Princely Passions: A Royal Romance

by Alexis Angel

  It isn't sex and it isn't making love. It’s transcendence. Pure and absolute transcendence. How else to describe it? In this moment, my whole universe is his naked body - the sound he makes when he breathes out, his warm skin brushing against mine, his long fingers on my lower back... It’s joy, bliss and rapture all rolled into one. It’s Anders.

  Harder and harder he goes, the ferocity of his body overpowering me and making my legs wobble. My whole body feels weak and, if it weren’t for the desk, I’d just fall down to the floor. I start screaming as he thrusts mercilessly, his hands locking me in place as a vice, but then I remember exactly where I am and grit my teeth, forcing myself to shut up. I can feel the muscles in his forearms bulging, his whole body tensing up as he holds his breath and thrusts so fast I’m almost sure I’m going to pass out.

  But I don't pass out - I scream my lungs off and grab the edges of the desk viciously as thorns of a perfect orgasm lace my whole body, a high so perfect I’m not sure if I'll ever be able to think straight again. I’m deep into oblivion and I want to stay there and drown in sweet delight. I have never felt anything like this - it’s like a dream, surreal sensations crawling under my skin. I feel as if I’m floating, my pussy spasming around his cock in a way I didn’t know to be possible.

  Seeing me like that does it for him. Anders thrusts his cock as deeply as he can and I moan as he comes. His body is static and tense, all that tension inside of him slowly seeping out. I feel his cock spasm violently inside me, his warm semen gushing and coating my insides, filling me. To see, feel and hear his pleasure, knowing I’m the one responsible for it... My own orgasms seem to pale in comparison to this feeling. I hold still, breathing hard as Anders surrenders to the crashing waves that engulf us both.

  Only when his hands ease their grip do I move, his still hard cock sliding out of me. I turn to him, panting, and look up at the perfect man that towers over me.

  "This… was perfect."

  “It was,” he whispers, “but I’m not done yet.” I feel my insides clenching at his words, and then he grabs me by the hips and turns me around. Pulling me up, he makes me sit on the edge of his desk and then forces me to part my legs. His cum is already dripping out of my folds, sliding down my thighs and pooling on the flat surface of his desk.

  With his lips curled into a deliciously wicked grin, he goes down on his knees, never taking his eyes out of mine. His hands are still on my knees, keeping my legs spread wide, and he leans into me, slowly parting his lips. He lays his mouth against my drenched pussy and then starts to lap at my inner lips with his tongue, scooping up his own cum and driving me completely insane. I can’t believe that he’s doing this… God, it seems that for a man like Anders there really are no limits.

  When he finally takes all the cum that was in my pussy into his mouth, he stands up and, smiling, leans into me and crushes his mouth against mine. I close my eyes and, allowing instinct to guide me, I push my tongue inside his mouth. We kiss like that, swapping his cum while it drips down our chins. Pulling back from me, he runs his tongue down my chin, licking my skin dry.

  “You drive me fucking insane, Christine,” he tells me, and my heart almost explodes my chest. Has this really happened? Oh, God, yes it did. I guess this is one of those things Ashley and Natalie talk about. In Ashley’s own words: some men will dazzle you with what they can do; for them, there are no limits. I guess she’s right.

  Professor Anders, where have you been all of my life?

  193

  Christine

  “All right, you guys, I need your advice, seriously,” I say, swirling my gin and tonic around endlessly in my hand. “I know I agreed to fuck Anders and that we can keep our…” I wave my hand around in the air, in imminent danger of spilling my drink, “bedroom relationship and our professional relationship separate, but damn…I just hate this. What kind of future UN ambassador uses her body to get her start at the UN?”

  “Well,” Natalie says contemplatively, “are you actually doing that? What does Anders say?”

  “That he can separate our relationships in his head, and judge my application on its merits,” I say miserably, staring down into my drink.

