by Frankie Love
He watches the black panel slide up.
I tell him, “It turns the video surveillance off as well. And I’ve checked. It really does.”
He says, “It’s a bad idea.”
But he doesn’t move. The only parts of him that move are his eyes. Oh, no. Another part of him moves, too.
I reach for it. It’s hot. And huge. It’s very hard. And as I’m holding it, under his suit pants, it thickens.
“I want to see you come. You saw me come in the strip club.”
“You want my ‘O’ face on a selfie?” He runs his finger along the edge of my jaw. Looks in my eyes as his fingertip lifts my chin.
I bite my lip.
“I do. But I wouldn’t share it.”
“You wouldn’t have a chance. If you took the pic, I’d kill you.”
I’m drenched and I can’t even tell whether he’s kidding. The evil thrill makes me want to moan. His cock pulses.
His zipper buzzes when I open it. His breath deepens and I feel his eyes burn.
The thickening bulge inside his pants is covered in red silk. It’s absurdly long.
I slip onto my knees on the carpeted floor of the limo.
His scent when I pull up the waistband makes my eyes roll. In the darkness, his massive shaft awaits. To get familiar, I lean my cheek against the silk and hold him as I rub along the hard length.
The car sways as I pull down the front of my dress and unclip the front of my bra. I want to feel him between my breasts.
Pressing forward as I pull his waistband down, I grip his massive cock in my hand. The heft of it makes me sigh and drops thrills trickling through me.
His breathing is hard as his eyes smolder into mine. His lips peel apart, then curl.
There’s no way I can resist a long lick to taste him. First, I slip him between my tits and it feels so good, so right, I almost laugh.
Pulling him up and squeezing my breasts together around him, I gasp at his heat and his hard ridges.
Pulses zing along the length of him as I take a firm hold of him in my cleavage and pull my arms together to hold him tighter. He’s hot and hard, and it feels like he was made to be there.
Squeezing him and dragging my tits around, up and down, and wrapping him close, I move up and down against him. He moans and thickens.
My chest and cheeks flush and my mouth waters as I pull and rub him.
I’m panting as I hold his base with one hand. Licking my lips, I cup and squeeze his balls in the palm and fingers of my other hand.
I look deep and long into his eyes and let out my tongue as I lean in for the first taste.
His dark, smoky tang does not disappoint. The taste of him is wild, and it’s all man. Licking from the back of the seam on his ball sack, along to the front, then slowly, with my tongue flat against his underside, all the way to his crown.
I blow on the head and slip my lips down the side of his shaft.
He moans and writhes, stretching his powerful thighs farther apart as I take my time to lick and suck his balls, one at a time.
I keep at that until his hips start to rock.
With my hands gripping his ass, I work my lips and my tongue back up the length of his pole, all the way to the top. After another look into the burn of his eyes, I slip my lips over his head until it pops into my mouth.
Then, farther. Closing. Sucking. My lips seal around him and he slides into my mouth. With my tongue flat, I work down his length, stretching my mouth to take him all the way in.
Thin, sweet saliva floods my mouth as the bulb reaches the back of my throat. I work my lips farther down, nibbling along as he crests over the back of my throat.
I love the feeling of inhaling this man, this beautiful mess of powerful contradictions. Of him filling my mouth and my throat.
The wet muscles of my throat close around him as I take him deeper. My lips nearing his base.
I pause to take in the sensations, before I start to work my mouth up and down him. Keeping my lips tight and my throat working, I stay deep, so his crown is always in my throat.
His thighs tighten, squeezing my breasts as I lap and suck.
When his hips flex and begin to buck, I plunge deeper. All the way down until my nose reaches his abdomen. I slip my tongue out and down to reach between his balls.
Sucking hard and slow, I work my way up and down him, loving the heat and power of him inside me. I feel like I’m opening a box of magic. Lighting a dark, sacred fire.
He swells and pulses. Heating. Straightening. Hardening. Stretching my mouth, my throat. Wider.
