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I must be losing my mind.
Part of me wanted to introduce Isabelle to my world. Claim her as mine. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me. I ran a million miles from commitment, but not when it came to her. I’d loved the approval in my father’s eyes. And the idea of having Isabelle in my life.
I’d worry about it later. Much later.
Now, we were in a boutique, trying on dresses. Or she was. I sat in a chair, in front of the changing rooms, watching her. Every once in a while, she would appear and then try on another dress, and turn around and around and in front of the mirrors. they all look the same to me, but Isabelle wasn't happy with any of them.
“What do you think?” She asked for the 100th time
“I like it.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “You said that about all of them.”
“I'm not really into fashion.” As a matter of fact, I didn’t even pick out my own clothes. we all had a stylist and they did all the shopping. I got measured every year and I never worried about the rest.
“The point is, you should take your pick. You can have any one you like, and all of them if you want.”
She turned back to the mirror, biting her lip. Isabel lifted the edge of the dress doubtfully.
“I don’t know if this looks good enough for television.”
“I think they'll be more concerned with you than your outfit.”
“Easy for you to say, you've probably done this hundreds of times. I'm nervous as hell. This is worse than giving a presentation at school or that dream I had where I was naked in class.”
Suddenly, she bent over and I got hard. Straining in my pants. Instantly, I was on my feet. Before she could say a word, I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dressing room.
“Hey, what are you doing.”
“What does it look like?”
Evidently my intentions were all over my face. Instantly, she blushed.
“What about the sales staff?”
“Don't worry about them. They are assisting other customers. Besides, I'm the Prince. No one's going to tell me no.”
“Does that include me?”
“Cheeky. Yes, that includes you.”
I pushed her toward the mirror and she placed her hands on the walls. I hitched up the back of her dress, and stripped her panties off, down around her ankles. Before she even knew what was happening, I lunged inside her, fucking her.
Loved the way she tightly gripped my cock. Isabelle was made for me, or I’d been fashioned for her. I wasn’t sure what was going on here, but I couldn’t stop it.
I slammed into her hard, giving Isabelle no choice but to take my thrusts. She moaned and I clamped a hand over her mouth. She muttered against my palm. I rode her hard, slamming into her, couldn’t get enough of Isabelle.
I’d begun to wonder, worry, if I’d ever get enough of her.
I should be bored by now, but I wasn’t. If anything, I wanted her more. She was almost like a drug and I craved her 24/7. I’d really backed myself into a corner this time.
What if she didn’t feel the same way about me? What if Isabelle just tolerated me?
“You’re mine, aren’t you, Isabelle?”
She met my gaze in the mirror. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was my cock pounding into her, the slick, wet sounds of sex, her indrawn breaths, my pants.
After a moment, she nodded.
With a howl, I slammed inside her one last time and came.