  “I know I wouldn’t be able to keep my desire to wrap my lips around his cock and the fact that he was my professor separate in my mind,” Kim puts in. I glare at her, really not wanting to hear that answer. She ignores that look. “Okay, tell the truth now – you guys are fucking now, right?”

  I nod, a giant grin spreading across my face. “Ohhhhh yeahhhh,” I sigh happily. At least that part isn’t complicated. Anders Trask’s dick? Yes please.

  “Is it as big as we thought it’d be?” Kim asks, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with lust. I have to quell a momentary feeling of jealousy. Of course Kim would be drooling over Anders. Any woman with a pulse would be. It didn’t mean Anders was drooling over her.

  I let a grin spread across my face as answer and Kim squeals. “I knew it! I knew it!” she crowed. “How big? C’mon, show us.”

  I hesitated for just a second, but c’mon, who was I fooling? I couldn’t keep that kind of shit from my besties. I spread my hands apart, indicating the length of his delicious cock and Kim’s eyes widened. “How does that fit in you?” she breathed in shock.

  “Oh, it fits,” Natalie says with a naughty grin.

  “Oh my god, you too??” Kim says, laughing, and Natalie’s grin only widened. We grinned at each other and clinked glasses together in celebration.

  “I want my own foot-long-dick-wielding fuckmaster,” Kim says, looking back and forth between us, pouting.

  “Someday,” Natalie says, throwing her arm around Kim’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “And when you do, you too will have a hard time walking some mornings.”

  I snort, remembering yesterday morning. Yeah, that’s about right.

  “So, back to the important shit,” Natalie says, shifting her focus back to me. “I know that Anders thinks that he can keep things separate in his head, but do you really think that’s possible if he’s getting into your purple silky thong every night?”

  I stick my tongue out at her. I actually don’t have a purple silky thong, only a lace one. Hmmm…Victoria Secret time. I bet Anders would love to pull that off with his teeth and then kiss his way up my…

  Snap.

  I jerk my head and look at Natalie, who’s just snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  “Earth to Christine,” she says in a sing-song voice.

  I stick my tongue out at her again. She ignores it again.

  What are best friends for, after all?

  “I really don’t know about this,” she says thoughtfully. “It does seem like using your body to get into a program all based on ethics is a bit…questionable.”

  “But I’m not using my body! He’s told me so.” But inside, I’m dying a little. Because Natalie is saying everything that I’ve been worried about.

  Everything that has been bothering me, even if it doesn’t seem to be bothering Anders.

  “I’m just going to have to bring it up with him. Again,” I mumble into my gin and tonic.

  No matter how much I didn’t want to.

  194

  Christine

  “Home sweet home,” Anders says, opening up the door with a grand gesture in front of me.

  Like Cinderella first walking into her prince’s castle, I enter slowly, my mouth agape. It was…gorgeous.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  Who lives like this?

  Anders Trask does, apparently.

  Dark woods and giant pastoral paintings and heavy curtains – it has an old-world charm to it that I hadn’t expected. And the entryway is larger than my living room.

  “I had it remodeled using an old castle in France as the inspiration,” he says, coming up to me with yet another drink in hand, handing it to me as I wandered around, oohing and ahhing. I know that most people my age would probably like stainless steel and retro furnishings, but I’d
always love the regal European decor.

  “Come, check out my favorite feature,” he says, as excited as a little boy. He grabs my free hand and pulls me down a hallway and into a dark room. Flipping a switch, a few strategically placed lights turn on to a low glow, pointing straight at…

  “Oh my god, Anders, really?” I squeal, heading straight towards the suit of armor.

  “Early 1430s Italian armor,” he says proudly. “One of the oldest full sets of armor in existence.” Its dull silver glow in the dim lighting almost made it seem ethereal. I reached out and stroked the metal joints reverently.

  “I love it,” I say softly. He stood behind me and pulled me tight up against him, wrapping his arms around me as I leaned into him. We stared at the suit for a long minute in silence. It just seemed to deserve that.

