Stolen Away From A Party

And to think she almost bailed on tonight, opting for a night alone, wrapped in a cozy blanket on her couch with some tea and a book. 

This, she thought—naked, in the arms of a very handsome stranger in a dark closet while a very vanilla party carried on next to them—was a far, far better way to spend the evening.

She surprised herself with how readily—eagerly, even—she allowed this man to tie her up.

This wasn’t usually how she operated. Ordinarily, she preferred to get to know them a bit. Talk and text a while. Swap stories. Any other time, her manners would’ve taken over, and when she approached him at the bar, she’d have relied on her wit and charm and words to convince him to share his number, teasing out a lengthy, flirty courtship. But not tonight. She was in a hurry.

Who could blame her for this one? She was allowed a treat every so often, wasn’t she? Fuck, he was y. It was the suit. This perfectlyfitting, dark suit, arms stretched taut by incredible biceps, showing off a most shapely ass of someone who knew how to take care of himself, necktie she fantasized about removing so she could nibble on his neck.

She saw him across the room and could not stop staring. She sure hoped he’d not feel the heat of her gaze on his tall, muscular frame. The man standing there, talking to everyone with such ease, with a kind smile and infectious laugh, and looking incredibly y in his dark suit. He was holding a nearly empty glass of bourbon and something about the clasp of his hands around the glass royally turned her on. She was a bourbon girl, too, but there was something else going on here. Was it his hands? They were strong and looked like they might be ideal for pulling handfuls of her hair or grabbing her throat. 

He had a sparkle in his eyes, a light about him she found irresistible, and wouldn’t her legs wrap so nicely around those broad shoulders? 

Was that a hint of a full sleeve tattoo peeking out from under his shirt? God, she had a thing for well done arm tattoos. 

It didn’t take much of a conversation at the bar, where she just so happened to arrive shortly after he did, to convince him to lean in close to her face, brush her hair away from her ear, and whisper, “Follow me.” 

They made their way to what looked like a supply closet in the kitchen, away from the partygoers. Once inside, he silently and forcefully pinned her small frame against the door to slam it shut. 

Bringing his face close to hers, he said softly, “We don’t have long. My friends will be looking for me soon. That okay?”

Words failed her in this moment. Her brain screamed “yes,” but all she could do was lock eyes with this handsome man and nod with a smirk.

His mouth found hers quickly, tongues playing and teeth nibbling at lips. Those hands made quick work of first wrapping around her neck, then down her side, halting at her thighs. His thick fingers traced the inside of them, finding and playfully tugging at the thong barely covering her most sensitive parts. His beard felt so soft against her chin. She so badly wanted that beard grazing against other parts. 

Her legs quivered as he teased her, fingers getting close—but not touching yet—to her cunt, which was, at this point, dripping wet and clenching in anticipation of being filled. 

Her hands tore off his suit jacket, undid his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. She was desperate to feel his chest, bury her head in the patches of hair she noticed peeking through. 

She was most desperate to be completely owned by the hottest man at this party. 

As he unzipped her dress, sliding it down her torso, her fingers found his belt, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants. 

Despite it being pitch black, their eyes met as she took a deep breath in, tracing her long fingers down the middle of his chest, under his boxers, thumb circling the head of a very rigid cock, leaking tiny drops of precum already. He didn’t even try to mask his pleasure, moaning loudly as she stroked his length, hardening quickly at her touch. 

He straddled her, nestling his length between the warm, soft folds of her cunt, slowly dragging his cock up and down, both of them deriving pleasure from the teasing. With one hand entangled in her thick mane of hair and the other gently sliding off her thong, her pulse quickened. She knew she was trapped, as much physically as psychologically. Every bit of tension she’d been holding in her body evaporated, and she felt herself submit fully to this gorgeous stranger who she suddenly wanted to badly to possess. She couldn’t have left this moment if she wanted to.

She took his beautiful face in her hands and kissed him so deeply, it resonated all the way to her core. Any stress she’d been carrying left her body, leaving her no choice but to submit to this man who clearly knew what he was doing. As she nuzzled his neck, breathing him in, he responded with deeper moans, threatening to enter her hole but not quite giving in to her deep desire. She beckoned him into her by circling her hips and grinding into him, whispering, bluntly, “Please, give me your cock.”

He startled her by releasing his grip completely. He grabbed her wrists, which were until that point playfully tracing long lines up and down his sides, his chest, his hips. With his eyes locked on her, he removed his tie and bound her wrists together, then, raising her arms outstretched overhead, affixed the loose end to a hook that just so happened to be on the back of the door. 

His hands traced long lines from the tip of her outstretched wrists, around the curve of her breasts, which he paused to nibble and suck, along her hip, and down her thigh. His touch made her shiver with desire; his flat palm working its way back up her body warmed her slightly. He smirked when he noticed the chills covering her arms.

He dropped to his knees to taste her, tongue gliding expertly between glistening folds, thick fingers inserted deep inside her. She cried out as she came around him, desperate for more. 

Sensing her desperation, feeling his own mounting desire rising from within, he stood up, clutched her hips, planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, and plunged deep inside her. She felt her legs buckle beneath her, already succumbing to the force of his thrusts. 

This wasn’t just a quick fuck for her. This was a conquest. She’d been owned. Taken. Filled and stretched in ways she didn’t know she wanted. 

They kissed as if they’d been lovers forever. Tongues playing in time with each thrust of his hips, she felt him harden even more inside her and knew he was close by the increasing speed of his probing. Little did he know, she relished the feeling of being ravaged, and he was fulfilling her desires instinctively. 

With nothing to do but give in to her wants, she cried out as she came, hard, squeezing his cock from deep inside, milking every last drop of cum out of him. He shuddered at his own release, filling her cunt with his cum, lingering for a few minutes, holding her naked body close to his as he whispered what a good girl she was for taking his cock so well. She beamed with pride, and as he untied her, she wrapped her own arms around him in thanks.