Girl After Dark (17 page)

I can’t help myself. I lean in to kiss him hungrily, running my fingers through his hair, pushing myself hard against him, and shivering with excitement as I feel him reciprocate, both of us obviously wanting exactly the same thing, and wishing we weren’t
here
— out in public. 

“I want you,” he murmurs between kisses. “Come back to mine right now …”

And I’m about to say
yes
, when I remember.

“Oh God,” I say, frustratedly. “I can’t. I’m really really sorry. My dad and cousin, I’m supposed to be having an early with them. I need to get back to Brooklyn, and …”

I pull out my mobile and check the time.

“If I don’t high-tail it now, I’m going to be late, and you know how I feel about that,” I explain with an apologetic smile.

“You don’t believe in it,” he says understandingly.

I smile and nod.

“But I do have time for one more kiss, if we’re quick,” I add hopefully.

He pulls me in towards him for a final kiss. His lips are gentle, and he cups my face in his hands.

“I’ve had a wonderful time,” he says, his lips brushing against mine.

“Me too,” I say, as I return his kiss, harder this time.

I know I should go but I just can’t seem to tear myself away.

“I’ve got to leave,” I say, but between my words I don’t stop kissing him.

“Okay, off you go then,” he murmurs, but his lips remain brushing against mine, as if he’s daring me to stop kissing him.

“I’m really going to be late,” I say, before leaning in to kiss him once more.

Finally, he pulls away from me, stares into my eyes and says, teasingly, “Well, I couldn’t make you late now, could I? As much as I
want to
of course …”

And I can’t help it: I kiss him once more.

I feel like the world could end around us, the animals could break out of Central Park zoo, or there could be an earthquake, a thunderstorm, and even then, I still wouldn’t want to stop this kiss.

I race up the steps to Dad’s apartment, two at a time, determined not to be late. 

Up in my room, I pull off my clothes, leaving them strewn around me as I dash through to the en-suite bathroom.

And under the shower, even though I’m still racing to get ready, I can’t help but let my mind stray once more to Carson: to the memory of our last kiss, so passionate, so insistent, so hot.

As my hands run over my body, soaping myself, I feel myself growing horny, despite my rush. I can feel myself aching for him — I mean, I know he’s being a gentleman and taking things slow, but still, I’d give anything for him to be here in this shower with me,
his
hands running over my body instead of my own, right here, right now.

Forcing myself out of the shower, I wrap a towel around me then race back to my bedroom, wondering what in the world I’m gonna wear.

In the end I pick out a navy blue, vintage style tea dress from J Crew that I picked up just last week — its made from a beautiful silk, and the scalloped edge neckline gives just the right hint of cleavage, and it’s cut to the most flattering point, just above my knee. I complete my look with a pair of matching blue heels. Man, I love that store, I think, taking in my reflection in the mirror. This outfit would have cost so much more in England.

Just as I finish blow-drying my hair, I hear the doorbell ringing downstairs and dad answering the door to Jonathan.

I can’t help but smile. I mean, my timing was perfect after all, but this time it was all thanks to Carson for making me leave the park. Had it been up to me, I would have stayed there all night long …

§

“The only place you’d get better food than this,” Dad exclaims a little later, “is at Grandma Yiayia’s house!”

We’re out at Pylos, a restaurant in the East Village. It’s a beautiful candle-lit room, with bare brick walls and a really pretty, amazing display of terra-cotta pots hanging from the ceiling above us that reminds me of family holidays in Greece when I was little.

Dad is absorbed, studying the desert menu, so Jonathan takes the opportunity to lean in close.

“What have you
done
to him?” he whispers in my hear, nudging me in the ribs as he nods towards my dad. “He looks fabulous!”

It’s true — Dad
does
look kind of stylish. The outfits I chose really suit him, and even better than that, he’s looking really happy and relaxed, for perhaps the first time since I arrived here. But I do wonder if he’s had perhaps one too many glasses of red wine, so early in the night …

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he says, as if illustrating this point, holding up his glass. “To Melissa!”