  “Anders,” I finally say, breaking the peaceful silence between us. As much as I hate to, I have to. I just can’t live with myself if I don’t. “You’re going to be able to make a decision about the UN program even with…this,” I gesture to the air around us, “happening, right?”

  He pulls me against him even tighter and begins to nuzzle my neck. “Even though,” he breathes down my neck, sending shivers down my spine, “I want to fuck you senseless,” he nips at my neck and down my shoulder, “every moment of every day,” he nips back across to the nape of my neck and down my other shoulder, “I can separate that from the UN program.

  “Although,” he says in a teasing voice, pulling away from my skin and standing up straight, “I should use my power for evil.” He turns me in his arms and stares down at me with a devilish glint in his eye. “Tell you that the only way that you can get into this program is to fuck me like the little whore that you are.”

  “Ohhhhh…” I breathe, staring up at him, biting my lower lip as I do. “I…well…I…” I stutter, unable to put a complete thought into words. “I would hate to lose the chance to be in the program, so if that’s what it takes…”

  I know he’s teasing. I know he would never tell me something like that and mean it. But that didn’t mean it isn’t hot as fuck to hear.

  “I think it’s time to put my little whore to work making me happy, don’t you?” he says, the teasing tone of voice disappearing as his commanding voice takes its place.

  “Yeah, probably,” I say, staring up at him, my voice little more than a whisper.

  “‘Yeah’?” he repeats. “Don’t you mean ‘Yes sir’?”

  “Yes sir,” I repeat, and my thong is so wet, I’m afraid I might be creating a puddle on his floor.

  He pulls back and take my drink from me, placing it on a nearby end table.

  “I think it’s about time to see what kind of fucktoy you really are,” he says, and takes my hand.

  195

  Christine

  Fucktoy, he called me, and that word is echoing inside my head like a maddening scream of pleasure. Fucktoy. I want him, I want him really bad - and I’m lucky enough for him to want me that badly as well.

  Stepping toward me, there’s that wicked grin on his lips, delight and desire painting his face. He rests his big hands on my waist and, the moment he leans into me and kisses me, I close my eyes and let go.

  From the way he’s kissing, I can already tell that this is going to be good. For a man as imposing as him, he’s actually more than a good kisser. I tilt my head to the side, pulling him closer and pressing my mouth harder against his. I part my lips and slip my tongue inside his mouth, a whirlwind of lust dancing inside my head.

  I exhale sharply as, still grabbing me by the waist, he pushes me back and pins me against the wall. I gasp as I feel the hard surface against my back, my body pinned between the wall and him. His fingers dart to my wrists and he lifts my arms up over my head.

  “I’m going use you like the little slut that you are,” he tells me, his eyes brimming with desire. I have no doubts about what he just said - he’s a man of his word. And each word that tumbles out of his mouth makes me want him more, boiling blood travelling through my veins and raising hell between my thighs. My thong is drenched, my juices soaking it in a way that hasn’t happened since… Well, since the last time we were together.… I can’t even start to explain how I’m feeling: to put it simply, this is raw desire in its purest and most violent form.

  “Use me, sir,” I whisper, a smile pregnant with anticipation dawning on my lips. My heart feels tight inside my chest and, as I stare into his eyes, I realize that he’s going to ruin me completely. No other man will ever be able to make me feel like he does.

  I throw my head back, baring my neck to him, and he savors my skin with hard kisses. I pant each time his lips touch me, a gentle fog of pleasure blanketing my mind. I get out of his hold with cat like movements, freeing my hands and taking them to his shirt, my frantic fingers popping button after button. I untuck his shirt then and, almost with a growl, I press the open palm of my hands on his pectorals, feeling the iron and steel of a rare breed of men under my fingertips. How the hell does a professor have a body like this? I don’t remember any barbells hiding under his desk.

