Natalie Vs. Prince

"He's what?" I ask, nearly shouting. "Why would he do that? I feel like this is coming out of left field. Did he give a reason?"

"He did," he says, matter of fact.

"And?"

"He says it's because of you."

What? I can hardly believe his words. As soon as he says this, my heart sinks. It seems to travel straight through to the floor.

Looks like Christine was right.

I was such an idiot for being so blind. I let my guard down.

I should've been more careful.

16

Connor

I salute the doorman as he holds the door open for me. I spent the morning working out and then I got it in my head to do something nice for Natalie. I went over to the Time Warner Center, which is really close to the New York Athletic Club where I train, and bought some nice sexy lingerie for Natalie from La Perla.

Who am I kidding, right?

She's going to put this shit on, and I give it all of maybe 30 seconds for it to stay on.

Sure, if I let her, Natalie can gyrate around for me a little bit. Look all sexy as fuck as she could maybe back that nice ass of hers against me, into my cock.

Fuck, just thinking about her in this thong is getting me hard as I get into the elevator.

I wonder if she's coming straight to my place or if we're meeting for dinner?

One thing is for fucking sure, love, and I know it in my fucking bones. I think I'm in love with this girl.

But yeah, I haven't told her anything yet.

A large part of that is that I've never been in this situation where I've fallen for a girl and she's been pretty aloof from me.

I mean, think about it, love. Ever since the first day when I fucking fell from the sky, she hasn't put up with any of my bullshit.

Remember the fucking tongue lashing she gave me at the United Nations?

Remember the honest assessment she gave of my public image?

Sure, she's loving and caring. But she's also smart as all fuck and she doesn't suffer fools.

For the first time in my life, someone expects more from me than just to show the fuck up and get my award.

In fact, you may not think it, but my swearing has come down a lot too, love.

I'm serious. I don't swear as much. Unless I'm with her and we're about to have sex that is.

Then, all bets are off.

Speaking of which, thinking about how I love her is fun and all, but the elevator doors are opening up to my floor and I'd much rather imagine what she's going to look like in this La Perla that I bought for her.

I think the best course of action is to go open some wine for her, pour some scotch for myself, call her, tell her to come over, give her this underwear, tell her to wear it, then rip it off of her, and proceed to fuck her brains out.

Maybe she won't be so smart after my cock is done with her, but her intelligence hasn't been affected so far, so I think I'm fucking good, love.