New York Aristocrats Ch 01

This is my first story to enter into Literotica. Enjoy. :)

Vanessa sat in the booth of the cruddy diner, chewing upon a plastic straw that sprouted from a Styrofoam cup. She had carved her initials in it earlier, out of boredom, still waiting to meet Darius. With a roll of her wrist, her watch turned over, the face of it up.

'1:12...' A disappointed look crossed her face. He wasn't going to show. It made her cheeks burn, and her anger flair. 'What a surprise,' she thought rueful manner. Letting the straw slip from the grip of her jaw, she picked up her fork, and prodded a bit at the small salad that lay in front of her.

The waitress walked up, not for the second, but fifth time. It was almost like the guys in the back had a bet over if she'd get stood up. Whoever voted against her won. With a vehement thrust of her napkin upon her plate, the woman shoved herself from the booth, throwing down a fifty. Overpaying, yes, I do believe so. But it didn't matter for Vanessa; she had a big trust fund with her name on it.

Vanessa knew how to play off confidence… It oozed out of ever step she took, and every flip of her hair as she looked over at something. The men behind the counter, clad in their grease-covered aprons fell silent as the young woman walked by, simply staring. After she passed, out of the corner of her eyes, she caught one elbowing the other, only for one to strip off his apron, and run after her.

So, Vanessa walked faster. She was not about to be caught socializing with some chef from the scraggiest eatery in downtown.

"WAIT UP!?" The man shouted, only to watch her hail a taxi. When seeing her slip into the cab, he stopped in his tracks, her purse clutched in his hands. "Shit…" He could always go through it?

'Fuck this,' she thought, bitterly flipping open her cell to see if she had any new text messages. Her hand flew to the back of the passenger seat as the cab jerked to a stop. "What the hell?" She murmured, listening to the cabby on his own cell while eyeing her up in the mirror. "Watch the road, dumb ass…" She murmured, whilst angrily punching in her boyfriend's number, waiting for it to start ringing, not even thinking about the lack of the purse upon her form.

---

Slow, soft caresses made the secretary upon the boss's desk go crazy. Ms Elizabeth Brown was clinging to the man who employed her, while he 'went to work' over his lunch break.

"No… We have to stop…" Her soft murmurs were lost upon him, he was already sliding his fingertips under her long skirt, hiking it up, and grabbing her ass. Pulling her to the edge in mindless lust, he simply growled at her. He had no idea the effect he had upon Elizabeth. All pleas of reason were lost as she tugged his hips closer to him, trailing her fingertips over a certain something.

A mug of stale, cold coffee was tipped over onto the desk as he peeled back her shirt, blatantly fucking his secretary, who's moans were harder and harder to control with his palm pressed against her pouted lips.

As if it wasn't like everyone else in the office were oblivious. How many times can one secretary go into the Boss's room to double check records? ~*~ With a resolute zip, Darius pulled up the bottoms of his caramel-colored Gucci suit. "FUCK!" He grumbled, wiping furiously at a huge coffee stain. He tried to tune out Elizabeth's giggling. God, she annoyed him. Maybe if he could duct tape her lips shut permanently, he would fall in love.

"I think we just did!" With a small smile, she grabbed his cock rather firmly, causing Mister Boss Man to jump and swat at her. Her eyes went wide as she struggled to pull up her cotton underwear, with small pink hearts on it. "Sorry…" She blinked.

"I'll see you later." With that, Darius swept out of the office, pausing only to seize his suit jacket, and black briefcase.

Elizabeth was left sitting on the desk, feeling stupid and used, yet again. She jumped while the door slammed shut, even the blinds on the door clanking against the glass. Miss Brown silently vowed to not let him do her like that again. But, she loved him. The blue-eyed blond innocent couldn't help that, she wanted him badly, and knew she could get him to herself.

---

"Yea, I know; she just ran, dude." The crisp New York accent was apparent in Vincent's voice: What could he say? Son of the biggest mob in 'York, he had no worries. He worked in the cover business for the family, even finding in time he had become a great chef, and loved it too. Slipping a hair right through his curly locks, violet eyes drifted over to the counter. "She acted like a snob."

His brother, Antony, responded with a snort. "Did you look in the purse? I wouldn't care if a bitch was a snob like that. Hit it an' move on. I say you give her a call, man." He nudged his brother's ribs once more, as he did earlier, offering him a few winks full of sexual innuendos.

