetizers for the big event. In his excitement he had made over 100 Mexican quinoa mini wraps. They had been very popular and almost everyone had complimented him on it. He took a lot of pride in his cooking since it was the only thing on which he spent any significant time. His love of food was something he had inherited from his Jamaican mother, who for as long as he could remember, had spent most of her time in the kitchen providing for her husband and son. Unfortunately, his conversational skills were sorely lacking and once people discovered he was crippled by shyness, they ultimately lost interest. So he was stuck on the sidelines, content to listen to what others had to say. It was perfectly fine since he did not really know anyone at this party except for his friend Monroe and his partner of 4 years, Hugo. It was his friends engagement party. A celebration of the fact that they were getting married in six months. Since moving to the city a year ago, Monroe was the only friend he had managed to make. And it was not out of any effort on his part. Monroe just wouldn't give up on him and seemed to make a mission out of making Phillip his friend. He always insisted on sitting with him at lunch or next to him at their staff meetings. When he had first moved, he offered to show him around the city and, once he discovered Phillip was single, proceeded to take him to the best gay clubs with his reluctant boyfriend in tow. Once Monroe had discovered how great of a cook he was, he declared himself Phillips official taster of all his new creations which sparked his culinary creativity even more. Maybe it was because they were the only two openly gay men in their office or because they both held major crushes on Ryan Reynolds (post-Notebook of course). Either way he was grateful to have him in his life. Phillip smiled at the couple sitting beside him as he stood to get more appetizers. When he did, he noticed Hugo standing at the doorway greeting someone. He wore green camouflage pants, a black leather jacket over a white V-neck. He had one arm on Hugo's shoulder and held a bottle of wine with a red bow around the neck in the other. What drew Phillips attention most was his size. The newcomer stood almost 6 inches taller than Hugo who was already six feet. Phillip didn't realize how much he was staring until the man looked up and they locked eyes. He was jarred by the darkest pupils he had ever seen. The man gave him a small smile and Phillip quickly dropped his gaze and continued to the kitchen area. Monroe was standing by the cupboards getting more wine glasses when he walked in. "Hey, do you need any help?" "Actually yeah. Can you place the rice and the pita out on the dinner table?" Phillip did as he was told and returned to the kitchen. He wanted to ask about the guy he just saw at the door but he didn't want to set off any matchmaking bells in Monroe's head. He was always trying to set him up but unfortunately, the only men Monroe thought to set him up with were his friends from his clubbing days. Most of whom seemed to be content with that lifestyle and had no interest in a serious monogamous relationship. Monroe claimed it was because he thought that they would help him lighten up but Phillip wasn't so sure After the last disastrous date, the end of which he was invited to do meth with his date's roommate, he officially forbade Monroe from ever setting him up with someone again. It's not that he couldn't get his own dates because he wasn't unattractive. He had long brown hair that he wore in a ponytail at the top of his head. His high cheekbones and mocha skin spoke of his Indigenous and Jamaican background. They were his most appreciated feature but even they were hidden behind a coarse beard. Lately, most of his dating pool consisted of the men he met in internet chatrooms. Most of them weren't so bad. They were usually pretty nice. Pretty safe. Pretty boring. They reminded him too much of himself. The kind of men that looked for another's input before they made a decision. The kind that always waited for someone else to make the first move. The kind that was too concerned with how they were being perceived instead of being comfortable enough to be who they are. Crippled by a fear of rejection so deep they have turned to the internet to minimize the sting. The thing was that he was tired of being that guy. He wanted more. "So how are the wedding plans going?" Phillip took a seat at the bar and grabbed a few olives to munch on. "Oh please honey, we have barely started. With the amount of effort this is taking I am tempted to hire a wedding planner and just show up for the big day," Monroe cut open a bag of salad and dumped the greens in a nearby salad bowl. "What do you mean you've barely started? The wedding is in six months." "Look, if the Royal Family can throw one together in six months then ours should be a piece of cake." "Well, I am sure it will be beautiful. You and Hugo have great taste." Monroe gave him a curious look. "I know that but what I can't figure out is why you are back here entertaining me when there are at least 4 single men sitting outside that door as we speak." Before Phillip could reply, Hugo came in with the man from the door. "Hey hun. Look who just arrived." Phillip was completely thrown off seeing the gentleman up close. His