by Wyatt, Dani
Beer?
Who comes to a party like this and drinks beer?
He’s wearing a perfectly fitted tuxedo, very James Bond like, with dark hair and a closely trimmed matching beard framing a face that was carved from sex and stone. My body ignites in tingles as I imagine the scruff of that beard brushing against my own face as he kisses me. His massive hands tracing a trail down my trembling spine...
And God yes, he’s enormous.
He stands inches above all the other men in the room, with shoulders so wide he could probably hold up the ceiling if it decided to cave in. In fact, he’s so big I’d think he was security if it wasn’t for the fact people are nodding his way with a kind of fawning respect.
The tightness I feel down low shocks me. I’ve not had this kind of reaction to anyone ever, and the thoughts of what his naked body looks like under that tuxedo are starting to invade my every thought, sending me into a mild panic.
He brings a hand to his chin, rubbing his beard, and he honestly looks bored. He’s not flashy, not trying to impress anyone, but still he commands authority, standing there all alone as he assesses his surroundings.
My eyes flick to a dark hall off to my left, and I head in that direction. Maybe if I can find a ladies’ room I can compose myself. But even as I drift along, trying to escape his gravity, I struggle to keep my eyes from darting back to him every few seconds.
I’m already lightheaded enough from lack of sustenance, but when his fierce green eyes turn my way and meet mine, my knees nearly buckle under me.
I wobble forward, desperate for the darkness of that hallway, but as he looks at me his body language changes. His shoulders half turn in my direction, his eyes—which were narrowed and bored before—widen, and his eyebrows hitch upward.
God, let me disappear.
I swear he starts to step in my direction, but a leggy blonde in a short black dress steps into his space, immediately blocking my view. Two other men join them, and I turn my head, my hair falling over my right eye as I flee.
Against my better judgment, when I reach the hallway, I take one more look over my shoulder, and all my fantasies are shattered.
The blonde leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and my heart feels like it’s just cracked in half.
Chapter Two
Damon
SOMETHING’S WRONG.
There’s a tension in my chest. Some scent on the air that has my heart beating faster. And when I scan the crowd and my eyes land on her, all my questions are answered.
When our eyes meet, I feel it down in my balls. The length of my cock grows five inches in an instant, showing off down my pant leg to anyone that would look closely enough.
When I realize I’m gripping the beer bottle in my hand so tight it’s about to break, I take a shaking breath and try to figure out what the fuck is happening.
Because I’ve never reacted to a woman like this. It’s instantaneous. My stomach is knotted, and I want a lick of her more than I want to breathe.
She’s tiny, like most of the women here, but there’s an innocence surrounding her that has my needle going into the red.
She’s also young.
So fucking young, I have to wonder if she’s even legal. My dick doesn’t seem to care, but I do.
I wish I didn’t, but I do.
She licks her red lips and pretends I didn’t just catch her looking at me, but I stare right back, letting her know I’ve seen her. I start to make mental notes about her; dark hair falling around her shoulders and down her chest, small tits but perfect to fit in my hands, pale skin...too pale. It makes me want to check she’s okay, to make sure she isn’t sick and to care for her if she is.
I know right now, before the night is through, I will use all the resources at my disposal to figure out who she is so I can get her close enough to touch. Not because I want to.
Because I need to.
She keeps her eyes low, then peeks back up at me from under those dark lashes, showing off the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen, eyes to match the beads on her gown, sparkling in the light from the chandeliers above our heads. She tries to look nonchalant when she realizes I’ve caught her looking, stepping slowly away, but I need more.
My muscles tense as I turn to head in her direction, but before I can chase after her I find myself surrounded. Laney, Andre and Michael crowd around me, and my view of her is gone.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to remember my manners as I barge my way out past the three of them. I know I need to be polite—Andre and Michael leased my place for their party tonight and Laney is supposed to be my date—but if they don’t move aside in a moment I’m going to start using my elbows to make a path.
“Where you going?” Laney laughs as she leans in to kiss my cheek.
As much of a gentleman as I try to be, I can’t help the cringe that shakes though me at that contact. “Don’t do that,” I mutter, sidestepping away and ignoring the disappointment on her face.
Margaret, my secretary, set up this date, and if it wasn’t for my love for her—a woman who has practically become a second mother to me over the years—I never would have come.
Truth is, I rarely accept invitations to these events. They’re not my thing. But at least here I can introduce Laney to people and then step away, knowing she’s having a good time, rather than sitting across from each other in some restaurant, searching for topics of conversation for hours and then breathing a sigh of relief when the evening ends.
Margaret said it was my Christmas present to her to at least give it a try, and that’s what I’ve done, but there’s nothing there and there never will be. I know Laney’s hoping this might be her golden ticket; she made it clear when I picked her up tonight that she was offering anything and everything, all I needed to do was give the word.
Well, sorry, but I hate that shit.
She doesn’t even know me and with one word I’m sure she’d lick the bottoms of my shoes if I’d ask.
