He lowers it slightly, placing more of the material against my skin as it drags down my body. After a couple of rounds of running it along my back, he swishes the wisps against my ass cheeks, their tips tapping me lightly on the skin.
Instantly, my pussy tingles in excitement.
My goodness.
He whips the toy against me with a bit more force. The sting hits me first, but it instantly fades to a warm, lingering sensation.
I love it.
He smiles and gives me another good slap, just enough for me to want more before he steps back.
“Do you know what this is, Percy?”
“Not a clue, babe. What is it?”
“It’s a flogger. It’s meant to be grazed and whipped against your skin to give you a lot of small, stinging yet painless sensations at once. At one point in time, it had a torture-filled background, and I’m sure you can tell it would hurt if I wanted it to.”
I nod furiously.
Anton grazes my skin with the flogger one final time before walking away. Of course, always teasing me.
My cunt is throbbing. The sensation from this tool is reaching the peak that I whine for him to come back.
“Percy, tell me what you want,” Anton says as he walks back to me, his hand on my back, tracing my spine.
“I want you, Silver Fox,” I quickly admit.
His massive cock finds my cunt with no trouble; I’m dripping in anticipation. As he enters my pussy, I gasp in delight and grip into the wooden part of the chair hard, bracing myself for him.
As the head of his cock slides against my G-spot, a really deep, passionate sensation unlike anything else I’ve felt before takes over, my limbs all straining hard against all of the leather straps of this chair.
I moan from Anton’s thick cock filling my pussy completely. After a few good thrusts, I flex my hips reactively and feel Anton’s cock twitch inside of me.
His hands are all over me, groping every part of me they can before landing on my hips and gripping tight, shoving his cock as far as he can into me with each thrust.
I’m in absolute heaven. As we move together in perfect synchronization, it’s like the blood in my body rushes to my head. I feel weightless, like I’m on a higher cloud than I’ve ever been before.
I throw my head back, moaning and screaming with pleasure.
“Fuck, I’m coming!” I exclaim.
I ride the orgasmic wave that’s rushing over me. I feel limp and boneless as Anton gives me everything he’s got, shoving his throbbing cock in and out of me.
As my orgasm simmers down and the tingling fades, I feel Anton slow for a moment, his breathing growing heavier.
He grips my hips tight and pounds a few good hard pumps before finally exclaiming and moaning intensely, filling my pussy with his huge supply of cum.
There’s so much that it bursts out of me with incredible force, his cock still buried inside me. I linger on the feeling of the gushing cum, marveling at how he makes me erupt when he comes inside me.
Anton slows himself and pulls out of me. I take a deep breath and shake my arms and legs in the straps, hoping to get the point across that I want to be let out. He pulls the restraints loose.
I turn over and Anton comes around to my face. He stands over me as I sit in the chair, and he positions his cock in my mouth.
I stick my tongue out and taste his cock, sweet with the juices from my pussy, mixed with his amazing cum.
I marvel at the flavor and salivate immediately. I take his cock into my mouth and feel it grow nice and hard before letting it slide down my throat.
We become a beautiful, synchronized fucking machine again, with his cock thrusting in and out of my mouth.
I reach up and dig my nails into his back. I’m so overwhelmed with pleasure, I don’t know how much more I can handle. With each thrust, I feel Anton’s cock throb harder against and inside my throat.
He grunts and gyrates in a different rhythm for a few pumps before exploding into my mouth, coating my tongue completely with his cum. I swish it around in my mouth before happily swallowing every drop.
The intensity of the experience has me completely driven to the edge. I’m overwhelmed with my desire for him. I’m completely obsessed, though I have no idea how I managed to get here.
All I know is that somewhere between coming myself and sucking his cock, my hand has crept down to my pussy, and I’m flicking my clit to the taste of his cum after having been bound to a torture chamber chair.
My emotions are overpowering me with such a force of will. My mind goes gloriously blank, pleasure occupying the space where thought used to live. I close my eyes, throwing my head back in pure ecstasy.
My passion and my pleasure are in overdrive.
As my cunt throbs and my breathing steadies, I open my eyes, moaning loudly at Anton’s downturned face. He watches me raptly, a smile pulling at his lips.
Our eyes lock as I come, screaming out and drenching the floor of the torture museum.
As the orgasm ebbs, I stand up and lean into Anton, offering him the fingers that have just been on my pussy. He happily accepts them, licking them from base to tip.
Before today, I would never have thought to turn the historical torture museum of Amsterdam into our own little sex dungeon, but I’m not complaining that that’s what’s happened.
As I lower my digits, I kiss him, his spit and my own cum mixing in my mouth. As I lower my face to his chest, he pulls me hard against him.
I think we’ve hit our apex.
Nothing can possibly top this tonight.
32
Percy
Saturday: 4:40Pm
I’m breathing hard—harder than I should be.
