Nathan
The gold and red décor of the palace drawing room are the same color as those stupid flowers Vincent is obsessed with in the garden.
But the palace drawing room offers a great place to have sex. It’s been on my mind all morning. I’ll take her and show her what sex can really be like. She’s been in Vincent’s nervous hands, listening to his random thoughts. Poor girl. This woman needs some good, hard amazing sex, not a million lame words in her ears.
The room is very spacious, and there are props I can place her on and shag her really good, like the little vanity seat or the fireplace. Or wherever. He took her out to a garden, but I would never make her shag on dirt. I mean, she’s a princess. I practically roll my eyes at the thought.
I bet Vincent talked about all kinds of things out there, too. He probably bored her when it came to all the flowers. And the entire time I bet the girl just wanted to have sex. She just wanted someone to take her and remind her what the human body is for—to feel amazing pleasure.
There are two huge chandeliers dangling over the lush red carpet. This will do. The carpet is thick and luscious. This room is so nice and it has a pleasant view, but I’m not interested in looking out of a window right now. I just want to look at her. And I’d look at myself too, but there isn’t a single mirror in the whole drawing room.
But I’m handsome, and I know this. Everyone does. I have that stud movie star look thing going on. Vincent is more of a stuck-up twat. I’m not going to give Vincent another thought.
I think this, but I know I will at some point because he’s my competition, the thorn in my side.
“Here,” I say, and pull her by the wrist rather impatiently so she’s sitting next to me. She eyes me and looks down at the flask of whiskey I’ve brought with us. I clear my throat and take the flask. It’s solid gold and what’s inside it is even better.
I unscrew the rigid cap and let her try it first. I want sober eyes as I watch the effect it has on her. She doesn’t react like some little girl who’s never tasted hard liquor before, and this surprises me.
There is an undeniable sexual tension floating between her and me. The whiskey will calm us and get things moving.
I hold the flask up to her precious mouth. “Taste,” I say.
“What is it?” Isadora isn’t the type of woman to just do what she’s told. She’ll challenge the demand first.
“Taste.” I’m just as stubborn.
She takes it from my hand, feels where it’s warmed by my fingers, and tips it so the whiskey rushes over her tongue. She makes a funny expression. Does she like it or does she hate it? I can’t tell.
Then she starts coughing. “Oh lord, Nathan.” She passes it back to me.
I chuckle, my voice is a bit hoarse today. I down a bit of the whiskey in the flask and don’t waste any more time. I feel so good tonight, warm. Maybe it’s the whiskey or the fact that I’m with this woman, but it’s amazing. I just want to love her madly, like that Doors song or whatever.
I touch her face, and she touches mine. I take her hand and squeeze it.
I get on top of her and start kissing her—hard. There’s no hesitance with me, and she’ll soon realize I’m a much better lover than Vincent.
“Mmm…” She makes a beautiful sound as my hard body surrounds her. I start unbuttoning my shirt once I have her flat on the floor. Her chest heaves with excitement.
She places a hand on my face, and I stare down at her with my bedroom eyes. She has palace eyes, this princess—they are big and shiny with secrets.
“Kiss me,” she says. I kiss her again, along her neck, and she stretches, her limbs parting and spreading along the floor.
“With pleasure.” My tone is warm. My breath hits her tummy after I lift her dress up and run my fingers along her legs, and she moves against me, wanting more. And I know where she wants it.
I go for the flask and spill just a little across her tummy.
“Nathan!” she laughs, but I’m quick to lap it up so it doesn’t get on the fancy palace rug.
“Shush now.” My slight dominance turns her on, I can tell by how she obeys. My hands find hers against the rug, and I entwine my fingers with hers, and place my mouth on the waistband of her panties. The hot rush of feeling my mouth so close to her sex makes her writhe about so I can watch her breasts jiggle.
Vincent doesn’t know what he’s doing; this is how you make a woman pine for you. I pull at her underwear with my teeth.
“Oh…” Her hand lands in my hair. I have more hair than Vincent, and I can see the jealousy of such a physical trait in his eyes every day. Women love hair. Hair is power, like whatever biblical character that is who got his power from his hair.
I like to compare myself to him.
I look up at her and touch her hips.
“You want me?” I say.
She gazes back down at me and runs her hand down my face, gliding it over my cheekbone. I take her hand and kiss it. Her fingers are slim and dainty. Mine are thick. I circle them around her wrist and apply just enough firmness to remind her how strong I am.
“Oh…yes…”
“You do? You want me?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“Bad, so bad.”
