12 Days: A Dark Reverse Harem Christmas Romance

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12 Days: A Dark Reverse Harem Christmas Romance Page 138

by Dark Angel


  All I know is I’m standing there, like an idiot about to kiss fucking Daphne and I’m mumbling Alicia’s fucking name.

  Fuck me.

  Daphne’s eyes are wide. She’s studying me. I know I’ve fucked up and for once, I don’t have a fucking one-liner or a comeback.

  I’m ready to take this – however it comes. Bring the fucking pain.

  But I don’t get a chance to. The door opens and Sam and Pressly walk in. They’re carrying two suitcases each.

  “Where should we put Miss Daphne’s clothes, Your Highness?” Pressly asks.

  I don’t answer at first, but Daphne clears her throat and moves backwards. Our moment is done. It’s gone. Destroyed by yours truly. With his fucking anti-Midas touch.

  “I’ll take them,” Daphne says as she leads Sam and Pressly to the first guest room in the hallway.

  All I can do is watch her luscious fucking ass sway as she walks away.

  I feel like a fucking idiot. Most likely because I am.

  Alicia

  As much as I hate to admit it, Derrick’s place is so much nicer than mine.

  I mean, I always knew no matter where he lived was going to be luxurious. But I almost jump for joy when Mike tells me over the phone that he doesn’t want me coming in for a few days but to stay at home. “Besides, it sounds like you’re not far from your target anyways,” Mike says.

  Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. After Derrick’ guys brought my suitcases in, I started unpacking in the guest room. I’m going to be staying here for a little bit.

  You want to know something? You can’t tell anyone, okay?

  Well, here goes.

  So, I stayed in the guest room and focused on packing the whole afternoon. Derrick came by a few times but I pretended to be busy. But, the truth is, it was a lot easier to stay in the guest room because I wouldn’t have to face him. I wouldn’t have to face what was going on inside of me.

  I mean, can you blame me? How messed up is this situation? Here’s a guy who’s a Prince. He’s an arrogant jerk. An asshole. And I somehow had the misfortune of growing up with him. So I got out of the country and went to college to get on with my life. Only I didn’t do a good job because I ended up dating a guy that cheated on me. Then I broke up with him. But then my apartment got ransacked. So I moved in (temporarily) with the asshole. Only I’m lying to him and pretending to be a stripper. Named Daphne. So I can write about his dirt.

  But it doesn't end there. I almost kissed him outside a few hours ago! And I would have, if he hadn’t held himself back.

  And said my name.

  My real name.

  Alicia.

  When he told me that I reminded him of someone, I didn’t believe him at first. Then he said my name. I know, I know. Go ahead and roll your eyes. He was basically telling me I reminded him of myself.

  Is he really thinking of me? Has he really been thinking of me? This whole time?

  I mean, it's an understatement to say the man is easy on the eyes. That strong jawline of his, his luxurious hair, hell, the entire package.

  Actually, speaking of package, I’ve had quite a number of times to check it out. Whether it's when he was showing me around the apartment, or when he came by as I was unpacking.

  It looks just as large in person as it does on television.

  I mean, come on, this guy is a Greek god when it comes to his body. The only thing that kept me from having my panties melt whenever I even thought of him was knowing that at least he was a real asshole.

  But from jumping in the water to save a little boy, to coming to my rescue as well, he’s anything but an asshole. He’s a real life Prince.

  And after that almost-kiss, I might as well have jumped in the water too – that’s how wet my panties are…

  Uhmm, just a little, I mean. Not like a lot, or anything. I’m not falling for him or anything, okay?

  I mean, think about it. He doesn’t even know that I’m really Alicia. He doesn’t know I work for a gossip column in a tabloid newspaper. That I’ve been lying to him. I wonder what will happen if he ever figures that out?

  I mean, I’m not lying about everything. I told him about how a few days ago I discovered Jake had been cheating on me. He told me a bit about how he’s been on his own basically in New York since he moved here. And then finally left a few hours ago to go work out at his gym across the street. I shudder when I think of him doing deadlifts, straining his bulging muscles, and having his testosterone enlarge his monster cock.

