by Alexis Angel
She steps outside and a burst of cool wind whips her beautiful fucking hair around her face. She’s fucking gorgeous. Like a fucking doll.
She looks at me, “So let me get this right,” she says. “Three bedrooms, a dining room, servants quarters, massive kitchen, living room, family room, study, and three bathrooms. And all this is for one person?”
I look at her. I can tell she’s waiting for my reaction.
“You forgot the balcony, love,” I say with a grin.
At first I think she’s going to slap me. But then she just rolls her eyes. “For one person?” Daphne asks again. “Derrick, your balcony is bigger than my bedroom.”
“That’s because it’s a wraparound balcony,” I say, smirking. Another wind comes through and I shiver. I’m still wearing the fucking damp clothes.
Daphne notices. “Let’s go inside,” she says and walks inside. I follow, but I stop. I’m staring at her ass. Her luscious and firm ass. God fucking dammit.
Now you know I’ve been with a lot of women. Fuck, you’ve seen me with a stripper and a news anchor. Let me tell you they couldn’t hold a fucking candle to this woman. And it’s not just because Daphne is fucking gorgeous.
She’s so elegant, even after her apartment got broken into.
She’s got some real class.
And you’re going to fucking groan, but there are two things in this world that drive me absolutely mental about a bird.
The first is if she’s got class.
The second is her ass.
Class and fucking ass. And Daphne has both in spades.
I admire her as she walks around, cooing and making comments to herself as she studies my apartment. Like a bird, before it nests.
Her legs are fucking toned. Her tits are fucking ripe. Her face is beautiful. I want to turn her around, bend her over and fuck her till we both pass the fuck out. That’s the only thing I want in this life. That’s all I know I will ever want in my life.
I’ve been ruined for all other women. And I haven’t even kissed her yet.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” she says as she walks up to me. “You’ll catch cold.”
“Right, love,” I tell her. “You want to join me as I get out of them?”
Her eyes fucking twinkle. Four days ago, she would have rolled those eyes and maybe even slapped me. But not now. Instead she just smiles and says, “I have nothing to change into.”
“That’ll change soon enough,” I tell her. “Sam’s bringing your shit over as we speak.”
“Just because you’re so wealthy doesn’t mean you can call all my stuff shit, Derrick,” she says. I look over at her startled and see her teasing smile.
Then she nods, thoughtfully. “I wonder who would want to break into just my room. I mean, I didn’t really even have anything valuable in there.”
I don’t know either but I’ve asked Sam and Pressly to do a very thorough check of the place after Daphne’s stuff gets brought over.
“I’m so afraid to go back,” she says, and her eyes cloud up with uncertainty and fear again.
Fuck, why does she remind me so fucking much of Alicia? I don’t even know where Alicia is at after she graduated from Yale. But I remember enough about her that my cock stiffens again just thinking about her when she was 18 – before she left St. Livy.
She probably left hating my fucking guts. Because Prince Sin – the bad boy Prince of the fucking world – was too much of a chicken shit coward to admit his real feelings for her. Because I’d been too fucking scarred by the ill treatment of my mother by my father. Because I was too numb from her eventual death. Because I was too worried about how I had treated Alicia as a kid. Where I had not just treated someone despicably, but wasted an opportunity to tell a woman that I loved her.
Yes, alright. I fucking admit it. When Alicia left, I knew that I loved her. That’s why during her going away party, I conveniently went to Cannes. I didn’t want her to see me and I knew I couldn’t keep that shit to myself.
“You’re a million miles away,” Daphne says and I shoot back to reality. Her eyes are wide and she’s looking at me.
I take a step closer and can feel her breath.
Fuck me. I can’t be falling in love with Daphne. Not after just meeting her.
Not when I’m hoping to find Alicia one day.
My face inches closer to her and I can see her eyelids droop as I get closer.
I don’t care if she’s a fucking stripper. All I want is to fucking be with her.
