Isadora
I hear music. It’s a lovely, soothing piano song. Where is it coming from? Who is the artist? The sun is just going down on a long day. I follow the music. I feel that whatever this day had, tonight beholds something much better.
Getting closer to the music, I realize it’s not the radio or some CD—it’s live. I hear precious mistakes. I hear the tender melt of fingers upon keys.
I see him in the conservatory room, which is romantically lit with moonlight and a few candles, and smells fresh of dirt from the plants being watered earlier today.
Nathan is dressed down this morning. Most people who lounge in the conservatory don’t wear the very best jacket or their most flawless pants.
I take advantage of the few moments to really see him. Seeing someone in their element, the comfort of themselves is entirely different than when they know they’re being watched, and their walls go up like kudzu and they battle insecurities. Right now he might as well be naked…
And literally speaking, the only thing Nathan has on is his jeans, so he’s somewhat naked. No shirt so he’s showing off his ripped abs, his deliciously smooth, clean skin. His jeans drift down around his jutted hipbones which are as perfect as two teardrops. I watch how they just drift there, how his body pours into those distressed jeans like perfect warm skin and bone. I want to rush over to him, to make our own lovely music, but this moment is too good to destroy.
I stare at his beautiful feet, where the ankles of his jeans are a bit worn and frays of fabric hang there. His feet are perfect—clean, smooth. He takes care of himself head to toe, this prince.
He stops playing, sensing me there. We eye each other for a long, still second. His eyes have never looked bigger or a darker brown. They are heavenly tonight, dark and full of secrets. I want to know every single one.
“That was…a nice song.”
He moves his hands away from the keys altogether and rests them in his lap.
“Thanks.” He seems forlorn.
“I’m sorry, I can go…”
He stands up, reaching for his smokes.
“No, don’t go.” My eyes fall to his hips, those jeans slip down just a few heavenly inches. I can see the outline of his perfect manhood—speaking of inches. He’s so big and long he must tuck it into his right pant leg. My midnight appetite is stirring.
He comes over to me, and I cast my eyes down to look at his feet.
“Why would you go?” he asks the right questions, Prince Nathan.
“I don’t know.” It’s been a while; I’m hungry for his kiss. He doesn’t hesitate. He wraps is arms around me, and we let ourselves get lost in a long, hot kiss. His stubble rubs my face, and he picks me up and carries me over to the grand piano. The glass doors are open so the sounds of the rich night filter inside.
It’s perfect—the smell coming through the doors, the fresh, calm, cool night air.
He closes his mouth around mine, and I place my feet on his hips so my little toes are on the waist of his jeans, and I try to push them down. They don’t give, even though they seem like they drag and just want to fall to his beautiful feet.
My toes trace it over his jean-covered cock, which is growing hard beneath my touch.
“Mm,” he moans. He likes the teasing feel of my little foot against his growing dick. “Mmm…Oh…Isadora.” His voice is soft but so deep. I kiss him hard, and he thrusts his hips between my thighs, and I open my mouth as inviting him in. The kisses are quite brutal expressing deep hunger for each other. Hunger that feels like rage.
I reach down for his stubborn jeans, determined to get them off. I want to feel the warm skin of his agitated cock.
I find the three golden buttons of his jeans and pull them through the slits. They loosen, and I push them down with my toes. Now we’re getting down to the nitty gritty. He’s wearing black boxer shorts and I place my toes through their window and feel the warmth of his cock. He kisses me really hard as his hands slide up my legs under my dress.
“Oh…” I move anxiously, waiting for the moment his fingers find their way into my panties—his assertive, thick fingers greedy to touch my quivering wet pussy.
“AHHH!” I grin and all but lose it, stretching out on the piano so my long blonde hair falls off the edge.
He fills me up with four fingers. My leg lifts in response and the heel of my foot slides over the smooth oak surface of the piano. My arms are spread as well as my legs.
“I’ve been thinking…about you all day…” I let go of the confession. He’s listening; I can tell by the way he kisses my inner thighs. I pull on my hair, burning for him tonight. He pulls away for the moment, and his cock is sticking out of his boxers shorts as he comes around to the piano keys and pulls on my ankles so I swing around and my toes are on the keys. He gets on top of the piano stool and leans forward.