“Dad,” I groan, hiding my face.

“My adaptable, talented girl,” he continues. “And whatever she decides to do next, I know she’s going to be brilliant at it!”

“To Melissa!” Jonathan chimes in, holding up his glass.

And so, begrudgingly, I do the same, the three of us clinking our glasses and smiling. And I feel all my embarassment melt away, replaced by a genuine feeling of familial love.

“Speech!” Dad laughs.

I sigh and blow a strand of hair from my face.

“Well,” I begin, “I guess I’d just like to say I’m really glad I’m here. Turns out everything does happen for a reason and I can’t think of two people I’d rather be with tonight!”

Except Carson
, a cheeky little voice whispers in my head.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, his voice dropping to a whisper, “don’t look now, Alexi, but I think there’s someone checking you out. Ten o’ clock. The woman in the blue and black dress.”

“Oh, come on now!” Dad laughs, turning to me. “This is worse than the other day at brunch!” He shoots me a knowing look. “Have you got your cousin in on this conspiracy now, too, Honeybee? Why don’t you two just let me alone! I’m happy just as I am! I don’t need setting up!”

Jonathan and I both laugh and shake our heads, insisting that honestly, there’s really no conspiracy.

But a moment later, as Dad’s turning to flag down the waiter to place his desert order, Jonathan gives me a quick conspiratorial wink.

He takes out his phone beneath the table and taps out a message and, a moment later, I feel mine vibrate in my bag.

I take it out to check it.

From Jonathan:
Good idea! Let’s totally set him up! x

I smile back at him across the table, Dad still totally oblivious to our devious little scheme.

And, as I’m exiting out of messages, I see that I have a ton of other notifications on my phone too, all new comments on my blog and all impatiently asking the same question:

Where’s the next post?

§

I lie back on my bed, sleepy and content from the delicious meal.

But pretty soon, as always, I find my thoughts returning once more to Carson — and the more they do, the more that sweet ache for him grows inside me.

I spread my legs a little, my fingertips softly tracing the insides of my thighs, my eyes closing, as I wonder what he’s doing right now, where he is, whether he’s thinking about
me
this way, too, wishing I was there with him.

As one of my hands strays a little further between my legs, increasing the delicious ache inside me, the other moves to my left breast, cupping it gently, and all the while I’m wishing it was Carson here with me, doing this …

And then, all of a sudden, I have an idea.

I sit up in bed, energised, realising that I can kill two birds with one stone, satisfying both my horny mood
and
the eager readers of Girl After Dark, who all seem to be hungry for more.

Because if I write down my latest fantasy about Carson, then that can totally be my next blog post!

Another little voice in my head warns me that I told him my blog was over. And it
is
, at least in reality. This will be something different, I think — just a fantasy. And anyway, why would he even
read
it
if he thinks the blog is finished?

So, pulling my laptop up onto the bed and settling down beneath the covers, I open up my blog page and eagerly begin to type my new entry …

§

Girl After Dark: A Fantasy

Dear readers, you’re all very special to me, but one of you in particular has caught my attention.

I know you’re modest, so I don’t want to make you blush, but you know who you are.

And so I thought tonight, I’d like to share a little fantasy of mine with you.

Here I am, waiting on my bed for you, Mystery Man, dressed in pretty silk underwear. The colorful wisps of fabric might as well be bows, because the thing is, I feel like I’m giftwrapped, waiting for you to unwrap me, a present just for you.

There’s another slip of silk over my eyes, too. It’s tied behind my head, so when the door to my room softly opens and closes, I can hear you, but I can’t see you.

There’s a long, delicious pause, long enough to wonder what you’re doing. But I can sense you here in this room with me now; can sense your brooding masculine presence. I can smell the spicy musk of your cologne too, and I can hear soft footsteps as you circle me. But most of all, I can feel your eyes grazing my bare skin.

I push myself up, so that I’m sitting with my back straight, resting on my thighs, pert and pretty, waiting for whatever comes next.

