Soft breaths escape the heaving chest. She apprehensively gazes up at him, fear piercing her heart. His eyes had closed a long time ago, he's a firm believer in logic and logic states; when one sense is weakened, others are enhanced. He does not care for sight at the moment, he wants to feel. He wants to feel her body scream out for him in fifty-two languages to represent his ever year on this earth. Lips, oh, the touch of his lips are honestly what really got her going. The taste of her honey spreads between the both of them. One palm pressed against the right dimple of her lower back, the smooth, plush pads of his fingers trailing along her bare navel. The tickle of his touch hitches her breath, he's going down for the final prize.
His fingers slither into the hemming of her olive colored, tanga panties. She panics. Her legs quickly snap closed as she clenches her thighs together.
He let's out a sigh of defeat. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach. "Prince, I'm– I'm sorry!" She pleads reacching for his hand.
Prince, her companion of several dozen months, looks at her. Patience in his eyes and arousal in his pants, he bites down on his lips as he carefully thinks over his words. Once he is ready to speak, the gnawing ceases as he takes in a short breath. "Why won't you give me your all, Angela?" His eyes carry a pleading affect. He desperately wishes to know what is keeping them from connecting spirits throughout the final stage. "Is there someone else?"
"No, Prince, never!" Angela whines sitting up next to him. The couch is big enough for three other people to sit with them, an elephant snatches up the extra room for himself.
He cries out, matching her tone of frustration, "Well, tell me what it is!"
"I– I," Angela stammers, lost for words. "I have to go."
During her first experience, temptation is something she surpassed with no struggle at all. Now, the second time seems to be tugging on her internal righteousness. Her father won't be proud to know that she's lost focus on what he allowed her the freedom to do. She fears what his reaction may be every single time an erotic chill is sent shooting down her spine. Whether it be the mutual fellatio or the wonders of one another's hands, she's disappointing Daddy... Angela's suppose to be Daddy's Little Girl.
"No, please, don't go." Prince's pleading leaves Angel wincing as she scurries out of his living space.
Sitting in her car, heart beating heavy, her clammy palms run over her forehead and through her hair. "Freak!" A hoarse, tear-written voice of hers calls out. She lost for words on what it is that she is supposed to do, if there's anything she can do.
