Midnight Princess

by Cam Johns

  Walking into the foyer, we’re greeted by butlers who hand each girl a glass of champagne as we walk in. The home is dim, so I’m unable to see much of it, except a few pieces of gaudy furniture and artwork. A lit path leads us to the back of the house, toward the lower-level stairs. It’s not until we approach the door at the bottom of the stairs that I hear the loud bass of the music and the roaring sounds of women.

  “You ready for some fun?” Ashley asks, handing me a large billfold of money like it’s Kleenex.

  I look at her, confused. “What’s this for?”

  She doesn’t need to answer. As soon as I follow her through the doors, I see why the women are screaming. The very large space is full of women throwing bills at half-naked, gyrating men. Not just regular men either. These guys are oiled, muscular giants who are lifting women all over the place.

  She pulls me toward the back, but I’m totally distracted with the intricate moves of the strippers and the women who are enjoying every swirling pelvis, rotating to the sounds of Ginuwine bouncing off the walls.

  We finally get to what I assume is a VIP section since it is roped off and much fewer women are here. However, the actions of the ladies are still the same: full of excitement and completely aroused by the men in very tight briefs.

  As we step into the area, two strippers appear and take each of our hands, leading us to one of the empty seats. They waste no time. Before I know it, I’m pushed down, my legs are spread apart just as my stripper drops to his knees and slowly brings his head up between my legs, slightly brushing against the thin layer of my underwear.

  Fuck me.

  Why did she force me to wear this dress knowing we would be here? But looking at her sneaky snare, I realize it was done on purpose. Now some guy I don’t know, nor recognize, is burying his face between my legs.

  Oh shit, did I shower? My thoughts are forced back to my stripper, who grabs my hands and places them on his chest. Oh, his chest. Jeez! I’ve never felt anything so hard on a man in my life. Well, that is until he slowly slides them down to his rock hard … and large, member. My mouth drops open, amazed at its girth. That’s when I realize Ashley is staring at me and laughing at my gawking face.

  This is so freaking embarrassing.

  Before I remove my hands, Ashley is up and standing behind my stripper, dancing with him. Her hands reach around, sliding bills into his not-really-there underwear. Then I remember she had given me money, so I grab a few of the bills and do the same. Something I never thought I would be doing.

  She mouths for me to loosen up, but that’s easier said than done. I don’t know these people, and I’ve already been judged enough in my life. However, looking around the room, I see no one really gives a shit. They’re just having fun wasting all of their money. So, I take a swig of the champagne and decide to go with it.

  As soon as I stand, I’m lifted to some guy’s waist, and I’m immediately thankful I decided to wear boy shorts to cover up my ass that’s now partially showing for sure. Which is better than I can say for some of these other women, who have their legs spread, dress or not.

  Suddenly the music stops, and the guy, who has been dancing for me and a few of the other ladies in the VIP area, leads us back to our seats. All the strippers leave the room, and the ladies who have seats take them while the others make room in the center by standing close to the walls.

  Some sort of show is about to happen. The dimly lit room goes darker, and red lighting shines throughout. A song starts to play on the speakers; about ten men file out from behind the section I’m seated in. They walk in with confident, sexy strides to the slow intro of the song. One thing different about them is their faces are covered with thin masks that adhere to their faces.

  As the beat drops to Feel It, they begin dancing to a routine, perfectly timed to the flow of the music. I’m wholly stimulated with every movement of their toned bodies. I gaze at the rhythmic winding of their hips, my body involuntarily moving with them.

  I barely breathe as I grip my chair, squeezing my legs together as carnal hunger rises within me. They slowly begin ripping their sleeveless shirts off, revealing their perfect chest, and continue to wind with the bass of the song.

  They separate slowly, sliding on their knees to the ladies standing near the walls, but the ladies don’t touch them. Instead, they wind their hips to the flow of theirs, throwing bills at the floor. I’ve never seen a floor receive so much sexual attention, all while wishing I might one day get the same.