"Nah… I'm not into that.. Stacy…" He found himself unable to complete the sentence. Too many emotions threatened to burst forth, as they had for months now. Clearing his throat, he covered with a soft growl, "She was a whore."

With a sympathetic pat upon Vincent's back, Antony moved back to the skillet, and yanked it around on the burner a bit before eyeing the forlorn Coach purse, laying upon the counter. "Lets just find out her name. If you aren't gonna give her a call, I fuckin' will." With a snort of laughter, he shoved his hands on the edge of the stove, and thrust his hips into it a couple times, smirking at his brother.

"Nah…" For her own safety, he'd look. Leaving a beautiful woman alone with Antony's hormone-driven antics would result in either a rape or one fucked up night.

With Antony's back turned, Vincent slipped Vanessa's wallet from the purse, closing it quickly. Pick-pocketing skills came in handy in NY. Vincent found a cheap thrill in it, as he did when he was looking at the ID, complete with address, phone number, and last name.

"Guess I cant just leave this beautiful purse here?" He reasoned, looked towards the phone, and shrugged it off. She could wait, the way she brushed him off, she could wait at least two or three hours, if not days.

---

"Darius Smith speaking." Was all the man said after answering his cell phone, keeping it propped between a shoulder and his firm jaw as he drove across the central expressway in the Bentley. Soft classical music played from the speakers, the -very- expensive speakers he had installed by a friend of a friend. The car was, in many aspects, his baby. His pride, joy, and love was completely wrapped up into this car.

He nearly wrecked it when he heard a flourish of obscenities pass through the line. "DAMN---…Vanessa?" Thick, dark brows lifted in unison as he struggled to get the car back steady. Ignoring the honks of the cars about him, he glared intensely through the glass window. "The fuck. Chill, baby." He smirked to himself, easing his car to a stop. Rush hour traffic's a bitch.

His hand rested against his knee, right upon the coffee stain. He'd have to see if he could drop it off at the dry cleaners. Or he could make Elizabeth.

"Chill? I just got -ditched-. Where were you today?" Her voice crackled through the phone, sounding only about half as livid as it would face-to-face.

He adjusted his mirror, car now at a full stop. Picking at his straight teeth, he flashed himself a winning smile. "Oh, baby…" he crooned, as if he forgot the whole thing. "I had a huge board meeting beforehand. I couldn't even get away for a phone call. Forgive me?" Darius's voice was so sincere--and sexy-- it was hard for Vanessa to resist.

A few long seconds passed, before she responded with a slow, "Oh… I'm sorry to have yelled then."

"You aren't any help for my migraine problems, Van." Darius grumbled like a self-possessed child, yanking his car off onto the feeder, and closer to the shared apartment. "So, what's for dinner?" A smirk curled at his lips as his painfully sexy eyes shifted into the mirror once more. Oh yea, he was a stud. He ignored the aggravated sigh on the other end, murmuring his goodbyes, snapping the phone closed. ~*~ "Ugh," was all Vanessa said as she slammed down the receiver. It was amazing how much one man could drive her crazy in so many ways at once. If it weren't for her fucking hormones she wouldn't put up with that self-absorbed shit. "Dinner, my ass…" She glowered, opening the fridge while kicking off her Jimmy Choo shoes, ass sticking up in the air as she grabbed out a frozen dinner. What was the use of her eating one when she'd throw it up again, half an hour later?

The cell phone that lay upon the counter started to spin as it vibrated and rang, calling out for Vanessa's loving attentions. She picked it up mindlessly, cooing out a sexy, "I'm making dinner for you, baby."

Only, it wasn't who she expected it to be. First off, there was Italian music in the background of the call, while the caller stood quiet in bewilderment. She pulled the small Razor from her ear, and looked at the screen. 'Carolli's Country Italian'? Eyes widened. Oh shit. That was were she ate at lunch.

"Uh," she stammered, fingertips pulling up to hold onto the counter edge. "Sorry.. I thought you were.. Someone else." But who exactly was this? This sprang into her mind next. "Who the hell is this?" Vanessa looked towards the revolving plate of food in the microwave as she reached for her purse. Fingertips closed empty. What the… She wailed out into the phone accusingly. "I want my purse back now, you fucking mugger!"