body was much more imposing standing right next to him and made Phillip's 5'11 frame look like that of a prepubescent teen. He was clearly a man that took fitness very seriously from the way his muscles strained to show themselves through his thin T-shirt. The over-head light bounced off his dreadlocks revealing some reddish hues while his smile gave away one dimple of his left cheek. "Duane." Monroe dropped the knife he was holding to chop vegetables and walked over to the newcomer. He gave the tall guy a big hug and a kiss on both cheeks. It was an awkward sight given that Monroe was almost a foot and a half shorter than him. "We didn't know if you were gonna make it" "Managed to move some things around." Christ even his voice was sexy. It was deep. So deep that Phillip could feel the vibrations running through his own body as he spoke. "It is not everyday that one of my best friends becomes engaged." "We're glad you're here." Monroe gestured to Philip. "This is my friend from work Phillip. Phillip this is one of Hugo's old friends from high school, Duane." "Hi." "Hey." There was an awkward moment in which they stared at each other while Hugo asked about dinner. Phillip didn't like the expression on Duane's face. He seemed to be sizing him up, not in any sexual way, just observant. He looked down at his plate of olives but he could still feel Duane's eyes on him. That is until Hugo declared he was going to introduce Duane to the other people at the party. "Here I'll take that from you." Monroe took the wine from Duane and placed it on the island. Hugo led Duane out of the kitchen while Monroe went back to chopping vegetables. "I guess that makes 5 single men here tonight. Damn that man is fine. I swear if I wasn't getting married-" "Hey, your future husband is just on the other side of that door." "And he knows how much I love him. I am just appreciating all the beauty in the world. It wouldn't kill you to do it too." "What does that mean?" "It means I caught the stare-down." "What stare-down?" "The one that had you looking at him like a bitch in heat." Monroe put down his knife and looked at Phillip. "You know, he is single and now that I think about it, he is perfect for you." "I thought you said you would quit trying to set me up." "Well yeah but I thought that was just for blind dates. This guy you've already met and you are clearly attracted to him. I can sit you guys together during dinner and -" "Did it ever occur to you that I don't need you to constantly be setting me up. That I can get a date on my own without you playing matchmaker." Monroe stared at him. He took a step back, looked at him up and down. Then unequivocally said "No." Phillip dropped the olive he was about to eat, rolled his eyes, and swivelled out of his bar stool. He headed to the deck where everyone had congregated. Outside he saw Duane had already been occupied by Fred, another guest at the party. Phillip didn't know much about Fred other than the fact that there was a part of him that found Fred extremely annoying. Fred was a fast-talking hustler. That was probably how he ended up the lead singer of a band. Not that he wanted to be like Fred but sometimes he was envious of the way he seemed to be so much more comfortable and at ease being the centre of attention. Also, he has slept with at least three men at this party. Courtesy of a drunken gossip session with Monroe. That was another thing that bothered Phillip about Fred. He carried an air that always intimated he had sex on the brain and it seemed to draw men in. Whenever there was some get together he managed to go with someone everytime. Another skill of which he was envious. But he determined that it wasn't going to happen this time. He didn't know where this sudden surge of energy came from but he wasn't about to let it go to waste. He casually strolled up to the couple and lightly tapped Fred on the shoulder. "Hey Fred. Monroe's in the kitchen and he wanted to talk to you about something." "Did he say what?" "Wedding stuff." "Oh Ok. Remember to save me a seat at dinner, D," Fred stated with a flirtatious smile Fred got up and walked inside. Philip replaced him in the lawn chair next to Duane. They looked at each other and smiled awkwardly. Philip hadn't thought of anything to say on his stroll over here so he was stuck in the position of rapidly trying to come up with an interesting and subtly sexy topic to discuss. He didn't know how long he had been sitting in silence before he finally settled on the mundane topic of work. "So, what do you do?" Duane looked over at him with a surprised expression. No doubt wondering if Phillip was in fact talking to him since he had been staring down as if transfixed by the rim of his beer bottle. "I run my own gym. It's right at 68th avenue and Yale Road." "Oh yeah, I think I've seen it on my commute. Omega Fitness right." "That's right. Do you work out? Are you looking for a gym? Sorry I am not here to solicit your business. Unless you're interested of course." They both laughed at this. "Actually I have been looking to get back to the gym. Since I moved here I haven't really been going as much as I used to. I have been steadily gaining weight for the past year." Duane gave him a once over. "It seems like you have solid upper body strength." