by Dark Angel
“You did it to get me away from the Governor?” she asks.
“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice, did you? You ran away from me, Isobel. Don’t ever do that again,” I say to her sternly, meaning every word.
She shakes out her hair, and I just watch, wanting to touch her, to go to her, to crush her beneath the weight of my body.
“You know I’d never been kissed before tonight?” she says lightly.
I can believe it. Her father’s had her chained up within that skyscraper for as long as I can remember. I’d hear stories of Isobel Capulet and how beautiful she is, but I never dreamed it could be true, that she could be so...fucking perfect.
“And so? Was it worth the wait?” I say, taking a seat on her bed.
The place is outfitted perfectly. It’s opulent, but that’s the Montague way.
She ignores my question and says, “Turn around so I can change.”
Is this it? Is she forgiving me now?
I don’t turn around. My gaze is set on her, and I make sure she knows it.
“Don’t run from me again, Isobel. Let me see you,” I say, knowing that the moment I truly capture her is upon us.
She walks toward me. The sexual tension is more apparent than ever. There’s no escaping this thing we have.
Her long blonde hair is wet, and it drips onto my pants. I stare up into her crystal blue eyes.
There’s no going back.
I run my hands up her thighs. I pull the robe down off her body, and her perfect tits come into view, constrained only by the flimsy lace bra she’s wearing.
She says, “Why did you have to kiss me like that and make me fall in love?”
“Love? How can you love me? You don’t even know me,” I say, brushing off her comment like it’s not even true, like I don’t also feel the raging torrent of emotions that she brings down upon me.
“Don’t you want me?” she says, taking my hand and sliding it up her torso, across her flat stomach that trembles to my touch, then to her breasts.
I clutch at her bra and yank it off. Her beautiful tits are almost more than I can bear.
I become hungry. Hungrier than ever before.
Pulling her toward me, I take a handful of her tits and slam her down on the bed where I can finally have my way with her.
I kiss her nipples and tease them with my tongue, devouring her all too quickly.
It’s hard to hold back. She can and will be my little slave forever. I’ll have her begging for it and running no more.
She cries out softly but tangles her fingers through my hair as if that could stop me. There’s no going back now. She’s mine.
“But, Tristan, how can this work? A Capulet and a Montague? We’ll both be disowned.”
“Fuck them,” is all I say as I growl my way down her belly to her tender sweetness. “You’re a virgin, right?”
She sits up and attempts to stop me. “Tristan, I’m serious. We could die from this.”
I stare into her eyes and find a sincerity there that’s compelling.
“Baby, why don’t you let me worry about them, and you just worry about giving me this moment?”
The gravity of the situation has been weighing on my shoulders since the moment I took her. I know she’s right, of course.
Once her father finds out that it’s me who has her, he’ll go on a killing spree like never before. We are in danger. I put her in danger.
But I can’t imagine it’s any worse than what she’d have to experience being with the Governor.
I make an internal note to see that he dies for almost taking this sacred moment, her virginity, from me.
“Tristan, we can’t. It can’t be...”
“Love?” I say the word before she can. “It is love, Isobel. I feel it, too, and now I’m going to devour you and show you just how it feels to be loved by a Montague.”
“Tristan, this can’t be real. This can’t be happening,” she says.
I pull her towards me and deliver her a kiss like no other, one that she’ll remember for the rest of her life.
I scrape my teeth along her bottom lip, and I taste her. She moans a little into my mouth.
I look into her blue eyes that suddenly seem a shade or two deeper.
“It’s real, Isobel. I felt it from the first moment I laid eyes on you. It’s love or lust or eternal desire, whatever you want to call it. But I’m fucking obsessed with you. You are mine. And I promise you that you can trust me.”
She peers up at me from under her long lashes, and all I can think of is how desirable she looks.
I put my hand between her legs and spread them out. I kiss her the whole time, trying to assure her. I’m intending to make this a nice first experience for her.
I won’t be too rough because I know the pain of taking in all twelve inches of me will be enough.
Sliding my hand down between her legs makes her shiver, and that excites me more than anything. I can tell I make her nervous. She should be nervous.
I finger her pussy nice and slow at first. I circle her clit with my thumb, and she looks like she might explode already.
That’s my girl.
I kiss her mouth, her neck, her tits, everything.
“Isobel Capulet, you fucking princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” she objects as I glide my tongue down between her breasts.
“You’re my princess,” I say darkly, trailing kisses down her skin.
She gets wetter by the second, and it’s hard to contain my throbbing erection, but I do. I’m going to make this last for as long as possible. It’s not every day you get to deflower the Capulet heiress.
My lips make contact with her innermost thighs, and she cries out my name.
“Tristan, no, I’m not ready.”
“You’re ready, baby,” I say in hot breaths that make her open to me more.
