It was time.
Day after day, night after restless night—today was finally the day. The day I'd waited for, longed for. The day I'd meet him—my prince. My heart pulsed with anticipation, a chaotic blend of fear, excitement, and fragile hope twisting inside me.
What if he doesn't feel the same when he sees me in person?
What if he's not who he claimed to be all this time?
My hands trembled with those thoughts, but I shoved them aside. I had to know.
I leapt from the train the moment it stopped, flagged the first taxi in sight, and sped toward the airport. The ride felt eternal, every red light a cruel joke. But eventually, I made it. As I stood in the arrival terminal, the overhead speakers buzzed to life.
His flight had landed.
My stomach flipped. A squeal slipped from my lips before I could stop it. I felt eyes on me, but I didn't care. I rushed toward the arrivals gate, heart pounding louder than the crowd's chatter.
And then—I saw him.
Tall, confident, effortless. His dark skin glistened beneath the harsh lights, highlighting every cut of muscle beneath his snug t-shirt and black cargo joggers. His eyes were scanning, searching. And then—he found me.
The moment our eyes met, the noise of the world dulled to a hum. He smiled—slow, knowing, like he'd been craving this moment as much as I had. My breath hitched. That smile was lethal.
Without thinking, my body launched forward, weaving through the crowd until I was in his arms. He caught me with ease, lifting me off my feet, wrapping me up like I belonged nowhere else. The warmth of him melted every ounce of anxiety. It was real. He was real.
I pulled back, drinking in the details—his chiseled jaw, his captivating deep brown eyes, the slight upturn of his soft black lips that I already craved.
"You look even better in person," I whispered, voice barely steady.
He leaned in, brushing his lips near my ear, voice low and smooth, "You're even more dangerous up close."
I blushed, smacking his chest playfully. He laughed, deep and rich, his hand curling against my waist like he didn't want to let go.
"Wanna grab some food?" he asked, smirking like he already knew the answer.
"Only if pizza's involved," I grinned.
Hand in hand, we found the nearest cozy spot and ordered everything—pizza, burgers, ice cream, even Oreo crushers. We talked, laughed, teased. He watched me like I was something precious, like he couldn't quite believe I was real.
"What do you wanna do now that I'm finally here?" he asked, eyes fixed on mine.
"Anything… as long as it's with you."
He smiled that slow, devastating smile again. "I like the sound of that."
By the time we left, the tension between us was thick, humming. In the car, his fingers found my thigh—light touches, barely there, but enough to set my skin ablaze. My breath caught, heart thundering, as his hand crept higher. But it wasn't just lust—it was every unspoken promise between us finally unraveling.
The door had barely closed behind us before he spun me around, pulling me into him. No words. Just heat.
His lips found mine—soft at first, then rougher, more urgent. His hands roamed with a hunger that echoed my own, tugging me closer, fingers digging into my hips like he was afraid I'd vanish.
"You look nervous," he breathed against my skin.
I scoffed, sliding my fingers beneath his shirt, feeling the rigid warmth of his abs. "I don't get nervous. But you… you're breathing a little hard, Prince."
His jaw clenched, a sharp exhale slipping past his lips. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart. See what happens."
I arched a brow, teasing, "Oh? And what will happen?"
He moved like lightning, gripping my waist and pulling me flush against him. My breath caught at the suddenness, my hands bracing against his chest.
"You'll find out," he murmured, his voice dropping to a velvet growl.
His lips hovered at my temple, then trailed down my cheek, jaw, throat—burning a path that had me trembling. My body moved on instinct, hands slipping beneath his shirt, pushing it up and over his head. God, he was carved like sin. Every inch of him begged to be touched.
"I've waited too long for this," he rasped.
"Then stop waiting," I whispered.
That was all it took.
He kissed me again—hot, desperate, tasting of every lonely night and whispered fantasy we'd ever shared. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me like I weighed nothing. I wrapped around him, clinging, needing more, everything. He pinned me against the wall, grinding into me until I gasped into his mouth.
"God, you taste like a fucking dream," he groaned.
My clothes vanished piece by piece, his fingers exploring with reverence and fire. Each touch, each kiss was deliberate—designed to undo me. I squirmed beneath him as he laid me on the bed, his body hovering over mine, gaze intense and hungry.
He didn't move. Just watched.
"You're staring," I murmured, breath shallow.
"Can you blame me?" He smirked, lifting my chin. "You really don't know what you do to me."
Heat rushed to my face, but I didn't look away. I wouldn't.
His lips returned to mine—slower now, deeper. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing fabric away until skin met skin. His fingers grazed my most sensitive places with torturous precision, making me writhe, making me beg without words.
"Prince…" I gasped, gripping his shoulders.
"Say it again," he demanded, voice thick with need.
"You're enjoying this too much," I whispered, though my hips betrayed me, arching for more.
He chuckled, dark and full of promise. "You haven't seen anything yet."
His touch turned bolder, more purposeful, every caress stoking the fire in my core. He left kisses along my inner thighs, tongue trailing wickedly close before pulling back just enough to make me whimper. My hands clutched the sheets, my breath shaky.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, lips brushing my belly. "Open. Needy. Mine."
I couldn't take it. The slow build, the teasing, the tension—it was all too much. And not enough.
"Please…" I whispered.
His eyes darkened.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
I couldn't take it anymore.
His teasing was maddening—every kiss, every brush of his fingers pushing me closer to the edge but never letting me fall. My body ached, drenched in need, and I wasn't about to wait another second.