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. "Why don't I leave you my card and if you are serious about getting in shape give me a call. I can set you up for a month of free personal training sessions with one of my top guys." "Okay. Thanks." Phillip took the card and looked down at the purple logo in the corner. At that moment, Fred came out onto the deck and walked in their direction. Monroe was right behind him but stopped on the steps right outside the back door. "Everyone dinner is served." Duane stood as Fred got closer and Phillip did the same. Once he was close enough, Fred grabbed Duane's arm and smiled up at him. "Hey handsome. Ready to go in." "Yeah." "Okay." Fred turned and started to lightly direct Duane towards the house. "It was nice talking to you." Duane casually waved back at him. "Yeah you too." Phillip watch them go in and it wasn't until he heard the laughter inside that he realized he was the last person outside. He looked down at the business card in his hand and smiled to himself then walked inside the house. ___________________________ Upon entering, Phillip noticed that there was only two seats left around the giant dinner table. Neither of which were close to Duane. One of them was next to Simon. He was another one of Hugo's friends from his school days. Frankly he was surprised to see him there given how many hours the man worked. He was practically strapped to his cellphone most of the time. Even when he was with people. The other empty chair was located next to Wes, a friend of Monroe. Wes was someone he had went on a date with once before. They had liked each other easily enough but they found they weren't exactly compatible in the bedroom department. Once that was established it was much easier for Philip to become comfortable and he was initially excited because he has no single friends. But with Wes living and working an hour away from him and them having no other place of interaction, their budding friendship quickly dissolved. Nevertheless, he was eager to find out what was happening with his former acquaintance so he made his way over to him. "Hey! Long time no see." "Yeah it has been. I didn't see you come in. When did you get here?" "About thirty seconds ago. Traffic was crazy getting here." Phillip snorted "What's new with you?" Wes asked as he reached for his glass of wine. "Nothing much. I've been taking a culinary course in my spare time. It's all on French cuisines." "Oh yeah you told me you liked cooking. How is that going?" "Great. It gives me something to occupy my spare time other than reading." "That's good. Be careful though because I know those French foods can have you putting on the pounds in no time." "Yeah. Most meals I have been eating have butter and bread." "Oh well, we all have our vices. So how is that project you were working on?" "It's finished. I finished it a few weeks ago actually." "Yeah? Did it lead to a big fat raise?" "No but it did lead to a giant account for my company." "Well woohoo." Phillip laughed at that. "Yeah, I would have preferred the raise too." The noise was beginning to die down as gradually people started to eat their food. They both took bites of their food. It was an assortment of meats and vegetables sauteed in sapphron. As Wes reached for the pita on the table, he asked "So are you seeing anyone?" "Nope. You?" "No." They both chuckled. "God we are pathetic. Here we said we were both going to have boyfriends by the end of the year." "Yeah." Phillip glanced over at Duane and saw he had leaned his head closer to Fred. "Well time is running out." Phillip continued to look down the table at Fred and Duane. He noticed that Fred was pouring himself what must have been his third glass of wine and had moved his chair closer to Duane's. He threw his arm around the top of the chair to highlight his muscular abdomen and was whispering things in his ear. Phillip interpreted Duane's body language and he seemed to be enjoying the attention. In fact he seemed to be very interested in whatever Fred was telling him. "You okay?" "What? Yeah." "Sure? Cause you look like you want to murder someone." Wes gestured to the wine glass stem he had gripped in his hand. Phillip chuckled lightly and released his victim. He continued to monitor the happy couple at the end of the table. "Oh I see." "You see what?" "I see that you are interested in Mr. Personal-Trainer-Entrpeneur." Phillip scoffed and was about to deny it when he caught Wes' eye. "Ok fine. I do like him." "I don't blame you. He is hella sexy." "Yeah and that's is exactly why he is going home with Mr. Dick-first-think-later" "Yeah Fred is a hard act to follow." Wes was no doubt remembering the one drunken kiss he shared with Fred so many months ago. It was clearly a memory only shared by him because either Fred doesn't to remember or he doesn't care because he ignores Wes at every function that Phillip has ever attended with the two of them. "Down boy. I really don't understand why you are still so hung up on him." "Me either. Love is a complicated thing." "How do you know so much about him anyway?" "Who Fred?" "No. Mr. Personal-Trainer-Entrepenuer." "Monroe tried to set us up a few months back but he was not interested in little ole me." "Oh. Sorry." "It is fine baby. I know I am no young stud anymore but he was a complete gentleman and he paid for