  Why am I comparing myself to an inanimate object?

  Toward the middle of the song, the strippers pull their pants off and break apart to start dancing with the ladies who are seated, but they still do not touch them. However, it seems some of these ladies find it a bit more difficult than the others, as I see some of them grip the base of their seats. They throw their money at them and sway with their hips seductively, deliberately, but never reach out to feel them as they did with the other strippers.

  It’s not long before one makes his way to me. He’s not moving at all, just stands there in front of me, gazing straight through me as if he knows my body is ravenously calling for him.

  I watch his chest as his deep breaths cause his muscles to rise; sweat mixed with oil slides down the center of his perfect abdomen. I’ve never wanted to have someone else’s body heat on me as much as I do right now. He sticks his hand out, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take it. No one else is touching. I look over at Ashley, who encourages me, so I place my hand on his, and he leads me to the center of the room to one of the three chairs I hadn’t noticed were placed there.

  Oh, no. I don’t like being the center of attention.

  Once the other two ladies are chosen, another song plays through the speakers. A song I know very well and play often. As the beat drops to All the Time, so does my dancer. The three strippers hump on the floor, sliding over to us and crawling up between our legs succinctly. But my dancer’s lips seem to be closer to my inner thighs than the other guys are to their women. Not that I’m complaining.

  I stare down at him intently while he eyes me as if he’s in some sort of trance. It’s so dark in here; there’s no way I’d recognize him with or without the mask. But I have this hungry urge for him to kiss me there, and he almost does.

  He gets closer to my middle with his lips as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He suddenly pulls me up, puts me on his waist, and drops to the floor so that I’m straddling him. He slowly grinds against me to the pulse of the beat while lifting me up with his pelvis before flipping me around on my back and continuing to wind into me.

  And I feel it. All of his stick grinds into me, rousing me even further. Everything is moving so fast; I don’t even know how he ended up standing with me on his waist again, but I am. He pulls my hair back and buries his face between my breasts before putting me back on my feet and slapping me on the ass. With that, he disappears through the same door from earlier.

  Did that really just happen?

  6

  This Isn’t Over

  Ashton

  The next morning I wake up annoyed I wasn’t able to speak with Cynthia last night. They got back so late; she was too tired and went right to sleep in my sister’s room. Needless to say, I was pissed at Ashley for letting Cyn drink so much because she was clearly tipsy. I couldn’t speak to her like that, anyway.

  At this point, it’s already after nine, so I’m sure she’s gone. I lie in bed a little longer, wondering what reason I could give for showing up at her house. That would obviously be my next move because I’m not waiting until Monday to see her again. I’m not waiting for shit anymore.

  She’ll be pissed if I show up unannounced and will wonder how I even got her address. I’ll have to talk to Ashley about it. Maybe her sneaky brain can come up with something.

  Suddenly feeling hungry, I jump out of bed and jog downstairs, hoping Doris made breakfast. The smell of French toast hits my nose before I reach the kitchen. But t
hat’s not Doris cooking.

  Standing at the stove, stirring the French toast mixture, is the best sight I’ve ever seen. Cyn stands there with her hair in a ponytail, wearing a long T-shirt that my sister obviously stole from my closet for her. There’s no way my sister owns anything that large.

  Did she not need to go home anymore?

  I watch as she sways her hips to whatever song is playing in her head, which immediately hardens my dick. I regret only coming down here in my boxer briefs. I sit behind her quietly at the island’s barstool without saying a word as I admire her beauty. Especially from behind.

  She turns around and is startled once she sees me sitting there.

  “Shit! What are you doing here? I mean…” She puts the mixing bowl down and tugs at the bottom of her shirt, wishing it to grow. “This is your house. I’m sorry.” She stares at my chest, realizing it’s bare and readily available to her.

  I smile, staring down at her legs, wishing the shirt was shorter. “Cyn, it’s okay. Make yourself at home.” Please. “I was actually pretty hungry myself.”