  I shake my head vigorously, trying to get these thoughts out of my head.

  Just because he’s come picked me up when I was in danger doesn’t make him my hero. I need to remember that. Stop lusting. I’m supposed to be the good girl, remember? I don’t do these things. I’m not supposed to have melted panties. I’m supposed to be responsible.

  And that’s when I hear Derrick come into the apartment.

  Everything I had told myself goes out my brain the moment he walks to the threshold of my door. He’s got a smirk. He’s also shirtless, wearing just a pair of basketball shorts.

  I try not to stare at the tattoos that grace his body. They take a warrior’s body and make it into a dangerous looking work of art. My spine tingles in unrequited lust as he hands me a package. It’s a black plastic bag.

  “For you, love,” he says with a smirk.

  “What is it?” I ask, taken aback.

  “I think it’ll help with all the adrenaline you have going through your body,” he says. “It’ll take an edge off.”

  He’s grinning and I open the bag.

  “Since there's no more Jake, it's something to get you through the long nights,” he says.

  I take the package and open it, and I don’t know what to say.

  It’s a set of two clamps. I eye them for a bit and read the packaging. But it doesn’t dawn on me that until I see the picture.

  These are nipple clamps. They show a picture that shows a woman with the clamps, and the box shows her getting an electric buzzing.

  Next to it is a small vibrator bullet. And next to that is a wireless remote.

  Oh. My. God.

  What do I do? What do I say? I’m holding these two packages and I don’t know what to do here.

  “What is all this,” I ask, deciding that confusion is easier to use to hide my embarrassment.

  Derrick simply shrugs. "I figured it would help you, love."

  “Help me do what?” I ask again. What is he thinking? Just because he looks so delicious and gets my mind all twisted he can give me these…these sex toys for presents?!

  “It’ll give you all the pleasure you need, love,” Derrick says with a smile. “Without ever having to deal with a man again.”

  Oh. My. God. Again, I’m speechless.

  Who the hell does he think he is? That because I pretended to be a stripper that makes me a prostitute?!

  I throw the package on the bed.

  “Gross!” I yell out loud. “I barely know you!”

  “Okay, Daphne, love, listen to me okay,” Derrick says and comes inside my room. Oh God, I can smell his musk. His sweat. His scent. It’s heady and it fogs my brain with desire.

  Derrick continues, “You’ve been with this guys for what? 6 months? You’re going to get fucking lonely. And you don’t want to go back to relationship that you know is shit because your body has needs, okay?”

  “So what if I could take care of it myself?” I ask. “Maybe I have a whole chest of sex toys.”

  Derrick cocks an eye. “Oh really,” he says. “Tell me one thing that you have.”

  Right. I have nothing. And nothing to say either.

  Derrick continues and I listen to him in silence, trying my best to glare. He continues, “And if you don’t do something about it, Daphne, you and I are going to get in trouble. I know you’re not the kind to go around and casually sleep around with blokes. So fuck me, it’s going to be me. You’re too fucking gorgeous.”

  Oh Jeez! Now
he’s complimenting me.

  “And you remind me too much of a girl I used to know. A girl that I’m realizing I was a fool to let go. If I ever had her in the first place,” he says.

  Now my curiosity is unleashed. Could it be the story I’m looking for?

  “Why?” I ask. Then I ask again with more urgency. “Who?”

  He turns around and walks away, but stops before he crosses the threshold. “Her name was Alicia,” he says. “And I didn’t know it at the time, but seeing you, I can’t get away from the fact that I was in love with her, only I was too stupid to realize it.”

  Oh. My.

  I don’t know what to say.

  Well, it’s a good thing he’s walking out of the apartment. Looks like this conversation was too much for him, too.

  I hear the door shut below and Derrick call the elevator and I tremble.

  Not because I'm grossed out. I should be, but all I can manage is a pathetic Ew. Gross. And that's only because you're watching.

  I'm not grossed out.

  I'm so incredibly wet. If I took my panties off right now and threw them against the wall, they’d stick to that wall.