Tonight I want to feel everything on my little pink pussy—his teeth, his stubble, his tongue, his whole mouth, his fingers, and lastly his thick, long cock having its way with me. I’ve been craving Nathan in a psychotic way, a way that feels a bit insane. Unhealthy.
I feel queasy, like I might pass out. He’s the one who keeps me up at night whether we’re together or not. If he’s not in my pussy, he’s on my mind. Something about the way he hugs me, that look in his eye when I walk into the room, like he’s forgotten what he was about to say and he might jump up and grab me if I walk out.
I’m starting to need him more and more every day, to the point where it’s hard to breathe. If I saw him with another girl, I bet my heart would break and I’d choke on it.
“Please…oh…”
Tonight he feels marvellous, and every nerve in my pussy is grateful for him. I feel him in a way I never have before; it’s not just his cock or the thrusting—it’s him—it’s all of him.
“Nathan,” I sigh his name like he’s ripping me apart and putting me back together again.
“Nathan!”
“Baby, sweet girl,” he says, kissing my soft breasts as he fills me up inside.
“Stay,” I say.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
This draws a tear from me and then another. I’ve been kind of emotional lately. Is it my period? I am due for one soon. I’ve just been on the verge of crying over the slightest thing. But this isn’t a slight thing. Nathan isn’t a slight thing.
“Oh…” He moves slowly inside of me and breathes heavily against my neck.
“I wanna come in you, sweet girl, and then play…you…a song.”
He comes and it’s a slow, hot orgasm. I feel him leak out inside of me, and we lie there for quite some time panting in sync. A gentle breeze flows in over our sexed bodies. Fireflies light up the dark outside behind us like candle flames going in and out in a breeze.
I run my hand through his hair and let him feel vulnerable for the moment. He’s still inside me, though deflating. If he moves any slight way, he could slip out.
The conservatory room is naturally lit, and right now the outside lighting surrounding the mansion creates a very romantic glow.
“There’s a firefly in here,” I say, ever so softly.
He looks around, lifting his head where it’s been comfortably burrowed into my neck, and tries to spot it. It’s the sexiest thing to see him in this way—relaxed, satisfied. Still dripping inside of me.
“You have to wait,” I say, “for when it wants to light up.”
“What do you think makes them light up?” Nathan wonders with boyish curiosity.
“I don’t know…their heart.” I’m just being romantic. Or cheesy. I’m not sure.
“Really?” Nathan actually believes me, and it’s the cutest thing.
“Yes.” I let him believe it. Maybe it’s true anyway, I don’t really know.
He slips out of me then tucks himself away before he sits at the piano and begins playing a song. It’s a lovely old song. I can’t place what it is exactly, but it sounds really good.
I watch him play and there is a sensitivity about him I never noticed before. There’s a sadness that flows out of his fingers onto the keys. Something haunts Nathan every single day of his life. I never knew it until now because he doesn’t talk about it. He’s quiet about his demons as most men are, but I can hear it now.
I can hear it in the song.
I go over to him and that firefly lights up. I sit down next to him, and he abruptly stops and turns toward me.
“You play something,” he tells me.
I’m caught off guard.
“Huh?”
“You play something.” He demonstrates as if I don’t know what he means by playing some keys.
“I…okay.”
“Music, Isadora, is the best way to express ourselves. Music’s a beast. And a princess.” He grins. Oh, Nathan. “I bet Vincent can’t play,” he says with a smirk as sharp as a knife.
“Well, what do you want me to play?”
“Isadora, play what you want to play. Play how you feel right now.”
I admit I’m a little intimidated by this. I’m shy when it comes to certain things. I’m not a show off. I’m not an entertainer in any sense of the word.
“Well…”
“Isadora,” Nathan says, somewhat dark and short. “I’m not a man of patience, you know.”
“I know.” I grin. The lightning bug lights up again as I bravely place my fingers on the keys and start playing. I have no idea what I’m doing, but there’s something fun and fascinating about it. About just hearing what comes out.
It takes me a minute, but I find my stride playing a lovely tune. Nathan gets up and walks around so he’s standing behind me in those sexy jeans of his. I’m dying to feel him all over again, but I finish the song first.
“That was lovely, Isadora. See? You don’t know what you’re capable of until you just let yourself go.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the song called?” he asks of the song I just played.