  She smiles widely. “Cyn … I like it. Glad you’re hungry. French toast?” she asks, holding up the bowl again.

  “I’ll eat whatever you want me to,” I flirt, happy she’s pleased with my nickname for her.

  I lean forward on the counter, watching her squirm at my innuendo. She giggles uncomfortably, then turns away from me with no response. My comment struck a nerve, soliciting arousal I want to quench. Right now.

  “Where are your sisters?” I ask, wondering if young eyes will be walking in on me.

  “They’re with Doris. She needed to go grocery shopping and wanted to take the girls for some reason. They left like thirty minutes ago.”

  I somewhat hear her rambling on about my sister being passed out still and wanting to cook her breakfast for being so nice to her, but I don’t give a shit. Right now, I need to feel her body against mine. Those voluptuous curves have been calling for me, teasing me, daring me to take hold of them. And that’s what I plan to do.

  I slowly walk over to her as she continues to talk, unaware I’ve moved. My hands feverishly ache to feel her skin, my mouth to hungrily gnaw on her bare neck, and I’m not sure she’ll be able to stop me if she tries.

  I stand behind her, leaving very little distance between us, and place my hands at either side of her on the counter. She finally stops talking; her body tenses, clearly not wanting to make any sudden movements. Her breathing becomes heavier as I lower my lips to her neck, slowly tracing the crook of her neck with them. Her body shivers, pleading with me for more.

  “Ashton,” she whispers.

  “You might not want to say my name right now,” I growl, then bring my lips back to her neck and land on her earlobe. I pull her earlobe into my mouth, rapaciously sucking on it as if it’s my breakfast. And she just might be.

  Her head falls back against my chest as she indulges in my own desire to have her.

  “Do you have any idea how much I wanted to fuck you last night?” I ask, desperately trying to keep my hands planted on the counter.

  Her body becomes rigid as she jolts her head back up from my admission.

  “Look at me.” She takes her time doing what I ask, or maybe it’s because of the little space I’m currently allowing her to have. I turn off the stove.

  She keeps her head down, unnerved and turned on from the looks of her flushed skin. Not to mention, it’s impossible for her to miss the bulge protruding from my tight underwear. She looks up at me with those eyes. Those eyes that have captivated my dreams since the day in the library.

  I stare back at her, my heart racing, fluttering at the proximity of our bodies. Now, I’m confronted with a compulsion to put her on my waist. Again. I lean forward, barely touching her lips as she slightly drops her head back, accepting my movement. “You’re lucky we were surrounded by all those people.”

  Before she puts two and two together, I take what I’ve already decided is mine. For the first time, I’m able to kiss the lips of the woman that stole my heart many years ago. And it is well worth the wait. The moment I touch her lips with mine, we weld together.

  She doesn’t stop me. Instead, she lifts her arms around my neck, grabbing at the back of my head. My gluttonous need to taste her more forces me to push against her lips, hard, shoving my tongue inside her mouth as she reciprocates with the same vigor.

  My animalistic desire takes over, and I plop her on the counter, grabbing at her plump bottom to push her against me. Her head falls back, feeling my thrust through our underwear. Just as my lips lower to her neck, I hear the sounds of her sisters jumping out of Doris’s car.

  “Fuck!” I hurriedly drop her back to her feet. “This isn’t over.” I kiss her quickly and run upstairs before they see me basically naked.

  7

  Did That Happen

  Cynthia

  Did that just happen? I stand where he left me with my back against the kitchen counter, ravenously aroused and breathless. My body longs for his strong hands to ravish what will hopefully belong to him. I never thought I would feel this way… for him anyway. I bite down on my lips and squeeze my legs together, desperate to calm my loins before my sisters barge into the kitchen.

  “Cyn!” Charmaine runs in first, wrapping her arms around my waist.

  I’ve seen her smile more in the past twenty-four hours than I have her entire life. It’s refreshing.

  “I’m glad you’re back; we have to head home,” I admit as she places her chin on my belly to look up at me, frowning.