Driving. Filling me.
I move faster.
His ass cheeks tighten. Harden. And they rise.
His body moans and twists.
From behind the base of his cock, a swelling bulges, climbs the shaft. Behind it, another. Then another. And another.
One after another, hot explosions of thick, smoky cum blast into my throat. My cheeks puff as my mouth fills. I have to make myself stay down. But I want it all.
I stay with my head in his lap and suck back all the salty taste on my lips.
When I start to get up, I can’t resist nuzzling him as I’m pulling my dress back together.
“I’m not sentimental, but I loved feeling you inside me.”
“But it’s a one-off. Right?” and I can’t tell whether he’s asking me or he’s telling me.
I say, “Yeah. A one-and-only.” Then, “Maybe a two-off. At a pinch.”
“Okay. Maybe. Never say never. For the record, you are kind of amazing, though. Every time I look at you, I see something else.”
“Yeah?” I tell him, “You have your points, too.”
“That’s big of you.”
I look down. “That’s big of you.”
Chapter Eight
Giovani
She says, “Seriously. Isn’t there a halfway decent party we can go to?”
“Let me make a call.”
There’s nowhere in Vegas I can take her where people won’t know me, but I’m not having her come to any of my usual hang-outs. I decided that as soon as I met her. I still feel the same way, though my reasons have changed.
I call Joey and ask if he can get me a plus-one invite to Rico and Lefty’s party.
“Sure. I’ll make the call and text you back. You’ll be welcome, of course. Oh, is your influencer gal going to be the plus one?”
“Yup. I feel like she’s going to be glued to me, twenty-four-seven for the rest of my fucking life.”
“Lucky she can’t hear you.”
“She’s sitting right next to me.”
“You two must really be hitting it off.”
“We fell instantly into deep and everlasting hate.”
This time in the season, the high-roller scene that skews the most toward the show business crowd and attracts less of the mob types, is Lefty and Rico’s party.
Yeah. Lefty and Rico are mob types of a high order. But they’re from out-of-town, and they’re here to play. And they can really throw a party.
Rico DiAvola’s suite is the ultimate high-roller’s Vegas flop. A hundred and ninety meters up and starting on floor fifty one of the Golden Eights casino, the space was remodeled, joining two huge suites into a massive playpen the size of a small zoo.
The suite has pools and wet rooms, a dance-floor and a two-story glazed party pit. Out on the roof terrace, guests amuse themselves in a maze, a scented spice garden, a waterfall, and a dizzying infinity pool.
Rico and Lefty Mussomeli, waste management consultants from the east, keep month-long parties running in Rico’s suite whenever they’re in town. The costs of damage and repair are said to be way more than the cost of the suite, and even bigger than the bar bills.
Word for the wise is that peak party, when fresh and beautiful people are still shiny and eager, when everyone is hepped and hyped and hopping, just before faces and limbs become weary and tempers get ragged and fights are apt to break out, the golden time i
s the start of the last week.
And we’re perfectly timed.
Lithe and long-limbed performers from Blue Peep, la Cirqul and the Carnivalle troupes shimmer and out-pose each other in the tall glass atrium. They writhe, strut and appear to fly as they try to fascinate the pale, brittle, and perfectly poised models from a Ukrainian fashion show.
I introduce Lily to Rico. Always the gracious host, when he takes her hand to plant a kiss on her fingers, something rears up inside me and I want to knock him down.
I hold it back, but I’m tense like a spring until he lets go of her fingers.
As I follow her into the party, Rico says confidentially, “A cat got your cock at last, Gio?”
Glittering people flow like a sparkling river around us, into cocktail bars and card rooms, and snaking into hazy fetish spaces, some loud and lewd, others dark and perverse.
She moves quickly through the crowds, into a dark dance room. Watching her ass sway as she rocks and turns across the floor is a picture I know I’m going to keep in my memory. She glides through the dancers, making it hard for me to keep up. I know that’s her aim.