Truth, honesty...those are the things that matter to me, and they are by far some of the hardest to come by when you have a bank account that makes the Forbes list every year.
“Hey.” Andre puts a hand on my shoulder, trying to get my attention, but I’m still scanning the spot where I last saw that dark-haired angel. “When you were in college, did you ever imagine you’d be here? Surrounded by all this? You are a self-made man, right?”
Michael’s irritating, condescending laugh rings from over my shoulder. “Yeah, didn’t you have a scholarship to play football?”
“Linebacker. Clemson recruited me,” I mutter, ignoring their disapproval as I turn to face them. He nods.
“Right. Out of Detroit wasn’t it?”
“Yep. Had a scholarship to Detroit Country Day. A private prep-school. My parents both worked the line at Ford.” I meet his eyes, daring him to say something, but he falls silent.
I need to get away. I need to find her. From that first second our eyes connected, I swear I knew I would have her. Something deep down came to life in a split second and all this other bullshit is irrelevant.
Something else came to life too though.
Jealousy.
That fucking dress is cut way too low and I saw the way other fucks were staring at her. Her dress hung on her like a waif and the smooth skin of her long arms made me want to mark it with my teeth.
I’ve never been so turned on before. I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women since high school but none of them ever had this effect on me with a single glance.
Around her neck was a little gold heart. Simple, not like the audacious jewelry worn by most of the women here. Everyone trying to outplay everyone else. As lush as my bank account is, most people would be surprised how little I get out of having money. Don’t get me wrong, I use it, just not to lavish attention on myself.
My head is spinning as I listen to Michael and Andre start a conversation that immediately has me on edge.
“We have some fresh
fish coming to Europe with us this tour.” Michael chuckles and Andre nods.
“One especially will bring us some nice offers. Private modeling, if you get what I mean.”
“Oh yeah, man.” Michael’s grin spreads wider. “Fresh face, fresh—”
“Oh, she’s fucking fresh as they come.”
They both chuckle and I grunt as Laney catches my eye. “Everything okay? You want another beer? I can get you one—”
“No.” I snap, feeling twitchy like I’ve drunk too much coffee. “I’m fine. Just have some business stuff on my mind...”
“Maybe I can help.” She smiles, licking her bottom lip as Michael and Andre make another lewd comment about the new young model they are bringing on board, and I can’t stand here a second longer.
“If you’ll excuse me. I have to go make a call.”
The thought of her moving around alone through this maze of debauchery has me losing my mind. Michael and Andre aren’t the only sharks here, plenty of fucks come to parties like this to get their cocks wet and I know what money can buy, even when one of the participants is less than willing.
Or underage.
It’s been so long since I felt anything, maybe my reaction to this girl is some mental break, but I don’t care. I want to follow it, embrace it and let it never stop. And I’ve never even spoken a word to her.
One look around the room and I know she’s not here. I can feel it. She was moving in the direction of the roped off hallway and I wonder if she had the moxy to ignore the red velvet ropes and head down that way.
My instinct pulls me in that direction and as soon as I’m ten steps down the hall the sound of piano keys being expertly played comes to my ears, and I know I’m right.
I own this building, along with dozens of others like it around the city and around the world. I use these upper floors in this particular building as entertainment space only and this hallway and the rooms off of it are in the planning stages of reconstruction.
There’s a flicker of low light from where I hear the soft piano music, along with the magic of a song bird’s voice, drifting out into the dark hallway.
She’s singing ‘Love will Keep Us Together’ to be exact, and the beauty of her voice has my dick aching, blinding jealousy coursing through me as I wonder who she’s thinking about while she sings the song.
Slipping into the darkened room, I move silently against the wall. She’s facing me, but she won’t see me, there isn’t enough light and I’m dressed all in black. I fall into the music as my cock again reminds me that something in my usually calm, composed world is amiss.
Something has gone wrong and I may never be able to fix it. I control my world. It’s the way it’s always been. I remain calm, remain cool, look at every deal and gamble as if I have nothing to lose. It’s what worked for me on the football field and it translated perfectly to my first real estate transactions back in the early days when I flipped houses.
I have no time for anything else. Not for women. Not for sex.
Certainly not for love.
Winning is my world, it’s everything. The money is a means to an end. It brings respect and that leads to power.
But now I know what it can never give me. The one thing I’m closer to now than I’ve ever been.
Happiness.
She’s swaying as she plays, her hair catching the low light, looking like black silk down her back, and I want to release my hard on and calm it with a few strokes but I know my hand will be of no relief.
I think of gathering her hair in my fist, lowering her to her knees and introducing those red lips to every inch of my cock. Her tongue tickling my balls as I release jets of sticky cum onto that perfect face. Those perky, barely legal tits.
The thought has cum slipping out of the tip of my dick and soaking into my boxers, making my pulse race as vulgar thoughts of her tight pussy make me shiver, imagining how it will feel on my cock the first time—
A wrong note cuts through my thoughts, the music stopping abruptly as she freezes in mid-action, hands paused over the keys of the grand piano. Moments pass, then: “Why are you watching me?”
