The After Party

The After Party

As soon as we left the Palladium, Liam led me aside to an alley way where the foot traffic was less and had me call my friends. Michelle was the first to call and answered quick enough. I heard her laughter on the other end of the phone, and the voices of several guys along with the rest of our group. She and the girls were at the station waiting, which is what we'd agreed before the show if we got separated. They were about to take the boys for a ride, she said, and I was welcome to join if I wanted.

"I actually ran into someone I kinda know," I told her, which was partly true at least. Telling her I was on my way to a strange man's hotel room, even if he was an admired author of mine, was bound to cause a fuss I didn't need. "We're going to hang out for a bit and I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"Really?" she said knowingly. "Does this friend of yours have a nice cock? Maybe you could bring him back to the hotel. We're going to stop by the corner store and have a little after party."

"Mmm, he does," I answered and smiled as Liam's expression went from patiently waiting to quizzically intrigued, "but I'm not really up for sharing tonight."

Michelle whooped her excitement. Half the trip over, with me being so quiet, she kept ragging on about me needing to get laid. She wasn't wrong, but she didn't understand how complex my standards really were. "Well, send me pictures, at least," she said. I could hear them moving towards the trains by the announcements on the loud speakers in the background. "Just make sure you're back at the hotel before checkout, honey. I wouldn't want to leave without you!"

We hung up and I tucked my phone away on "Do Not Disturb" into the little black clutch I carried with me. "'He does' what?" Liam asked me as I walked up beside him. He settled a hand on the back of my neck as we started down the street.

"Just girl talk," I said, then he gave my neck an easy squeeze. I released a quiet moan from somewhere I didn't really recognize to be myself and my pace came to a sudden stop. "I'm sorry, daddy," I whispered, "she asked if you had a nice cock. And for me to send her pictures of it."

His grip loosened then and he gave me a little kiss on the temple. "That's my good girl," he said. His hand moved to my waist. "There's no reason for you to hide anything else from me, understand? We may be playing this game with fake names, but that's as far as I want the deception to go. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said and nodded as I wrapped an arm behind his torso and into his left back pocket. "Sir," I added and smiled up at him. "I think I do."

"I want you to be honest with me about what you like and don't like; what you want and what you don't want; what makes you tick and what makes you sick," he said. His hand cupped around my side and pulled me to him, hip to hip. Having him touching my body with such firmness made me eager for what would come later. I pictured him manhandling me, tossing me onto the bed and tearing at my clothes. But then he asked the fated question. "You hungry?"

I was starving. I hadn't eaten anything since we got into the city, and one slice of pizza was not enough to tide me over. "Famished," I answered honestly and gave his taught backside a squeeze from inside his pocket. "For more than just ice cream. I could go for a cheese burger. Too bad it's so late."

He laughed at me. "You don't come to the city often, do you?" I didn't. "Come on; there's a food truck that usually parks about half a block from here. Best smash burgers this side of the Hudson."

"French fries?"

"Just like you." It was my turn to give him a look screwed up in confusion. "Hot and fresh." He wound up and smacked me on the backside so hard I nearly jumped into the street ahead of us. My yelp echoed down the alley way, and then my laughter as he led me on.

The line moved fast at the food truck, which gave me the opportunity to muster up enough courage to ask a question I had always wanted to ask. "If it's okay for me to ask," I led in, knowing it could be a sensitive subject, "why didn't you ever write another novel?"

"I did," he answered, "just not under this name. I always felt the story ended well enough not to need a sequel, with everything said that needed saying. Besides," we were next in line already, and he paused a moment to look over the menu, paying close attention, I noticed, to the desserts -- none of which I recognized and some of which I couldn't pronounce. "That book precipitated my divorce ten years ago. You have any no's for toppings on your burgers?" I shook my head. "Two with everything, a large order of curly fries, two waters, and a pint each of Cioccolato All'Azteca and Zabaglione to go, my man."

"Choco-whato?" I failed to understand what he said almost as badly as I did trying to pronounce it. "What is that?"