I glance up at her and kiss her thigh, plastering my lips to her skin and making her wait a little longer before I touch her.
“Oh…” She circles those hips in ecstasy.
“You want my mouth on your tight pussy?” I can tell she likes the way I talk—dirty, direct, no hesitance. I’m sure Vincent bored her half to death in that silly garden with his romantic banter.
Not here, sweetheart. Here we get down and gritty.
I cover her hot, tight sex with my mouth and stay like that, like a wolf about to swallow a rabbit.
“Oh…” She lifts her body by arching her back. I place my hands over her breasts and feel her heartbeat putter against my palm.
“You want me inside you? I really want to be inside you all night; I want nothing more than that. I think about you all the time; it makes me crazy.”
I slip my tongue out over her clit and feel her heart rate increase. I feel like a doctor or mad scientist, examining her, touching her, and collecting her reaction.
“Oh…Nathan.” She toys with my hair. I think she loves my hair more than anything else. She touches my face, feeling the stubble there, and she moves around on the rug, her body a welcoming vessel for mine. We get lost in a long, hot-tempered kiss. She pulls at my hair.
“I want you so much, Nathan,” she lets me know. It sounds like a secret she’s finally telling me, and I feel the heat in it as she kisses me harder.
Her body temperature seems to have risen, too. I take a finger and place it on her moist heat, and her heart thunders.
“Oh…” She grips my hair. She’s a woman who has only just begun to understand the pleasure her body can encounter. I place my mouth, framed with stubble, against her thigh and look up at her and touch myself, offering myself some pleasure, too. I’m both thick and long; most guys are either one or the other, but not me, I’ve been blessed with both traits.
I wonder if she can handle it. I picture her mouth wide open and her eyes shut tight as I introduce my every inch, and with every inch I’ll erase any memory she has of Vincent. Her mind will be a vacant, blank canvas as far as he is concerned once I’m done with her.
I’ll have her in the palm of my hand like one of those little mechanical ballerina dancers in a jewellery box. She won’t know what hit her.
“Vincent!” She pulls at my hair.
Wait, what! I look up at her.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry!” she gasps in embarrassment. And I’m angry—so angry. I sit up and toss back more whiskey.
“Oh gosh.” She places her hand on the side of her head and marvels over how she could make such a mistake.
“I’m sorry, Nathan.” She grips my wrist and looks at me.
“It’s okay, Dolores.” This makes her laugh, and it eases the tension. I chuckle and shake my head, and she leans forward and kisses me.
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” she croons as she plays with my hair, and my cock starts to really address the fact that it’s still in pants and it’s time for recess.
I get up on my knees, push her back down on the floor, and she likes the control I administer. I’m quite angry at her calling me Vincent, and this adds to the fire between us.
I place my fingers around her wrists and make her feel me—every single inch.
She stares at my cock with wide eyes, like she kind of wants to run from it; like she’s in a swamp and the swamp monster has just appeared.
“You want it, I know you do,” I say.
“Oh!” A confused ball of emotions shoots from her mouth.
But then she gives it a different type of look, a look of curiosity, and moans as I get on top of her, covering her with my hard body. We get lost in a long, crazy kiss. Our tongues tumble, our bodies roll around in fine ecstasy, and our hands explore each other and touch each other. I kiss her neck and breasts and feel her sighs gush out of her.
“Nathan,” she sighs, and I place my hand between her legs, my warm, strong fingers touching her there in a much more assertive way than before.
“Oh!” She kicks her feet up, and the heel of her foot connects with my head. It doesn’t hurt.
“Nathan…”
I place my cock against her inner thigh so she can feel me and all I have to offer. I press my mouth against her throat as she touches my cock, and her gentle fingers glide along it with a certain curiosity. She feels the tip, and then her hand slides back down to my balls and I shot my tongue up inside of her.
“Oh Nathan, I want all of you,” she sighs. “Every single inch.”
All of me. Hear that, Vincent?
I sit up my knees, my cock hard and erect; I grip it and nearly die from the pleasurable thought of making it fit in her tight hole.
I go down on her again and her thighs close down around my face, and I feel the moment she shares her first orgasm with me.
“Nathan…”
Her body jumps up into my mouth, and I taste her as she gives herself to me. Then she lies there, limp, beautiful, and soft, and I roll off of her and stare at the huge chandelier hanging above us.
“What if that fell on us right now?” I ask.
“You’re dark, aren’t you?” she says, but with a smile.
Well, at least I’m not a cheese ball like Vincent, I think.
“No, but I’m serious, would you die happy?”