I finger the walls of her swollen pussy and find her G-spot. She’s clawing at my hair, arms, and shoulders.
I run my lips over her clit, and she begs me to stop.
“Tristan, I just can’t. It’s too much.”
I keep going, knowing her statements are veiled attempts to escape the impossible, my consumption of her.
It takes about two more seconds for her to give in to the furious passion that’s enveloping both of us.
I feel her come before she says it. She cries my name, but her pussy clenches down around my fingers so they can hardly move.
This little virgin is so fucking tight, and I realize what a moment this is.
I’m her first. And her last.
She comes hard, and I take the opportunity to graze my fingers along the walls of her too tight cunt, drawing out the sensations. I kiss her and suck away all of the juices, tasting her essence and dying to know it more.
I need my baby to be nice and wet, wetter than ever before. She needs to be warmed up if she’s going to take in my thick twelve-inch cock. I’m about to deflower her virgin pussy—and trust me, I know what a great responsibility that is.
15
Isobel
His touch sends fire racing through my skin.
Sparks burn through me in a manic blaze.
Every touch of his fingers, every flick of his tongue, and I’m burning up and I can’t find it in me to mind.
I never knew that anything could be as intense as the pleasure racing through me now.
One moment I’m unthinking, lost in it completely. The next I’m so overwhelmed, I feel the need to run away.
How much can I possibly take?
No one’s ever touched me the way Tristan is now.
No one has ever looked at me with the fire presently burning through his green eyes.
I feel ready to collapse under that gaze.
This man is more than I ever thought a person capable of being.
With every movement, with every touch, he’s showing me that I am as well.
I scream his name as another orgasm rips through
me, my legs shaking frantically around his head.
“God, Tristan!” I moan in equal parts shock and amazement.
His tongue only moves faster as I come, knocking the wind from my lungs in a rush.
I’m left breathless in its wake, floating mindlessly in nirvana.
“Yes, say my name again,” he says, his tone edging on an order.
I feel his teeth nip at my inner thigh, stinging the flesh where they come in contact.
I do as he says, his name leaving my lips in a breathless cry.
He stands, looking down at me with hunger in his eyes.
The murky green of his gaze washes over me, seeming to take in every inch, and his lips pull back into a lustful smile.
“Put your head on the pillow,” he says, his voice husky with lust.
My body quivers at the thought of what’s to come, but I book no argument.
I turn from him, slowly crawling the length of the oversized bed.
I feel his eyes on me the entire time, the knowledge of his gaze causing me to move slower. I love that he’s watching me; chills race through my skin at the thought.
I reach the head of the bed and rise to my knees, head turning to find him.
“Lie down,” he tells me.
My obedience comes easily at his command; I don’t even think of questioning him.
Some far-removed part of my mind is screaming that it’s insanity to trust a man you’ve just met. One more glance at Tristan sends it scampering into silence.
Insanity or not, I do trust him.
I feel safer in this room with him than I ever have with any man before.
My own home felt like a tomb compared to the energy that I feel here. It pours off him in waves. His power, his passion.
My heart soars at the sight of him, a feeling that’s utterly strange within my chest.
I feel a love more powerful than I thought possible.
More still, I see it returned in his eyes.
He looks at me now, emotion rolling off him, his face a testament to words both profound and unspoken.
My mind fills with only him.
My body aches at the distance between us.
Whatever reservations built within me turn to ash, and I lay myself down in the center of the bed.
My eyes are glued firmly to him.
Outside, the rain continues to fall. It patters fast and hard against the windows and the terrace door.
It slides down the glass, warping what little moonlight manages to make its way inside.
The ghostly images of its descent play across his skin, mingling with the candlelight to shroud him in an ethereal glow.
He looks more than human in this moment, more than just a man.
He is the embodiment of beauty and power, a shining beacon for me to cling to.
I’ve never known true desire until now.
I need him in a way that’s all but incomprehensible, my body trembling in the depths of my longing.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, drawing my attention back to his mouth. “I mean fuck, Isobel. You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I’m not a stranger to compliments. I’ve been called beautiful before. The words have never meant anything to me; they’re just words after all.
Hearing them come from his mouth is another experience entirely, though.
I feel beautiful, and all the more so because he believes it.
“I need you,” I say, meaning it.
I need him in so many ways. I need to feel him, to touch him.
Most of all, I needed him to do what he already did, draw me kicking and screaming from my own worst nightmare.
I needed him to save me. I need him to save me still.
He reaches down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it quickly over his head.
My eyes greedily drink in his exposed flesh, trailing from his collar bone to his sculpted abs, his defined pecs and strong arms.
Every inch of him is carved with strength, making me feel smaller just for being in his presence.
He unbuckles his belt with deft hands, eyes never leaving me as he does.