"Dessert," he said as he pulled cash from his wallet -- of course he carried cash. "Cioccolato All'Azteca is dark chocolate gelato infused with hot pepper oil and cinnamon; zabaglione is cream gelato with sweet wine." I must have turned up my nose a little at the idea of spicy ice cream because he chuckled under his breath. "Try it for me," he said and bounced his hip into mine. "If you don't like one of them, I promise I'll make it up to you."

We ate the burgers and drank the waters as we walked to the hotel and talked about the show we'd barely watched. The fries, he said, we would save for later; something I didn't understand in the moment he said it but came to appreciate later. He carried those and I carried the gelato. The hotel itself was a swanky modern affair that wasn't too far from Times Square and the Palladium. Warm light spilled out from shaded lamps on the wood-paneled walls and gave the whole space a feeling so welcoming I almost forgot it was a hotel. There were a few sofas and chairs throughout the lobby set around tables topped with frosted glass and vases filled with stalks of purple flowers. He stopped at the front desk and asked for extra towels and a bucket of ice for champagne. He handed me the towels and for the first time in hours, neither of us was touching the other. The elevator seemed to take forever.

When we finally arrived in the room and settled everything where it need to be -- gelato in the little mini fridge, fries on the desk near the door where his laptop sat closed, bucket on the little table near the floor to ceiling windows with views of Broadway down below, a magnum of champagne in the bucket on ice, towels spread out on the bed. Then he did what I had wanted him to do from the moment I knew who he was -- he grabbed me up in his arm and pressed his mouth to mine. His hands scooped under my backside, beneath the material of my skirt, fingers mashing the tender, round globes of my ass. I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his waist. No way I was letting him go now. His tongue found mine and one teased the other. His mouth separated from mine and found my neck, and the way he nipped and kissed so fervently at me I knew I would have blossoming bruises all over my throat before the night was through.

Not to be outdone, I bit his earlobe. I could taste the saltiness from his sweat that lingered from the show. His hand moved to the back of my thighs and he pried me off his waist, tossed me onto the bed behind me. I took care of my top and bra while he shucked my skirt and panties down over my boots and thigh high fishnets. He unzipped my boots and took those off, but made no effort to remove the stockings. The feeling of the cool air in the hotel against my hot skin sent shivers and goose bumps across my body; everything tensed. I let my thighs fall apart, exposing my already blushing labia to the air. I thanked God I'd had the prescience to shave before the show.

He took his shirt and undershirt off in one motion without undoing the buttons and kicked the boots off his feet. He looked amazing. He was lean and fit, built more like a swimmer than someone who spent a lifetime at the weight racks. Still, I could see almost every muscle defined by stark striations. I tried to get to my feet, but he pushed me back on the bed, hooked his arms behind my legs, and pinned both my wrists to the mattress as he took first one and then my other nipple into his mouth. He hooked his tongue into the little hoops and pulled while he tended to them and fought my straining hands.

I wanted to touch him so badly, but it drove me wild how easily he took control as his mouth wandered down my belly. He pulled me to the edge of the mattress by my wrists, my legs supported by his shoulders, then worked his way down my inner thighs, leaving little sucker marks as he went, making me moan and whimper uncontrollably, until, at last, his tongue sank into the dripping, sticky wet folds of my aching cunt. The first time the flat of his tongue crossed my clit it sent an electric shock up from the base of my spine to the top of my head and my hips rose into him without my mind so much as urging them to do it.

Michelle had said on the car ride into town that there was a difference between men who gave oral to please their women and those who did it for their own pleasure. She couldn't explain it except to say "You'll know the difference when you feel it." And laying there, with my thighs clamped to the sides of Liam's head, the edges of my vision turning white and my lungs burning from my own ragged breath, I started to understand what she meant. It felt like he was starving for it, like there was nothing more fulfilling in the world than eating my pussy. The way he lapped at it, the way he breathed me in while he went to town between my legs, the way the stubble on his chin rasped against my naked flesh; it was different from my other lovers, who only did it as foreplay because it was expected. But Liam -- he wanted this. I could tell even more when he pulled my wrists under my back and gripped them in his left hand so he could play with my nipples with his right, his eyes watching me over my bucking hips as I moaned and writhed against the bed, making a fair mess of the towels and the tan hotel comforter beneath them.