“I mean…I did just have an orgasm.”
“I would die happy, too,” I say.
She rolls over, and I worship the way her ass looks under the yellow glow of the chandelier, how the flesh perks up there.
I get on top of her and kiss her back, covering it with my lips, and taste her skin. She’s lovely, clean, perfect.
She moves against me, and I ask her if she still wants me as bad as she did before.
“More,” she says. “Much more, Nathan, there’s something about you that is so addictive.”
I lift her from the floor so her ass is in the air. I take her hand and squeeze it and kiss each other finger as she sticks them in my mouth, and I suck long and hard and feel her body press against mine, wanting.
“I’m going to take you like this,” I let her know.
She’s on her hands and knees, and it takes some effort but I push up inside of her. Her mouth drops just like I imagined it would when I start penetrating her good. I’m somewhat mechanical, I don’t get distracted by how crazy she’s going, I put my hand on her shoulder and give it to her really hard.
“Oh Jesus, Izzy.” I wonder if she minds the little nickname. I feel like I need to give her one, to separate her and I from her and Vincent. Vincent probably hasn’t come up with a nickname for her. He has too many thoughts scurrying through his little head.
She’s so amazingly tight. I’ve never felt more pleasure with anyone ever. Her skin is so soft, and the sounds she’s making drive me crazy.
“Nathan…”
“Isadora, you beautiful babe,” I say, kissing her lower back before pulling her up and going all the way inside of her.
“Oh! Nathan!”
“Yeah, baby? Yeah? You like it?”
“Yes…OH!”
I slam into her again, and she goes crazy. “Oh…”
I touch her face. I want her to turn so I can kiss her. I start thrusting into her, and I feel like I could just let go, but I don’t. I want this to be the greatest sex she’s ever have. I want this to be the sex she compares all other sexual acts with.
“Oh…oh…” I turn her over and place her feet over my shoulders, and I look down at myself slowly entering her tight pussy. I lean over and kiss her on the neck softly, then run my hands over her breasts. My cock slams into her and she groans again, her head tilting back as he eyes flutter closed.
“Oh…”
I scissor my fingers over her nipples and squeeze them. A little pain never hurt anyone. My princess lifts from the floor as I place my hands under her ass and thrust in deep. She moves against me in the best way. We’re in a great rhythm together, taking and giving, taking and giving, taking and giving.
I pull out of her and manage to hold back, but in my mind, I want to come all over her body and leave her in a web of stickiness.
“Oh, Nathan.” She squirms under me, my cock full and threatening to explode on her.
“Oh Nathan…” Her little fingers are lost in my thick dark hair as I kiss her neck. I glide inside of her and feel her precious body shutter against mine.
Her mouth is open and she looks at me as I near to kiss her; she wants it all night—I can tell—and I plan to give it to her. I want to explore her every part and just get lost in her. This is how I connect with women, through sex.
I want to be in her, and not just a physical way. I want to wander through her the way I used to wander through the woods as a boy; hoping to find all sorts of things, not just the relaxing shade from the sun, but snakes and butterflies and darkness and lightness that falls between the leaves and all that. Every person is made of such things, and I want to know all of Isadora’s fantastic forest things.
I sink into her and give her one more thrust, then I spill out in her. I hold her still, her body vibrating after mine let’s go in one single pulsating thrust.
We lie on the floor for a while afterward, in silent comfort, and gaze up at the chandelier again. I stare for a long time at the pattern on the wall, my eyes just going over everything, all the immaculate detail. Maybe you see things differently after sex, maybe my head is all jumbled, but I look at all the colors and how everything makes sense in this nonsensical way. Is that how love is? One person meeting the other and there are all these feelings and experiences and fears and secrets, but somehow these two people with all this going on make it work. It just works, and it’s so beautiful and hypnotizing.
“Hey? You know those weird…what were they called? Those magic eye posters or whatever.”
She giggles. “In the 90s? Yes.”
“They were weird, right? The whole secret pattern? I feel like that’s how love is, like…I don’t know.”
She looks at me. “Sex has messed with your brain, Nathan,” she says. “At least the chandelier hasn’t fallen on us.”
“Nope. We’re still alive,” I say. I look over at her, her skin is glazed in a sex-dewy sweat. I turn on my side and kiss her arm, and she shuts her eyes.
I keep my eyes wide open however, because there is nothing—absolutely nothing—I want to miss as I lie in this room with her. I stare at every detail of her body, from her face to her neck to her chest, how perfectly round her nipples are, to her little hips and her nice long legs, and I realize how perfect she is. You must always, as a lover, admire the person you’re able to spend this time with.
