by J. J. Sorel
Although Lilly’s exuberance had a contagious bite, the thought of Ibiza pulsating in endless techno, sickeningly sweet alcohol, and randy, pimply guys quickly lost its appeal.
“Maybe.” I looked at her seriously. “You don’t think what Blake did was strange?”
She shrugged. “It’s hardly porn. Maybe he likes the way you look when you sleep.”
“He said that.” I sighed. “I miss him.”
“How long’s it been? One minute?”
I laughed. “I’ve known him for ten days. Shit. It feels longer. He’s really intense.”
“James isn’t. He’s kind of geeky in a sexy, rich way.”
“I hope you go out with him again.”
“He called this morning to see how I was.” She studied me earnestly. “Do you think I should call him?”
“Yeah. You bet,” I said.
“He’ll want to fuck. He’s pretty hot to trot.”
“Are you into him? Are you attracted? Does he make you…?”
“Creamy?” Lilly said. A slow smile formed, and she nodded.
“Then that’s your answer.”
“Look at us. Woo-hoo. Hot, rich guys chasing us.”
We looked at each other and giggled.
“So do you think I’m being too harsh on Blake?”
“I do. And hell, take that credit card, Penny.”
“So we should just keep sleeping separately while I allow him to fuck me senselessly and leave it at that, then?”
She shrugged. “Sounds pretty good to me. You’re only twenty-three. Surely you don’t want to marry the guy.”
Lilly made sense. I just needed to protect my heart, because around Blake, I no longer recognized myself as that strong, determined woman I’d spent my life honing.
25
* * *
BLAKE
PENELOPE WAS ALREADY FIFTEEN minutes late. Being one of my pet peeves, her tardiness was something I needed to overlook, along with a few other quirks. We were already on shaky ground, and she had the upper hand. That was never meant to happen.
Just a taste. That was all it took. I’d felt her soft curves on my fingers, and now I was obsessed.
My phone pinged with a text: Sorry. The tube’s broken down. I’m jumping in a cab now. Penny.
I tapped: Where are you? We can come and get you?
She replied: No need, I’m five mins away. See you soon.
Five minutes later, she entered the bar, her cheeks rosy from having rushed, and her hair out and a little tangled. My dick jerked. Dressed in a fitted green dress that showed off her sexy body, Penelope had every man’s attention. I felt possessive and hated the idea of men’s eyes all over her.
As she moved, her breasts bounced slightly. I thought of them falling into my mouth when we fucked. I had to take a deep breath to still the rush of testosterone.
“Hey. Sorry. The damn tube. Again.” She fell into the chair.
I looked at the waiter, who came straight over. “What would you like?”
“A G&T, please,” she said, looking up at the waiter.
“The same for you, sir?” he asked, staring down at my glass.
I nodded.
After he left us, I asked, “Why didn’t you let Patrick pick you up? I’d prefer it.”
She studied me. Her dark eyes had that hint of fire that made my heart skip a beat. In bed, with my cock buried deep, it made me want to devour her. But in the light of day, her indomitable spirit had me watching my words. Another first.
“Would you just?” She held my gaze.
I took her hand and stroked her palm gently. Her eyes softened. “Penelope, I wish you hadn’t run out the other morning.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks. She looked up and thanked him. She waited for him to depart and responded, “I had to.”
“Was it the photos?”
“Not exactly.” She took a sip. “When you weren’t in the bed with me, I felt alone and a little frightened.”
“Frightened? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I know.” She bit her lip.
“You’re self-assured. I like that about you. You just don’t like be told what to do.”
“No, I don’t. And you do seem a little bossy.”
I grinned. “I have this pathological need for order.”
“OCD, you mean?”
“I’m not a fan of labels.” I adjusted my position. “But I suppose that might describe me a little.”
“I know people have their quirks,” said Penelope. “And I kind of like the fact that you’re a little bossy. Otherwise, you’d be too perfect, and that’s not much fun.”
“Does that mean you’ll let me take you to dinner?”
She looked down at her drink. “Why won’t you sleep with me?”
Here came the therapy session, whether I liked it or not. If it meant tasting her again, I had to remove the straitjacket or at least undo one of the ties. “I’m a somnambulist.”
Her head tilted. Frowning, she said, “You sleep walk?”
“Not in that”—I stretched my arms out — “kind of way.” I smiled at my attempt at making light of a difficult subject. “I thrash about in bed.”
“Nightmares, you mean?”
I nodded. “I can get physical. Hence the somnambulist label. I’ve had hypnotherapy. All kinds of therapies.”
“You’re frightened you’ll hurt me?” she asked.
“Pretty much.” My spine stiffened. I should have ended it there, but as I fell into her dark eyes, I couldn’t move.
Her brow contracted. “Have you slept with someone before?”
“It’s a long story.” I gulped back my drink.
“I’ve got time.” She stared me straight in the face, challenging me. Her dark eyes penetrated so deeply into me that it was no longer my cock that burned.
