Natalie Vs. Prince

With my mouth on his, I feel the fangs of desire burying themselves in my mind, and I take my hands to Connor’s naked hips. The moment I feel his wet skin under my fingertips, my skin prickles as I remember how I caught him: naked under the running water, his fingers curled tight around his cock. His cock, my God—how in the world is it possible for it to be so big? It must be at least twelve inches long, and it’s so thick that I’m not sure I can grab it with just one hand…! And what was he thinking of while he stroked himself? Was he thinking… of me? Deep down, I know the answer, but I still need to hear it from him.

“Were you… were you thinking of me?” I ask him in a whisper, pulling back from his kiss and looking into his eyes. He stares back at me, an easy smile on his lips, and then he grabs my right hand; he guides it to between his thighs, and a shiver goes up my spine as I feel my fingertips on his thick shaft. Breathing hard, I grab it, slowly curling my fingers around this impossible thickness of his, and only now does he reply.

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; “What do you think, Natalie?” he asks me, his cock pulsing against my fingers. Hesitancy, anxiety, and anticipation—that’s what my heart is pumping into my blood. But, somehow, these three things blend into one another and the sweet purr of desire is the only thing I can focus on right now. He was thinking of me, I know that. I just do.

It’s written all over his face. It’s in the way he looks at me, his smart eyes widening as he leans in to kiss me. It’s in the way his cock seems to harden as I grab it, pulsing and throbbing as if his whole body screams for me in desperation. I know that he was thinking of me because, when I came over, I was also thinking of him. Connor D’Avington, how did you find the way into my mind?

“No need to be nervous, love…” he tells me, placing both his hands on my face as he lays one gentle kiss on my lips. How does he know that I’m nervous? Do I look nervous? Okay, let me be honest: I’m a complete wreck right now. The moment I saw Connor completely naked, stroking his impossibly long cock, I… I just lost it. My heart started galloping, and my mind seemed as if it was about to implode. But his words have a soothing effect; he told me that there’s no need to be nervous, and I believe him.

He places both his hands on my waist and takes a step back, pulling me after him. I follow without hesitating, the hot running water soaking my clothes as I step under it. You’d think that the water would somehow make me cool my engines, but it’s exactly the opposite: as the wet fabric of my blouse clings to my skin and my hair becomes plastered to my forehead, I become even hornier than before. I don’t think I have ever been this wet in my life, and no, I’m not talking about being wet under the shower. The other kind of wet, if you know what I mean—and I bet that you do, don’t you?

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” Connor tells me, pushing away the locks of hair on my forehead with his fingers. Wet hair and smeared make-up—yeah, I must look dazzling right now. Still, I believe him. How could I not, when his eyes seem completely fascinated by me?

“I… I want you,” I find myself saying, and then I start moving my hand up and down his shaft at a maddeningly slow pace. Oh God, I can’t believe that I’m in the shower with Connor, his cock in my hand. Is this really happening? I almost pinch myself, but there’s no need for me to do it; this is as real as it gets.

“I know you do,” he responds, gently brushing his lips against mine once more. “So do I.” With that, he runs his hands down the side of my body and, grabbing my blouse by the hem, he pulls it over my head. I lift my arms up as he undresses me, the drenched fabric sticking to my skin as it goes, and I feel my nipples hardening against the cups of my bra.

“Then… take me,” I whisper, the words once more slipping out of my lips before I can filter them. I look into his eyes, anticipation making my heart pound harder, and he just smiles at me.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, love,” he whispers back at me, and then tangles his fingers in my hair. He yanks on it, forcing me to throw my head back, and rests his mouth on my neck. He lays gentle kisses in a straight line toward my chin, his full lips caressing my skin softly, and then finally crushes his mouth against mine. I let go of his cock, losing myself in the moment, and place both my hands on his waist. Slowly, I slide them to his lower back, and then down to his ass. Cupping it, I feel the firmness of his cheeks, and my insides clench as I imagine him pistoning into me, his thickness pushing against my folds.

Still grabbing me by the hair, he forces me to turn on my heels and then pins me against the wet tiles on the wall. I close my eyes as he kisses me down my neck again, his lips going lower and lower until they meet the valley between my breasts. Without a moment’s hesitation, he takes one hand to between my shoulder blades and, with a simple flick from his fingers, undoes the clasp on my bra. The cups droop and hang limply over my breasts, my nipples peering over the edge of the fabric, and he doesn’t hold back; hooking his fingers on the right cup, he pulls it down and bares my breast. In a fraction of a second his mouth is on me, his lips wrapped tight around my rosy nipple as he laps at it with his tongue.

My hands fly straight to his hair, and I run my fingers back and forth through it as he sucks. I pant and gasp as he presses on my hard tip with his teeth, nibbling softly, and a subdued moan of delight tumbles out of my lips before I can stop myself.

