by Clare Morgan
The whole of the night was a blur. We sat down at the head table and dinner and hundreds of gallons of champagne were served. People kept coming to our table wishing Dylan a happy birthday and I would smile and speak with each guest as they waited their turn. At one point in the evening, I was speaking with the both the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of France at the same time! Before I knew it, dinner was over, and Charles and I were on one of the 3 dance floors that had been set up for the party.
We had chosen the north lawn dance floor that feature a full brass orchestra that played music from the 30’s and 40’s; lots of Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington. Dylan had been the one to ask me to come out for this particular band, which surprised me, considering that one of the most famous DJ’s in the world was playing on the south lawn.
“I wanted something quieter,” He whispered into my ear, “something where I could hold you in my arms.”
My mind suddenly went blank with what he had just said. Had he been having the same feelings I’d been having? Once I finally gathered my wits, I stared into his eyes and asked:
“What did you say?” As if his words were some kind of auditory hallucination.
“Ever since I met you I can’t stop thinking about you, Emily,” He said as he led me off of the dance floor. “Every minute of the day, you occupy my every thought.”
My head was swimming as he led me from the dance floor and towards the woods surrounding the properties. I had no idea where we were going and I didn’t care as long as he was with me. We walked what like seemed for miles until we arrived at a green clearing, the night sky bright and silvery from the full moon. Dylan turned to me, my hands in his.
“Emily, I know—“I stopped him with a deep and sudden kiss. I didn’t want any more words, I only wanted him on top of me, buried deep inside of me. I pressed my body against his and felt his weighty bulge threatening to rip through his pants. I pushed him away, never taking my eyes off of his and unzipped myself from simple, elegant black party dress, letting it fall to the ground and puddle around my heels. He stared at me, his eyes taking my body in all at once, his hands exploring the ivory smoothness of my hips and suddenly, his mouth was on my breasts, gently, playfully nibbling and tugging at my nipples. My panties were suddenly soaked through as he began to trace my clit through them.
I pushed away from him and went to my knees. I quickly unzipped his pants and pulled his member through the opening and greedily took it into my mouth. The heady, earthy taste of his penis filled my mouth and with each stroke I took it deeper and deeper down my throat. I began to taste the thick sweetness of his sperm and I quickened my pace. Suddenly, with a shuddering moan, I felt his thick seed explode down my throat. He tried to pull out, but I forced him to stay put as I milked him dry; I didn’t want to waste a drop.
As I continued to stroke him, he practically ripped himself out of his tuxedo. Once he was completely naked, he pushed me down into the dewy grassy and buried his face between my legs, his tongue moving hot and fast across my clitoris. I grabbed two fistfuls of his thick brown hair and pressed myself hard against his mouth as my first orgasm shuttered through my body. He then buried two of his fingers inside of me as he licked, the soft pads of his fingers finding my secret place and I thrust myself hard against them, the pressure becoming almost unbearable with the need for release.
Just as I was about to climax again, he scrambled on top of me, pushing his hard shaft deep inside of me and I spasmed hard. My juices erupting out of me, soaking us both from the waist down. I had never experienced an orgasm so intense in my life. I wrapped my legs tight around his back, willing him to go deeper and harder inside of me. I felt his pace quicken, and I pulled his mouth to mine, our lips hungrily devouring each other, and then I felt him explode deep inside of me, his seed filling me to overflowing and my eyes filling with stars.
Chapter 5:
It was the morning after our first time together that mother announced the exact date of when she and Dylan were to be married.
After breakfast, I stormed up to my room—or the room I was staying because there was no way I would be staying here permanently—and locked myself in. Charles and I were supposed to go mountain biking, but, obviously, those plans were now very canceled.
How could he do such thing to me?
How could he use me like that!
I’ll admit that during my high school years, I played multiple boys against one another and at the time I thought it was incredibly funny. But that was high school, you almost expected that kind of behavior from girls, but not from a fully mature adult! But I guess people really don’t change all that much, they just get older, but not wiser.
I started shoving my sparse belongings into the duffel bag that I had brought with me. Even though mom and I were becoming closer than we ever had been, I had to go back home to California. I had to get away from the Powell compound and back to the life I knew, where men were my servants and not the other way around. My life had been perfect and I had utter and complete control over myself. I had been a fool to come out here and an even bigger fool to allow myself to become involved with Charles.
As I packed, I heard a light tapping at the door and I heard Charles’s voice on the other side of it.
“Emily, are you in there?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I rushed to the door, wanting nothing more than to fling it open and beg him to stay with me. This thought made me feel weak like I had no control over my emotions, and I wasn’t going to have that anymore.
I opened the door and Charles stood there, stooped over like a broken man.
“Emily please let me—“But I cut him off before he could go any further.
“Don’t you have a wedding to plan,” I said coldly and then slammed the door in his face.
***
I left the Powell compound without saying a word to anyone.
