After that show, I hang around the fringes, watching her closely. I missed my chance last night, just because I felt like teasing her a bit, but I’m not about to lose it again tonight.
When she’s tired and decides to leave, I don’t waste any time. I call up the car and escort her out, staying close as we push through the screaming fans waiting around back, just hoping for a glimpse.
She hesitates and signs a few autographs, which I didn’t expect. I don’t like it, but, hell, it’s nice. And these are young girls, too, screaming and flustered and excited. Katie smiles despite how tired she seems and when she’s done, we get into the car and head back to the hotel.
“You didn’t have to stop, you know,” I say to her after a few minutes of driving.
She looks surprised. “What, for those girls?”
I nod sharply. “Not safe, stopping like that.”
She looks confused. “But they’re just little girls. And they’re my fans. I don’t want to disappoint them.”
I grunt a little. “You think you owe them all autographs?”
“Sure,” she says, shrugging. “I mean, all I have to do is write my name on some paper and they’re happy. So why not?”
“Not everyone thinks like that.”
“I know.” She sighs. “Lots of people are assholes, you know.”
“True enough,” I say, grinning. “I’ve seen a few assholes in my time.”
“I bet you’re very familiar.”
I grin again at her but I let it drop. I keep thinking about those girls out there, just waiting, and Katie stopping to sign all their stuff. I wouldn’t have expected that from her, but shit, she’s been fooling my expectations a lot lately, so shows what I fucking know.
Back at the hotel, we ride the elevator up to our floor. I’m next to her room again, and I walk her back to her door.
She glances back at me. “Night, Graham.” She swipes her card to unlock it.
I step forward and gently grab her wrist. “Wait,” I say softly.
She looks back at me, clearly surprised. I turn her, pressing her back against the hotel room door, hands on her hips.
“Where was this last night?” she asks softly.
“I felt like teasing you, but I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She bites her lip and looks away. “Do you know how many rooms I’ve ever gone to like that?”
“I bet it’s not many.”
“It’s none.”
My heart leaps in my chest. I lean down and kiss her neck softly. “But you came to mine.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair. “And it’s not for your sparkling personality.”
“You love my personality, princess. I’m the only one talking truth to you.”
She laughs darkly. “That might be true.”
I kiss her lips nice and hard, tongue rolling against her tongue, taking in her taste. I breathe in through my nose and push her back against the door. This time, I take her card, swipe it, and open the door.
We stumble back into her room, still kissing. I turn on a light and pull her shirt off. She pulls off mine as we stumble through her sitting room. I grab her hair tight and kiss her again before unhooking her bra.
She has these perfect, perky little breasts, her pink nipples hard under my fingers. I groan a little as I tease her, kissing her neck, biting her lower lip. She moans into my mouth and I push her back, making her stumble as she falls back onto the bed.
I walk over to her and roughly grab her jeans, tugging them off. She gasps as I tear them down her legs and throw them aside. She tries to sit up, but I shove her back down again, ripping her panties down her legs and letting them drop onto the floor.
“That’s what I wanted,” I whisper, looking down at my spoiled princess, completely naked before me. “Look at you, stripped down. You’re not a princess anymore, are you?”
She bites her lip as I kneel down in front of her, spreading her legs. I tease her wet little pussy with my fingers, dipping them into her soaked spot, rolling around her clit. I kiss her breasts, teasing her nipple with my tongue.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “When was I ever a princess?”
“Back there,” I say, pressing my fingers deep inside, making her groan. “They treat you like a fucking pretty bird, only there to be watched. But you ain’t just a fragile little animal, are you?”
“No,” she whispers.
I press my fingers in harder, deeper. “No, not at all.” I grab her hair with my other hand, fucking her pussy with my fingers. “You like it rough, you like the hurt. You like calling me fucking Daddy, don’t you?”
“Oh, god,” she whispers, eyes closed.
“Go ahead, princess. Call me Daddy.”
“Graham,” she moans.
“Don’t say my name. Call me fucking Daddy.”
“Fuck,” she moans as my fingers push deeper and harder inside her. “Daddy, oh, god, Daddy.”