She’s staring at me, and I step forward from the shadows, unable to keep the distance between us any longer.
“I couldn’t help myself.” It’s the truth and I can see it registers in her luminescent blue eyes.
“Well, maybe you should learn.” She spins on the piano bench and the low-cut V of her dress drapes open, exposing part of one deep pink hardened nipple, and I have to choke back the snarl that catches in my throat.
If anyone else was around, I’d throw my jacket over her and chastise her for letting others see what’s mine, but since it’s just the two of us in here I sniff and let my eyes memorize every curve and exposed inch of her flesh, knowing I will play this moment over and over in my mind until the day I die.
The moment I met the love of my life.
Get a fucking grip, man.
When she looks down and notices her breast half exposed, she doesn’t immediately gasp and cover herself. Instead, she looks at me with a determined stare and licks those lips, her eyes twinkling, knowing she’s having an effect on me.
My dick doesn’t care, but I need to know before I lust after this girl who is quickly becoming my obsession. “How old are you?” I blurt the words out, and know for the rest of my life I will regret them being some of the first I spoke to her.
“I’m not drinking. They didn’t ask for my ID at the door. Why do you need to know?”
The fact she’s willing to stand up to me only fuels the fire she’s lit in my heart. “This is my place. My building. I have a right to know who’s in it.”
She narrows one eye and crosses her arms over her chest, her dress moving to cover her nipple and making me irrationally angry. I want to rip it from her body, to expose every inch of her.
“Not that I think that’s a very good reason for you to know, but I’m eighteen.” She slips her hair behind her ears and I see the girl underneath the makeup and the low-cut dress. But my body relaxes. At least my carnal thoughts are not of a child, but a girl—even if she is barely a toe over the legal line.
When I’m within a few steps of her I see her body tense as she assesses me. I know what most people think of me at first glance. The goon. The enforcer. Not the cunning businessman who has built an empire in fifteen short years.
I must outweigh her by two-hundred pounds, and my obscenely throbbing dick probably weighs more right now than she could lift with both hands. I’m sure I must look like a wild beast bearing down on its prey. But little does she know, as much as I want to consume her, I want more to protect her.
Because she needs that. I can see it in the way she holds one shoulder higher than the other. The way she forces her eyes to mine and rubs her hands together in her lap.
As I close the distance between us, that scents hits me again, only this time it’s like a torpedo strike. My erection knows no shame. Her braless tits are making my mouth water. I’m sure I could be arrested for the things she’s making me think.
And feel.
Still, eighteen?
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking monster, right?
What, a day over eighteen? Like that makes a difference? Or a month?
She’s still a girl, even if someone has disguised her as a woman with all that makeup and high heels, and a designer gown that probably cost thousands.
But, behind that makeup, she’s sweet. Even in the dim light, I see her blushing. I see the way her eyes widen with each of my approaching steps. Her cheeks are high, aristocratic, but still plump with the roundness of her youth.
She surely knows she drives men wild, but there’s nothing about her that is overt and I am maddened by the thought that other men, or boys at her school, may have jerked off to thoughts of her.
Because she’s mine. No other man should think of her in that way, lest they be subject to my wrath.
She gives me a hard look, up and down,
then turns back toward the piano keys and starts playing again, harder now, each note carving itself into my heart.
“I had a piano just like this,” she says, her fingers still moving on the keys. “My step—” She catches her breath, missing a note, and I notice the glint of a tear in her eye. “I had it taken away from me. How old are you?”
I lean in closer to take a long draw over her head, identifying the sweet scent as a mixture of vanilla and cherries. “Old enough to know better,” I answer, the cliché out of my mouth before I can stop it.
She stops playing, spins back around, and tips her head to the side.
Her eyes trace over me again, her tongue coming out to wet the seam of her lips before she speaks. “Know better than to what?” Her lips curve upward, exposing her perfect white teeth, and I love that she’s not intimidated by me in the least.
Or if she is, she’s not showing it.
Which is pretty impressive, considering I’m intimidating as hell—even to grown men. As a matter of fact, when she pokes her tongue into her cheek, I know she’s not only being cheeky, she’s flirting with me.
All my thoughts turn to how I could grab her by the hair, spin her around and push up that slinky dress to rut into her like the animal I am quickly becoming.
I try to remember the last time I wanted a woman, but I can’t. It’s been years, not for lack of opportunities. But for lack of interest.
Now, in a manner of minutes, I’m desperate. My cock is miserable without her wrapped around it. I’m lightheaded and there’s a ridiculous pounding in my entire body. I think it’s that so much blood is being diverted to my erection, my major organs are having trouble functioning. Thoughts of slipping my tongue into that soaking gash between her legs, of letting her know it will be me and only me that will touch her ever again, run rampant through my lust crazed mind.
What if someone has touched her before?
I shake the thought away. Even if it is so, no one will ever have her again. If I have to do horrible, illegal things to get rid of anyone else, anyone deluded enough to think they stand a chance with her, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes.