  Anders presses his body against mine, the warmness of his skin sending a shiver down my spine, and then grabs a handful of hair on the nape of my neck. Holding my head, he presses his mouth against mine; fireworks go off behind my eyelids as we kiss savagely, our tongues dancing and fighting against each other with abandonment.

  Still kissing me, he takes his hand and lets it slide down my side, then makes it climb up my inner thigh. I shudder as I feel his long fingers on my skin, my hips unconsciously bucking against him. He brushes one finger over my thong, long flames of pleasure darting through my body as he does it; I rock my hips against him, trying to have him press his hand against my pussy. He doesn’t relent, though, taking his time and slowly brushing his finger over the fabric of my thong and my aching pussy.

  He’s the one in control, and he’s not letting go of that control.

  Taking a step back, he grabs the hem of my skirt and hikes it up to my waist. “Is this what you want?” He tells me in a half-growl, half-whisper, pressing his hand against my pussy. I let out one weak moan, submitting to the pressure of his hand. With a sudden growl, he takes his fingers to my thighs and pushes on my thong, sending it down my legs. I bite my lower lip as I feel it sliding down, and I step out of it eagerly, kicking it with my heels to a faraway corner.

  I exhale sharply, his fingertips caressing my folds with a maddening gentleness. I grab his wrist and try to make him go harder, but he keeps to his own rhythm and slowly drives me to the edge with his touch. This is pure torture, and I’m loving every second of it.

  He traces the contour of my pussy with one single finger, carefully avoiding my clit. I sway my hips, but he takes his other hand and holds me in place by the hips. Slowly parting my folds, he takes his finger all the way up my crevice, and only then does he brush his fingertip against my clitoris. And, God, the moment he does it… It’s almost too perfect. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, surrendering to the sparks of electricity that fly inside my body as he gently rubs my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, and he opens his hand and presses it hard between my thighs. I snap my legs shut by instinct, trapping his hand there as he flicks one finger against my folds. I open my mouth and sigh in frenzied delight as I feel his finger sliding inside of me; he takes it all the way, curling it upwards and pressing his fingertip against my G-spot. He rubs me there, drowning my brain in a ocean pleasure. When he slides one more finger inside of me, I can’t stop myself from moaning - I open my mouth and let a high-pitched cry of pleasure fall from my lips, my skin prickling as I do it.

  “Come, Christine. I want you to come, and you will obey,” he tells me in a commanding tone, and my pussy seems to cramp around his fingers, my body bowing down to his command. With two fingers pressed deep inside of me, softly rubbing against that sweet spot, he presses his thumb right above my clit. I don’t know how he does it, but his touch simply takes hol
d of my mind and sends all my thoughts spiraling down into an avalanche of pleasure. I moan between my gritted teeth, my pussy tightening around his fingers as I come.

  I’m still shaking from the orgasm when he takes his fingers out of my pussy and, with both hands, grabs my blouse and pulls it over my head. I lift my arms up as he undresses me, the fabric caressing my skin on the way out. Grabbing me by the waist, he forces me turn around and then pins me against the wall again, his chest pressed against my back. He starts unclasping my bra, his fingers pulling the straps down my shoulders and, in an instant, I’m grabbing it and throwing it to the floor.

  I jut my ass back at him, pressing it against his body, and I have to close my eyes as I feel the hardness he hides inside his pants. I shudder as I remember how massive his cock was, his long inches pushing their inside of me... Swaying my hips from side to side, I grab my skirt, keeping it up on my waist, and grind against his cock as hard as I can. He pulls back suddenly, though, his hand darting to my skirt and tugging on it with hurried movements; I press my legs together as he pulls it down my body. His fingers slide down my calfs and go over to the straps in my heels. I think that he’s going to take them off, but his fingers go right over.

  “You look good in heels,” he whispers into my ear. “So you’ll keep them on. And I’m going to fuck you like that,” he tells me, my insides boiling as his words caress my eardrums. Looking over my shoulder at him, I see him get up, a grin in his face.