“You’re delicious…” he whispers as he pulls back from my breast, his hands going to my shoulders and pulling the straps of my bra down my arms. It falls at my feet like a piece of discarded cloth, and then he strikes again, this time going straight for my left nipple. His lips press on it hard, gripping it in such a way that sparks of pleasure seem to spread from my breasts to the rest of my body. “I want to taste you… Every single inch of you,” he tells me, looking into my eyes as he squeezes both my tits with his long fingers, my flesh molding to his touch.

I open my mouth to say something, but only when I do it do I realize that I have no words in me. What do you say to a man like Connor when he tells you that he wants to taste every single inch of you? Go right ahead seems like a perfect reply, but I can’t even bring myself to say it. All I manage to do is purse my lips and look back into his eyes, desire running through my veins in such a way that I become dizzy.

“Yes…” I finally tell him, and he drops down to one knee, his eyes never leaving mine. His long fingers go down to my waist, and he hooks them on the hem of my skirt. Unblinking, he pulls down the zipper on my outer thigh and starts to pull, the fabric clinging to my skin on the way down. I lift one foot to kick it off, and he uses that moment to take my high heel off; he does the same with my other foot and, resting his fingers on my ankles, he runs them back up to my waist. His eyes widen as he looks into my almost naked body, and he licks his lips anxiously, almost as if he can’t wait to devour me.

No, don’t let him do it, a tiny annoying voice whispers at me from a deep corner of my mind. He’s going to undress you, and then you know what he’s going to do, don’t you? That voice continues, trying to instill fear into my heart. I can see it in his eyes, he’s going to do exactly what he told me: he’s going to taste me. And, you know, that’s something really, really intimate… Maybe more than sex itself. If this was someone else, I wouldn’t let him do it, but this is Connor D’Avington we’re talking about. This is not your regular man; this is … someone apart.

“Tell me you want it, Natalie… I want to hear you say it,” he says, a soft smile dawning on his lips. I bite on my lower lip, hesitant, and then lean back against the wall, my heart pounding so hard it might just break the bones in my ribcage.

“I want you to… I want you to…” I stammer, looking into his eyes as the words seem to get stuck in my throat. Am I really going to say this? Am I really going to tell him how bad I want him between my thighs?

“Say it,” he insists, his gentle smile turning into a wicked grin, and something inside of me snaps.

“I want you to taste me… I want you between my thighs, and I want you to eat me out.” The words fly out from between my lips in a hurry, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I’ve never been the kind of girl that thrived on dirty talk, but I think I can get used to this… I really do.

“Now we’re talking,” he says, his grin widening as he hooks his finger on the strings of fabric that lace my outer thighs. He starts to pull my thong down at a tortuously slow pace, revealing the mound right above my pussy and stopping for a whole second before continuing. I bite on my bottom lip, anxiety making my body tense up, and then he finally pulls the thong down my legs, baring the wetness between my thighs.

With his hands behind my knees, he lays his mouth on my right knee, still looking into my eyes. Kissing upward, he brushes his lips over my skin until he’s dangerously close to my thighs. My skin prickles and I throw my head back, my eyelids drooping as flames of delirious desire seem to engulf my insides. I never wanted anything as much as I want his mouth on my pussy right now.

His lips start to curve inward, toward my inner thighs, and I press my legs together by instinct. But then I look into his face and see the soft smile of desire on his lips; my muscles relax at once, and I let his kisses find their way toward my thighs. One of his hands goes up my leg, and he spreads his fingers just below my ass cheeks; pushing on my leg, he makes me lift it up and then rest it over his shoulder. I feel more exposed than ever, my pussy angled so that he can have a good look at it, but this actually feels right… It really does.

I lay my hands on his head, grabbing at his hair, and let desire take over me. I urge him to go for it, to lay his mouth where it really matters, but he keeps his own pace. Still moving slowly, he runs his lips to my groins, gently kissing the skin around the wet mess that is my pussy, but never actually going for it. Even though I’m standing under running water, I feel as if I’m on fire, and he’s just teasing me. I have no idea what’s going to happen once these lips of his actually touch me where it really matters.

He moves his mouth as if he’s going for it, but then stops, his lips hovering over my drenched folds. I grab at his hair harder, and move my hips forward, unconsciously trying to force him to do it. He looks at me, that deliciously wicked grin of his dancing on his lips, and then he does it.

Pinning me against the wall, his hands pushing against my hips, he wraps his lips around my clit and presses down with his tongue. How do I even start to describe how I feel right now? I could tell you that this feels like fireworks are going off inside of my head, or maybe I could tell you that I’m feeling as if I’m high… But no, all of these things pale in comparison to the pleasure pooling inside of me right now. This is pure unbridled madness, and I just love it. I should be feeling terribly self-conscious, Connor’s lips right on one of the most intimate parts of my body, but I actually feel more comfortable than I have ever felt when with a man.

There’s something about him that puts me at ease, and I really don’t know what it is. By all means, I shouldn’t be feeling comfortable or at ease; Connor o

ozes testosterone, and his aura is one of dominance and power. How is it possible for me to be at ease around a man like this? And I’m not even talking about his impossibly long and thick cock. Let’s not go there… At least not yet.