Dark Descent into Desire

by J. J. Sorel

Before I could speak, his lips burned onto mine. His body, hot and needy, rubbed against me, his cock hard and moist against my palm.

  His finger slid inside me. “I need to fuck you.”

  I surrendered by opening my thighs wide. He sucked back a breath through his teeth while entering me, his beautiful face on mine, and his eyelids heavy. His mouth fell open, and a groan touched my face.

  He turned me around. “I need you this way.” His hands smothered my breasts, his lips on my neck biting gently.

  He thrust harder than I was used to. Something had bitten him. Overflowing with desire, I opened up and released my muscles, welcoming his fiery entrance. His cock moved teasingly against my walls. The friction was intense.

  Red and raw, his cock moved in and out. With each entry, he hit an erogenous spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I trembled through one spasm after another as toe-squeezing pleasure ravaged my senses.

  His breath tickled my ear. “Come for me, Penny.”

  He must have possessed magical powers, because that breathy plea registered in the same spot as where his dick landed and I released a deluge. A primal groan echoed off the walls as he shot into me as though impregnating me with his soul.

  In a strangled tone, he murmured, “You’re mine.”

  I was his. No question about it. He could do what he wanted with me at that point. I’d grown so attached to him that our spirits were one.

  We held each other, and he kissed me so tenderly that it seemed his trembling lips were crying. Or maybe that was me.

  As I held onto him, Blake fell asleep. He looked like a boy and was unexpectedly peaceful.

  A few hours later, we woke in the same position, his head on my chest. No cries. He hadn’t moved at all.

  Something had changed.

  He opened his eyes. Streaks of aquamarine shimmered before me, and I fell into them as I would the sea.

  “Tell me you’re not a dream,” he said.

  I shook my head slowly. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I have just had the best sleep I’ve ever had. It was me and you alone in a sunny, flourishing meadow.”

  “How’s Milly?” I asked, studying him and wondering if he’d taken a trip or something.

  “She passed. It was peaceful.” Blake lifted himself up. “What time is it?”

  “It’s only ten.”

  “I’d better get moving. I left my car at some weirdo hotel. It’s probably been stripped bare. I caught a cab.” He smiled.

  That was new too. He didn’t smile like that ever.

  I couldn’t believe how buoyant he seemed, standing before me naked.

  “Should we have a shower?” I asked.

  He was about to say no, but I stood naked before him, and he took me into his arms. “I guess I need a little bit of breakfast.” He wore a dark grin.

  “You want to eat?” I asked, unsure if that was what he meant.

  “Yeah. I sure do. I want to devour your cunt.”

  My pussy hissed in anticipation. I cocked my head. “You’re being a little vulgar this morning.”

  He drew me tight and squeezed my ass. “Vulgarity in the morning leads to one thing only.”

  “And that is…?” I asked smiling.

  “Pleasure. Unadulterated and dirty. The best kind.”

  I giggled. “Blake Sinclair, you’re a sex maniac.”

  “I’ll own that. But only with you.” He looked at me, and intensity removed that rare smile.

  “Blake, why aren’t you sad?” I asked.

  “I am sad. But for the first time in my life, I’m also free.”

  I furrowed my brow.

  “Enough talk. I’m thirsty.” His eyebrow arched.

  I was thirsty too. My palate salivated at the thought of swallowing him whole.

  * * *

  A FEW DAYS HAD PASSED, and it had been such a blissful period for both of us. He slept in my arms every night, as quiet as a baby.

  Blake mentioned the journal and then handed it to me. “Here, it’s all there.”

  “You’re entrusting me with this?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “You’re in my life, Penny.”

  Blake had taken to calling me that, and we’d entered a new phase in our relationship.

  “I’ve still got a few issues to deal with, though.”

  “Have you spoken to James?” I asked.

  “No. I’ve been too busy organizing Milly’s funeral. She asked that her ashes be scattered at Raven Abbey in the forest, where her son’s ashes were released. Would you like to come?”

  I grew as excited as a child would be at the suggestion of visiting Disneyland. “I would love to—very much. I’ve never visited the moors.” My mood flipped from that of joy to curiosity. “What happened to the candlestick?”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” His eyes reverted to a darker shade of blue.

  41

  * * *

  BLAKE

  “WHY HAVE YOU BEEN avoiding me, James?” I nodded at the waiter, who set down our drinks.

  To get James to meet me, I’d virtually blackmailed him by threatening to tell his parents about Lilly.

  “I’ve been caught up in a few things.”

  “How do you know Dylan Fox?”

  James toyed with his glass. “From a few years back. He used to host these island parties.”

  “Island parties? By that you mean, sex parties?” I asked.

  That little mischievous sparkle was missing. I’d never encountered James looking so serious. “Yep.” He looked down at his hands.

  “Did you lure me to the Cherry Orchard for a specific reason?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, come on, James. No more games. I’m being set up by Fox, and you’re right in the middle of it. You were spotted looking all chummy with Fox at the ball. It’s pretty easy to join the dots.”

  He took a deep breath. “What’s he got on you?”

  “Some doctored images of me with a disturbingly underage Serbian girl named Tatiana.”

