by Alexis Angel
It seems that my little teasing game is backfiring on me - I’m not torturing her as much as I’m torturing myself. Fuck, I just want to unzip my pants, grab her head and pull her down as I slide my cock inside her perfect little mouth. There are a lot of things running through my mind at the same time, and they all somehow involve bending her over and fucking her senselessly. I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve lusted for someone with this kind of intensity. Natalie’s perfect like that - she makes my heart happy and she makes my cock even happier. It doesn’t get any better than that.
She deserves all that I can give her and, right now, all that I can do is make her cum over and over again… wirelessly. Granted, it sounds kinda funny when said like this, but once I turn it up and don’t let go of the button, the look on her face is anything but funny. Just watching her smile while she tries to keep her composure, her legs trembling… I’m afraid my hard on is going to burst out of my pants anytime soon.
Natalie punches my leg as she comes, rubbing her feet against one another. She simply can’t stay still and, given that she has to act her part, she’s using whatever little outlets she has to let go of some steam.
I put my hand on her knee, stroking it softly, as I press one more button and a red light appears on the remote - the Extreme Mode is now on. I like the sound of that.
“Oh, God,” she whispers, throwing her head against the headrest and smiling in a funny way. She actually grabs my wrist and makes me lay my hand against her inner thigh as she closes her legs. I extend my fingers, brushing against her thong - she’s wet as hell, the fabric of her thong completely soaked.
She squeezes my hand hard and fakes an enthusiastic smile - way too enthusiastic. She looks like a manic hamster having a panic attack while on cocaine. Everyone around us would never guess what’s actually happening, though; they’d just see it as her being happy and enthusiastic about the opera, but I know the truth. She’s cumming hard… Very hard. “More, Connor… Give me more.”
“Be my guest,” I press down the button and hold it there, enjoying the way she squirms in her seat. She even moans, and then tries to pass it off as a nervous laugh. I hold my finger over the button until she goes through another orgasm and starts chucking in a low tone of voice almost hysterically, the sound of it like honey to my ears.
I could stop now but, well, she asked for more, didn’t she?. As she twitches and squirms in her seat, ecstasy rippling under her skin, my finger never leaves the button. I can already see beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, her whole body tensing up as if she’s having an heart attack. She presses her back hard against the seat, pushing with her legs against the floor as a wild smile dances on her lips, one arm pushing against the edge of the balcony.
I curl my fingers around the remote, pressing all four buttons at the same time. She jumps up in her seat, her eyes widening, and grabs my leg so strongly that I grimace. I look at her and, seeing the strained lines in her face, I can almost feel the intense and mind blowing pleasure that spreads from her pussy to her whole body. The seat between her legs is glistening with her juices, and she’s breathing out raggedly as she tries to maintain her composure.
The crowd begins a thunderous applause.
And it’s a good thing they do.
Because Natalie literally cries out in pleasure. She’s been holding it in for a while, and I watch as pleasure just wracks through her like a rag doll.
God, it feels so good.
I can smell her juices.
I let the remote go, and watch her slump in her chair for a long moment, her breath coming in gasps and heaves.
Thankfully with everyone focused on the stage, no one is looking at the debaucherous couple in the corner booth.
Just in case, I stand up to applause as well.
It must take Natalie a good half hour to be able to get out of her chair and be able to walk. Her face is still really deeply flushed.
Enough so that when Nadia sees her, she asks, “Is everything okay?”
Natalie just nods mutely.
We pair off into cabs. Nadia and George grab a cab because they’re headed cross town.
I decide to split a cab with Natalie.
We wait till George and Nadia have left.
“You want me to drop you home, love?” I ask, genuinely concerned that Natalie’s brains may have been affected after that fucking strong series of orgasms. “I guess it’s on my way.”
But Natalie says nothing. Her eyes fucking twinkle as she looks at me.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she asks me, reaching over and kissing me. “You’re coming home with me, Your Highness. That’s an order.”
119
Natalie
Thirty.
That's how many days it's been since the opera. Since the night I wrapped my arms around Connor and let him know that I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. That I wanted to be safe in those big arms of his.
Thirty glorious and wonderful days that have made me the happiest woman on earth it seems like. I don't know how else to explain it other than the fact that I'm delirious with happiness every time I try to think of the various reasons that life is good.
Do you remember FRIENDS? You remember how Phoebe called Ross Rachel's lobster after that scene where she almost got stood up for senior prom?
Yeah, so I'm not sure I can call Connor my lobster yet, but let's just say that he's some form of crustacean right now. Like, maybe crab?
Okay, that doesn't sound good. Connor and I are not crabs.
Oh my God. No, I'd say right now we're progressing to lobster stage, but we haven't gotten there yet.
Ninety.
I'm serious when I say that's how many times in the last thirty days Connor and I have had sex.
Yeah, it averages to maybe about three times a day, but some days it's more and some days it's less.