I pushed him back, climbing onto his lap with a hunger that had been brewing for far too long. His eyes widened just a little—surprised, impressed, turned on as hell. I could feel him, hot and hard beneath me, the friction delicious as I began to grind my hips against him. Slow at first. Just enough for both of us to feel it.
His hands flew to my waist, gripping tight. "Fuck, baby—"
I silenced him with a kiss, deep and breathless, moaning into his mouth as I rolled my hips again. His cock pressed right against me through his briefs, and I whimpered, the pressure hitting perfectly. My panties were soaked, clinging to my skin, but I didn't care. I wanted him to feel it.
"You drive me crazy when you do that," he groaned, his voice wrecked, eyes glued to where our bodies met.
I reached down between us, slipped my fingers past the waistband of my panties, finding my slick, aching folds. He watched, completely entranced as I dipped two fingers inside myself, letting out a needy moan that echoed through the room.
"Goddamn…" he muttered, swallowing hard, his chest heaving. "You're so fucking wet for me."
I moaned again, louder this time, moving my fingers in slow circles, curling them just right. My head tilted back at the sensation, my other hand clinging to his shoulder to stay grounded.
"I wanna watch you fall apart," he whispered.
So I did. My body trembled, hips grinding against his clothed cock as I fingered myself faster, chasing the high he'd built in me all night. It didn't take long—my orgasm hit like a wave, hips stuttering, breath breaking, cries spilling from my lips as my walls clenched hard around my fingers.
Before the aftershocks could fade, he reached down, gently pulling my hand away and bringing my soaked fingers to his mouth. He sucked them in, moaning low and deep, eyes never leaving mine.
"I need to taste all of you," he growled.
He flipped me onto my back, and before I could even catch my breath, his mouth was between my legs. His tongue lapped at my folds, slow and teasing at first, then relentless. My moans turned to cries, hands tangled in his hair, thighs shaking around his head. He held me down, devouring me like he couldn't get enough—his groans vibrating through me, his mouth wet and sinful.
"Prince, oh God—fuck—don't stop," I gasped.
He didn't. He sucked, licked, teased until I came again, harder this time—my body curling up, thighs squeezing around his head as I cried out his name.
But he wasn't done.
He trailed kisses up my body, slow and reverent, until he reached my breasts. His tongue flicked over one nipple before sucking it into his mouth, warm and wet, his lips tugging just right. I gasped, arching my back into him as his hand found the other breast, kneading and teasing, thumb flicking over the hardened peak.
"You taste so sweet everywhere," he murmured against my skin, before switching to the other nipple, giving it the same delicious attention. My breath came out in short pants, my body completely his.
His fingers slid between my thighs again, this time entering me slowly. I moaned, the stretch just right as he curled them inside me, finding my sweet spot instantly.
"Uhhh, Prince—" I whimpered, legs trembling.
He kept fingering me, slow and deep, his mouth still on my nipples, sucking, licking, biting gently. The pleasure built again, and when I came this time, it was with a desperate cry, my whole body shaking beneath him.
I pulled him up, kissed him hard, tasting myself on his lips. Then I dropped to my knees, dragging his briefs down and freeing his cock. It was thick, throbbing, beautiful—and mine.
I licked a slow line up his shaft, teasing the tip with the flat of my tongue before wrapping my lips around him. He hissed through his teeth, hands fisting in my hair.
"Shit, baby—yes," he moaned.
I bobbed my head, taking him deeper, moaning around his length as he pulsed in my mouth. I could feel how close he was, his hips twitching, his breath turning ragged.
"F-fuck—you're gonna make me come," he groaned.
I let him slip out of my mouth with a wet pop, licking my lips as I crawled back onto the bed. "Not yet," I whispered. "I want you inside me when that happens."
He was on me in a flash, positioning himself between my thighs. I guided him in slowly, both of us gasping as he slid deep, stretching me perfectly. We stayed like that for a moment—foreheads pressed together, hearts racing in sync, until he began to move.
Every thrust was deep, deliberate, hitting all the right places. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth as our bodies moved in perfect rhythm.
"Your so beautiful like this baby girl," he growled, gripping my hips harder. "So fucking tight, so wet for me."
We lost ourselves in each other, sweat-slicked bodies colliding, soft moans and harsh cries filling the room. My nails scratched down his back as he drove into me faster, deeper, until we both shattered—together. My walls clenched tight around him, pulling his orgasm from him with a groan that shook my soul.
We collapsed in a tangle of limbs and heavy breath, foreheads touching, chests heaving.
"…Again?" I asked between gasps, a cheeky smile forming.
He smirked, brushing the hair from my face. "You read my mind."
Later, we found our way to the bathroom. The tub filled with warm water, and he pulled me in with him, our bodies sinking beneath the surface. His hands roamed again—slick on wet skin, every inch of him brushing mine beneath the water. He kissed my collarbone, then my shoulder, then dipped lower, his cock already hard again against my thigh.
I turned around, straddling him under the water, guiding him back inside me with a sharp gasp. The water sloshed as we moved, the sensation new and overwhelming. His hands gripped my ass, helping me ride him slow, deep. We kissed as the water spilled over the edges, our cries echoing off the tiles.
This time, when we came, it was quieter. Intense. Earth-shattering, yet tender. Like we were breaking and healing at the same time.
We stayed in the tub until the water went cold.
Wrapped in fluffy towels, we returned to the bed, clean but exhausted. He pulled me into his arms, my head resting on his chest, our legs tangled beneath the sheets.
"Still nervous?" he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"No," I murmured, my smile lazy. "Not even a little."
He held me tighter, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.
"Good," he breathed. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
And that night, we drifted off together—warm, spent, completely wrapped in each other.