Without a doubt, I had overstayed my welcome and it was time to go back home, my real home, the one that I had made for myself with help from no one. As the cab took me to the airport, I couldn’t help but start mentally kicking myself over what a fool I’d been. Life had been so good for me out in California. It was simple, straightforward, and I was the one who was entirely in control. I let in who I wanted to let in. True enough, there hadn’t been that many people who I had allowed into my life and that was perfectly fine with me.
The fact is, I’m the type of woman who’s perfectly fine without people cluttering my life. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like people, I just happen to be a lot happier when there aren’t a lot of them around. This was particularly true when it came to men. Men were a burden, pure and simple. So many people—particularly the mainstream media—who paint women as being emotionally needy; of constantly needing reassurance that they matter, especially when it comes to relationships. But in my experience, it was the exact opposite, it was men who needed to be coddled and handled with kid gloves, otherwise you would collapse their fragile egos and their internal vision of themselves. Women were the strong ones and men the week.
Maybe it hadn’t always been this way? Maybe at one point in history men were the stronger personality, the dominant ones. But something had changed, it had shifted when we started having men examine their “feelings” too much. What had happened to the John Wayne’s of the world? The Clint Eastwood’s? Had we, as women, poisoned the well of manhood because we wanted our men to be more like us? Or maybe they had always been exactly like us and they were just plain better at hiding their emotions and not wearing them on their sleeves like women always have?
I know I’m starting to sound like a militant feminist, but I was angry. I was angry that I had gone to the Powell compound with mother, I was angry that I had allowed someone into my closely guarded world, I was angry that I had been lied to (By the way, not being told something is the exact same thing as lying.). But most of all, I was angry because of how much I wanted to let someone in. I wan
ted Dylan, and for me, that was my greatest sin, that I actually wanted—needed—his love.
Chapter 6:
I jumped head first back into my life in LA. Luckily, I’d paid rent several months in advance on my apartment, so I had a place to call home when I returned. When I finally arrived back at my place after 10 hours of rain delays and mechanical failures, my little spartan environment was like a breath of much needed fresh air after all of the extravagances of the Powell compound. But what I loved the most was the utter quiet of it all. Despite being one of the largest homes I’d ever stepped inside of, all of that space was constantly bursting and bubbling with activity. Whether it was servants preparing for guests or simply the Powell’s being the Powell’s, there was a near-constant drone of sound echoing throughout its massive halls. And I’ll admit that I was sucked into it at first, but now that I was finally back in the quiet and comfort of my home.
I slept for 12 hours straight on that first night back and awoke rested and relaxed. In fact, I was so relaxed that my body found its way back to sleep for another four hours. After I was awake and fully caffeinated, I gave my old boss at the club, Robert, a call. We chit-chatted for a few minutes and then I asked if he was in need of any dancers? He, of course, welcomed me back with open arms. Robert was a true rarity when it came to strip club owners. He was a good looking, well spoken, funny, educated guy, and he wasn’t a complete sleaze ball. One of the biggest problems of being a dancer is that your employers are more often than not no better than pimps. Most club owners would constantly hit on you, try and get you to party with them, or try and get you to fuck them so that you could dance in their clubs. And, oh, most of them looked like hairy bridge trolls.
When I was first starting out, this is all I was running into and for awhile there, I thought I was going to have to get a job working a register or waiting tables—not that there’s anything wrong with either profession, but I didn’t have experience at either job, and the prospect of finding one scared the crap out of me—but then I met Robert. When I walked into the club, I knew almost immediately that it was going to be a different kind of environment. The club’s vibe was warm and inviting even during its off hours (Most strip clubs during the day are the saddest places on Earth.). And what was most refreshing was that during my interview with Robert, he didn’t once ask me to take off my clothes. He could just tell by the way I moved and looked that I was a natural for the gig, and he treated me with dignity and respect, and he treated all of the girls this way and it was returned in kind.
One week rolled into the next and into the next as I found myself blissfully back in my routines. Mother had only attempted to contact me once to ask me why I had left so abruptly, and I made up some story about missing my old life and wanting to get back to it. My life was definitely getting back to normal, at least until Dylan walked into the club on a Friday night looking like a lost puppy dog.
***
I was waiting to for my turn to go on stage and focusing on my upcoming routine, so I was fairly distracted when Charles came into the club and didn't notice him at first. But as soon as I stepped onstage, I saw him sitting front and center despite there being a packed house. Through the entire 4 minutes of my song, I stumbled around the stage as if I was in a fog. I just couldn’t believe he was here in the club, or I thought that maybe I was hallucinating his presence out of loneliness. But I know he was real when I saw my friend Tonya cert a drink down in front of him, and then watch him pick it up and take a sip from it without him once taking his eyes off of me.
