Chapter 4

four

DENNIS

I don’t know what to make of Sydney when she huffs off like I’ve said something to offend her. Maybe I was misreading the situation some, which could entirely be on me. I saw how she looked when the guy I’ve nicknamed Thor touched her. She was practically an icicle and was throwing every signal she could that she did not want to be touched. So when she sat beside me, I did my best not to make her uncomfortable. Her catching me with a raging boner certainly didn’t help.

Talk about embarrassing. I don’t think she even knew she did it, but when she slid onto the arm of the couch beside me, her legs parted and I could see the scrap of black lace that covered her pussy. All I could think about was sliding my hand along the silky smoothness of her thighs to see if she was as wet as I was hard. And that was it. I was harder in three seconds of fantasizing about Sydney than I’ve been in a year.

Tonight is going to be a disaster. I’m going to get the head of my cock in a woman and blow my load like I’m sixteen again getting my dick sucked by Hailey Jones under the bleachers after a soccer game. I glance at the blonde next to me who keeps squeezing her elbows together to make her tits pop out of her dress and my boner loses some of its steam.

No, it can’t be just any woman. The thought of having sex with the woman beside me who is trying desperately to get my attention does nothing for me. But when I look across the room to where Sydney is tapping her finger impatiently on the side of her glass, I start to feel it again. My poor wing man is so confused with all this hard, not hard, hard again action.

Sydney is devastating and every man in this room can’t look away from her, or maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m inventing this competition with other guys in my head to make myself feel better about looking, about imagining what her hair would look like wrapped around my fist as she looked up at me through her bangs while choking on my cock. Would she gag and fight the feeling as tears streamed down her face or would she embrace every thrust and swallow me down like a good girl?

Jesus fucking Christ. I need Jesus fucking Christ with how filthy she makes my thoughts. Is it poor form to jerk off while at a sex party? I rub my hand over my jaw and then again through my hair as Sydney gives her customer service smile to the guy she’s talking to before she sets her empty glass down to head down the hall toward the bathroom.

From what I’ve been able to gather, this house has thirty bedrooms, which feels unreasonable to me, but if you’re throwing sex parties, it makes sense. Before the key draw happens, each woman will be shown the room she has access to. She’ll be given two keys that open the door, one for her and one for her partner. She can decide to give you the key or not, but if she doesn’t, that’s it, game over, you get to get in your car and leave .

Helga, or, at least that’s what I’m calling the blonde in my head... She told me her name, but I was distracted because Sydney looked away from her drink and the guy she was talking to looked shifty and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t up to shenanigans by slipping something in her drink. Helga has been most informative about what to expect from this party, particularly if she draws my key from the bowl. This isn’t the first party that Fran?ois has thrown that she’s attended and she knows that the girl managing the key bowl is up for joining any games.

I’m being offered a threesome and apparently my cock has no interest. Really, buddy? A flash of green fabric from my peripheral catches my attention and I turn my head just a little to watch as the tiny brunette drops her hand in the key bowl before walking out the door.

I excuse myself from Helga to follow Sydney as she walks outside. We don’t get much crime in these parts, but I do try to practice stealth when I can. I follow her quietly, closing the front door behind me as she stares up at the moon. Her dress isn’t much. When my fingers grazed her, I could feel the velvety softness of the material, but the straps, if you can call them that, are basically shoe strings that criss-cross her back.

Even from here, I can catch the goosebumps rise along her skin and I wonder if that’s from me watching her or if the cold is finally getting to her. I have to think it’s the cold because a few seconds later, she presses a button of the key in her hand and any hope I may have had that maybe she was just coming out to Louis’s car for something forgotten is dashed. Last I checked, Louis drove a Nissan Pontiac, not a Porsche.

Fuck. I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone else has noticed our absence, but so far, no one has followed us. Good. I cross my arms, the chill from the air seeping in through my suit jacket. I can’t even imagine how she must feel. The car doesn’t start, so I don’t have to arrest her for grand theft auto. I take a few steps closer to the car and see she’s turned on the light.

She can’t be committing a crime if she’s turned the light on. Maybe she’s just looking for something for whatever douche canoe owns this vehicle. I cross between a few other cars so I’m on the driver’s side when she gets out. I watch as she thumbs through cash. Her lush lips count as she goes, and when she hits twelve, my heart threatens to give out. Who leaves that much money just sitting in their car?