I just want to study her so that when I go to bed tonight she is fresh in my mind. Every detail, the way she looks when I talk to her, the expression she makes. Everything. Her little ears and wide blue eyes. I want every detail of her plastered to my memory so I can have lovely fantasies about her before I drift off to sleep.
I trace my knuckles along her body, down her side, and over her stomach. She turns and looks at me, and I lean forward and give her a soft kiss.
“What we’ve shared in his room is something special, and I’m grateful,” I say.
Ugh. Is that something Vincent would say?
She smiles softly but doesn’t say what she’s thinking. This is what keeps me, and probably Vincent, too, on our toes. Isadora can be hard to read.
“I like you, Nathan,” she reveals. Well, it’s not the biggest revelation, but I’ll take it.
“Like…” she starts to go on. There’s more, so much more. It’s like cracking a fortune cookie with her. I wait and see what the little piece of paper inside that cookie will say.
“I…like…think about you sometimes…” She smiles real big and looks at me, turning her head to meet my gaze. “In my room, late at night…”
“You wish I was there?”
“I do,” she says. “I…think of you a lot, too, in the daytime. I’ll be doing something and wish you were nearby. We’d catch each other’s eye and whatever we were doing previously would just, like, drop off. We’d have this crazy kiss, and then we’d just…”
“Fuck?” I guess. It’s pretty easy to see where that was going.
“I’d like to sleep with you every night, with you in my arms,” I tell her, and not just because it sounds sweet and romantic and nice, but because I actually mean it. I’m being honest. “I could be good for you, Isadora, not just to you.”
It’s a powerful statement, and it fucks her mind the way I just fucked her body. At least I think it does.
“That would be nice,” she says.
I mean, that goes without saying. I hate it when women say these types of things because there’s nothing real about it. It’s just a cute saying. It’s like fuzzy handcuffs. The real thing is better.
“Uh huh.” I stare at the ceiling. I’m listless. I suddenly feel her hand on my body.
“You want to know what I’m thinking?” she asks. “When I’m in my room at night, and I can’t sleep, it’s very dark and I’m very cozy; there’s no reason in the world that I shouldn’t be able to sleep, but you dominate my mind the way I want you to…”
“Yeah?”
Okay, this is getting good. The fortune cookie has cracked.
“The way…I want you to dominate my body.”
“What are you…oh…” Her hand reaches for my cock, which has already had so much fun, but she wants more. And I’m a young guy, and I think about sex every two-point-five seconds in the day.
I feel her hand getting more aggressive, playing with me, shifting it about until it starts to move on her own. It wants to find her hand, but my pants keep it inside. She reaches up and unbuttons my pants and tells me to lie still. She wants to be on top.
I have no qualms with this whatsoever.
She climbs on top of me with a beaming smile on her face.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” I say. I gently touch her face and admire the gorgeous structure of it all.
She straddles me and moves around on top of me. I’ve woken her up inside. Her sexual appetite has never been bigger. I wish Vincent was here to see this—without interfering of course.
She moves around so that she can place me inside of her.
“Oh…oh god, Nathan…” She places her hand against my chest, and I can see every expression she makes due to my cock, and this is so much better than taking her from behind. I like this position; I’m rarely in it.
I shut my eyes and feel her warmth, her tightness as she squeezes her lips around me.
“Oh…” I’ve never felt so good.
She leans forward and kisses my mouth as she adjusts to my size, wriggling her sweet ass around on top of me. My tongue plunges inside her mouth, and I kiss her long, hard, and deep. She takes my wrists in her fingers and holds them tight, trying to control the moment.
“You’re so hot, Nathan,” she giggles into my neck and moves against my cock, pulling up with her thighs so just the head of my dick rest between her lips. She smiles innocently then slams her ass down quickly, her pussy clenching my cock intensely. Fuck, I feel like I could come.
I bite back a guttural groan and clench my fingers around her hips, trying to guide her along my cock.
“So amazing, no wonder I think of you all night long,” she mewls as she grinds her tightness along my shaft. Her legs tremble around my thighs as she begins to fall apart, her small hands tightening around my wrists to maintain her balance.
I let her take control and feel myself in those woods.
I feel my bare feet against the moist dirt as I run and scurry about. I feel the wind the scent of nature around me. I hear things growing from the ground and rain as it starts to fall. I’m far from home, and I feel myself getting further and further away from all the things I have and closer to the sun, but the sun in this case is blonde hair.
