A Royal Deception

Season 1 - Chapter Three

If you've ever had sex with one of your exes after you'd broken up (or fantasized about it, as I had), you'll have an idea of what sex with Dylan was like that night.

I had been with other men (and in one notable case, a woman) since Dylan and, knowing him, I had no doubt he'd been with others as well; we'd both learned new things, discovered new things about ourselves and our sexuality...but there's something incredible about getting to play your greatest hits.

We were barely through the door before his lips and tongue were on a secret spot just beneath my ear, which makes me forget I have legs. For a moment, I was weightless, my knees evaporating, but he was ready for it. He caught me and paused for a moment, looking deep into my eyes.

"Not romantic," I breathed, reaching for his belt. "Hard."

There was that grin again.

This time I welcomed the sensation it brought to my body. I grinned too.

Then he threw me backward onto one of our hotel room's two beds. We hadn't bothered with lights; we didn't need them. There was enough moonlight through the curtain that we could still admire each other's bodies, but not so much that it had to feel personal.

I didn't want it to feel personal.

I began reaching for the top button of my jeans, but Dylan grasped my wrists and wrenched them away, pinning them above my head. Enough time had passed that he confirmed, "Is this okay?"

I nodded, squirming under his weight. "Yes. Please. Please."

He nodded and released my hands, which I kept in place, reveling in the feeling of his hands grasping at the waist of my jeans. He ran his fingers along the inside of the waistband, grazing the tender skin there and causing me to gasp. I hate to admit this, but I actually blushed.

Like I said, it had been a while.

My anticipation mounting, I rubbed my thighs together, the pressure causing a crest of pleasure to radiate outward — Dylan clearly caught this and gave me a disapproving shake of his head.

"Not yet." He leaned forward suddenly, sliding his tongue deftly into my mouth, reminding me of just how talented he was with it. He continued to remind me as he quickly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down over my thighs.

My panties went with them.

And then his tongue was on me, and the tension of all the furtive looks, innuendo, and longing exploded into waves of pleasure. He remembered what I liked, the tempo, the direction, the pressure, and when his hands got involved...

I was worried I was going to crush his skull as I clamped my thighs together hard, my orgasm causing me to curl forward and grab his hair. His eyes caught mine and they were no less alluring, no less probing...but they were, perhaps, a bit more self-satisfied.

"Pleased with yourself?" I managed to stammer, and he kissed the inside of my thigh, causing me to twist with the unexpected, focused pleasure of it. He stood, dropping his jeans, the moonlight catching his impressive, throbbing erection and causing me to spread my legs wider for him. Aching for him.

"Condom?" he asked, already digging into his jacket pocket. (Sonuvabitch, I thought later, he'd been just as ready as I was the whole time.)

"Condom," I confirmed, slowly rubbing myself in firm circles as he quickly tore open the wrapper. No reason to break the mood for logistics.

I enjoyed watching him watch me hungrily, enjoyed hearing his soft moan as he rolled the condom down the thick expanse of his cock, enjoyed the brief show he put on for me, both of us pleasuring ourselves in our own way before enjoying each other.