  Yes, it’s because I'm thinking about Derrick, okay? How he thought enough about me in his messed up way.

  What is going on with him? He’s not supposed to be like this.

  He took me out on a beautiful morning and he became a hero. He didn’t even get any of the credit.

  Then, he went out to God knows where and bought me some pretty crazy sex toys.

  Okay, the last one is a bit out there, but Derrick is completely out there. And when he was standing in my door, with no shirt that's showing off his rippling muscles and I can see the bulge in his crotch, it's a bit hard not to get turned on when I'm looking at nipple clamps and a vibrator.

  I've never had a vibrator before.

  I guess I've always sort of wanted a vibrator, but I was too embarrassed to go into a store on my own and buy it.

  And now Derrick's bought one for me. Because he was worried about how I was going to get along without having sex with my boyfriend – who I’ve never had sex with before, ironically.

  But there is someone I wish I could have sex with.

  Don't give me that look. Please. It's not like I’m going to be like every other one of his stupid conquests. I can resist his charms.

  But a girl can have fantasies, can’t she?

  I decide that since he's out of the house anyways, I'm going to live a little and have a little bit of fun.

  A wicked smile goes through my face and I jump off the bed and go to close my door. But, it's just me in the house. I'm going to leave it open. Feels a bit naughtier that way.

  The only problem is; I have no idea how to use one of these things.

  First I take the clamps, which I realize actually look quite delicate as I examine them. They’ve got some decorative design that makes them look a bit fancy, even sexy, but maybe that’s just my desperation for a sinful man I’ll try not to mention.

  Seriously, this isn’t solely about Derrick. Stop looking at me like that; it really isn’t. Maybe he’s right, and I do just need to relieve some stress. Besides, I already told you this isn’t some savings account between my legs that only a future husband can access. I just haven’t found the right guy, and thank the heavens I didn’t give it up to Jake, because he turned out to be a real asshole.

  Taking one clamp between my index finger and thumb, I open and close it a couple of times to see how it works. Seems simple enough. Placing it around my bottom lip, I giggle when it clamps down. I thought it would be painful, but it doesn’t bother my lip at all.

  The instructions said my nipple should be hard before using the clamp, and luckily my headlights are on brightly, standing up like they’re waiting for the show to begin. I glance down as the nerves begin to build in my stomach. I’m afraid to do this, afraid of what it will do and how it will feel. That’s kind of the point of doing it with someone else, right? So you don’t have to go through this alone? But its better if I learn to please myself first, a girl in college told me that. It’s strange that I remember it now.

  Okay, quit stalling. Are we doing this or what? Fuck it, let’s do it. I open one clamp and hover it above my aroused nipple, my fingers trembling with anticipation.

  “Ahhh!!!” I yell before breaking into a giggling fit. Yikes! It hurt a lot more than my bottom lip, but I guess I’m more sensitive there. Opening the other clip, I clamp down on my other nipple, my reaction a bit less dramatic this time after knowing what to expect. Before I can fully register the pain it fades completely, almost as if they’re not even there. Strange.

  Now for the real toy. I look at the small bullet. It looks like an elongated metal marble. The surface is so smooth and shiny, metallic even. I’ve seen the price on the box, but even without that I would’ve been able to tell it was expensive. The instructions list wetting it in your mouth, first, and although I know I’m already well lubricated down there, I follow the steps.

  The metal feels silky smooth against my tongue. My thighs press together as my belly fill with butterflies. I feel like I’m at the top of a rollercoaster about to free fall as I move the bullet down my body, between my breasts and over my navel. My legs spread just enough for me to reach my hand in and slide the bullet inside my slippery sex.

  “Wow!” A shocked whisper escapes me as the cool metal slides about. My muscles clench around the foreign object and a strange feeling begins to build in my stomach. My hips begin to wind seductively as I find ways to move the bullet inside me, my hands inadvertently returning to my breasts.

  I’ve completely forgotten about the clamps, but the instant I touch them the shock of the strangely enjoyable pain is reignited. A soft moan escapes me, my body feels electric. Every accidental brush against my skin takes my breath away in a way it never has before.

