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Right, what am I doing in here when I should be home talking to my father
who came to visit after the trade deal?
I should be out celebrating my impending nuptials, shouldn't I?
To answer that question, let me tell you who’s at my house, okay?
First, there’s my father, who I already told you is visiting. But then, there’s also his girlfriend, the Royal Press Secretary, Samantha Bayer. Who happens to be Alicia’s mother.
Alicia Bayer - who also somehow happens to be my fiancée.
Yeah, fuck you, I know. I fucking know about Alicia. Or Daphne. Whatever the fuck you want to call her.
I sigh and lean back against the wall, staring at the bars.
Fuck me, I can’t help but rethink all that’s happened this morning.
* * *
Like any Saturday morning, Daphne wanted to sleep in. I’m using her fake name because that’s what I knew her as at that point. That’s right. I didn't even know her full name, despite the fact that I fucking proposed to her on the Brooklyn Bridge two days ago. And you want to know what the fucking worst part of it is? That morning, when I woke up and saw her wrapped around my body, her face cute as a fucking button, I realized that I was going to have to make peace with the fact that I would never have what I had first experienced with Alicia. Despite the fact that I never got a chance to tell Alicia how I felt, I would still carry that fucking regret and sorrow with me and make myself a better man for Daphne. I mean, I was fucking torn, mate. Because even as I bent my head to kiss Daphne on the cheek, I worried that a part of my heart would always belong to the gawky girl I had grown up with.
Daphne woke up and smiled when she looked into my eyes and I told myself that even if I had to fake it, I’d give myself completely to this woman. She was the one that rescued me from myself, while I dreamed about Alicia. She was the one that repaired the relationship with my dad, while I acted out. She was here. She was now.
We were sleeping naked - a product of being too tired to put on any clothes after fucking our brains out the night before - and it wasn’t long before she had her slender legs wrapped around me while I took my massive cock and brought her to two major orgasms.
I take another sip and think back to Daphne’s face as she came. I fucking love making her cum. It’s the most thrilling aspect of having sex with her. Sure, she makes me cum like no one else ever has, but I seriously love her so fucking much. I would do anything for her.
But until today, it turns out I didn’t even fucking know her.
Ever since I proposed, Daphne’s been looking kind of worried.
“Derrick,” she said that morning at breakfast. “We need to talk.”
I finally looked at her. That Thursday on the bridge she’d been floating and after we finally got home we managed to get undressed and spent the entire day in bed. We made love - yes, I fucking said ‘making love’ again, alright - and just didn’t let go of each other. We fucking basked in each other’s presence like nothing else existed. The small break we took was so I could go over some paperwork with Larry about the foundation I was going to be setting up. Daphne did some work too - I thought it was foundation related, but apparently it was to write a gossip column. That’s right, I know that too. Over the last few weeks, Daphne has become invaluable in crafting the foundation’s press strategy. That’s what I thought she was doing all this time when she said she was working.
The next day, she began wanting to tell me something, but it was never the right time. Either we were getting interrupted, or something was happening that wasn’t making it the ideal situation. At first, it was a charity meeting that I had to get ready for. Then it was a photo shoot for GQ. During the afternoon, when she tried again, we were in Central Park. I turned to her to listen to what she had to say when the press descended on us. I took questions and then turned to her but she had disappeared in the crowd.
When I finally found her that evening, she sat me down and wanted to tell me what she’d been keeping to herself all day, but Pressly walked in, with a phone.
My dad was on the line and I took the call.
The trade deal had been signed in Washington.
That was fucking great news and I congratulated him. But the phones were ringing nonstop from news agencies and it was the perfect time to announce that I was in process of launching a charitable foundation. That got me busy throughout the rest of the evening.
Two hours later, I walked into her room. She basically used it for working on whatever she was doing. I never bothered to ask her and find out.
I should have that night. I thought she was getting the paperwork ready for the foundation.
But instead, I let my cock grow hard when I saw her in a cute pair of lace boy shorts and sheer white camisole.
She looked at me and smiled. It was a hungry smile.
I couldn’t control myself and before I knew what I was doing I was kissing her. She was kissing back, and her hands were working my cock and getting it enraged. I ended up carrying her to my bedroom where we fucked for hours till we both literally passed the fuck out.
And that brought us to this morning, sitting at breakfast.
“It can’t wait any longer,” Daphne said.