What I'm not including are days where I'm like on my period and maybe I just go down on him. So a blowjob is not counted as sex in this instance, hun, because otherwise you would just shake your head at me and think that I went from sweet and cute and straight to nympho—that I didn't even pause at the slut stage.
And, yes. The sex is out of this world.
Like, life altering sex.
I swear I've blacked out too many times. I've seen stars. I've been in a sex haze.
A sex haze is absolutely real. You end up just sitting there for minutes, or sometimes even hours just zoned out because your brain is just firing too many pleasure synapses. Your neurons are literally tired. Your limbs feel like they're going to fall off. Your clit is raw. Your muscles inside are sore too, but it's a good sore.
Yeah, this is more sex than I've ever had in my life. And I couldn't be happier.
Three.
That’s how many bags of stuff I’ve brought over to Connor’s place.
Okay, his apartment at the Dakota is just so much nicer, okay?
Besides, it makes it a lot easier to not have to buy everything from Duane Reade every time I spend the night at Connor’s house.
Sure, it’s a big step. But so is the key he gave me to his place. We both joked that if we broke up, it would be pretty messy. Because I’d have to pack. And he’d have to help me move.
God, let’s hope it never comes to that, huh?
Two.
That's how many times Connor's face is close to mine and I almost tell him that I love him. Almost.
I don't yet. I need to be sure.
I can't tell him I love him and not mean it.
But more than anything else, I can't tell him I love him and have him treat me like every other girl that I've seen on YouTube.
I mean, this isn't a romance novel, you know, hun? Just telling a guy that you love him may not get rid of all his wild ways.
No, I need to be sure that he's changed or at least that he's willing to make a commitment before I do that.
Until then, I'm okay sharing my body. But I just
can't get to that point where I can share my heart.
Six.
That's how many days ago I swear Connor was about to tell me that he loves me.
Why is this so important to me?
It's just three little words. They don't even mean anything to most people.
But to someone like Connor D'Avington, who prides himself on telling the truth and being upfront, it means a good deal.
Connor has always gone through life telling women that he's only there for the fun. He tells them he's never going to love them and they can hop on board, literally, and enjoy the ride. They totally do, but after that, when he's ready to move on they usually get upset.
Well, Connor never told me to hop on board. But he hasn't said anything else either.
It's like he doesn't know what we're doing.
Like the blind leading the blind.
Ten.
That's how many hours a day the D'Avington account is taking up of my life at work.
I swear to you that sometimes when I sit down and look at just the insane levels of shit we have to clean up from Connor's life, I wonder how I could ever be attracted to someone like him. I mean, I've always gone for the solid, sophisticated and silent types.
At Harvard, they were usually members of the Porc.
See, that's what I mean? The Porc actually stands for the Porcelain.
I'm not some snob, I swear. But that's just the kind of guys I used to date.
But maybe that's why I used to be so bored with men. Because after trading the effete Ivy League legacy for a real bad boy royal, I don't think I'll ever be able to think of another man again.
Zero.
I swear that's how many men I've thought of in my head since Connor and I have been going out.
I mean, I'm not even fantasizing about any other guy.
It's like no other man exists in my life.
I almost want to say that Connor D'Avington has ruined me for other men.
It's true. I mean, how am I supposed to really think of other men and fantasize about them when he's fucking me three times a day? Ninety times in thirty days, remember? Not including blowjobs.
And to be quite honest, I couldn't care less that I haven't thought of another guy since Connor came in.
I mean, I look at guys nowadays as almost a guy does, like beings that take up space that I interact with. Do I look at them and wonder if I want to have sex with them? I honestly never get to that point.
Because before I can have even a single sexual thought about them, thoughts of Connor push everything aside.
I may be thinking about him a little bit too much.
But for now, I'm happy to go with it and see what happens.
120
Connor
Life’s good. And I mean, really fucking good.
You know, I thought that all of this would be way harder. I never expected that change could be this fucking easy. I don’t miss all the drinking and all the partying and… well, this is going to sound fucking insane coming from me, but I don’t miss fucking around with random women. And all this because Natalie’s by my side.
Yeah, I know, right? What the fuck happened to Prince Connor? Natalie happened, it’s as simple as that. She came into my life with that shy smile of hers, and I was done the moment we locked eyes. I knew I had to have her… And the moment I had her, I realized that I would never let go of her. And I haven’t.
So why haven’t I told her that I love her? Now that’s a good fucking question. I never have a problem telling people how I feel, but somehow, this is different. This makes me feel… fuck, I don’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but this makes me feel fucking vulnerable. I know that the moment those three words leave my mouth, that there’ll be no going back. That’s just how I fucking work. Whenever the moment comes for me to say it, I’ll love her until I’m six feet under.
“Connor to Earth, respond,” I hear a woman’s voice break through the fog of my mind. Fuck, it’s hard to pay attention to anything whenever I start thinking of Natalie, and I’m always thinking of her.