My arm drapes around her and descends to her lower back.
I feel so at peace when I’m with her. She banishes my fucking demons.
Our lips are centimeters apart.
I’m going to kiss her. She reminds me so much of…
“Alicia.”
Daphne opens her eyes and looks at me. Concern, or jealousy, or fear, or what the fuck I don’t know.
All I know is I’m standing there, like an idiot about to kiss fucking Daphne and I’m mumbling Alicia’s fucking name.
Fuck me.
Daphne’s eyes are wide. She’s studying me. I know I’ve fucked up and for once, I don’t have a fucking one-liner or a comeback.
I’m ready to take this – however it comes. Bring the fucking pain.
But I don’t get a chance to. The door opens and Sam and Pressly walk in. They’re carrying two suitcases each.
“Where should we put Miss Daphne’s clothes, Your Highness?” Pressly asks.
I don’t answer at first, but Daphne clears her throat and moves backwards. Our moment is done. It’s gone. Destroyed by yours truly. With his fucking anti-Midas touch.
“I’ll take them,” Daphne says as she leads Sam and Pressly to the first guest room in the hallway.
All I can do is watch her luscious fucking ass sway as she walks away.
I feel like a fucking idiot. Most likely because I am.
Alicia
As much as I hate to admit it, Derrick’s place is so much nicer than mine.
I mean, I always knew no matter where he lived was going to be luxurious. But I almost jump for joy when Mike tells me over the phone that he doesn’t want me coming in for a few days but to stay at home. “Besides, it sounds like you’re not far from your target anyways,” Mike says.
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. After Derrick’ guys brought my suitcases in, I started unpacking in the guest room. I’m going to be staying here for a little bit.
You want to know something? You can’t tell anyone, okay?
Well, here goes.
So, I stayed in the guest room and focused on packing the whole afternoon. Derrick came by a few times but I pretended to be busy. But, the truth is, it was a lot easier to stay in the guest room because I wouldn’t have to face him. I wouldn’t have to face what was going on inside of me.
I mean, can you blame me? How messed up is this situation? Here’s a guy who’s a Prince. He’s an arrogant jerk. An asshole. And I somehow had the misfortune of growing up with him. So I got out of the country and went to college to get on with my life. Only I didn’t do a good job because I ended up dating a guy that cheated on me. Then I broke up with him. But then my apartment got ransacked. So I moved in (temporarily) with the asshole. Only I’m lying to him and pretending to be a stripper. Named Daphne. So I can write about his dirt.
But it doesn't end there. I almost kissed him outside a few hours ago! And I would have, if he hadn’t held himself back.
And said my name.
My real name.
Alicia.
When he told me that I reminded him of someone, I didn’t believe him at first. Then he said my name. I know, I know. Go ahead and roll your eyes. He was basically telling me I reminded him of myself.
Is he really thinking of me? Has he really been thinking of me? This whole time?
I mean, it's an understatement to say the man is easy on the eyes. That strong jawline of his, his luxurious hair, hell, the entire package.
&
nbsp; Actually, speaking of package, I’ve had quite a number of times to check it out. Whether it's when he was showing me around the apartment, or when he came by as I was unpacking.
It looks just as large in person as it does on television.
I mean, come on, this guy is a Greek god when it comes to his body. The only thing that kept me from having my panties melt whenever I even thought of him was knowing that at least he was a real asshole.
But from jumping in the water to save a little boy, to coming to my rescue as well, he’s anything but an asshole. He’s a real life Prince.
And after that almost-kiss, I might as well have jumped in the water too – that’s how wet my panties are…
Uhmm, just a little, I mean. Not like a lot, or anything. I’m not falling for him or anything, okay?
I mean, think about it. He doesn’t even know that I’m really Alicia. He doesn’t know I work for a gossip column in a tabloid newspaper. That I’ve been lying to him. I wonder what will happen if he ever figures that out?