I would have a better protective position if there was a space off the dance floor with a good enough view. But there isn’t, so I have no choice. I have to try and keep up with her.
Twice I catch a glimpse of a figure in black. Guests in fetish gear are hardly unusual at Rico and Lefty’s parties. The figure only snags my attention because both times, as soon as I see them, they duck out of sight.
Lily moves slowly, turning and swaying to the beats. She’s impossible to predict. I can’t shadow her, except by dancing with her.
I get a great view of her. In motion, the sight of her rouses me, raises my pulse rate and pumps my cock till it aches.
As I move closer, she steps between my legs. She turns. Throws a look over her shoulder at me. Brushes my ass with hers.
Dancing pulls us together in a rhythm.
She shimmies in front of me, shaking her shoulders. Teasing me with her tits.
“Is it true what you said? You think we’ll be attached for the rest of your life?”
I reach out to stroke her face. She’s still while I touch her.
I swallow. “Yes, but I don’t know if that will be days, or hours, or minutes.” I tell her. “You drive me nuts. I think I’m addicted to you. And I expect it to kill me any second.”
I still don’t dare take a drink. I don’t know if I would ever dare around her. She is so devious and cunning, and so fucking inventive. You never know what to expect. No wonder she influences people.
After the intensity on the dance floor, we both need air. I take her for a stroll on the roof terraces. Music from the party follows us out. We find a dark spot under the arches of a pergola with hanging vines. In the scents of cinnamon and herbs, we dance close, behind a low hedge, about chest high. The low glass wall with a nighttime view of the desert and a hundred and seventy foot drop is behind us.
We’re almost alone in this part of the garden. The few others out here laugh and chatter on the far side of the terrace, watching the Strip with their backs to us. We wouldn’t be visible to anyone, even if they did turn and look.
Under the hanging pergola, we’re practically in complete darkness. And the hedge in front of us reaches up to chest height.
I can’t keep my hands off her. Stroking, holding. Squeezing. Pulling. I’m behind her, but only because I think there’s less chance we’ll both lose it and get totally carried away.
Her back presses against me. The warm, soft crevice of her ass hugs the bulge of my hardened cock.
The scents of her flood into my head. They make me want to taste her. Press my lips onto her. Explore her with my tongue. Find all of her flavors. I want to rip her clothes off. Haul the front of that dress down.
More than anything, I want to expose her and devour her. I want my mouth on her. I need to taste her and feel her with my tongue as she trembles and crests.
She reaches back and flattens her hand on the bulge of my cock. Then she closes her fingers around me. Pulls. Up and down.
Her finger and thumb pull on the zipper. I should stop her. But I can’t. The warm breeze in my pants when my fly is open makes me desperate. My cock aches and strains.
She reaches inside.
We’re not going to do it.
Not out here.
She can’t mean that.
Pulling up the back of her dress, she guides me in between the tops of her thighs. Up against her panties.
She reaches up to pull my head down. Her eyes flutter and her thighs flex on me.
Her voice is warm breath in my ear. “I know this is bad.”
“You could say that.”
“But I want to feel you.” She puts a soft kiss on my neck. “I want it so much.”
I let my breath out slow. “It will take all the strength I’ve got, not to rip your panties.”
“Oh.” she whispers a moan. Her head turns to lean her cheek against my shoulder. Her hips rock. Just a little. Holding me. Tight.
Up, inside her dress, I hold her hips as she rocks.
Feeling her soft lips through her panties on the top side of my cock, I murmur. “You are so fucking wet.”
The urge to plunge into her is so fucking hard.
I push closer to feel her ass crushed against my hips, and her thighs clench tight on my cock. Her breath is hard and deep as I grip her hips and hold her breast. I plant soft kisses on her neck and around her ear.
The wet heat of her pussy drips slick nectar on my cock. As I slip my hand down for some to taste, I can’t resist pulling my cock harder, tighter against her sodden panties.
She lets out a long, shuddering sigh.