His mouth followed the trail of my juices and his own saliva down across my perineum, and then it was another first for me when he licked around my anus. I cried out as he worked the tip of that talented muscle into that virginal bundle of nerves, then gasped, wide-eyed as he worked me over with just as fervent attention as he had my pussy. "You taste so fucking good, little girl," he said as he devoured me. I was always hesitant when it came to anal. The thought of the pain and the potential mess kept me sidelined despite some trial touching with my fingers.

I was nearing the point of thoughtlessness, though, as he fucked my ass with his tongue and twisted my nipples by their little hoops, and then crossed it when he leaned back to spit into my puckered asshole and returned to sucking my clit while his free hand descended and pushed two fingers into my dripping gash and one into my backside. He started pumping furiously in and out of me. I could feel sweat beading on my skin, and the strain of my ecstatic movements finally freed my hands from his grip. But all I could do was grab onto the comforter for dear life while he worked my aching holes and turgid clit.

"FUCK YES, DADDY, FUCK ME!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, long and loud, completely expelling all air from my lungs in the process. He wrapped his free hand around my throat and that was it. I came, squirting again, across his neck and chest this time in a high-pressured stream with no panties to stop the flow. He pulled his fingers free and lapped at me again, greedily sucking up every drop of me he could from the inside of my thighs to my tender little asshole.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Could barely breathe. My skin, I could see, especially around my chest, was flush with red color. I could make out little clusters of bruises on the inside of my thighs from where he'd bit and sucked my flesh into his mouth, like trails of little purple flowers. I had never felt an orgasm so intense in all my life.

He drifted over me, kissing his way back up to my mouth. The taste of myself on his lips and tongue brought me back to life. "You make me feel so wonderful, daddy," I rasped. "Please let me suck your cock," I begged. "Please, daddy? Let me taste you the way you tasted me? Let me show you what a good girl I can be for the best daddy in the whole, wide world." I punctuated the last bit with kisses along his neck and throat.

"Of course, baby girl," he said and stood up from the floor. He pulled me up by my hands and I was back on my feet, hands on his chest, reveling in the feel of him. I moved over him with my mouth, kissing and licking my way down his abdomen while my hands undid the belt around his waist, until at last I fell to my knees, undid the button, unzipped his fly, and unceremoniously took his pants down to his feet. His cock, already fully engorged, flopped out as I did this and caught me under the chin with a massive glob of precum.

"Jesus Christ," I marveled as I took him in my hands, slack-jawed as I stroked his penis from the head to the base. He was cut, which was fine by me. Any extra skin on his monstrous member would have made it near unmanageable. He stood at least nine inches fully erect, and while my fingers could not meet around at the base of him, the shaft thickened more towards the head before tapering off slightly.

His fingers went into my hair at the back of my head. He must have felt me stiffen and assumed it was in surprise, because he paused and stroked my hair smooth again. "Don't be afraid," he said in a voice that sounded like the purr of a big cat as I rubbed his cock with both hands and tried to think of what to do next. "I'll be gentle with you until you're ready for me not to be, little girl."

I ran my tongue flat along the underside of him, keeping eye contact as I did. It felt good to have someone pay such strict attention to how I acted or reacted. "Thank you, daddy," I replied, knowing already what I craved. "But please don't be gentle." I kissed the head of his cock and lashed my tongue across his glans before taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. It hurt my jaw to open so wide. I took a deep breath through my nostrils, then, and pushed myself further down, but my gag reflex kicked in at the girth entering my mouth and I had to retreat. "Please turn my mouth and throat into a sleeve for your magnificent cock, daddy."

The sounds coming from him spurred me on, and the constant stream of approving words made me eager to push my limits even further as I buried him deep again and rocked my head side to side, trying whatever tricks I could think of to wedge him in further. Despite being so tiny, I had a very supple throat. I knew I could do it if I tried a little harder. I closed my eyes to concentrate, then felt his hands on the back of my head again.