I mean, I’m not lying about everything. I told him about how a few days ago I discovered Jake had been cheating on me. He told me a bit about how he’s been on his own basically in New York since he moved here. And then finally left a few hours ago to go work out at his gym across the street. I shudder when I think of him doing deadlifts, straining his bulging muscles, and having his testosterone enlarge his monster cock.
I shake my head vigorously, trying to get these thoughts out of my head.
Just because he’s come picked me up when I was in danger doesn’t make him my hero. I need to remember that. Stop lusting. I’m supposed to be the good girl, remember? I don’t do these things. I’m not supposed to have melted panties. I’m supposed to be responsible.
And that’s when I hear Derrick come into the apartment.
Everything I had told myself goes out my brain the moment he walks to the threshold of my door. He’s got a smirk. He’s also shirtless, wearing just a pair of basketball shorts.
I try not to stare at the tattoos that grace his body. They take a warrior’s body and make it into a dangerous looking work of art. My spine tingles in unrequited lust as he hands me a package. It’s a black plastic bag.
“For you, love,” he says with a smirk.
“What is it?” I ask, taken aback.
“I think it’ll help with all the adrenaline you have going through your body,” he says. “It’ll take an edge off.”
He’s grinning and I open the bag.
“Since there's no more Jake, it's something to get you through the long nights,” he says.
I take the package and open it, and I don’t know what to say.
It’s a set of two clamps. I eye them for a bit and read the packaging. But it doesn’t dawn on me that until I see the picture.
These are nipple clamps. They show a picture that shows a woman with the clamps, and the box shows her getting an electric buzzing.
Next to it is a small vibrator bullet. And next to that is a wireless remote.
Oh. My. God.
What do I do? What do I say? I’m holding these two packages and I don’t know what to do here.
“What is all this,” I ask, deciding that confusion is easier to use to hide my embarrassment.
Derrick simply shrugs. "I figured it would help you, love."
“Help me do what?” I ask again. What is he thinking? Just because he looks so delicious and gets my mind all twisted he can give me these…these sex toys for presents?!
“It’ll give you all the pleasure you need, love,” Derrick says with a smile. “Without ever having to deal with a man again.”
Oh. My. God. Again, I’m speechless.
Who the hell does he think he is? That because I pretended to be a stripper that makes me a prostitute?!
I throw the package on the bed.
“Gross!” I yell out loud. “I barely know you!”
“Okay, Daphne, love, listen to me okay,” Derrick says and comes inside my room. Oh God, I can smell his musk. His sweat. His scent. It’s heady and it fogs my brain with desire.
Derrick continues, “You’ve been with this guys for what? 6 months? You’re going to get fucking lonely. And you don’t want to go back to relationship that you know is shit because your body has needs, okay?”
“So what if I could take care of it myself?” I ask. “Maybe I have a whole chest of sex toys.”
Derrick cocks an eye. “Oh really,” he says. “Tell me one thing that you have.”
Right. I have nothing. And nothing to say either.
Derrick continues and I listen to him in silence, trying my best to glare. He continues, “And if you don’t do something about it, Daphne, you and I are going to get in trouble. I know you’re not the kind to go around and casually sleep around with blokes. So fuck me, it’s going to be me. You’re too fucking gorgeous.”
Oh Jeez! Now he’s complimenting me.
“And you remind me too much of a girl I used to know. A girl that I’m realizing I was a fool to let go. If I ever had her in the first place,” he says.
Now my curiosity is unleashed. Could it be the story I’m looking for?
“Why?” I ask. Then I ask again with more urgency. “Who?”
He turns around and walks away, but stops before he crosses the threshold. “Her name was Alicia,” he says. “And I didn’t know it at the time, but seeing you, I can’t get away from the fact that I was in love with her, only I was too stupid to realize it.”
Oh. My.
I don’t know what to say.
Well, it’s a good thing he’s walking out of the apartment. Looks like this conversation was too much for him, too.