“If I tell you, will you let me touch you again?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Even if you don’t like what you hear?”
“I’m tough.”
“You are. Tougher than I could’ve imagined,” I said softly.
“What does that mean?”
Her defensive tone told me I’d have to remain quiet about having her followed, especially now that I knew about that filthy estate.
“Just that you’re a woman of strong convictions, and you don’t suffer fools.”
“Tell me what happened to you, Blake.” She set down her glass.
“Another?” I asked.
She nodded, and I beckoned the waiter over.
I squared my shoulders. “When I first moved to London about ten years ago, I met a woman. She was ten years older and married.” I paused to choose my words carefully. “Anyway, she was the first woman I’d slept with.”
“Really? At twenty? You were a virgin before that?”
I rubbed my neck. Far from it. “No. I’d been with other girls, just not slept with them as such.”
She looked up and thanked the waiter as he set down the drinks.
I waited a moment before continuing. “The next morning, she was bruised.” I gulped back some liquor and looked Penelope straight in the eye. “I hit her in my sleep.”
“Oh.” Her searching gaze made me want to run.
“If you want to walk out now, I’d understand, even though”—I stroked her hand—“I’d love you to stay.”
Reminded just how damaged I was, I drank solemnly, expecting her to walk out.
“Are you on medication?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve tried sleeping tablets. But I’m prepared to seek help again.”
Her silence added to the tension in my neck. “Look, Penelope… I’m not mad or mentally deranged. It’s just nightmares that…” My mind yelled, “Leave now!” but my heart kept me pinned to that seat. Her eyes shone with sympathy. Apart from Milly, I hadn’t experienced that before.
“We’ve all got our peculiarities, I suppose.” She spoke as though trying to convince hersel
f of something.
“Penelope, I’m going to start therapy again.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes falling into mine.
Though I was dying to know why she lived in that slum, I figured one of us being cross-examined was enough for the moment.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“I gave her money. That enabled her to seek a divorce. She hated her husband, who, ironically—according to her—beat her so badly that what I did was nothing in comparison.”
“She wanted to continue seeing you?”
I brushed the side of my mouth with my thumb. “Yes. But I put an end to it. We were very different.”
“You fell asleep the other morning,” she said.
“How was that? I am curious?”
She bit into a nail, making my back stiffen. “You held me tightly.” She paused. “I mean really tightly. You don’t remember that?”
I shook my head. “Hell.” I took a deep breath. “Did I hurt you?”
A decisive shake of her head did little to quell my self-loathing. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep. That was never meant to happen.
“Then you understand why?” I touched her hand.
She lifted her lids and looked at me seriously. “Why are you like this?”
“How?”
“Messed up.”
Opening out my hands, I said, “I’m not sure.”
“You must know.”
Oh, Penelope, if only you knew. You would run a fucking mile.
“What now?” I asked.
“Like, right now?” she asked, sitting up, a hint of a smile radiating some much-needed warmth and respite.
“Dinner?”
Her smile grew. “Why not? And hey, I suppose we’ve only just met, and perhaps with time, I might be able to help. That’s if you want to talk.”
“Does that mean you’ll come back to my place?” I asked, trying to keep my tone cool, despite the flush of warmth showering over me.
* * *
AS WE LEFT THE RESTAURANT, I took her hand. She looked up at me and a sweet shy smile touched her lips. Although we were over the kind of formality new lovers exercised, there was still an element of that between us.
Opening up to Penelope had liberated me to some extent. I felt lighter as we rode back to Mayfair. Holding her hand, I asked, “Would you like to come to Bath on the weekend? I need to visit an estate I’m about to acquire.”
Her head did a sharp turn. “Really? You want to spend a weekend with me?”
“I’d like that.” I took her into my arms and kissed her cheek.
26
* * *
PENELOPE
BLAKE REMOVED HIS JACKET and came toward me, brushing his lips with his tongue. I melted into the armchair. All night his eyes had been in ravaging mode.
In the car, he’d unclasped my bra and smothered my breasts with his hands, his heavy breath in my ear. I wanted his eyes all over my body and doing things to me that I’d never thought of before.
Our lovemaking had become raw and needy. Maybe Blake wanted to ensure that my body could take it, knowing that I was relatively inexperienced. It could take it all right. Multiple sheet-ripping orgasms had made me insatiable.
His bulge caught my eye as he walked toward me. I shifted in my seat to unstick my panties, which had almost dissolved onto the cushion of the brocade sofa.
He crooked his finger. “Come over here.”
I walked toward him, and he gestured. “Remove your dress.”
He sat back and unzipped his pants.
I giggled nervously. “You want me to strip?”
“Let me watch you.”
I bit my lip. I’d let this man do things to me I couldn’t have ever imagined. However, the thought of him seeing me naked with the light on made me tense.
My tummy protruded, and no matter how much I tried to suck it back, it remained stubbornly full. My ass was big, and my tits were bigger than I would have liked. I imagined them becoming woeful pendulums once I aged.
