Princely Passions

I groan as the last drops of cum simply drip down from the tip of my cock onto my hand, slowly sliding down over the curve of my knuckles. “Fuck,” I mutter again, breathing so hard you’d believe me if I told you I just came from the gym.

Peeling my fingers off my cock, I reach for one of the briefings (one lucky enough not to fall victim to my orgasm) and crumple it into my hand. I use it to wipe the cum off my fingers and, crumpling it further, I throw it into the basket with a flick of my wrist.

Pulling my pants up, I sit straight up in my chair a

nd look at the mess in front of me. Drops of cum glisten on the top of my desk, and more than a dozen documents are now soaking with my semen.

I should be trying to salvage whatever I can but, instead, I just throw my head back and let a deep laugh tumble out from between my lips. I feel just like a teenager, one that decided to rub one out instead of doing his homework.

And it feels great.

Reaching for the dirty documents, I crumple them all into one big ball and throw it all into the basket. I can always get a copy; and if I can’t, just screw it.

“Daphne,” I whisper to myself, smiling as I hear her name. “You’re driving me crazy…”

42

Daphne

It was my idea to meet Dominic. Only so that we could straighten out the things between us, you know? Find out what’s really going on and where we stand after the amazing sex we had.

In my head, I wanted to meet with him so that I could put a stop to all of this. And that because wanting to fuck my stepfather is wrong. Or so everyone would tell me if they found out about it.

Thing is, now that I’m seeing him on the other side of the bar, sitting by himself and leaning over the counter with a glass of whisky in his hand, the word wrong simply vanishes from my mind. In its place, the words I want him are blossoming.

I make my way across the bar, my heart thumping louder and louder with each step I take. By the time I’m close enough to see the white in his eyes, I know that inviting him for a drink wasn’t exactly a wise decision.

“Hey, Daph,” he says, turning on his stool to face me. He goes up to his feet and closes the distance between us before I can do a thing; his hands go to my waist and he leans in, his mouth looking for mine. Then, perhaps remembering himself, he turns his face slightly and his lips land on my cheek.

“Hey,” I whisper back at him, my knees trembling. Taking a deep breath, I stroll toward one of the stools and sit down, afraid that my legs might give up on me and collapse. My heart is beating furiously, and his tender kiss on my cheek has unleashed hell inside my mind.

“A cosmo,” I ask the bartender right away, in the hopes that some alcohol will help ease my nervousness. Deep down, though, I know that no amount of alcohol will wash away what I’m feeling; because, really, it isn’t nervousness: it’s lust.

“Another one,” Dominic says, waving his empty glass at the bartender and then pushing it softly across the counter. “So,” he starts, now turning to me with a gentle smile, “what did you want to talk about?”

I look at him, my eyes on his, and I open my mouth before I realize that I can’t speak. All my words are trapped in my throat and the only thing in me that wants to speak is my body… You don’t need me to translate that for you, do you? Yeah, I know, I’m not one of those nice and innocent girls.

“I… I wanted to meet because… because…” I stammer, trying to look for the right words, but I just give up and close my mouth.

“Because you wanted to see me again?” Dominic says, still smiling. His eyes linger on mine for what seems like an eternity (but not more than a single heartbeat), and then he leans in toward me, as the whole world around us seems to be moving in slow motion. My eyelids droop by instinct, and I part my lips as his mouth reaches for mine.

His kiss is soft and tender, his lips brushing against mine so gently that my heart skips a beat. “Yes, I wanted to see you,” I breathe out in a whisper as he pulls back from me, his kind smile unleashing something wild and primal inside of me.

And I think he has read that on my face.

“What do you say we continue this conversation upstairs?” he says, lowering his voice as he narrows his eyes, pointing with his thumb at the ceiling. Yeah, like I said before, maybe meeting him at a hotel bar wasn’t the wisest decision. Or, then again, maybe it was. I guess it really depends on how you look at it.

“Upstairs,” I repeat after him, sliding down from my seat and straightening the front of my dress. He reaches for my hand and tangles his fingers on mine; forgetting all about the drinks we’ve just ordered, he guides me across the bar and toward the lobby.

I feel my mouth growing dry as he books a room and gets the keys from the receptionist; to balance my dry mouth, a wet mess has developed between my thighs, the fabric of my drenched thong sticking to my skin.

We head toward the elevator and, the moment the doors close on us, he grabs both my wrists and pins them against the wall, my arms over my head. “You want this, don’t you?” he whispers, leaning in and kissing my neck softly. “I want to hear you say it,” he continues, his mouth tracing curved lines over my skin.

“I do,” I finally find the strength to say, wetting my lips with the tip of my mouth. I know that with these two words I’ve opened up a door I don’t know if I’ll be able to close again.

Moving fast and grabbing both my wrists with just one hand, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress and slides it underneath, his long fingers finding my pussy. Flattening the palm of his hand against my pussy, he presses hard on it and makes me gasp.

“Seems like it,” he whispers against my ear, feeling my wetness with his fingers. At that exact moment, the elevator doors slide open and he lets go of me fast, standing by my side as if he had never moved in the first place.