“Firefly,” I smile. “It can be our song.”
“Perfect,” Nathan says as he unzips his jeans. His delicious cock pops out. I can’t get over how thick it is, beautifully pink.
I stare at it as he comes over, and I stand up to greet him with a kiss. He picks me up, my little feet dangling as he places me on the piano.
He reaches back and pulls the zipper down my back so my dress loosens and the straps fall off my shoulders. He traces his hands over the silk cups of my bra. I sigh.
“Let’s just stay naked this time,” I say.
“Okay, firefly,” Nathan says.
“I need you…so much,” I say. He leans forward and kisses me. “I love you,” I say it. There. When I say I need him, what I really mean is I love him anyway.
“I love you too, Isadora.”
His warm hand glides down my leg to my foot and squeezes it.
“Ahhh…” I sigh.
“I’m going to worship you tonight,” Nathan says to my delight. “As you should be worshipped every night.”
He takes my ankle in his strong fingers and squeezes it and kisses it softly.
I laugh because it tickles just a little. “Nathan!”
“Shush, my lovely,” he says.
I try to relax, but I want him so bad.
“In due time, Isadora.” I feel his lips press against the inside of my knees. He can smell me. I blush at this fact. My panties are still somewhere near the piano keys.
He slowly reaches up, his index finger just inches from my clitoris, then he touches me there. It’s a soft touch, but it feels so heavy, like it can shift the entire planet.
“That’s my favorite key,” he says, still caressing my feet with his fingers. “I know I’m the one for you, Isadora,” he says, injecting his finger into me.
“Tell me you belong to me,” he says. Nathan wants to be in control, and when he feels himself slipping and losing control, he gets that boyish tantrum look on his face.
“I…belong…” He adds another finger and slips my toes between his teeth. They slide over his fat, wet tongue. “To you…”
He squeezes my foot and starts fingering me hard, moving his fingers around to target all the right spots.
“OH…” My body lifts from the piano, and my other foot hits the keys. This is a good song, I think, with a smile on my face that lingers until he adds a third finger.
“NATHAN!”
“Hmm?” His response is light and means nothing. What matters is what he’s doing to me.
My body rapidly uncurls in his grip as another orgasm rips through me. Even though I’ve passed the point of pleasure, Nathan kneels before me and licks me clean of my cum. After he's cleaned he cleans me out, he climbs onto his knees on the piano and kisses me hungrily as his hands roam my breasts. He’s insatiable, a starving need to devour me.
He reaches for the flask of whiskey I hadn’t noticed and offers it to me. I take a swig and feel it warm me up inside. As I hand it to him our fingers slide along each other’s. I take his hand and inhale the scent of his skin, smelling myself on his flesh. We lie down on the piano, a comfortable calm embracing us. The sound of crickets echo louder in the distance, but there’s also a richness about the silence of everything else. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I don’t bother with interrupting the peaceful tranquillity between is. Sometimes silence is needed.
“When I can’t sleep, I think about the softness of your lips,” Nathan’s voice cuts into the night.
“Really?” I question, surprised that he’s willingly offering this admission to me.
“I have nightmares.”
“Oh? I didn’t know.”
“I don’t really talk about it that much. They’re…pretty scary.” His brow furrows like he’s trying to push the thought from his mind.
I want to comfort him, calm him. I run my hand along his face, and he shuts his wonderful brown eyes.
“There’s this woman…” he says, swallowing. His hair is black, running down like a thick river of luscious locks along the middle of his head. “She’s at the door, she has this…weird smile on her face, but it’s not the type of smile that, you know, a good person has. She’s…her eyes are all beady, and she doesn’t have much hair. She’s trying to appear friendly as she attempts to get in my house.”
“Oh, Nathan, that sounds so scary.”
“It is.”
He swallows over a sore lump of fear, and I watch his Adam’s apple jut forward.
“What can I do?” I ask. I want to help him.
“You already do…it…you help me, Isadora, you calm me down. I used to have these nightmares every night, but since I started making love to you, they’ve ended.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know who the woman is, but I feel like it has something to do with my childhood. I feel like she did something, and now she’s trying to do it again.”