My breath catches in my throat as he slides them down, freeing himself before me.
I scan the length of him.
He’s absolutely massive. His cock is throbbing before me. His size leaves me equal parts terrified and thrilled.
I quiver all over again at the sight of him.
Instead of climbing onto the bed, he turns to the chair behind him, picking up a silk tie that’s been casually strewn across it.
“Put your hands above your head,” he tells me.
I do, looking into his eyes as I obey.
My mind turns to the first time I saw him, to the darkened corner of the lobby.
I can practically feel his hands around my wrists, the intense powerlessness I felt at their touch.
I breathe deeply, calming the emotions that race through me at the thought.
He walks around the side of the bed, looking down at me from his vantage point.
I feel his hands on my wrists, pushing them together. The tie slides around them, delicate fabric caressing my sensitive skin.
I feel as it begins to tighten and look up to watch.
He binds my wrists tightly, securing them to the headboard with practiced hands.
I give them a tug, experimenting with the length.
The constraint leaves me feeling utterly powerless, and I wonder at the spark that spreads through me at the thought of it.
I turn to find his eyes. They pierce me in question.
I answer with my own, my chest heaving in anticipation.
He walks slowly back to the foot of the bed, looking me over slowly, as if admiring his handy work.
I bite my tongue to keep from rushing him.
The simple truth, though, is I’m half-crazy with impatience.
I don’t think I can go another second without feeling his hands on me, without tasting him again. My mind races as fast as my pulse, yearning for him.
Finally, he climbs onto the bed, crawling across my lithe form.
His mouth finds mine in a rush, the kiss hard and frantic. I kiss him back with equal desire, the taste of his tongue making me groan in pleasure.
His hand finds my breast, kneading and pinching with expert precision. My nipples stand unbelievably hard in the dim lighting, and I feel myself growing wetter by the second.
He slips a hand between my legs, touching me more fiercely than he did before, eliciting a moan of pure desire.
“Spread your legs,” he tells me.
I gladly obey.
He rises to his knees, my own now on either side of him.
My skin is flushed with heat. I feel energy whirl throughout me, driving me to madness.
“Tristan...” I start, unable to keep myself from begging any longer.
“Shhh,” he tells me. “Don’t talk.”
I close my mouth, biting down hard to keep the words from spilling free.
Between my legs, he’s rock hard.
His cock is bigger than anything I’ve ever imagined.
I don’t know much about sex, having never had the opportunity to learn.
I know without question though that I absolutely need him inside of me. It’s all I can do to stop myself from telling him so.
From the look on his face, I’d say he already knows.
He takes his time in taunting me, kissing the length of one thigh, his eyes never leaving mine. His teeth flash out, biting at my skin, his tongue tasting me.
I grind my teeth in frustration, my eyes straying to his cock every other moment.
His lips pull away from my leg.
“Look at me,” he says, turning to once again hover over me.
I stare into his eyes as he lowers himself on top of me, the forest green pulling me in yet again.
I know by the new look in his eyes that the moment has finally come.
He stares at
me possessively. His look says that I am his, no one else’s. It says he is claiming me.
I want him to.
I need him to.
I feel his hips slide between my legs.
I feel the pressure of his enormous cock pressing against me.
He looks back into my eyes as he starts to slide himself into me.
The pressure makes me gasp, pain and pleasure mingling inside of me.
“Tristan,” I choke out, this time without being silenced.
“Isobel,” he answers, the words sounding like prayer.
He slides deeper into me, and I cry out, my every nerve coming ablaze.
The pain is negligible. It’s the pleasure that sends me into panic.
I breathe hard, my legs tightening around him as he pushes himself deeper into my pussy.
He is endless, each inch sending white-hot electricity racing through me.
I gasp, I moan, I shake at the contact, my body clenching hard against him.
I cry out as he enters me completely, a yell tearing its way from me in my utter ecstasy as he begins to thrust in earnest.
I pull tightly on my restraints, overcome with the desire to touch him.
He slides into me, slowly at first, gaining speed by the second.
“Isobel,” he chants.
My name has never sounded sweeter than it does coming from his mouth.
I lift my hips from the bed, frantically trying to match his movements with my own. I grind against him, driving him ever deeper into me.
A fire begins to build in my core, its flames leaping out to singe me entirely.
Sounds I never knew myself capable of making find their way into my lips. Feral, primal. The intensity of the moment is stunning me.
I push against him, clenching around the length of him as I do.
I hear him groan in response.
“Fuck, Isobel,” he chokes out.
He increases his speed, shoving himself deeply into me.
Still, I want him more, so I thrust even harder in response.
The fire in me is building. I feel it growing larger by the second.
It races through me, stunning me with its infernal heat.
I redouble my efforts, driving him as deep into me as I possibly can, my thighs clenching around him furiously.