I glance away from her, back toward the party. I don’t know what I’ll do if someone else were to catch her outside. I can’t cover for her having someone else’s keys, or worse, actively stealing over $1,200. That makes it grand theft larceny and worse, a felony. I can’t look the other way if someone else catches her.

Except I could. Worse, I think that for her, I absolutely would do what it took to protect her. I’m not sure where that instinct is coming from, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts.

The car door opens and she’s moving to step out when she sees me. Her eyes go wide with fear, but she chokes down her scream. It’s nearly pitch black, but the moon is shining right on her face, which means she can’t clearly see me, especially if she’s light blind because of the car light.

“Lose something?” I ask, giving her an improbable reason out.

“No, I just wanted to get a feel for my possible suitors for the evening. What better way than to scope out their cars?”

She’s smooth, I’ll give her that as she climbs out of the car. It’s gross inside there and I’m not sure if the owner would even be able to identify if something was stolen among the mess. No, better just to return the key and pretend like this never happened. Breaking into the car is probably not the smartest thing but there is no evidence that she stole anything, and if she draws my key I’ll be able to see what she’s hiding in the scrap of fabric she calls a dress.

“Want to see the inside of mine?” I offer her, and I don’t know where it comes from, but she scoffs.

“Sure, like Deputy Perfect is going to actually do anything tonight. I bet you get someone’s key and you don’t use it. You’ll go sit in your car and wait while Carmen gets railed by Fran?ois and whoever else.” Her words hit too close to home but I realize not for Carmen. It's more like what I would do if Sydney didn’t draw my key, but I have no reason to think that. I’m not dating her. She wasn’t one of my fantasies in high school. Sydney is right. If someone who wasn’t her drew my key, I wouldn’t use it. I also wouldn’t stay here. I would make sure Carmen could call me in the morning if she needed, but I would go back into town and go to Carmen’s and pack up whatever of my meager belongings are still at her place.

I take my jacket off and slide it around Sydney’s shoulders. She looks so small but fierce wearing it and I want to kiss the snark right off her face. These impulses keep coming and I can only hope that she draws my key tonight. Her eyes spark with gratitude before she huddles deeper into the coat.

“I’ll show you my truck, and then when your little hand is fishing around among those options, you’ll remember my truck and you’ll pull my key because you know I treat women the same way I treat my vehicle.”

“What, you ride it hard and dirty?” she asks. I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s taken a step closer to me, and I breathe in the smell of her, sugar cookies and coffee.

“No, I treat it with care and respect, because I know it can take whatever I give it.”

Her body trembles, and I don’t think it’s because of the cold. I’m still not clear on the rules, but I want to bend down and kiss those plush lips even as the snow starts to fall, the snow I knew was going to come.

We break eye contact as we look at the sky. Her grey eyes close and she looks so sweet, but I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“Whatever you took, put it back before the end of the party.” I search her face, looking for any clue I can find of her guilt.

She opens her eyes and there’s hurt clear as day in them before she puts up a wall between us. Her eyebrow lifts.

“Or else what? You’ll use your handcuffs on me?”

“In your dreams,” I say with a shake of my head. She’s not just defiant as she glares at me, but angry too. Maybe my gut was right and she didn’t actually take anything.

She gets on her toes and leans in close to my ear. Her hot breath makes goosebumps break out on my neck. “More like in yours.”

The front door to the house opens and I can see Louis standing there. He calls out over his shoulder, “I found her. Come on, we’re waiting on you, pretty girl. It’s time to pick the keys.” There’s excitement in his voice, but I can feel her body go rigid.

I slide my hand into hers and take the Porsche key from her. I flash it at Louis, knowing it’s too dark and far away for him to make out. “That’s my bad. I thought I left something in my truck but didn’t. We’re headed back in now.”

When we get back to the house, she slides my jacket off her shoulders and hands it back to me. My eyes catch on her ass as she walks with confidence back into the party. She doesn’t rub her arms or give away any sign she was as affected by what just happened as I was.

Sydney pauses once she’s inside and turns to look at me with a wink .

And I know it.

The way I know some things are fact. Like the sky is blue and Christmas is the best holiday and eggnog is better with rum.

I know that Sydney Perkins has the power to ruin me.