everything. Total alpha male that one." Phillip knew that much about him. From the way he filled out the room to the way he stared Phillip right in the eye whenever he spoke to him screamed Alpha. Duane looked up and glanced over at him. They locked eyes and phillip jumped in surprise. He quickly lowered his eyes and took a bite of his chicken. He steadfastly avoided looking at him for the rest of dinner. _________________________ Once desert had arrived, his neck had developed a slight twinge from having it turned in the opposite direction for so long. The delicious souffle was a nice comfort to the anxious knot in his stomach. A knot that had formed from the waiting and wondering what was happening at the end of the table. Wes had abandoned the party after dinner, claiming to have to go home and attend to his children by which he means his two dogs Ryan and Russell. With Wes gone, he was left being the observer again. Only this time he was being treated to the view of Fred and Duane cozying up on the couch. On his way back from the bathroom he heard his name being mentioned in the kitchen and stopped to listen. "Yeah Phillip is nice, I guess. I didn't really talk to him that long." "Do you want me to set you guys up?" "You mean on a date?" "Well Yes." "I don't really know him that well." "So? You can get to know him. Trust me he is great guy and one of my closest friends." There was a lengthy pause during which Phillip's heartbeat slowed dramatically and began to echo in his ears. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but he couldn't seem to drag himself away from the door. "Thing is... I am not really attracted to him. He's not my type." Though Phillip had already suspected this, hearing his suspicions confirmed still hurt. He walked back to the living room and sat next to a couple having a spirited conversation about where they would be spending Thanksgiving. A few minutes later Duane emerged from the kitchen and gave him a brief glance. Phillip was about to look away but determined he didn't care what the tall man thought of him and defiantly stared back. Duane smiled and headed towards Fred. He leaned down and whispered in his ear. Fred excitedly jumped up and grabbed his arm to steady himself. The two of them said their goodbyes to everyone in the room. Phillip watched them leave completely dejected. ______________________ The Engagement Party That pressure. Oh, that pressure. The heat of him in front of me and the rough chill of the brick wall behind me was exquisitely overwhelming. I couldn't have seen straight if I tried. But I didn't try. I squeezed my eyes shut and it was as if the entire world spun, leaving us with only each other for an anchor. I pulled him in deeper with my legs, my high heels pressing into his chiseled ass. The pressure built. The flood approached. His breath formed steam against my collarbone as I arched my back, my head falling back. He unclenched his other hand from the hair behind my neck, and slid his thumb over my lips - a subtle reminder of where we were, and who might be listening. -- "I don't even want to go," I whined. "It's going to be torture. All 'in which part of France did you vacation this year, Thelma?' and 'My, this year's rains have truly put a damper on my golf game.'" I tilted my nose upward at the flickering fluorescent light over my bathroom sink and did my best snobby-British-royalty accent. I watched him saunter up behind me in the mirror as I unscrewed my mascara wand - shirtless, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his long hair frizzed around his shoulders, waiting to be tied behind his neck like always. God, he just oozes sex. He doesn't even have to try. He gently lifted my carefully-curled hair away from my neck and trailed a line of hot kisses behind my ear and along my shoulder. "Your parents are throwing us a party, Sarah," he mumbled between kisses. "Just enjoy it." Something like, "Mmmhmm. Okay. Yeah. Whatever you say," came out of my mouth. For real. He's like a drug; turning an otherwise willful and independent woman into I'll-do-whatever-you-say mush. His wandering hands slid from around my hips up to my breasts, which I had just managed to squeeze into this clearly-inappropriate-for-an-engagement-party dress. It was my little fuck you to my parents, who couldn't be bothered to call or visit while I went to college, but who suddenly were acutely interested in my life when I announced my engagement to a high-falutin local attorney. Forget my own dreams of journalistic prowess. Marry a lawyer, and suddenly, I'm back in the family. I would never have let them throw us this ridiculous party, but Grayson worked his powers of persuasion, convincing me that I'd regret not having a relationship with my parents someday. Fine, but I was wearing this slutty dress. And on that point, Grayson didn't argue. His fingertips traced the neckline, which dipped low between my breasts, as his lips found that spot behind my jaw that has no other purpose except igniting shivers down my back when it's kissed. He pressed himself into my ass, and I felt his own excitement growing, too. "Besides," he muttered into my ear. "I got you something to make tonight a lot more fun." He took a step back, turned and picked something up off the floor. A gift bag. Shimmery pink with white tissue