by M. K. Moore
After The Party
Party At The Tower, Book 5
M.K. Moore
After The Party (Party At The Tower, Book 5) By M.K. Moore
© M.K. Moore 2020 Flirty Filth Publishing.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
Cover created by Claire Ashlynn © 2020
Created with Vellum
Here’s to 2021… May it everything we hoped 2020 would be.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by MK Moore
About the Author
Blurb
Alejandro Santos
How did I end up here? This tiny town is not where I thought I'd be ringing in the new year after the worst year, but here I am. I never expected to meet her, but now that I have, I want her with me all time.
Lauren Cantrell
I never expected to meet him, but now that I have, I know that I belong with him and that's all there is to it. I go where he goes.
This is what happens after the party ends.
After the Party is a safe, over the top novella. It is book 5 in the Party At the Tower series.
Chapter One
Alejandro
New Year’s Eve
This fucking sucks, I think, as I walk the few miles into the town of Buck’s Creek, Iowa. My private jet just made an emergency landing at the municipal airstrip on my trip to Vegas from New York City. Every year my buddies, those that are still single, from college, and I head to a casino for an all-night poker game after a celebrity-filled New Year’s Eve party, but that won’t be happening now. Honestly, I presumed this would be the last trip since it was just down to three of us from the original ten. The other seven have moved on and gotten married; hell, two of them have been married twice in the ten years since college ended. I would have thought at thirty-two I’d be married with kids by now, but it just hasn’t happened yet.
Back to the issue at hand, the part we need for the plane won’t be here until Tuesday, due to the holiday, so for now, I am stuck. It really is the icing on the cake from the most fucked up year of anyone’s lives.
Following the airport attendant’s directions, I come upon Main Street, looking for the little inn. Instead, I walk into the midst of what can only be described as a block party. I haven’t seen a block party since I was a little kid on the streets of Bushwick. The second generation born in America; my paternal grandparents immigrated here from Spain in the fifties. It’s incredible what college and a career on Wall Street followed by state politics can do for you. I have higher aspirations in DC, but for now, I am content cooling it in the senate while I wait for my thirty-fifth birthday. As I said, I have a plan.
As I look around the quaint town, a genuine smile crosses my face for the first time in years. Everywhere I look, people are dressed up and dancing in the twenty-degree weather. It’s a sight, to be sure. Suddenly, an older grey-haired woman comes up to me.
“Senator Santos?” she asks, smiling brightly.
“Alejandro is fine,” I say automatically.
“Alejandro, Roland called from the airport. I’m so sorry we didn’t have a taxi for you. We are limited here in Buck’s Creek, and they are all being used, New Year’s Eve and all.”
“I completely understand, Mrs…?”
“Anderson. Catherine Anderson. Mayor of Buck’s Creek.”
“Ah, Madame Mayor, that little bit of a walk didn’t hurt.”
“Excellent, sir. I took the liberty of getting some rooms for you at the bed and breakfast. I am sure it’s nothing like the accommodations you are used to, but it’s clean and warm.” I understand what she’s trying to do, and I feel compelled to set her in the right direction. My upbringing was not full of luxuries. It was hard at times but full of love, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.
“Madame Mayor, please. I grew up in government housing in Brooklyn. Sometimes I didn’t have clean or warm. I definitely didn’t have both at the same time. I am not a coddled politician. I got into this to make a difference.”
“Of course. I apologize. I’ve never met anyone so… famous before.”
“Ma’am, I am just a man, I promise. Now, can you point me in the direction of some beers?” I ask chuckling. She laughs and gestures to the giant clock tower.
“You’ll find the makeshift bar over there. Your room key.” She hands me an actual key. The keychain says Buck's Creek B & B.
“Thank you," I reply, pocketing the key.
“Enjoy the party." At least I'm not overdressed.
“I will. Thank you.”
I move away from the mayor toward the tower. When I get to the long row of tables set up with kegs and every bottle of liquor imaginable, I spot her—a tiny blonde who is carrying a baby. I offer up a prayer that she’s unmarried. That she can be mine.
Bypassing the bar, I head toward her. Her beauty is breathtaking. Her tight black dress makes me think thoughts surely every other man here has thought the same fucking things, and I find that I don’t like that.
“Hello,” she says without a hint of shyness. “You’re new around here.”
“I just arrived. Plane malfunction,” I say, shrugging. She looks at home with the baby in her arms. “You brought your baby to a party?” I ask, gesturing to the meticulously bundled up child.
