by Dark Angel
“I know what you like, love,” he smiles that gleeful smile of his that reminds me of him when we were children and he was carefree.
“I like you,” I shoot back and he takes my mouth as his hands work to free my breasts from the chiffon blouse that’s giving him so much trouble.
The second he’s opened the blouse, he leans me backwards, taking my full breast into his mouth, and I’ve got more than a mouthful. He’s massaging me with his mouth, his tongue twirling in circles before his teeth lightly graze my sensitive skin. I could cum from this alone, that’s how good it feels, and my body is responding, grinding harder against Derrick, which causes him to bite me harshly.
“Oww!” I yell.
“Are you trying to make me cum in my fucking pants?” He blurts out and something about the look on his face and the stiffness of his cock between my legs just sends me into uncontrollable giggles. Taking advantage, Derrick begins tickling me as I try to convince him to stop through my laughter.
This is what makes every moment we spend together so special, we just have so much fun enjoying each others company. There’s never a dull moment when I’m around him, he makes everything fun and exciting. Even when he’s doing something he doesn’t want, like torturing himself with extended foreplay in the back of his limousine, he still makes me laugh.
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life listening to your giggle,” he says once he’s finally stopped his tickling attack, his eyes burning through me.
“When did you become so romantic?” I wonder aloud, but before he can answer, I grab his hair, pulling him to me, pressing my lips to his like my life depends on it. My blouse is ripped, my skirt is hiked up to my navel, and my shoes are kicked off on the floor of the car somewhere. Ripping at Ander’s tie, I make light work of his buttons to expose the sculpted chest I love so much, leaning to lay kisses all over his pectorals.
Before I know it, we’re turning down Billionaire’s Row, Derrick is growing antsy to get out of the car, but I’ve got other plans in mind. Just when we pull into the garage, I lean over to the phone he used earlier and pick it up.
“Leave us. We’ll come up to the penthouse later,” I inform the driver before hanging up.
“What are you doing?” Derrick asked outraged I’m making him wait any longer.
“Relax, baby,” I whisper while running my nails down his chest until landing on his eager manhood. Slowly, I unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, allowing the caged anaconda to roam free. It springs to life, leaning against my belly as I lift onto my knees, reaching beneath my dress to push my panties to the side before lowering my soaking sex onto his erect length.
“I thought you said you wanted it to be unforgettable,” he asks confused as I rock back and forth, sliding down his thick rod.
“So, make it unforgettable,” I whisper in his ear, my body rocking forward and backwards as my legs lift me up and down. Derrick always takes a few moments to gather himself once he’s first inside of me. He once told me he has to focus so as not to cum the second he feels me. I can see him doing that now, his eyes closed, and I want to make him lose control before he ever gets started. Increasing my pace, I tug on his hair and slide up and down his cock rapidly.
“Fuck!” He growls quietly, his body loving everything. His hands move to my hips, pulling me down, urging me to slow my pace.
“Ahhh!” I moan, he’s so deep from this angle and without movement it’s like I’m stretched too far.
“Slow,” he orders sternly, before loosening his grip so I can resume my rhythm. I begin slowly, sliding and winding, and Derrick laces my neck with sloppy kisses as the vibrations build in my belly.
Once I feel my orgasm readying my body, I lift myself faster and fall harder, hungry for the fullness of him inside me. I’m such an addict for him, and the more I get, the more I want. It’s never enough.
“Slow,” he warns me, but I’m not able to listen, my body isn’t mine anymore, I’m a slave to my orgasm.
“I can’t!” I cry, my hands gripped around his neck as I chase my climax.
“You need to cum already, love?” He asks with that cocky smirk.
“Please, baby,” I beg and he licks the pad of his thumb before moving his hand between my legs, gently massaging my clit as I ride him faster and faster.
“That’s it, Daphne. Keep going, baby,” he coaches me, lifting his hips to pump me with more of his cock on every thrust.