I just couldn’t process the idea of being ogled by a debonair, stunning six-foot-two man, whose muscular body was like that of a Greek god.
My eyes remained on his face while my green dress pooled at my feet.
He lowered his pants. His dick pushed hard against his briefs. He removed them, and his cock sprang out. My sex ached, and my mouth watered. I’d never sucked a man’s dick before, but as he remained seated, with his cock hard and red-blue from arousal, that was exactly what I craved.
“Remove your bra.” His tone had an authoritative bite that normally would have made me stick up my middle finger in defiance. But my body was in command, and I complied.
Driven by dark desire, Blake didn’t hide his attraction for my body. His raspy sigh at seeing my breasts naked made me feel beautiful.
“Fondle yourself,” he said.
I palmed my nipples and jiggled my breasts, which made me giggle.
“Remove your panties,” he continued.
I slipped out of them.
“Lie on the bed.”
I lowered myself onto the bed.
“Open your legs. Let me see your cunt.”
A swelling ache swept through me. Lying down, I spread my legs.
“Touch yourself.”
He stroked his cock as I played with my clit, which was so inflamed and sensitive I flinched.
“Can you see how big my cock is? It’s because of you. You’re a hot woman, and you have a beautiful cunt.”
His voice had that deep, impaling drawl to it.
“Fuck yourself with your finger.”
I’d masturbated alone and although I’d orgasmed, it was never as intense as having Blake’s sultry gaze burning into me.
He remained seated. I knelt before him. His eyes fell into mine, and he wore a faint smile
“What are you doing, Penelope?”
“I want to suck you.”
“Suck my what?”
“Suck your cock,” I said, my voice choking from arousal.
He opened his legs a little wider so that I could place myself between him and hold his big erection in my hand. Taking it by the base, I placed the creamy head on my lips. Its stickiness sat on my tongue. I channeled a delicious ice cream and licked away. I looked up and noticed that his eyes were closed and his lips had parted.
“Put it in your mouth. Suck it hard.”
Being a novice, I followed his advice.
“Ah… that’s nice. You’ve got a beautiful mouth.”
I moved his wide shaft in and out. His length was way too long to fit, and I started to gag. He removed it from my mouth.
Helping me up off my knees, he took me into his arms and walked me to his bed, where he gently lowered me. He parted my thighs and lowered his face between my legs.
He licked and sucked at my clit, making my toes clench. As I arched my back, I nearly swallowed his tongue with my pussy. Cream trickled down my inner thigh, and as he entered me with his tongue, fireworks went off.
Turning me over, he entered me in one hungry thrust, and going so deeply that I cried out. His mouth on my neck, he rasped, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No. I like it this way.”
“Good, because I’ve been thinking of doing this all day. Your beautiful ass against my stomach.”
I pushed aside the question of how he came to have so much spare time to think of my ass, even though hearing that made my vagina spasm violently as his thrusts deepened.
“I’m addicted to you,” he said, sounding tortured as his cock entered again, the friction so intense that my moans deepened.
We were like animals surrendering to a primal form of lust. The only time I’d been in that pose was for yoga, and it had never felt that good. He’d positioned me on all fours, my tits bouncing up and down in his palms, his mouth biting into my neck as he impaled me. My lips parted as my sighs tangled with his tormented groans, which turned into growls the harder he thrust.
/> The pain of his driving hardness should have hurt, but it became addictive, and the more I surrendered, the more the heat intensified. Contractions became spasms until I succumbed to a hot gush of bliss that seemed to stretch beyond a climax.
Blake’s panting gasps dampened my ear. “Oh… Penelope,” spilled out of his groan. And then he released in a spasm as semen shot in so deep it felt like it would drown my brain.
He fell on his back and gasped for air.
Blake seemed out of it for quite some time. I wondered if he might have died. His eyes closed and his wet lips parted, like an animal who’d just feasted to the point of gluttony.
I remained inert as well. So that’s what hard-driving sex feels like.
We turned to face each other.
He stroked my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
“That was pretty full-on.”
“You orgasmed, though. I felt you.”
I nodded. I sure did. Unimaginably so.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, studying my face.
“No… but it was dirtier than the last time.”
He rose from the bed, and as he strode to the sideboard, his ass flexed with each step. Perfectly proportioned, his legs were athletic and long. I imagined him being a fast runner or a long jumper.
He headed to a bottle of Scotch. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“Only water,” I said.
He poured me a glass from a crystal decanter and then poured himself a shot of whisky.
Setting the glass by my side, he joined me on the bed.
“You don’t like it like that?”
I turned to look at him. “I do. But I also feel like a slut.”
His brows squeezed tight. “Oh.” His mind ticked away, searching for the right response. “That’s not how I see you at all. You’re sensuous and raw. You’re very, very sexy.”
I took a deep breath. “I hope I don’t get hurt, that’s all.”
Blake remained quiet for a moment. “Let’s enjoy each other, and see where it goes.” He turned to face me. “You know more about me than any other woman I’ve ever been with.”