Princely Passions

“Yes…” I say distractedly, scanning the front of the envelope. Room 315. Come join me for some fun.

The envelope is suspiciously lumpy. As I run my thumb along underneath the seal to break it open, I look up to ask the bellman what the woman looked like who handed me the envelope – what if this is Heather? – but he’d disappeared.

I open it up to find a pair of red and black lace panties…no, a thong. A damp thong.

And a keycard for the Carlyle Hotel. I’m assuming it’ll work on the door of room 315.

I stare down at the items in my hands, not sure of what to do. If this is Heather, she’ll take me showing up at her door as an invitation to restart our relationship.

But if it’s Daphne…

I try to casually raise the envelope to my nose to smell it, and it smells like sweet arousal. Sweet delicious pussy juices.

This can’t be Heather. It just can’t be.

I pull the keycard out and shove it into my back pocket, and then shrug and stuff the envelope in there too. I can feel my dick harden even as I move through the bar. Oh God, please let this be Daphne. If I show up with a hard-on and it’s Heather opening the door, I’m going to have one unhappy dick.

I impatiently ride the elevator up to the third floor and then hurry down the hallway. Three doors, and then…

315.

I pull out the keycard and go to swipe it, but then realize that I should knock first. Let her know I’m here. Then open the door. I don’t want to surprise her. I want to fuck her. Two totally different things.

I knock, surprised that my hand is shaking slightly from need and desire thrumming through my veins, and then slide the card through the door card reader.

Here goes nothing.

I’m pushing down on the door handle just as it opens underneath my hand.

“Oh!” Daphne says, looking slightly surprised. A button is undone on her blouse, giving me an eyeful of her cleavage, and just seeing that, my di

ck is straining against my trousers.

“Oh,” I say in response, a smile growing on my face. It's Daphne and she wants me as much as I want her, and oh, my dick is going to be happy tonight.

I brush past her, into the room, and then close it behind me. “You seem like you’re surprised to see me,” I say, backing her up against the door and leaning over her, my arm resting on the door over her right shoulder. “Didn’t you mean to send the envelope to me?”

She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me through her eyelashes. “Yes, I did. I thought…”

Her voice dies away as I run a hand over her cheek, down her neck, and to her tit, to cup it in my hand.

“You thought?” I repeat, bending down and running my teeth and lips across her collarbone.

“I thought maybe…you were…the door man…” she got out between breathless sighs. “I thought he…was coming…back…to tell me…he couldn’t…”

“Couldn’t find me?” I finally finish for her, since she doesn’t seem to be able to speak properly. That may or may not have something to do with the fact that I’m suckling on her tit, through the fabric of her shirt and bra, but it doesn’t matter because I know she can feel the warmth and wetness of my mouth on her.

“Yeah. That.”

39

Daphne

I can’t believe my stepfather—well, ex-stepfather, has his mouth on my tit. Through my open shirt I can feel his warm breath, wetting my skin and making bumps raise up over my skin and making me shiver. I can’t form any words, even if I wanted to. I’m still kind of in shock, but yeah, I really want this. Like, want this so damn bad that the part of my brain that would be telling me things like ‘don’t fuck your stepfather’ or ‘you’re drunk and upset, don’t do this’ is completely shut off. I don’t have any of those second-guessing thoughts. I lick my lips. My mouth runs dry and my throat aches. The masculine scent of him in the air drives me wild. I want him closer. I feel like an animal right now—even if he were inside of me right now, it wouldn’t be close enough. I need to feel all of him on me.

And, let’s be honest: the fact that he’s my stepfather kinda helps bring forward that animal side of me. There’s something exhilarating about placing both feet over a line that society has drawn in the sand. Right now, I’ve shut down that part of me that tells me to be a good girl.

Right now, I just want to be bad.