“Nathan, baby.” I reach over to him and pull him near, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. I want him to know I want to keep him safe. We’re both protective of each other, holding each other, and caring for each other through the night.
Fireflies fill the vast space lighting up around us like golden light bulbs. It’s a magical moment, and I want to fall asleep in his arms, his warm naked body pressed close to mine. We can wake up on the piano as it’s striped in warm sunshine, and we can fall into each other again, greeting each other with morning kisses.
It’s very quiet when I wake up to find Nathan studying me. I gaze into his eyes as he nears me, puckering his lips. I giggle and shut my eyes, and our lips press together. It’s a sleepy kind of kiss, our lips lazily sliding over each other’s necks. I slide my hand across his smooth chest, revelling in the tightness of his taut muscles. My hand meanders down the length of his cock, the thickness heavy and erect against my thigh.
I smile and admit, “I have no idea how you fit all of this into your jeans. It’s impressive.”
“It’s always a challenge to find that perfect pair of jeans,” he says. “Just like it was a challenge to find that perfect woman, but I did. I found you.” He runs his fingers through my hair and claims my mouth with his, rolling on top of me. His hungry cock probes against me, and I spread my legs and wrap them around his back, pulling his against my heat.
“Ahhh,” I moan as he slides up inside of me. He’s harder than he’s been all night, maybe it’s a very early version of morning wood. He moves perfectly, slow but with a determined stride. He feels different from Vincent. Vincent is a very sweet guy and good in his own way when it comes to sex, but— at least right now—I’m more into Nathan. And he’s very into me.
“Oh…” I moan, his movements precise and hitting all the right spots.
“Let me be on top,” I say. He rolls so he’s beneath me, and I cast my glance out over the edge of daybreak lighting up the sky. Those fireflies are gone. Where do they go during the day? They don’t light up, right? Until night comes? That is when their heart works.
“Let’s meet here every night,” I say. His gorgeous toes are on the piano keys and he starts making music and we laugh.
“Imagine all the music we can write,” he snickers.
A distinct rustling sound catches my attention, and I worry perhaps we’re being watched.
Is it Vincent? I look over at the door to the conservatory room, but no one is there. He could have been though, seconds earlier before the noise faded to silence.
Nathan caresses my face as he studies me, his brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I say and I rise up on top of him. All twelve inches of his cock slides inside of me, filling me to the hilt.
I ride him slowly, building my momentum to a steady and hard pace. His rough hands keep a tight grip around my hips, his fingers probing roughly into my flesh. I look down and gaze into his brown eyes and the lustful darkness in his appearance sends me over the edge. I circle my hips, grinding against his thick length, but suddenly my eyes cut to the door again. Why am I so paranoid?
Nathan stills inside me and tightens his grip on my hip. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod and focus on working my pussy up and down his length. Me and then I rise up again and ride him and ride him and ride him, harder and harder and harder.
My core tightens as heat rushes through me, my orgasm right on the cusp of explosion. Nathan’s lips part as he wraps his long fingers around my neck, his thumb pressing into my throat as he takes control of each thrust he pounds up into me. His back bows off the piano and his face contorts painfully as he spills inside of me. A ravenous roar rips through his chest, spurring a whimpered mewl from my lips as my orgasm crashes into his release. I collapse against his chest and look outside at the garden. The sky is a brighter blue now. Nathan’s breathing is rampant as he calms himself, peppering kisses across my face and neck just as he always does after we’ve had sex.
I think about what he told me earlier about the nightmares. I imagine him waking up in the middle of the night, terrified of this woman who haunts his dreams, his gorgeous body covered in sweat. Who is she? I wonder as I hold him.
“When did they start?” I ask. We sit up, and I drink his whiskey. I pass it to him, and he takes a few swigs then passes it back to me.
“When I was about fourteen.”
“Did anything happen before then?”
He has his arm draped around my lower back and my face is against his chest. He takes his time answering me. I think this is hard for him to talk about.
He squeezes me and kisses the top of my head.
“I don’t know…” he says.
Morning breaks through the sky with birdsong and just like night has ended, so has Nathan’s dark story. He’s not going to talk about it anymore, but at the same time, he’s started to open up to me, and I appreciate it. I want to show him how much I appreciate it.
“Nathan,” I whisper. He looks at me; his eyes are sleepy and soft. I run my fingers through his hair, straightening it out.