“Yes! Yes!” I yell, rocking up and down, my climax right there, but I just can’t grasp it.
“Now, Daphne,” Derrick orders calmly, and I close my eyes to focus. I’m at that perfectly pleasurable stage where I’m peaking just before falling over the edge of ecstasy, so I’m not complaining, but I want my release as well.
“Fucking cum for me!” He yells and the tone and aggression in his voice is my undoing. I explode instantly, screaming in pleasure as the sensations shoot from every inch of my body.
Derrick moves quickly, lifting me and turning my body so that I’m on my knees on the floor of the car, bent over the bench seats lining the limousine.
“You’re going to cum again for me,” he growls before shoving his member into my creamy pussy from behind.
I hate to pick favorites, but doggy style is just so good. He hits all of my hotspots from this angle and my body just sings for him. His hand is pressing into the small of my back, the pressure makes my clit rub against the soft leather seat and it feels incredible.
“Derrick, baby, yes!” I moan, my body moving slowly to enjoy the friction, and thankfully Derrick lets me build slowly, because this position usually leads to him ravishing me immediately.
“Take me, Daphne,” he says while sliding in and out of me, rolling his hips to create a wave like motion with his cock.
“I fucking love you,” he groans and my body turns up a notch, my next orgasm ready to make an appearance.
Throwing my ass back, I force him to increase his pace and he happily obliges, again gripping my hips, pulling me into him as he pounds into my greedy pussy.
“Oh God!” I cry, the vibrations building too quickly.
“Ungh!” He grunts with every thrust, grabbing my hair as he continues to press down on my back, my clit now over stimulated, another explosion moments away.
“Not yet,” Derrick abruptly slows down just when I was about to cum. I turn around with tears in my eyes. That’s how disappointed I was. I already told you I’m an addict, so what did you really expect. I need him. And I need my releases. Quite regularly actually.
“You make me wait, I make you wait,” he explains in his throaty sex voice.
“Please, baby,” I plead as he works me up again, the waves even bigger this time, but he says nothing, instead he just pumps me hard, his length is coated in my cream.
“Fuck!” He bites and I think he might be losing control, so I rock back into him, grinding my clit against the leather, ready for my release.
“Nope,” he slows again and I feel the tears at the back of my eyes, ready to fall. I don’t care how silly it sounds, or how irrational I look. I’m hormonal and horny. Yes, I know I’ve just cum, but this man has me on a ridiculous schedule with unbelievable expectations. It’s nothing for me to cum five times in a night, so please save your judgement.
“Derrick,” I cry, angry but still desperate for him, so my treacherous body still rocks with each of his slow surges, happy when he increases the pace.
My belly fills with strong waves when he begins pushing my ass down. I know he’s intentionally pressing my most sensitive spot onto the leather, the friction again driving me toward an orgasm.
“You’re gonna cum so fucking hard,” he grunts as if he’s warning me about something I don’t know.
“Derrick, please,” I beg him to finally let me cum when I feel myself losing control.
“Just wait for me, baby,” he groans, and the pleasure in his voice almost sends me over the edge.
Struggling, I fight the
waves back as I rock with him, his body now going complete animalistic as he chases his release feverously. We’re moaning and groaning in unison, our bodies colliding with a splashing sound while Derrick stuffs me full.
“I’m gonna take this too, Daphne,” he grunts while press his thumb onto my puckering asshole, the sensation sending me into a spiral of climactic unraveling. After such an intense build up, my entire body is on edge, making my climax much more impactful than usual.
Hearing myself scream, I try to tell myself to quiet down, but its like I’m watching myself. I’m having an out of body experience, that’s how good the sex is!
“Here I cum, baby!” Derrick yells just before his cock spasms inside of me, jerking as it shoots creamy lava into me.
“Oh fuck!” He yells, his body emptying a huge load as usual. His semen is already sliding out of me as he shoots off more, his hips still rocking, rubbing the last bit out.