The hairs on the back of my neck are standing like skyscrapers.
My heart is racing like a Formula One race car.
Even my palms feel sweaty.
I’ve never experienced something like claustrophobia before. Fuck, I don’t do phobias at all. Unless you count gamophobia—read that as a fear of commitment—then I’m your girl.
But being in that museum with Anton made me feel as though the world was shrinking around me.
I had to get out of there.
I take a moment to bask in the warmth of the sun. A cool breeze washes over me like a gentle wave of soothing relaxation.
Being outside reminds me that the world isn’t closing in around me.
My heels clack against the pavement as I try to put as much distance between Anton and myself as possible.
I remember everything that has happened between us.
And, let me say this, it’s fucked up.
Sure, I’ve always had a soft spot for Anton. How could I not?
My Silver Fox is well-traveled, educated, charming, and a fucking prince, to boot. Throw in his god-like physique and baseball bat-sized cock and you have the total package.
So yes, I’ve had a soft spot for him from day one.
But actually falling in love!?
Fuck. No.
I don’t do the romantic kind of love.
That’s not who I am. It can’t be who I am.
Yet, I remember telling him I love him.
I don’t remember how that happened.
It’s just a long time coming. As if all the little moments over the years have kept adding up until he slipped past my defenses like a fucking love ninja.
There’s a reason I’ve always kept my lovers at arm’s length.
It was so this kind of bullshit doesn’t happen.
Go figure that the princely Silver Fox would be the one to weasel his way in.
“Percy, wait!”
What the fuck?!
I keep walking.
I can’t deal with all this right now.
His tall, muscled frame appears from the corner of my eye. He runs around me and blocks my path.
“Stop, Percy. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t need to talk. I need a fucking drink.”
I need mor
e than one, truth be told. I could probably go for about a dozen.
“No, we need to talk.”
He looks at me through narrowed eyes. His tone is authoritative yet demanding.
It’s the kind of tone that you expect a prince—and future king—to have.
And—while now is certainly not the best time for it—my pussy throbs in excitement at the sound of it.
“Listen here, your Highness, I’m not one of your subjects that you can just order around,” I spit back in defiance.
“No, you’re not. You’re my fucking wife. The woman I’ve taken a vow to spend the rest of my life with.”
Okay, so he has me there.
“Yeah, well that still doesn’t mean you get to order me around.”
One point for yours truly.
“No, it doesn’t. But it means that instead of running from our problems, we should stand our ground and talk about them like adults. Running away has never solved anything,” he declares.
And after I don’t reply, he goes on, “Cowards run. I’m not a coward. And I refuse to believe that I married one!”
His voice climbs like the crescendo of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Anton’s words are every bit as true as they are dramatic.
I know that I’m certainly not a fucking coward. But, I am fucking scared. This whole fucking shit show scares me to my core.
I’m scared of loving him. I’m scared of being loved by him.
Loving Anton—and letting him in—opens me up for heartbreak and pain should it all go to shit.
And—as much as I’m afraid to get hurt—I’m just as afraid of hurting him in return.
The walls that I put up have always been there to protect my boyfriends just as much as they protect me.
It’s why I’ve always gravitated towards men with the same mindset. Inevitably, they all fall for me, but that’s why I kick them to the curb.
Falling in love with one of them—let alone marrying one—has never been part of the plan.
“What do you want from me? We both know marriage doesn’t suit me, nor am I queen material.”
“I want what I’ve always wanted, Percy. You. That’s it. All I’ve ever wanted was you and everything that comes with being with you.” he declares in exasperation. “Do you honestly think I give a fuck about whether or not you’re ‘queen material’ for fuck’s sake? If I thought for a moment that being with you would be detrimental to my country, then I wouldn’t be here fighting for you, for us.”
Hearing him say those words pulls at heart strings I never knew I had.
To have a man—a fucking prince at that—throw himself at me like this is probably the fantasy of every woman on Earth who isn’t me.
I never dream of the Prince Charming fantasy wherein I live in a big castle and wear the fancy dresses. I’ll pick a fancy hotel suite in Vegas or New York with a harem of hot studs and cocktail dresses over that any day.
But the way Anton looks at me with those dark eyes is something I’ve never experienced before.
And then there’s the need I hear in his voice. It’s not a sexual need borne out of lust. It’s a need springing from real love, adoration, and affection.
It’s another first for me.
And, yeah, I’m fucking scared shitless.
“There is no us, Anton. I cannot do this with you. I am not the woman you think I am.”
The only thing I can do is try and push him away.
I might love him, but I can’t.
And I keep trying to tell myself that I don’t want to.
Even as I dare to look into his soft, chocolate colored eyes.
I’m sure the girls would be telling me to just “shut up and kiss him already” if they were here. And I’d probably listen to them if they were.
But, the fact of the matter is, they aren’t here, and I’m forced to do this on my own.