  My body is rocking side to side, desperate to feel that strange sensation the bullet causes at certain points within me. It’s like playing memory trying to remember how to get back to the sweet spot that makes my insides quiver a bit.

  Taking a deep breath, I run my fingernails up and down my soft skin, the sensation sending chills down my spine, my back arching in delight. Wow, this is really good. I try that a few more times, each feeling more intense than the last.

  On the last run up and down my body, my fingers slide between my legs and I find myself tracing – down here. I’ve been wet before, but never like this. I’m breathing hard like I’ve just finished a workout, waves of anxious excitement building in my belly. My finger rubs against my clit and I loudly moan involuntarily. Everything is so fucking sensitive!

  But boy did that feel good. I can’t help but do it again, wondering if it will have the same effect. This time I press down on my clit and my stomach drops like I’m free falling for a split second before I quickly remove my hand.

  Moving back to my breasts, I massage the clips, my nipples clamped beneath in a prison of painful pleasure. Kneading my breasts like bread, my hips sway as my ass pokes into the bed, my back arching further. Moans are falling off my lips every few seconds, and my legs are squeezed together to create a little friction for my attention starved clit.

  I wish I could tease myself there and with the nipples clamps at the same time, but I’ve only got two hands. I wonder if Derrick would want to see me do this. Is that why he’s gifted them to me? It’s such a strange present to give someone, but then again, what isn’t strange about Derrick? He’s always been weird, and I couldn’t really expect much more from him given his situation.

  Okay, got off topic there. Definitely don’t want to be thinking about Derrick, and not in that way for sure. I know he’s not this good guy he’s appearing to be, he probably has cameras set up in here to watch me use these. The thought turns me on. I feel like Misty again, performing for a man I can’t even see, doing something I’ve never done.

  Revving it up a notch, I imagine a camera being right above
my bed, and I move my body like Derrick is able to see me, probably gripping that enormous cock just watching me squirm beneath him. God, he’s so fucking hot. I don’t care that I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I need a visual, and lets be honest, e’s the best option. It’s nothing more than that.

  I move my fingers between my legs again, grazing my clit, which is all it needs to shock my body with a sharp jolt of electricity. My left hand moves back to my nipple and the right continues on the clit, my chest heaving as my breathing grows erratic. My hands begin moving so quickly I’m not even sure I’m in control anymore, its too much work. My hip shifts over and my touches something cold. Instinctually, my hand reaches to grab it and I’m completely shocked when I see what it is.

  The remote control! Of course! My nerves build all over again as the pad of my thumb hovers above the button labeled ‘play’. From there I can switch the speed up three levels, but I’m thankful it will start slowly. After a long hesitation, I press the dam button.

  Oooh, this is nice. It’s not exactly vibrating inside of me, it’s more like a swirling motion, and it feels invigorating. The clamps even do this gentle squeezing and I like it, there’s no pain involved at all. My hips brush against the bed and I moan so loudly I swear I can hear it echo in this empty, larger than life apartment.

  Just as I’m anticipating the next movement of the toys, I decide to take it up a notch, moving the speed up a level. Oh, I’ve forgotten that Derrick could be watching me. Gazing up into the white ceiling, I twist my body seductively, which is quite easy since the toys are making my body go wild from the inside out. The bullet is now twirling faster, before letting off two short vibrations. It feels a little more aggressive than the previous setting, but not too much for me to handle. The clamps, however, take my breath away with each clamp. Gone is the gentle squeeze. Now they pinch the nipples and hold for three seconds before releasing.

  The release is actually the most painful part, and that reminds me the instructions said to take the clamps off at the height of the climax. How the hell will I know when that is?

  Derrick probably uses these types of toys with all of his women. He wants to warm me up. His face pops into my mind so vividly with those boyish dimples and that hard jawline. God, he’s sexy. Knowing he thinks he was in love with me is a real mind fuck, and laying in his bed now, my body wants him. Oh God, I want him.

 

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