“You don’t get up early ever do you? You’re not a morning person,” I say. He looks at me with a stare that holds a lot of stillness. Our clothes are still all over the conservatory. I’m a little nervous that someone will come in here, because this is the choice room to have breakfast or sip on that first delicious morning cup of Joe.
But nothing is going to ruin this for me. I want to do it to him now, and I want to do it to him in this room.
He is lying across the top of the piano. There’s so much I want to ask him, and not just about whatever it was that happened in his childhood to start such bad dreams.
“Did you have a piano when you were a kid?” I ask him.
“Uhhh…” His voice is groggy and raspy this time of morning. Oh my. It gets me wet. I run my hand along his body and down his smooth ripped chest.
“Yeah, well, my mom did.”
It’s his mom, I somehow think this, the woman in the dream. Why do I think this? I’m also kind of obsessed with the feeling that we were being watched last night by someone.
These thoughts mess with me, but only for a minute. Pretty soon I’m back to what I want to do this morning, before anyone comes in here with mouthy morning thoughts, randomness they feel the need to share.
I can already smell breakfast being whipped up—delicious eggs, biscuits, gravy, sausage and bacon. I could go for some orange juice after this long night of lovemaking.
But there’s another kind of juice I want first.
I run my hands down his length, feeling the heaviness of his cock and balls. I crawl to my knees and trail my tongue up his cock and over the opening.
“Oh…” His body lifts from the piano in a graceful wave of appreciation.
“Baby,” I say. I trace my finger over his stomach, making the shape of a heart with it.
“Mmm…” He runs his hand through my hair and keeps his eyes closed as I make my way back down his body. I grab his thick cock and gently stroke it.
“Oh, Isadora.”
I picture the moment he comes, his perfect creamy cum shooting up and glazing his solid, muscular torso, and I will lick it up. This is inspiration for me to suck him harder.
I slip a hand under his bottom and sneak a finger to his asshole, and slip it up.
“OH! Oh god…oh…”
Does he like it? It’s hard to tell. I suck him harder as I continue to finger his asshole.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, in no time at all.
“Do you like it, baby?” I ask again, just to hear him say yes. I want to hear how scratchy his voice is in the morning.
“I do, I really do, Isadora…”
I penetrate my finger deeper and suck his cock back farther in my throat.
“Isa…dor…ahhhhhh…”
“God, I can’t wait for you to come,” I say. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
More delicious breakfast smells sweep down from the kitchen and into the conservatory, and I hear voices of workers milling about on the property and through the castle. Maybe it's the gardener, because I know he likes his coffee in the morning before he begins working. Or perhaps the maids and the chefs. The castle seems particularly busy for such an early morning.
Is something grand or special happening today?
I turn my concentration back to drawing an orgasm from Nathan, sucking him harder. Nathan doesn’t come easy sometimes, and it takes extra care and attention to make his release as pleasurable as he does for me. I squeeze a second finger inside his asshole and massage the soft walls.
“Oh…”
“You like that, boy?” I ask.
“Isadora,” is all he moans. His hips thrust upward, caressing the back of my throat with the head of his dick, urgently chasing his release. I think of all the times in the past when he’s come, how he tastes, and what an eruptive load he shoots. I want it really bad. I want it to douse us both the way the sun douses the conservatory this morning, the way the sun douses the outside and all those flowers in the garden. I hear voices near the conservatory, and I wonder if this excites Nathan. Does he enjoy it the risk of passers-by hearing his grunts and groans of seduction? Does he want us to get caught?
His eyes are hooded and glazed in desire, and I know it won’t be long before he bathes me in his come. I pull my fingers from his ass and trace soft circles over his balls, feeling them tighten as his orgasm climbs to the surface. His face contorts, and he looks helpless, like he’s being pulled down by a giant tidal wave of pleasure that’s about to break; it’s about to crash over my face like a wave of foamy hot cum. I can hear the low voices of a woman and a man coming closer to the conservatory, and Nathan’s breathing becomes heavier, panting rushed air from his chest. I know his release will be monumental, one big epic celebration of cum, as the head of his cock swells to bursting, spraying his velvety mixture all over my tongue. I drink him in, swallowing back every drop that he gives me. This is a beautiful start to the day.