Leaning over, he kisses my ear as he finishes before noticing my tear stained face.
“Did I hurt you, love?” He asks concerned.
“No, I just came so hard,” I breathe, my body spent from the two all encompassing orgasms.
“Let me get you inside,” he shakes his head at my dramatics before moving about to retrieve our clothes, which are scattered throughout the car.
We help each other redress after Derrick gently wipes the semen from between my legs with napkins from a hidden compartment. Deciding we look presentable enough to make it to the elevator, we finally exit the limo, looking both ways as if we’ve possibly drawn an audience. Luckily, no one is there and we quickly make our way through the parking lot to the private elevator without being spotted. His lips are sealed on mine before the doors close and we ride to the top floor with our tongues dancing together as our hands roam each other’s bodies. When the elevator stops we pull away panting, and Derrick pulls my left hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles and then the huge diamond he’s just given me.
“I love you,” I mouth to him.
“I love you more, Daphne Apply,” he steals my line, and we walk hand in hand into our home together.
Oh. Crap.
Okay, well you know what? I’m just going to be happy today. The man of my dreams has asked to marry me.
I’ll have to deal with explaining to him how I’m really me tomorrow…
Abby Adams: Wedding Sinner?
I’m Abigail Adams, and here’s what Abby’s hearing...
Sorry, New Yorkers, but today is definitely a dark day. Especially for the ladies. I don’t care if you’re married or single, the world’s most eligible bachelor seems to be off the market.
That’s right. You heard it here first, and what we hear is that Prince Derrick Blaine has proposed to his current girlfriend, Daphne Apple. The Prince apparently proposed to his girlfriend on the Brooklyn Bridge, after paying the city to shut it down.
That’s right, all ye weary commuters. The reason for the massive traffic yesterday on the Williamsburg, Manhattan, and Queensboro Bridges as well as the BQE and Belt Parkway is all related to one man – Prince Derrick Blaine. But before we go off with torches and pitchforks to his castle in the clouds, let's celebrate the good that the Prince has done for the city.
In the time since I wrote my last round of gossip, Prince Blaine has donated and dedicated one after-school program in the Bronx, participated in three charity golf events, and donated an entire wing to the NYU Medical Center. So I figure, if after doing all that for the citizens of New York City, the guy wants to use the bridge for one day, it’s the least we can do. Plus, Abby thinks that Prince Derrick Blaine is a tad cuter and hotter than another leader we know in New Jersey who has a propensity to close bridges. But you didn’t hear that from me…
No word yet on the date of the marriage and as far as our spies tell us, this is not shotgun marriage. Rather the young couple seem very much in love.
Who is the mystery woman that stole the Prince from the collective female population of the Tri-State Area? Well, Daphne Apple is a bit of an enigma. I’ve had a chance to sit down with her and talk, and stay tuned in the next few weeks for my exclusive interview.
Until then, I’m Abigail Adams signing out. Keep your ears open, New York City.
Derrick
I’m staring at the fat NYPD officer who’s sitting behind a desk looking back at me as I sit in the holding cell.
Right, what am I doing in here when I should be home talking to my father who came to visit after the trade deal?
I should be out celebrating my impending nuptials, shouldn't I?
To answer that question, let me tell you who’s at my house, okay?
First, there’s my father, who I already told you is visiting. But then, there’s also his girlfriend, the Royal Press Secretary, Samantha Bayer. Who happens to be Alicia’s mother.
Alicia Bayer - who also somehow happens to be my fiancée.
Yeah, fuck you, I know. I fucking know about Alicia. Or Daphne. Whatever the fuck you want to call her.
I sigh and lean back against the wall, staring at the bars.
Fuck me, I can’t help but rethink all that’s happened this morning.