'Damn,' Vincent blinked as he held the cell phone away from his own ear. He was glad he didn't ask his mother to call, or something. His mother would lapse back into another fit like she did after watching The Exorcism, holing herself up in a confessional booth in the local Roman Catholic Church. After she finally gave him a chance to speak, be replied softly. "I didn't steal your purse." He found himself growing angry at her ungratefulness. Was this woman -always- this way? It was a shame if she did. "I didn't mug you," he was practically hissing back to her in the phone, "Want it back, or not? My sister's always had an eye for Coach purses." He smirked as he leaned against the wall. Her sharp intake of breath was enough to satisfy him for her transgressions earlier. "I take that as a yes."

Vanessa nodded, only to be reminded she indeed was upon a phone. "Oh. Yea. Drop it off at the Excelsior, between Columbus and Central Park." With that, she slowly, and begrudgingly continued. "Uh. Thanks." With that, she snapped the phone closed.

Masculine hands grabbed at Vanessa's hips while keys were tossed upon the counter, causing her to yelp. "MOTHER FUCKER!" She tried to elbow the man, who, turned out to be Darius.

"The fuck… I get jumped in my own hotel room, too?" He grumbled grumpily, and sulked over to the microwave. "I thought I smelled something like burning plastic. You should cook for me, Van. I work all day long to put you in those tiny ass skirts of yours."

Vanessa simply hit the stop button, and yanked the steaming, warped plastic tray out, and shoved it on the counter. "Shut up." She looked down, pouting into the contents of unidentifiable previously flash-frozen food. This is what she skipped college for. This is what she left her house for.

That's what she got for moving right in with her high school sweetheart. Except he was twice her age. They didn't get along on many levels, but there was one they met each other in extraordinarily.

Hips pushed up against one another, nudging the shitty tray of 'healthy' food back father on the counter. Darius was rather insightful when it came to quick changes in mood. Forest green eyes sparkled beneath a thick fringe of lashes as he nudged his nose against Vanessa's cheek. She shifted her arms about his neck.

They kissed softly, tenderly, while the microwave meal was forgotten and cooling. Darius was not one to be anticipated. The next thing she new, Vanessa was being dragged over onto the couch, sinking down into it as Darius's weight joined her own, lower body grinding up against Vanessa. The woman's legs moved to accommodate, wrapping about his hips, and lifting lightly against his own. A soft, slow groan passed her lips. Yea.. That right there--That's why she stayed with him. He ruthlessly tore the front of her thin tank top, splitting it raggedly as a display of his almost animal-like passion. Rough, needy lips dragged against the woman's sloping breasts, each beautiful swell heaving up against Darius's talented mouth.

The soft light that illuminated the hotel room was low-toned and rather orangey in color. It caught trails of saliva that the man had left upon Vanessa's chest, sparkling in the light, pink nipples hardening as their hips grinded more frantically. Hands beneath him worked at his pants, the woman moaning at the sensation of the hard cock pressing up against her.

"Now…" Was all Vanessa could force herself to say.

Like Darius had to be told twice. Vanessa was swiftly undressed, hips lifted, and cock ramming in, making her eyes roll back, and lips part, groaning about how big he was. With an egotistical smirk, Darius continued playing with Vanessa's pink little nipples, thrusting in and out slowly at his leisure. He slowly looked up at her, she was so easy to please. He could read her like a book. She was close, he could tell by just looking at how she bit her lip. Amazing. He didn't even have to work hard. Fuck that, thought Darius with a growl, biting down hard upon her breast.

With a yelp, Vanessa dragged her nails into Darius's back, causing claw marks to occur, and blood to soon follow. Sliding out, he carelessly shoved her naked form over, to where that peachy ass of hers was shoved into the air enticingly before him.

With a hand holding up her hips, and the other guiding his slick bareback cock in, he slowly slid in, letting her feel all of him. One, he felt her tense, two, three, Vanessa began to push back, seven, eight, she was clenching the pillow, and nine, she was shaking with pleasure and about to cry. He loved that.

Just when he was about to fuck her brain out, the buzzer sounded. With an aggravated growl, he pulled out slowly, leaving the head of his cock inside her tight pussy. He nearly died at the feeling. Vanessa was the best ass he ever got. He ignored it, and Vanessa was off in her own little world, biting down upon the couch pillow, trying to push her hips back upon his thick cock.

One last time the buzzer rang before someone obviously gave up. And there it was: Darius slammed his cock back into Vanessa, holding her hips tightly in his hands, pausing to grind. He loved how animalistic it was, to take a beautiful pink pussy from behind. Hips dragging against her ass, he marveled in the onslaught of sensations, hands abandoning their place at her hips, and slipping about her tight little body, groping, slipping and sliding.

][ To Be Continued ][