"Whatever baby wants."

His fingers twined around my hair. I had no time to brace myself as he pushed his hips forward and my head into him at the same time. It took a few tries, but soon enough his fat girth pushed past my throat barrier and stretched me open, gagging the whole way. He pulled back just far enough for me to breathe in through my nose and feel a mouthful of my own spit come dripping out across my chin, then pushed himself back into me. My hands went up reflexively as I started to choke, but I wanted to be his good girl; I wanted what he was giving me. So I fought it, and instead grabbed onto his backside, pulling him into me tighter, feeling his pulse on my tongue and in my convulsing throat.

I forced my mouth open just a little wider and managed to swipe my tongue across front of his balls. I looked up to him, my eyes blurred with tears, and reveled in his growling moans and the fresh praises he lauded on me. I did it. I smiled around his cock as he pulled back and out. I tried to swallow my spit, but strings of it clung to his shaft. "Daddy," I gasped, "please come in my mouth. Please let me taste it. God, I want it so badly." He rubbed his penis all over my face while I tried to lick him clean; tried to get him back into me. And he obliged, holding his rod still for me to lick and nuzzle and then kiss my way back up to the head. I held on to his hips as he fucked his way back into my throat, using me like the little whore I wanted to be for him.

Spit flung from my mouth in long, sticky strands, landing everywhere and anywhere. Even when his grip eased on my hair, I kept the pace. He'd shown me how hungry he was. I needed him to know I felt the same, needed him to know I could take it; that I wasn't some delicate little flower, however much I intended to be his little girl. "Use me," my face said as I locked his eyes and suckled him with everything I had. I even reached around behind him and between his legs to grab his slowly tensing scrotum, massaging his balls and moaning around his shaft as I worked it in and out of my mouth and throat. He was starting to pulse in ways that let me know he was close. Feeling him tense and twitch made me that much more eager.

One more deep breath and a dove straight down, my nose pressed against his crotch. The smell of him, strong and musky, lingered in my nostrils while my tongue, broad and flat, swept side to side across the underside of his shaft and then out along his, and my eyes, weeping and smeared with my own mascara, begged him to give me the thing I wanted most. His body tensed and his face contorted into that familiar look. I drew back just enough to swirl my tongue around the glans of his penis and he started to climax almost immediately. A guttural groan escaped his mouth and he stammered forward half a step into me as I sucked and swallowed and furiously pumped his shaft with my now free hands to not miss a drop of his hot, delicious seed as he filled my mouth with thick, creamy load.

I let go a satisfied purr as he twitched in my mouth, finally depleted. His erection started to slacken, and I almost had him all the way out before he spoke again. "Don't you dare stop, little girl," he said, and the look in his face meant business. My jaw was nearly numb at this point, but I did what any good little girl would do, and listened to her daddy. I sucked him back into my mouth, down into my throat and back again and again and found myself amazed. He was completely hard again.

He pulled himself free of my mouth and hauled me to my feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me and our flavors blended together on our tongues. He was walking me backwards to the bed. He stooped a moment to pull the black leather belt from his pants on the floor. "What's that for?" I asked, more intrigued than frightened, but still a little of both. "You aren't going to whip your good little girl, are you, daddy?"

"No," he chuckled as he turned me around and, with a motion so fast he was done before I realized with shock that the curtains were open, had my hands bound in the leather strap. He picked me up by the waist and set me kneeling on the bed.

"Oh my God, the window!"

"I know, little girl," he said as he climbed onto the bed behind me and positioned my body the way he wanted -- head down, back arched, ass up in the air. "We're seven stories up, though, and the building across the street is an office complex. Not to worry. I've no intention of sharing you with anyone tonight. But it's nice to see the lights, don't you think? And to think maybe -- just maybe -- there's some stranger in that office right across the way. Maybe a man imagining he's here with you while he's jerking off. Maybe a woman who wants to be as beautiful as you are, fingering he lonely cunt while she daydreams about getting railed. Either way, it's all the same."