I want to speak, I feel impatient for you, but I keep silent, sucking on my bottom lip, my whole body trembling with anticipation.

Then I feel you — first a single fingertip tracing up my spine, bringing with it a soft gasp from my lips, half from the amazing feeling of your touch, and half from the surprise.

Then your other hand: softly cupping my right breast, the hotness of your fingers, the urgency of your touch, as you become rougher with me — just a little, just enough — quickly scooping me free from the cup of my bra, your fingers finding my hardening nipple, tugging it, tweaking it sternly between your thumb and forefinger, causing another sharp little gasp to escape from my lips.

You must have moved up onto the bed by now, because all of a sudden I feel you coaxing me down over your knee, your hands exploring the smooth white curves of my ass, my knickers just a flimsy wisp of silk, slipping between my bare buttocks, which you stroke and then … crack!

I cry out in surprise as I feel your hand strike against my bare flesh — sending a shockwave of surprise and, yes, pleasure right through me.

I didn’t even know I liked this. But it turns out I do, I really do.

CRACK!

You spank me again, this time harder.

And I squirm in your lap, my body trembling and yearning for you to dominate me.

You urge me up again, and then, a moment later, I feel your lips touch against mine, softly at first, then harder, your mouth soon plundering mine, your tongue probing ever deeper, your kisses so urgent, so animal, your hands once more on my breasts, tweaking and tugging at my hard little nipples.

God, I want to tear this blindfold from my eyes, want to stare deep into yours, but I don’t, enjoying the sweet frustration and surprise that comes with the restriction.

I shiver again, as feel you pull away from me and then I hear the distinctive, unmistakable sound of your zip as you free yourself — that hot, hard part of you that I’ve grown to crave.

Another long pause, crackling with electricity and anticipation, and then I feel your hand, taking my own and guiding me, my fingers brushing first over the taught hardness of your stomach, then downwards, past the cropped fuzz of hair and then, finally, my curling around the hot thick hardness of your shaft: so perfect, so silky smooth.

I hear you softly groan as I begin to stroke you, my own sex throbbing hard now too, my knickers beginning to soak right through, my thighs parting wide, as I yearn and shiver for you.

Then, still stroking you like that, I feel your hand move between my legs, first of all teasing me, your fingertips stroking the tender insides of my thighs, then dancing lightly over my mound, tracing my swollen lips through the hot wet silk of my knickers. And then finally, you tug them sharply to one side, exposing me. It’s my turn to moan now as I feel you slip first one, then two fingers inside me, coaxing fresh shivers of pleasure from my body.

I move my head down, eager to take you in my mouth, and you respond, shifting your hips, as I feel the hot head of your cock pressing gently against my parted lips. I sigh as I take you fully in my mouth, sucking you gently as your fingers continue to work me, too, dancing around the tender button of my clit then moving further down, pushing once more inside me, your other hand cupping my breast, tweaking my nipple, your cock growing so hard in my mouth, stifling my sighs.

My orgasm takes me by surprise, flashing out around my body in delicious trembles, your fingers there between my legs and your throbbing hardness filling my mouth, and I lose myself for a moment in the moment, gasping as much as I’m able, shuddering from the intensity of it all.

Next I feel you unwrap me — finally. First I feel you pulling off my bra, then helping me out of my knickers, until I’m totally naked, lying back on top of the sheets waiting for you. The only thing I’m still wearing is that blindfold.

I feel you moving over me, your sculpted body pressing against my own, your hardness grazing against my thigh, then a moment later slipping inside me, filling me right up, stretching me so wide that I cry out, wrapping my arms and legs around you, urging you to fuck me, harder and deeper.

And you do, taking me so hard and fast now that I’m fast approaching my *second* orgasm. I can tell you’re close, too, and I want to look into your eyes as we come, so finally I pull off the blindfold, and for a moment I can’t work out where all these pretty little lights are coming from … And then I realise. You’ve filled the room with candles, all of them flickering around us, so delicate, so perfect.

I look into your eyes as you fuck me, and it feels as if our very souls are talking to each other, saying something so deep, so primal.