If I was wearing panties they’d be big girl ones.
“Oh, I know exactly who you are, Percy,” he says, his voice soft and tender. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. You’re everything a woman should be–intelligent, witty, and beautiful. You live life your way and make no apologies for it. You take no prisoners. You’re a shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later kind of woman. And being with you makes me a better man.”
No point in keeping score after that one.
He takes a step forward.
I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat.
He reaches out to take me into his arms. I push them away.
The second I feel his body against mine I know I’m done. I know I’ll cave.
I have to stand my ground.
But, fuck, he makes it hard.
“Why do you have to be you?” I nearly yell. “Why do you have to be all this?”
Be angry, Percy!
Yes, angry.
Like, how dare he be so fucking hot, sweet, passionate and just fucking good?
I push him out of my way.
I need to put some distance between us again.
I start to run—as much as I can in heels—down the street.
I’m not running from my problem. No, I’m regrouping so I can redouble my efforts.
It’s all strategy.
Chess, not checkers, bitches.
Of course, there’s no problem with this course of action.
I hear Anton chasing after me.
Fuck...
33
Anton
Saturday 4:43Pm
And just like that, she’s running again.
For a woman in heels, she can fucking move. I have to give her credit for that. But you’d think that she would know by now that running is pointless. I’m not about to just let her take off to some corner of the Earth.
Though there’s nowhere she can go that I can’t—or won’t—follow.
I’ve climbed Mount Everest. I’ve braved the most remote reaches of the Amazon. I’ve skydived from low-orbit, for fuck’s sake. There’s nowhere that Percy can go that will make me second guess chasing her down.
She’s my wife. For better or for worse, and this definitely feels like one of those ‘worse’ moments. Still, I take that vow seriously.
I run after her.
“Go away Anton,” she says over her shoulder.
As if I’m about to fucking listen to that shit now. I saw the look in her eyes when I told her how I felt. Percy may have said one thing with her lips, but her hazel colored eyes said something completely different.
Eyes are the gateway to the soul for a reason.
And Percy’s eyes bared her soul to me.
She loves me.
She’s fighting against it—I can see the inner struggle she’s at war with—but if there’s one thing I learned long ago, it’s that you can’t fight love.
You can kick and punch and push it away as much as you want, but it’s futile and pointless. When I realized that I had loved Percy, I was vehemently against it myself. My reaction wasn’t all that much different to hers.
I’m not the falling-in-love type, I told myself.
I always figured that I’d end up marrying out of duty rather than for love.
But the more I was around Percy, the more she infected me with her zeal and passion for life’s little—and big—pleasures.
She was the kind of woman who grabbed life by the balls while sucking on its cock. I saw her as my female counterpart. In hindsight, that was probably part of why I ended up falling for her.
But I can see now that it was also the reason why she fell in love with me. At the end of the day, we’re the two sides of the same coin.
My arms wrap around her slim waist, and I hoist her off her feet with little effort.
Throwing Percy around like a ragdoll has always been easy, but now it’s a fucking joke.
“Let go of me, you giant fuck tit!” she cries out.
She struggles pointlessly against my grip.
A handful of pedestrians look on with curiosity at the scene w
e’re causing.
I smile and nod at them as I duck into a nearby side alley. I set Percy down and pin her hands above her head against the brick wall.
She struggles for a moment, which still gets her nowhere, before relenting.
She looks down to the ground between us.
“Look at me, Percy.”
“You think I’m going to give you the satisfaction?”
“Look at me,” I order.
She looks at me.
The look in her eyes speaks volumes that I’m sure could fill libraries.
First and foremost is the defiance. She loves to hate how I take control.
Percy fancies herself a woman in charge. A leader of the pack if you will.
An Alpha female. But that doesn’t work with me. She tries, but it always fails.
I’m not just some Joe Blow that she toys with who thinks he’s an Alpha male.
No, I am the Alpha male.
And she loves that about me—even though she tells me she doesn’t.
But beyond the defiance, I see more. There is fear in her eyes that dances like a wildfire.
It’s not fear that I’ll hurt her—she knows that’s not who I am—but it’s fear at acknowledging that we belong together.
“Tell me you love me.”
She swallows hard and shakes her head.
“No. I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t love you, Anton. This, all of this, is just one big cluster fuck because I had way too much absinthe and Heineken. That’s it.”
It’s a bold-faced lie. One made all the more obvious when she looks away from me as she says it. Everyone has a tell.
Everyone.
You spend enough time at the poker table with someone, and you learn when they’re bluffing and when they’ve got a damn good hand.
I know all of Percy’s tells.
There’s no lie that she can tell me that I’ll believe.
But even without knowing all those little intimate pieces of information, it’s obvious that she doesn’t mean it when she tells me that she doesn’t love me.
“Bullshit, Percy.”
She turns to look at me again. She tries her best to look angry and righteous.
The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance Page 14
