California Nights: Rich Boys of California Duet

The next thing I knew I was in a dimly lit pantry. Alone. With Clayton Westfield.

A very, very drunk Clayton Westfield.

He took the tray from my hands and shoved it onto the counter. The crystal rattled alarmingly but I didn’t hear a crash. He looked at me hungrily for a spilt second. And then he pounced.

His hands were on my hips, dragging me against his body. His lips found mine. I opened my mouth for air out of surprise and his tongue swooped inside my mouth.

I stopped thinking at that moment. The feel of him against me was overwhelming. His arms felt so powerful and strong around me. Wonderful really. He leaned over me, molding his body against mine. His hand slipped down, yanking my thigh up to his waist. Then he maneuvered himself between my legs so that I could feel him.

Oh God.

Clay was hard.

Really, really hard.

I heard a soft, needy whimpering sound and realized it was coming from me. My hands were all over his chest, shoulders and arms. I’d waited a long time to touch him, and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“Jesus Nev, you feel good.”

He came up for air and was staring down at me. He looked perplexed, hungry and very, very horny. For me. At least I knew for sure now that it was for me.

He dipped down a little and scooped his hips up, circling his cock against me. I felt him slide the skirt of my maids uniform upwards and grind himself into my panties. His fingers traced the edge of them.

“I can’t believe I am finding Grannie Panties this fucking hot. Promise me you’ll never wear a thong Nev. I’m not sure I would survive it.”

“I hate thongs.”

He laughed and kissed me again, his tongue swirling into my mouth. He had one hand on my ass, holding me in place so he could work himself against me. His other hand was moving restlessly upwards until it closed over my breast.

We moaned in unison at the contact.

Then he pulled away a little bit and reached down.

He was sliding my panties down.

That’s when it hit me. Clayton Westfield was trying to fuck me in the servants pantry. He was going to try and fuck me. Here.

Oh hell NO.

“Stop!”

“What? I thought you wanted this, Nev.”

His hands froze but his cock was still pulsing against my pussy. I felt naked, exposed. I felt really, really pissed off.

I reached for his chest and pushed.

“Get off me, Clay. I’m not fucking you in a fucking closet.”

He grinned at me, not letting go of my hips.

“So let’s go upstairs.”

“No! You are really predictable you know that?”

“It’s no big deal. You want me. And I want you.”

I stared at him, angry red splotches on my cheeks. He was right. I did want him. The bastard.

“What’s the matter, Mouse? Are you still a virgin or something?”

I said nothing but something in my face must have given it away. His eyes widened.

“Holy shit girl, how the hell did that happen?”

He laughed drunkenly.

“Or should I say, not happen!”His smiled faded as he stared at me. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He leaned forward and breathed into my ear.

“I will be very happy to relieve you of your virginity, Nevada Jones.”

It sounded like a promise.

No – it sounded like an oath.

I held very still, humiliation coursing through my veins.

He started messing with my panties again and I shoved him. Hard.

Clay’s big eyes widened in shock.

“Okay, okay. Jesus, Nev!”

He stared at me as I grabbed the tray and brushed past him. I was close to tears as I hurried down the hallway to the kitchen. I needed to unload this tray and get back to work. Really all I wanted to do was run somewhere and hide.

And cry my fucking eyes out.

Not because he had touched me like that. Drunk and fumble and a little bit rude.

Because I’d wanted him to.

I hadn’t wanted him to stop either. A big part of me wanted him to keep going. All the way.

Yes, even though he was a jerk pawing at me in a pantry.

I could still smell him all over me. Bourbon, yes, but also fresh and clean… just him. I could still feel his lips on mine. I could still feel his cock.

His very large cock.

Damn him.

I spent the rest of the party avoiding Clay. He was getting increasingly wasted, sitting in corners and staring at me balefully.

I’d definitely pissed him off.

It was better than the alternative.

Safer.

Because if he tried to fuck me again, I wasn’t sure I would have the strength to stop him.

Chapter Fifteen

Clay

I swigged from a bottle of mineral water between sets with Matt. He’d won the first one, but barely. I was off my game today though.

The massive hangover didn’t help.

Neither did the state of frustration I was dealing with because of the Nev situation.