I hear the door shut below and Derrick call the elevator and I tremble.
Not because I'm grossed out. I should be, but all I can manage is a pathetic Ew. Gross. And that's only because you're watching.
I'm not grossed out.
I'm so incredibly wet. If I took my panties off right now and threw them against the wall, they’d stick to that wall.
Yes, it’s because I'm thinking about Derrick, okay? How he thought enough about me in his messed up way.
What is going on with him? He’s not supposed to be like this.
He took me out on a beautiful morning and he became a hero. He didn’t even get any of the credit.
Then, he went out to God knows where and bought me some pretty crazy sex toys.
Okay, the last one is a bit out there, but Derrick is completely out there. And when he was standing in my door, with no shirt that's showing off his rippling muscles and I can see the bulge in his crotch, it's a bit hard not to get turned on when I'm looking at nipple clamps and a vibrator.
I've never had a vibrator before.
I guess I've always sort of wanted a vibrator, but I was too embarrassed to go into a store on my own and buy it.
And now Derrick's bought one for me. Because he was worried about how I was going to get along without having sex with my boyfriend – who I’ve never had sex with before, ironically.
But there is someone I wish I could have sex with.
Don't give me that look. Please. It's not like I’m going to be like every other one of his stupid conquests. I can resist his charms.
But a girl can have fantasies, can’t she?
I decide that since he's out of the house anyways, I'm going to live a little and have a little bit of fun.
A wicked smile goes through my face and I jump off the bed and go to close my door. But, it's just me in the house. I'm going to leave it open. Feels a bit naughtier that way.
The only problem is; I have no idea how to use one of these things.
First I take the clamps, which I realize actually look quite delicate as I examine them. They’ve got some decorative design that makes them look a bit fancy, even sexy, but maybe that’s just my desperation for a sinful man I’ll try not to mention.
Seriously, this isn’t solely about Derrick. Stop lookin
g at me like that; it really isn’t. Maybe he’s right, and I do just need to relieve some stress. Besides, I already told you this isn’t some savings account between my legs that only a future husband can access. I just haven’t found the right guy, and thank the heavens I didn’t give it up to Jake, because he turned out to be a real asshole.
Taking one clamp between my index finger and thumb, I open and close it a couple of times to see how it works. Seems simple enough. Placing it around my bottom lip, I giggle when it clamps down. I thought it would be painful, but it doesn’t bother my lip at all.
The instructions said my nipple should be hard before using the clamp, and luckily my headlights are on brightly, standing up like they’re waiting for the show to begin. I glance down as the nerves begin to build in my stomach. I’m afraid to do this, afraid of what it will do and how it will feel. That’s kind of the point of doing it with someone else, right? So you don’t have to go through this alone? But its better if I learn to please myself first, a girl in college told me that. It’s strange that I remember it now.
Okay, quit stalling. Are we doing this or what? Fuck it, let’s do it. I open one clamp and hover it above my aroused nipple, my fingers trembling with anticipation.
“Ahhh!!!” I yell before breaking into a giggling fit. Yikes! It hurt a lot more than my bottom lip, but I guess I’m more sensitive there. Opening the other clip, I clamp down on my other nipple, my reaction a bit less dramatic this time after knowing what to expect. Before I can fully register the pain it fades completely, almost as if they’re not even there. Strange.
Now for the real toy. I look at the small bullet. It looks like an elongated metal marble. The surface is so smooth and shiny, metallic even. I’ve seen the price on the box, but even without that I would’ve been able to tell it was expensive. The instructions list wetting it in your mouth, first, and although I know I’m already well lubricated down there, I follow the steps.
The metal feels silky smooth against my tongue. My thighs press together as my belly fill with butterflies. I feel like I’m at the top of a rollercoaster about to free fall as I move the bullet down my body, between my breasts and over my navel. My legs spread just enough for me to reach my hand in and slide the bullet inside my slippery sex.