“Not my baby,” she says, giggling. “This is my brother, Kyle. My mom is around here, somewhere. She’s the town’s only bartender, but since everyone’s here, kids are running around everywhere.”
“Brother? How old are you?” I ask, my prayers shifting to ones of her being of age. What the hell will I do if she’s not?
“Oh, I’m eighteen, but my mom was eighteen when she had me. She’s on her second husband now.”
“I see. Do you always offer more information than asked for?” A blush rises on her cheeks.
“I do. Loquacious Lauren, that’s what everyone calls me. I’m Lauren Cantrell.” The baby starts crying uncontrollably.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Alejandro Santos.”
“Can you hold him for a minute? He’s probably hungry.” She thrusts the boy at me. “My mom is still breastfeeding.” She’s gone before I can say anything. Despite my large family, none of my siblings have children. I’ve never so much as held a baby before, but I know the logistics of it. He’s still crying, but I keep him close to my chest, and he stops, falling asleep.
“You’re a natural,” Lauren says, coming ba
ck with another woman.
“Nothing to it,” I lie.
“This is my mama, Roxie. Mama, this is Alejandro.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Oh no! Roxie is just fine. I’ll take him off of your hands.” I give her the child.
“Mama, I’m going to hang out with Alejandro,” Lauren says, causing me to smile. Hanging out is the last thing on my mind.
“Have a good time. Happy New Year if I don’t see you until lunch tomorrow.”
“We have a big family meal on New Year’s Day,” Lauren explains. This girl would never hold up during an interrogation.
“Really?” I say in shock, like most families in America don’t do the same exact thing.
“Yeah, you really should come. I assume you’re kind of stuck here.”
“I am, though stuck, isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” It was earlier but meeting her has changed me. I never thought that was possible.
I may be jaded when it comes to women, they always want something I have no intention of giving, so I’ve avoided them socially since I was in college, but this girl is a breath of fresh air.
I can’t wait to breathe her in.
Chapter Two
Lauren
Whoa. This man is unlike any other I have ever seen. He holds out his hand, and I take it. As soon as I do, I know my life will never be the same again. He’s warm and strong. My coat just isn’t doing for me in the cold, but his warmth is taking over my body.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask him.
“We can go together. I don’t want to let you out of my sight,” Alejandro says, making me shiver. His New York-tinged accent is only something I’ve heard on TV, but it does something to me. My pussy is wet for the first time, and I feel empty. It’s like I need him to make me whole. Okay, okay, I know it’s crazy. I don’t even know his last name, but none of that matters.
“Okay,” I answer because I think I have to. I need Alejandro to know I am on board for whatever the hell this is. This isn’t me trying to get something I missed out on. I had a happy childhood. My mom and both of my stepdads made sure of that. I know what love looks like, and I know well enough to want it for myself.
I lead him over to the bar tables, where he selects a beer while I grab a Coke.
“What do you do?” he asks, casually looking around while drinking his beer. I watch his throat muscles work, and I have to clench my thighs together. “Lauren?” he asks when I don’t answer him. Instead, I stare at him.
“Huh?” I ask stupidly.
“I asked what you do,” he replies, chuckling.
“I just graduated from high school. I work at the truck stop. You know, just until I figure out what it is, I want to do.”
“A truck stop?”
“Well, a restaurant in a truck stop.” I drop my empty can in the trash can, and he does the same with his bottle.
“I see,” he says disapprovingly.
“Why’d you say it like that? I see,” I say, mimicking the sad tone he used. I can’t help that I am not as classy as he is. I can’t help that there’s not a lot of options for people in Buck’s Creek.
“There are men at a truck stop,” he says simply.
“Well, yeah, traditionally, but more and more women are driving trucks these days.”
“Hmm,” is all he says.
“Who are you to judge?” I ask, getting pissed. “You come into town dressed like James fucking Bond, making judgments about me. I don’t think I like it.” I have a bit of a temper when provoked. He grabs my arm and leads me away from the tables, behind the clock tower where there are just a few people. He leans me up against the wall and blocks me in. His cologne is intoxicating.
“I am not judging Little Lauren. I am expressing concern. I don’t like the idea of men getting to look at you.”
“You’re nuts. Men always look, no one can stop that, but they don’t get to touch me,” I say, shaking my arm loose from his hold.
“Is this a touchy subject for you?”
“Of course, it is,” I begin, but he cuts me off with a kiss.
“I think you misunderstand me, Lauren. I want to be the only one to look at you,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, smiling. Just like that, my attitude changes. “I don’t see how I can stop people from looking at me, but I might be able to let you see something that no one else ever has.”