* * *
Like any Saturday morning, Daphne wanted to sleep in. I’m using her fake name because that’s what I knew her as at that point. That’s right. I didn't even know her full name, despite the fact that I fucking proposed to her on the Brooklyn Bridge two days ago. And you want to know what the fucking worst part of it is? That morning, when I woke up and saw her wrapped around my body, her face cute as a fucking button, I realized that I was going to have to make peace with the fact that I would never have what I had first experienced with Alicia. Despite the fact that I never got a chance to tell Alicia how I felt, I would still carry that fucking regret and sorrow with me and make myself a better man for Daphne. I mean, I was fucking torn, mate. Because even as I bent my head to kiss Daphne on the cheek, I worried that a part of my heart would always belong to the gawky girl I had grown up with.
Daphne woke up and smiled when she looked into my eyes and I told myself that even if I had to fake it, I’d give myself completely to this woman. She was the one that rescued me from myself, while I dreamed about Alicia. She was the one that repaired the relationship with my dad, while I acted out. She was here. She was now.
We were sleeping naked - a product of being too tired to put on any clothes after fucking our brains out the night before - and it wasn’t long before she had her slender legs wrapped around me while I took my massive cock and brought her to two major orgasms.
I take another sip and think back to Daphne’s face as she came. I fucking love making her cum. It’s the most thrilling aspect of having sex with her. Sure, she makes me cum like no one else ever has, but I seriously love her so fucking much. I would do anything for her.
But until today, it turns out I didn’t even fucking know her.
Ever since I proposed, Daphne’s been looking kind of worried.
“Derrick,” she said that morning at breakfast. “We need to talk.”
I finally looked at her. That Thursday on the bridge she’d been floating and after we finally got home we managed to get undressed and spent the entire day in bed. We made love - yes, I fucking said ‘making love’ again, alright - and just didn’t let go of each other. We fucking basked in each other’s presence like nothing else existed. The small break we took was so I could go over some paperwork with Larry about the foundation I was going to be setting up. Daphne did some work too - I thought it was foundation related, but apparently it was to write a gossip column. That’s right, I know that too. Over the last few weeks, Daphne has become invaluable in crafting the foundation’s press strategy. That’s what I thought she was doing all this time when she said she was working.
The next day, she began wanting to tell me something, but it was never the right time. Either we were getting interrupted, or something was happening that wasn’t making it the ideal situation. At first
, it was a charity meeting that I had to get ready for. Then it was a photo shoot for GQ. During the afternoon, when she tried again, we were in Central Park. I turned to her to listen to what she had to say when the press descended on us. I took questions and then turned to her but she had disappeared in the crowd.
When I finally found her that evening, she sat me down and wanted to tell me what she’d been keeping to herself all day, but Pressly walked in, with a phone.
My dad was on the line and I took the call.
The trade deal had been signed in Washington.
That was fucking great news and I congratulated him. But the phones were ringing nonstop from news agencies and it was the perfect time to announce that I was in process of launching a charitable foundation. That got me busy throughout the rest of the evening.
Two hours later, I walked into her room. She basically used it for working on whatever she was doing. I never bothered to ask her and find out.
I should have that night. I thought she was getting the paperwork ready for the foundation.
But instead, I let my cock grow hard when I saw her in a cute pair of lace boy shorts and sheer white camisole.
She looked at me and smiled. It was a hungry smile.
I couldn’t control myself and before I knew what I was doing I was kissing her. She was kissing back, and her hands were working my cock and getting it enraged. I ended up carrying her to my bedroom where we fucked for hours till we both literally passed the fuck out.
And that brought us to this morning, sitting at breakfast.
“It can’t wait any longer,” Daphne said.
“Tell me, love,” I said, concerned that she’d had to hold something in since yesterday. “What is it?”
She looked down, as if wondering how to broach the subject. My heart was doing somersaults of fucking tension. I knew her as a stripper. What was she going to tell me? She was married? Had a kid? A boyfriend?
But no, I told myself. I knew her. I knew she loved me.
That’s when she looked at me and grabbed my hand and began to say, “Derrick, I haven’t told you some…”