I lower my voice to an urgent whisper. “Keep perfectly still.”
The figure in black is crouched in shadow near the end of the arches.
I move toward him, but he’s fast. And he’s big. And he has a huge knife.
He dives and evades me. He’s low to the ground. Aiming for Lily.
I hit him across the back and knock him down. I couldn’t swing to get much force in the blow, but I stamp on his wrist and he drops the knife.
He jumps up. I grab him from behind, but he wriggles and I’m holding an empty leather jacket. And his heavy fist slams in my face.
He shoves me back against the glass wall. The drop is behind me. He bends me back. He kicks my feet away and turns me. I’m out, over the long drop. I have only a grip of one hand on the low wall. He holds my waist.
I scissor my legs tight around his neck, and I push against the wall. With my thighs, I squeeze as hard as I can.
He turns and my feet drop to the floor. His head is between my legs. I punch his nose. Hard. Three fast hammers.
I haul him up to his feet. His face is slack and his eyes roll. I press him back against the glass wall.
Then he grins and slings a sharp punch, low into my groin. He grabs my shoulders and spins, turning my back to the wall.
I use the momentum and keep turning. Slam a punch in his gut and lift him. He swings a fist wide and I crouch.
I hold on to his belt, but he’s over the edge. I let go.
He drops without a sound, until the distant crunching thud.
First, I look at Lily. She’s fine.
Then I check the other party-goers. As far as I can tell, nobody even looked around.
Then I look over the edge. He splayed on a roof. Unless somebody heard him, he could be there for a long time.
With a hand on Lily’s shoulder, I ask if she feels okay.
“Sure,” she smiles back. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The look in her eye makes my heart bang.
I pick up the guy’s leather jacket. The wallet in the inside pocket has a couple of hundred dollars, but no ID. Just a couple of pre-paid cards, a keycard from the Golden Eights, and a business card.
Handing the card to Lily, I say, “It says, ‘L.A. Squash and Sauna Club
.’ But there’s no address. Just because it says ‘L.A.’ doesn’t mean a thing. It could be anywhere.”
“No, the Squash and Sauna is in L.A. That’s where Daddy goes to hold a lot of his meetings.”
“You don’t think…”
“I’m not surprised. I’d wondered all along why he wanted me to come here.”
If the news affected her, it doesn’t show.
Chapter Nine
Lily
Back in the limo, Giovani makes a call and I tell Bruno to drive.
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Just away from here.”
“Something fell off of that building just now, ma’am. While you were inside, in fact.”
“Sightseeing, Bruno. Take us on a tour.”
“Yes, ma’am. You want commentary?”
“No.”
I put the blind back up and shut off the intercom.
“Is your driver okay? I mean, can he be trusted?”
“Solid as a rock.”
“He won’t even talk to your daddy?”
“He wouldn’t be my driver if he did,” and I ask him, “Did I shock you about Daddy? How well do you know him?”
“I’ll be honest, I only talked to him on the phone one time, but he struck me as a psychopath.” He looks in my eyes, concentrating. Concerned. And caring. I could get used to that. If I had to.
He says, “It did give me a jolt when you said that, though.”
“I think they call it APD now. Antisocial personality disorder.”
“Whatever. Your daddy is an asshole, Lily. Sorry. But there it is.”
“Tell me about it. I could say things about him that would make your hair curl.”
He’s waiting. So I tell him. “I adored my daddy. More than I can tell you. Maybe like any little girl, I don’t know. It hurts me to think about it now. I knew who he was, and I knew what he was like. Or I thought I did.”
I clear my throat. “One night, he and Mommy had a fight. A bad one. He stormed into my room. I saw what he wanted. And I knew it was wrong. He knew it too. But he grabbed me. Held my wrists. They were tiny in his hand, and his hard fingers stung my skin. Rubbed it raw, and it burned. I thought my forearms were going to break. I said, ‘Stop. You’re hurting me.’ And he said, ‘I don’t care.’”