“I’m right here,” I tell Nadia, leaning back against my seat and looking straight at her. She’s standing in front of the conference table, pointing at something on the wall-mounted screen. Christ, these Royal briefings are getting more and more boring by the day. It almost seems that Nadia chooses the most irrelevant or biased bullshit for these meetings.
“You weren’t paying attention,” she tells me, hands on her hips as she frowns.
“I was,” I tell her with a grin. “The Constitutionalists are pushing for a referendum to abolish the monarchy, that’s what you’ve been hammering on for the last fifteen minutes.”
“That’s right,” she tells me, sitting down on her seat across the table and handing her two assistants the folders in her hand. “It’s time for us to do something about this.”
“That’s what Natalie and I have been doing for the past few weeks,” I try to tell her, but the way she looks at me makes it pretty fucking clear that she doesn’t give a fuck about what I’m going to say. “You know, I’m just wondering why you haven’t mentioned the latest polls; the good press I’ve been getting from the media is making the Constitutionalists lose a lot of support in the Senate. They’ll never manage to push this referendum bullshit through.”
“You don’t know that, Connor,” she tells me, completely ignoring me. I don’t know what bug crawled up her ass, but Nadia has been insufferable since we hired Gage Price’s services. “I think that whatever you’re doing with that girl Natalie, it isn’t working. We need something else, and we need to do it fast.” That girl Natalie... The way the words come out of her mouth make me see red.
“Oh, is that so? You think you’d do better?”
“I know I’d do better, Connor. I used to work for a fashion magazine; we don’t need any help cleaning up your image. You know how your brother feels about letting outsiders work on family matters.”
“Don’t presume to tell me what my brother feels,” I tell her, my lips a serious straight line. “I don’t like where this conversation is going. I really don’t, Nadia. So choose your words carefully.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Connor. But as Royal Secretary I have to act on your family's best interests. And this is not your call to take,” she starts to say, an explicit threat in every single word of hers. I can’t believe she’s trying to fucking outmaneuver me. What’s her fucking endgame? “It’s very simple, Connor. Just fire Gage Price.”
“It’s not Gage Price you want me to fire, is it? It’s Natalie,” I tell her, grinding my teeth together as I get up from my seat. Her two assistants seem to shrink in their seats, looking at each other and then back to me.
“I’m just taking care of your interests, Connor,” she continues, insisting on that fucking bullshit. What the fuck is her problem?
“The fuck you are,” I hiss. “I don’t know whose interests you’re looking out for, but they sure as fuck aren’t mine.”
“See? You’re losing your temper. Do you think you’ve changed? You haven't. You’re just one step away from bringing down the whole Royal Family. So I’m going to make this very simple for you: you either fire Gage Price or --”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll go back to your brother, tell him that whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and you know that he’ll have no choice but to disown you. He’ll take your title and all the Royal Family ever gave to you. You’ll be out on the street. You’ll have nothing, and you’ll be nothing.”
“Fucking hell… You’re fucking evil, Nadia,”
“Maybe. But all this boils down to one thing: Gage Price is out, one way or another. You either fire them, or your head will roll.” Fuck this shit. Does she think I’m going to take this lying down? No way in fucking hell I’m going to let Nadia walk all over Natalie and I.
I walk around the conference table and, leaning into Nadia, I whisper at her. “You don’t want to pick a fucking battle w
ith me, Nadia. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but if you come against me, my family, or Natalie… I’m going to bury you. I fucking swear it. Leave us the fuck alone.” I pause for a second, looking into her eyes, and then continue. “Also, Gage Prince stays, and so does Natalie. It’s my call, and it’s final.”
I smile at her, and adjust the knot in my dark silk tie, then turn on my heels and storm off of the conference room. Who the fuck does she think she is? I don’t care if she’s the St. Alban’s Royal Secretary or the President of the United States; no one threatens me like that. Fuck, you know what I need right now? I need to see Natalie. I need to hold her in my arms, my lips pressed on hers…
That’s what I fucking need.
121
Natalie
"Is it just me, or does this Andouille sausage look like a you-know-what?" Christine asks, laughing.
"Girl, get your mind out of the gutter," I joke. "I think you just need a good booty call."
"Not all guys are made alike," she says. "We can't all be so lucky and have a hot Prince in our lives."
"You know I didn't choose that."
A waiter approaches our table and refills our water glasses. My lemon wedge jostles with the ice cubes in my glass and I watch as the pulp from the citrus clouds the water. I once heard that you should never put the lemon wedge from a restaurant in your glass because apparently it harbors some of the most germs.
But whatevs. I like lemon water, so I risk it.
"You look happy," Christine says. "A lot happier than before. You have a glow about you or something, girl."
I have to admit that she's right. But she doesn't look bad herself. The whole night I've been secretly admiring the new lipstick she's been wearing—an unapologetic pink that is bold and more magenta than pastel. It's bold and badass and I make a mental note to find a shade just like that.