And it’s sweeping across my face. And her lips are gentle and persuasive. She gets her way, this woman.
It feels so soft and safe, I get lost in it, and I think I can love her. Maybe I do.
And then it happens, our orgasms collide and she uncurls, her body jerking and spasming against me. I love watching her fall apart. I feel like I’m taking her to that magical place I went as a boy.
We’re together, in the woods, and nothing can touch us.
She rolls off me and seems to be in a less romantic mood than I am.
“How many times have we done it?” she asks. She’s breathless and glowing. I lay next to her and stare at the chandelier. Why do I wish for it to fall? Who has such fantasies?
I have dark fantasies, sometimes I wonder if she does, too. I glance at her and wonder what rolls through her head late at night, those midnight fantasies—the dark ones. Do they roll over her like storm clouds? Do I do obscene things to her in such fantasies?
She gazes at me, and it’s a nice moment. She presses her lips against mine, and I shut my eyes and wait as her tongue slowly enters my mouth. She’s addicted. There’s this lingering addiction like the chandelier hanging above us. And I want the addiction to crash over me and nearly kill me—not the chandelier—I realize.
Isadora suddenly shoots up and messes with her hair, pulling it over to the other side of her face. She is gorgeous, I broke her wall of troubles and now she’s glowing like some brand-new summer morning.
“You know what I think?”—she looks down at me—“I think men feel a lot more than they let on, but they’re afraid to express themselves, so they leave girls staying up all night wondering what they’re thinking. Such a man wouldn’t speak about whatever it is he’s thinking about, and this leaves the girl tired and cranky and unsure of everything. It complicates things, all because men can’t talk about whatever they’re feeling.” Her hand suddenly moves over and grabs my flask. I thought she was going to grab my cock again.
She takes an enormous swig, and I think she pretty much just drained everything in it. I look back at the chandelier.
“You know?” she says. She wants some type of interaction. “I mean, like right now, what are you thinking?” She drinks more of my whiskey. The woman is going to town on it.
I’m kind of hungry, but I’m not about to say that.
Think, Nathan, before you speak for a change.
“I think we’re just afraid…sometimes.” I shrug. “We like to feel like we’re in control, and if we…you know, open up…” I sit up and reach for my flask. It’s empty. She killed it. “Then we’ll feel like…vulnerable.”
“But—I mean, I know—and I appreciate you saying that, Nathan.” She reaches out and squeezes the muscle of my upper arm. “But it’s okay. Tell me, tell about your biggest fears, I want to know.”
“Um…” fears? “Losing you.” I’m quite serious. I hope she doesn’t laugh. I mean, what is she looking for? Everyone has fears. Sharks. Bears. House fires in the middle of the night.
“I just want you…all the time. And I’m afraid that maybe, I’m not good enough. Men worry the same as women.”
She eyes me, and she’s very focused, as if I have something growing out of my face.
“Anyway, what’s your biggest fear?”
She looks at me. “Having my heart broken. Men are hard to read, like I was saying.”
“And like I was saying—we’re scared. There you go, how’s that. You want to know our fears— we’re fucking scared of everything.”
She laughs.
“Women terrify us,” I say. She laughs so hard that she snorts. It’s kind of cute.
“Oh, Nathan.” She lay down and looks up at the chandelier, still laughing.
“Well, that’s something.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, you want to know what I’m thinking now?” I ask. She’s a bit giggly.
“Sure, Nathan.”
“I’m thinking that I want more whiskey.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have drunk it all then.”
“You drank it. Drunk it, whatever.”
She laughs at my little problem getting the words right.
“You can’t even talk right, you’re an alcoholic.”
“I’m not! How can I be an alcoholic when you drink all my whiskey?”
“It’s good. You drink a lot, Nathan.”
“No, I don’t. So…tell me, what was the latest thing you were thinking in your room, like at night, when you think of me?”
“Oh…well, you come in—you’re not drunk, and you stare at me. I don’t know you’re there because I’m asleep. And you…you reach down and touch my foot, and I still don’t wake up. You get hard, watching my naked body just lost in sleep, and it excites you because you feel this power over me. I suddenly open my eyes, and there you are. I grab your wrist and pull on it, and I want its strength and all of your strength on me.”
“I have this bad dream sometimes,” I decide to get real with her. “I’m a little boy, in the woods, and I can’t find my why home. Something is chasing me; it’s big and scary, some kind of animal, and I just know it’s going to attack me—kill me even. But when I see you, I swear I don’t feel scared. Every day I see you, I never have that nightmare that night… after seeing you.”