  “Do we have to?” Penny, the middle sister, asks as she walks into the kitchen with Doris and a handful of groceries.

  I nod my head. This isn’t our reality. It’s nice to be in a luxurious home, free from an alcoholic, abusive mother for a night, but we have to live the life we are dealt. Besides, I don’t need our mother getting ticked off because we spent the night out or because she found out we had some fun.

  “Why don’t you go get your things together?” I kiss Charmaine on the forehead and release her from my grip.

  “Ewww … what’s this?” Charmaine says, holding her arms out in front of her.

  Oh shit.

  I wipe my butt frantically to feel the French toast mix stuck to Ashley’s T-shirt. Looking at the counter, I notice the bowl tipped over, and the batter is dripping on the floor. I hadn’t even felt it spill. I was too busy feeling other things.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up,” Doris says with a confused glare, running to wipe the dripping liquid.

  “I’m sorry.” I grab a towel to wipe my sister’s arms, and then she runs to grab her things with Penelope.

  Fully embarrassed, I race upstairs to change into my clothes. I contemplate knocking on Ashton’s closed door but fight the urge. It will lead to my panties being yanked off. Instead, I walk softly past it and quietly sneak into Ashley’s room. I close the door, leaning my back against it to take a breath and close my eyes. With them closed, I immediately think of his comment.

  So, that was him last night.

  My erotic thoughts envision his perfect abs grinding in front of me, his moves so perfect and precise. I can only imagine how intentional he will be with me. With what my body will silently need.

  “Are you okay?” Ashley interrupts my erogenous thoughts.

  I open my eyes to her, still lying in bed and staring at me.

  “Uh-yeah … yes, I’m fine.” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I can’t speak. “You think you can take me home now?” I ask, walking across her bedroom to find my clothes.

  She laughs suddenly. “Umm, what happened to your ass?”

  “My ass?”

  She points to the back of the shirt before sitting up and stretching.

  “Oh… I’m a messy cook.” I giggle uncomfortably.

  She eyes me warily before disappearing into her bathroom. I hold up the shirt, wondering how to get the stain out. It’s not like I have a washing
machine at home, but I don’t want to give it back like this. I throw the T-shirt into my bag before struggling to pull on the tightest jeans I’ve ever bought, bouncing around like I’m a kangaroo or something. I’m not sure why I splurged to buy these stupid things, but the girl at the store said my butt looked great in them. I needed all the confidence I could muster to even come here last night. It turns out the outfit wasn’t even good enough for where we were going anyway. If I would’ve worn these damn things, they would’ve ripped, considering how many times I was straddling some guy’s waist. Including Ashton’s, apparently.

  After I’m dressed, I wait on the bed for Ashley to come out of the bathroom. I peer at the clock frantically, finally noticing how close it is to noon. I’m sure my mother will be waking up soon and wondering why the house is so quiet on a Saturday. Or why she doesn’t have food waiting to nurse her hangover.

  The door to the bathroom finally opens, and Ashley comes out slowly, gripping her stomach. So, I guess I’m not going home. Fuck!

  “I’m not feeling well. Too much tequila. Can you go knock on my brother’s door, so he can get you home?”

  “No—”

  She shuts the door before I can answer. Double fuck!

  I was hoping to escape this house without seeing him again. I don’t think I’ll be able to fight my definite urge to feel him again. All I think about are those burly arms picking me up and not putting me back down. But I have to get home. And me buying these stupid jeans have now kept me from getting a rideshare. Besides, Lord knows how much it will cost for me to get across town.

  Here goes nothing.

  I quickly gather my things and leave Ashley’s room to knock on his door. He answers quickly, almost as if waiting for me. As he opens the door, my eyes immediately fall to his bare, chiseled chest, noticing his lower half is only covered with a towel. He must be fresh out of the shower because water is still cascading down his body, and I catch the scent of his enticing cologne. He motions his arm for me to come in. I hesitate, knowing this may not be the best idea.