When my song ended, I rushed off stage without collecting my tips—which, to be honest, were nothing but chicken feed. Dancing is basically nothing more than a way of advertising lap dances and private sessions in the VIP rooms—and I wanted to do nothing more than rush into the dressing room, throw on my clothes and hide in my apartment for 4 or 5 days. But I was right in the middle of a shift, and there was no way I was going to screw over Robert. So instead of getting dressed in my street clothes, I put on another one of my outfits and walked out onto the floor, and as soon as I did, Tonya came rushing up to me.
“Did you see that really good-looking guy in the front row?” She asked practically bubbling over with excitement.
“Yeah…” I said hesitantly.
“He just paid for a $1000 private dance with you!” Tonya shouted. “He even tipped $200 just to let you know that he was waiting for you!”
“That’s great,” I said as I made my way back to the VIP area.
With each step, I felt myself fill with rage. What was he doing here? How dare he enter my world after what he did to me! I should walk into that room and smack him across the face and tell him to get out! But instead, I strolled into the room as cool as a cucumber.
“Emily!” He practically shouted. He began to stand up from the lounge couch, but I pushed him back down and then pressed a finger to his lips, letting him know that I didn’t want to hear a word come out of his mouth.
I straddled him, our eyes meeting for the first time since I entered the room, and I reached for the chilled bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. I gently swayed on top of him, grinding against his bulge as I popped the cork from the bottle. I brought the bottle to my lips as the foam rushed over my hands and then tipped it back and poured it into my mouth and then down my chest, soaking my thin, lacy top. I then tipped the bottle into Charle’s mouth, giving him only a taste and letting him know that was all he was getting from me, nothing but a taste; a glimpse at what he’d given up.
I pulled my top off, gently swinging my head so that my thick red hair partially hid my face, and all he could see were my ripe breasts. I ran my hands slowly up from my stomach to my chest, then pushing them together and dangling them just a few inches away from his mouth. I could feel his hot breath against my nipples and they rose ripe and erect. From the corner of my eye, I could see his hands trembling, wanting to do nothing more than to reach out and touch me.
I rose to my feet and then spun on my heel, and bent over at the waist in a single deft movement. As I straightened, I arched my back and pushed my rear out as I slowly tugged my thong down and off while glancing over my shoulder. I then slowly sat down on his lap, pressing underneath his chin. I took his hands in mine and had him trace hands down my breasts, to my stomach and then finally my hips. I let his trembling hands rest there for just a second and then pushed myself out of his lap.
I then positioned myself on the floor in front of him, slowly spreading my thighs. With my right hand, I began stroking my labia, my fingers dancing across my clit. I could feel my orgasm building with each movement. At first, it was nothing but a tiny spark and then suddenly it raged through me and my hips bucked and I squealed in delight. I opened my eyes and Charles sat there, his face burning red and pouring sweat.
I then gathered my clothes and left the room without saying a single word.
And my happy ending was to never see him again.
THE END
Bonus Book: The Sexy Cowboy’s Seduction (Western Romance)
Chapter 1:
Life comes in bits and pieces for many, but for some it comes as a whole – in a matter of a moment; life gives a few people everything that they desire. As Alison was traveling to a small town near the border of Texas, she had no idea that life was going to show her its more beautiful side at such an unexpected place. She was traveling there with Gabbie, one of her best friends.
Alison met Gabbie almost three years back when she decided to switch jobs and enter the advertising industry as a graphic designer. Gabbie was a fellow colleague there and helped Alison a lot to settle. It was just the start of a great friendship and soon they became inseparable. From colleagues on the first day of the job to roommates after a year, Gabbie and Alison were more than just friends – they were sisters. So when Adrian, Gabbie’s long time boyfriend decided to let her move in with him, they both couldn’t be more excited. Only after a year of staying together, Gabbie moved in with Adrian and com
menced her own story. There were times when Alison would miss her a lot, but she was utterly happy for Gabbie at the same time, knowing that the both of them were meant to be together. Gabbie tried to set Alison with her friends, but it never worked out.
Alison was a girl of high values and principles, and she was finding it hard to find her perfect men in Dallas. It was only a few months back when Gabbie flashed a huge diamond ring that was placed flawlessly on her fingers to Alison.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you are getting married!” was the first thing that Alison could say.
“Not just that. We are going to have a perfect country wedding. I have talked to my parents and they would like to host the wedding. It was their one dream ever since I was a little girl, and believe me, Alison, there is nothing better than an age-old country wedding. We are going to Luckenbach!” she was extremely excited as she announced the news and tried to cheer Alison.
Alison was looking forward to her wedding, but traveling all the way to Luckenbach, was certainly not there in her mind.
“We will be there in fifteen minutes,” Gabbie said excitedly as they kept driving on the state highway that led them from Dallas to Luckenbach. Situated almost 250 miles away from Dallas, it is known for its raw country charm and music. Though Alison and Gabbie have been best friends, but she had never visited Gabbie’s hometown in years.