paper poking out from the top. I smiled up at him, figuring it must be something sparkly to add a bit of class to this dress. But fancy jewelry? Eh. Not really my thing. Inside the bag was a square box. I slid off the lid. It wasn't jewelry. It looked like some kind of mini-vibrator in two pieces, but it was unlike any I had ever seen before. I looked up at him with curiosity, and he gazed back at me with fire in his eyes. Without a word, he met my lips with his, and with heavy intensity. He pulled me to him and slid his hands down my sides, pulling my dress up over my hips and exposing my bare ass to the countertop, which he lifted me to sit on. Even with the speed of it, his fingers found me molten-hot and liquid. I greedily opened myself to him, my lips parting in a sigh and my head falling backward to brace my upper body against the mirror. His fingers expertly found their way to the core of that bubbling pressure. His movements there were slow and firm, and exactly perfect. Then he reached for the box and took the thing out. He flipped some kind of switch on one of the parts, and the other part hummed quietly to life. Slowly, he pressed the humming piece against my my aching center, giving me a chance to feel what was happening. It was about the size of a large man's thumb, and it wasn't vibrating like I had expected. It was a set of twisting and undulating rigid balls encased in silicone, its speed controlled by the remote control in Grayson's hand. He pressed it against my clit, and it massaged slowly with delicious, building pressure. I hummed and groaned, my breath quickening. Then he slowly slid it inside me, the balls rolling and dancing gracefully against that sweet spot inside. I groaned and lost all sense of time and place. My fingers dug into Grayson's back, desperate for something to grab onto. After a moment, he flipped the switch and the balls inside whirled and spun in a constant, dizzying pressure. I shrieked as he pressed his thumb firmly against my clit and sent me barreling over the edge. Wave after wave crashed over me in soft, liquid pleasure and my body went rigid, and then wonderfully limp. Grayson held me and gradually slowed and then stopped the massaging balls, allowing me to ride each blissful aftershock. - A string quartet played in the corner of my parents' living room. A string fucking quartet. Men and women in black pants and white tux shirts carried trays of champagne and stupid, tiny morsels of something no one calls food but everyone feels compelled to eat. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. No. On my (lack of) dress. My father's business partners. My mother's book club friends. Old babysitters. Former teachers. My ample curves were on display for them all. My parents gave Grayson and I cursory greetings and a few introductions, clearly uncomfortable with my wardrobe choice. And then they pretty much left us alone. Score one for me. As dignified as he pretends to be in scenes like this, Grayson's just as easily bored as I am. After the quick climax in my bathroom at home, he'd pushed the thing deeper inside me and turned it on the lowest setting, preventing my orgasm from fizzling completely - keeping it simmering just above the surface. He had slipped the remote into his pocket and undone the zipper on his pants, giving me a little wink. Bless him; even as he thrusts to the back of my throat, he knows not to mess up my hair after I've just done it. I could still taste him while I talked to ... Mrs. Jones? Mrs. Jonah? Hell, who cares? I smiled politely and snatched another passing glass of champagne as she patted the back of my hand and carried on about window treatments or something. Grayson stood back-to-back with me, talking to an old friend of my dad's. "Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Janes squeaked when I jumped. "Oh, yes," I spat with a nervous laugh. "Just a little, um, cold in here. Excuse me." I gave Grayson a sharp elbow to the kidney as I walked away, my thighs clenched a little too tightly. I know he watched me walk away. The dress barely covered my ass, and he wouldn't let me put my underwear back on as we left my bathroom. If he was going to drive me crazy at this thing with his evil little remote control, I could at least return the favor a bit. I gave my hips a little extra pop as I walked, and I heard him apologize to Mr. Pinstripes behind me and ask him to repeat what he'd said. After mingling with a few other acquaintances, I found a place against the wall where I could see Grayson between the shoulders of the guests, grateful for a moment of solitude. Without breaking his conversation, Grayson met my eyes with a tiny smirk and a subtle lick of his bottom lip. His hand casually slid back into his pocket and he stared me down as he clicked the thing up another notch. I drew in a breath and pressed the back of my head into the wall with a little whimper. "Congratulations, Sarah!" came a high-pitched and too-loud voice. I struggled for a moment to regain my focus and see my father's boss' third wife bouncing toward me. She was wearing a dress nearly as revealing as mine, but at five times the price tag, with a band of real fur over the shoulders and a large cutout over her obviously fake and too-tanned breasts. She took me into an all-out hug as if we were long-lost