“And what’s that?”
“Me,” I say, shrugging.
“Are you saying that you are pure? I lick my lips and nod. “Fuck, girl.”
“What?” I ask shrugging. I know exactly what I am doing. In theory, anyway.
“I’m going to marry you,” he says, chuckling.
“You haven’t even asked. I don’t know what you do for a living or where you live.”
“I’ll ask properly soon. I live in Washington, DC, currently, but I was born in New York. I am a senator from the great state of New York.”
“A slimy politician?” I ask frowning. Iowa isn’t immune to politicians, with the caucuses and all.
“Not slimy.”
“That’s what all slimy politicians say,” I say, giggling.
“I promise that’s not me, Lauren.” The way he says it makes me believe him. Then he kisses me again. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I grind into him, moaning. It’s like I can’t control myself anymore. The man is arrogant and infuriating, but it doesn’t matter. He’s gonna be mine. I just know it.
“I believe that,” I say when he lets me breathe again.
All around us, people start counting down to 2021.
“Spend the rest of your life with me, Lauren?” he says. It’s both a question and a statement.
“Ten!”
“Nine!”
“Eight!”
“Seven!”
“Six!”
“Five!”
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“One,” he repeats, expectantly at the same I do. Then his lips are on mine again. It feels like the first and last New Year’s kisser I’ll ever know, and that makes me happier than I have ever been.
“Happy New Year,” he murmurs.
“Happy New Year,” I repeat.
“Answer me, Little Lauren. Say, yes.”
“We don’t know each other, Alejandro.”
“Don’t we?”
“No. We really don’t.”
“We have the rest of our lives to find out.”
“But my life is here.”
“Let’s worry about that later, mi corazón.”
My Spanish is shaky at best, but even I know that means my heart. He called me his heart. He’s smooth, but even I don’t think that’s something he’s ever said to another woman, and that makes me happier than I can say.
“Okay. Yes. We’ll worry about that later, mi rey,” I agree. Calling him my king is not something I take lightly, but it fits us.
“Mi reina,” he murmurs against my neck.
“Are you at the bed and breakfast?” I ask, thinking that’s the only place we’ll get any privacy.
“Yes, but I’m afraid that I don’t know where it is.”
Silently, I lead him by the hand, away from the party and toward the tiny hotel.
Good thing I believe in love at first sight, or what I’m about to let happen never would.
Chapter Three
Alejandro
I let out my breath in a whoosh. I didn’t realize that I had been holding in. I thought she’d turn me down, but as I lead her up the stairs to my room, I don’t think there was ever a chance of that happening. The warmth in the room is welcome as I left my coat on the plane. The fire going in the fireplace is a nice touch. I help her out of her jacket, my fingers skimming her bare arms as I do. The little goosebumps on her skin make me hope I am affecting her in more ways than one.
“You’re cold,” I say when she shivers.
�
��No,” she says, shaking her head, her blonde hair cascading out of the hair clip she’s wearing.
“Do I make you nervous, Little Lauren?”
“Yes,” she breathes, her cheeks flushing.
“What are we going to do about that?” I ask, and she shrugs her shoulders. I toss her coat on the chair by the fire and crowd her space.
“I’m sure you have some ideas,” she says, giggling. Her little giggle goes straight to my balls. My dick is hard as a rock, desperate for her.
“I definitely do, Little Lauren,” I whisper.
“Why do you call me that?” she asks as she slides my suit jacket down my arms.
“Because I am a good foot and a half taller than you are.”
“Well, I think you are going to be a little taller than that,” she says, stepping out of her shiny black high heels, tossing my jacket over her coat. She’s about six inches shorter than I thought she was. All it succeeds in doing is making me want to protect her. Take her away from this place and lock her away in my house.
I peel her dress from her body, letting it pool at her feet. She steps out of it; her matching pink and white bra and panties look too innocent for what’s about to happen. Reaching behind her, I unhook her bra and toss it away. With a flick of her wrist, she pulls open my bow tie and deftly unbuttons my shirt, throwing both to the ground. She looks me in the eye while she opens my belt and pants, shoving them down. I kick my shoes away, as well as my pants.
Dropping to my knees in front of her, I peel her panties down her legs and kiss both of her hip bones before placing a kiss on her bare pussy. She’s wet. I can see how wet she is. I swipe my tongue over her clit before sliding it inside of her. In and out, I mimic what my cock wants to do. My hands grip her hips. I know that I am leaving bruises, but I can’t help myself.