17 Chapter Seventeen: The Party

I sighed and allowed her to pull me outside. The back porch was lit up with several lights that bounced off the variety of streamers and banners wishing me a happy 19th birthday party. Though the decorations were tasteful, I knew my mother had hated them. But that just made Molly and I love them more.

My mother stood over by the table where the cake was set up beautifully next to a silver pitcher of ice cream. Unfortunately, she did not look happy about the setup, and I knew why. The caterer had done what she told me she wanted to do.

The caterer stood behind the table, staring my mother down with a feisty glare that perfectly matched her bright red hair.

"Oh, dear..." I said with a huge sigh.

"What?" Molly said, following my gaze.

Ignoring her question, I hurried over to the table, hoping to spare the poor woman my mother's temper.

"Hi," I addressed the caterer as cheerfully as I could to draw my mother's attention away from her.

"Can you believe this woman?! She brought the wrong ice cream, and she didn't even bother to give us a call and let me know that she wasn't going to fill my order," Mother told me in horror.

Anyone else would have thought the caterer was grounding up human remains to add to the cake.

"Actually, Mother. She called me earlier and told me what had happened, and offered me replacement flavors. Since you weren't around, I chose what I thought was the best. Which was the French Vanilla. It was fortuitous since French Vanilla was one of my favorites," I lied quickly and without remorse.

Mother's mouth dropped, and she turned back to the caterer. "Is that true?"

The caterer's blue eyes met mine with almost a mischievous sparkle in them, but she quickly agreed with me. "Yes, ma'am."

Caught between a rock and a hard place, my mother couldn't do anything more without causing a scene in front of her guests.

"Oh… well, good. I apologize for my behavior," Mother replied.

Her face was bright red as she tried to hold on to her temper and embarrassment. Spinning on her heel, she stormed off with as much grace and dignity she could muster. She took up her spot next to my father, plastering a smile on her face so she could continue acting the perfect hostess.

My father was standing in the middle of a large group that was predominately males, all similar in age, girth, and receding hairlines.

One man took up the other spot right next to my father and would heartily laugh at every single corny joke my father said. Keith was obviously buttering him up, and that thought bothered me dearly. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he turned and sent me a lascivious grin and wink. A shiver of disgust went down my back, and I pointedly dismissed him, trying hard to make sure he understood that I wanted nothing to do with him.

"Thank you so much for standing up for me," the lady said with a very relieved grin on her face.

"Not a problem," I told her smiling back. "My mother can be very... ummm."

"Abrasive?" The lady offered politely.

I let out a shocked laugh at her observation of my mother's attitude. "That's a nice way to put it."

"I'm Tabitha, by the way," she said, holding out her hand to me.

"Rebecca, but my friends call me Becca. And this is my best friend Molly," I introduce them.

"Hi! The cake looks amazing!" Molly complimented.

She reached towards the cake, dipping her finger into the frosting at the very bottom of the large three-tiered masterpiece. She licked it off her finger and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

"Oh, my god! And it tastes amazing!" Molly moaned.

I copied her actions and her response the moment I found the cake to be absolutely amazing.

"I remember the last time you made that sound," a husky voice whispered in my ear.

My body flushed as the memory of the last time he was with me. The way his mouth made me feel and his body pressed against me. The heat buzzed through me and settled between my thighs. My mouth had grown so dry that I forgot how to swallow and almost choked. Mr. Jones stepped around me and pressed a drink into my hand with a rumbling chuckle.

"Thank you, Sir," I mumbled after taking a small sip to fix the issue.

When I finally looked up, I found all the eyes in our small group were focused on me, causing me to fidget uncomfortably. Tabatha gave him a strange look but quickly turned away to start getting the cake set up.

"Can I steal you away for a moment? I'd hate to make you miss your birthday party, little one, but I really would like a moment alone with you," he requested, his eyes twinkling with a sensual promise if I said yes.

"Of course, Sir," I agreed happily, putting my hand in his outstretched one.

He began to pull me through the crowd past Scott and Molly. Scott stopped Mr. Jones briefly with a hand on his arm.

"Remember what I said," Scott told him somberly.

"Remember my response," Mr. Jones came back a little stiffly.

Scott seemed satisfied with that response and nodded, letting him go. Mr. Jones continued through the party, ignoring the odd looks from the party-goers as we swept past them. He only stopped when we got to a secluded area on the other side of the row of hedges. He looked around, double-checking that we couldn't be seen, then turned back to me. I stepped back nervously, suddenly feeling a bit shy around him. His only response was a sultry grin that only served to cause the nervousness to grow.

"Relax, little one, I'm not gonna jump you in your backyard," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh…" I replied, feeling oddly sad that he hadn't planned on doing anything… naughty.

He laughed. "I said I wasn't going to jump you. However… I have been dying for a taste of you since I put you to bed the last time I saw you."

He reached for me, and despite my apprehension, I stepped into his arms.

"God, you're so beautiful. Every day you take over my mind and make it difficult to concentrate on my work," he said to me.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to my neck, taking a deep breath in. I moaned softly, tilting my head to the side, hoping he wouldn't stop at just the teasing little kisses.

"Your scent has me intoxicated," he whispered against my neck. "Along with the feel of your skin." His hands slid up my arms and cupped my cheeks, gently caressing my cheeks. "Then there is your taste."

Without hesitation, he took my mouth with a hungry, ravenous kiss that seared my soul, branding it. His tongue plunged into my mouth, rubbing against my own, playing with it, teasing it. I whimpered, pressing closer to him, my body feeling as if it was set on fire. His arms wound around my waist and held me tight. Mr. Jones growled into my mouth as I plunged my hands into his hair, gripping the soft silky strands tightly as I tried to keep a rein on my responses that were quickly exploding.

After all this time, my body not only wanted him… but craved him. His mouth left mine and pressed small kisses along my neckline until he reached the spot right over my pounding pulse. He opened his mouth and nipped the area gently. A softly little yelp left my mouth and my back arched in his arms as the pleasure swept down between my legs. My nipples stood at attention, begging him silently to be the next thing in his mouth.

He pressed his lips against my ear, his breath teasing the sensitive skin sending a shiver down my spine.

"I can feel those sweet little nipples against me. I dream of sucking on them, making you moan and whine as I take my time and make a meal out of them," Mr. Jones whispered.

"Oh yes, please, Sir! Please!" I whined.

"Not tonight, my little princess. I must keep you safe. That's my job. But soon... soon I'll see you fall apart again, and this time there will be no rush and nothing between us," he promised as he pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. "Tonight, however... when you get to your room, I want you to press your hand between those delicious thighs of yours again and cum for me. Just like you did the first time I saw you."

"Oh, the table?" I whispered, feeling my cheeks flush at the image.

He pulled back and smiled. "No, sweetness... the first time was when you didn't think I could see you."