friends, her perfume burning my eyes. "Thank you," I managed. Words weren't coming easily. I was floating in a warm, swelling sea of pleasure that had my breath coming quicker and quicker. I pretended to pay careful attention to Mrs. Fake Boobs and answered her questions about honeymoons and china sets with short, one-word answers. I breathed a sigh of relief as she got bored with me and spotted some other unsuspecting victim across the room. Blissfully alone again, for the moment, I allowed myself to submit a bit deeper to the pressure against all the sweet spots inside, my head swimming with it. I closed my eyes momentarily, dropping my chin to my chest in a pretend neck stretch. This time, the speed jumped up again without the eye contact from Grayson. Knowing he was watching me and controlling my pleasure from across the room was as much a turn-on as the thing itself. But it was getting to be too much. I was losing control. I considered leaning against the wall and just allowing the orgasm to flow over me right here, among all these stiff-and-stuffy people. It was tempting. Truly tempting. I fantasized about being naked with Grayson in the middle of the room, my knees hooked over his shoulders, our panting groans flowing into the background music as we joined and came together over and over. I imagined the suits going about their conversations as if we were merely the string quartet playing in the corner, and side-eyeing us as if they didn't desperately want to watch and participate in the evening's entertainment. I must have looked rather drunk, leaning on the wall like that, practically unable to stand on my own. Grayson saw the opportunity, excused himself from his conversation and sauntered slowly to my side. "Enjoying the party?" he whispered hotly into my ear. "Back porch. One minute." As he walked away, I watched his hand slide back into his pocket, giving himself a bit of an adjustment. And then I felt the thing gyrate with pulsing, white-hot, liquid pressure as he switched it to what had to have been its highest setting. My eyes rolled back and my knees nearly buckled. There is one great thing about big parties. Even when they're in your honor, it's not hard to slip away. Usually. As I made my way to the back door, Mr. Owen, my old next-door-neighbor, cut me off with a friendly grin and a pat on the shoulder. I tried to smile. God help me, I tried to listen to him tell me about his newest grandchild. But the whole room felt as if it was underwater and spinning. I excused myself as quickly and politely as I could, hoping Mr. Owen just assumed I was drunk. I followed Grayson (a little too closely, probably) to the back door and slid it open and then closed behind me. We were alone on the porch, for now. There was a little nook just around the corner, behind an ivy wall where we couldn't be seen unless someone was deliberately looking there. But we could easily be heard. Grayson put his arm around my shoulder as if bringing me closer to look at the stars with him, for the benefit of anyone watching us from the other side of the glass door. Then he casually walked me to that little nook. At once, his hands held my face, his long fingers digging into the hair behind my ears. His lips found mine and his body pressed me against the cold brick wall. "God, you're sexy," he whispered into my ear as he dotted kisses along my jawline. "I couldn't take watching you squirm another second." "You asshole," I grinned, nipping his earlobe. "I'll get you back for this." One of his hands reached down to yank the dress over my hips while his other hand unzipped his pants with lightening speed. I reached beneath me to slide the thing out, and it was replaced with his rock-solid, throbbing shaft in an instant. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper and holding his head to my breasts. I let go of the floodgates that I'd been braced against all evening, and the orgasm came roaring toward me like the dam had been broken. Vaguely, we could hear the music and party continuing inside. Someone was calling our names into a microphone to make a toast. "Sarah? Grayson? Where could they have gone?" Nervous laughter. I gritted my teeth and Grayson slid his thumb over my lips to help quiet the sounds of the approaching flood. My dress snagged on the bricks as he lifted and speared me over and over. Then the pressure finally exploded, flooding us with sweet, hot ecstasy that flowed over our entire bodies, radiating in ripples of glowing heat. We held each other as the world spun and floated around us, and we pulsed together until the last ripple faded. I floated back down to earth just in time to pull my dress over my hips and slide the thing (which I still held in my hand) into Grayson's jacket pocket before we were discovered. Grayson turned his back to the slightly intoxicated guests who came looking for us and zipped his pants quickly, giving me a grin and a wink. With my thumb, I wiped the smeared lipstick from his mouth and then from my own as we made our way back inside, giggling with exaggerated drunkenness. My body still hummed with pleasure as Grayson's best man raised his glass. "To the happy couple!" I smoothed my dress over my hips again, smiled and raised my glass from under Grayson's protective arm, already fantasizing about our wedding day.