  “Tatiana?” He looked surprised.

  “You know her?” I asked.

  He moved his shoulders as though to release tension.

  I leaned forward. “Just fucking tell me.”

  His hesitation tested my patience. James knew what I was capable of. I’d had my share of punch-ups at college, often protecting him from those belittling initiations that wealthy boys overdosing on testosterone inflicted.

  “I fucked her.”

  “Tatiana?”

  “But not when she was underage,” he said. “Only about a year ago.”

  “What, at the ripe old age of sixteen?” I didn’t hide my sarcasm.

  His chest deflated. “He’s blackmailing me. I had to lead you to him. It was either your head or mine. Sorry, old man.”

  “Don’t give me that fucking ‘old man’ shit. I want the whole fucking story. What’s he got on you?” I gulped down the whisky and lifted my chin to waiter.

  When he arrived, I said, “Leave the bottle.”

  “Of course, sir. More ice?”

  I shook my head. Once he was out of earshot, I leaned over and said, “I’m waiting.”

  I topped up his empty glass.

  “The island parties involved virgins, some of whom were underage.”

  I frowned at him. “Shit.”

  He lifted his hands in defense. “Hey. I had no idea. She told me she was eighteen. And she fucking looked it.”

  I took a deep breath. “How old?”

  He bit his lip. “Fifteen.”

  “You’re fucking kidding. And now he’s got that on you. But wouldn’t that incriminate him for organizing those grubby events?”

  “No. He’s under radar. He’s a sly prick.”

  “He’s got proof of you with a minor, and he’s blackmailing you to get at me. Anything else?”

  He shook his head. “It was just to invite you to the Cherry Orchard.”

/>   “Which is where photos of me were taken.” I sighed. “Who’s his front?”

  “No idea. I just went along to the island. Rupert invited me during a card session. He just told me that there would be some young, sexy girls. Not underage, though. I even asked that. They were kind of borderline. You know, that spectrum of thirteen to twenty.”

  “Fuck. Thirteen?” I shook my head in disgust. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “No fucking way. I was with Cristina, a Russian girl.”

  I sipped solemnly, contemplating the shitshow before me.

  “Did you fuck Tatiana?” he asked.

  “No way. I like my women to look like fucking women.”

  Knowing that about James, I wasn’t sure how our friendship could survive. My stomach churned from disgust.

  “Yeah. You’ve always had a thing for mature, chubby women.”

  “At least they’re not emaciated and bordering on being fucking underage.”

  “Hey. Steady, Blake. That’s bollocks. I was in the dark.”

  He took a deep breath. “What does he want?”

  “Money. What else?”

  “Much?” he asked.

  “About four billion.”

  He whistled. “Fuck. He’s aiming high.”

  “He thinks it’s his blood right. What he’s about to learn, however, is that his father, Sir William Fox, was actually my father and that he’s the spawn of his mother’s affair with the gardener.”

  James mouth parted. “Holy shit. I always sensed you were from good stock.”

  I cocked my head. “I don’t subscribe to that elitist nonsense.”

  He grinned. “I take it you plan to see him face-to-face.”

  I nodded. “It won’t be the first time I’ve knocked his teeth out.”

  “You can be a warrior when you want to. That’s for sure. But hey, you don’t want to go to jail over this.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “I’m pretty unsettled with those images out there,” said James. “What about a professional…” He looked about. “A hit?”

  “Not my thing.”

  “Look, I’m really sorry to drag you into this.”

  I sat back. “Are you still with Lilly?”

  “She’s at my house. That creepy, fat Russian’s still stalking her.”

  “You probably need to deal with him, then.”

  “Do you think that something might happen to Lilly?” he asked.

  “You’re the one that’s been fraternizing with that lot.” I raised a brow.

  “I had my hand forced. I was young and stupid. I fucked up. I hope you and I are okay.”

  I had a flashback to our days in college. James had been there for me, when the gentry ostracized me for not being one of them.

  I stood up. “I must go.”

  He looked up at me with a sheepish smile. “I hope we’re good.”

  That wasn’t going to be easy, knowing how I held onto things. And betrayal was at the top of my bad list.

  “Can’t say.” I left it at that.

  42

  * * *

  PENELOPE

  THE EMAIL ARRIVED WITH my results. My hand shook as I pressed the key down. I’d worked around the clock to get those final assignments in.

  My eyes ran down the form, collecting the word pass along the way with distinction and ninety-eight percent for drawing. My art history essay also gained me a distinction. A cascade of joy rippled through me. I leapt off the seat and cried out, “I passed.”

  It was morning, and breakfast was coming. Now that Blake had miraculously been cured of his nightmares, he’d tangled around me like a snake all night.

  He strolled back in from the bathroom and kissed me. “That’s marvelous. I knew you would. You’ll look sexy in a cap and gown.”

  I scrunched my nose. “I’ll look silly.”

  “No, you won’t. You could wear a sack, and you’d still be a sex kitten.” He played with a strand of my hair. “Breakfast’s on its way. I have to do something in my office for a moment. Do you mind? I won’t be long.”

  “No, of course.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes. Breakfast should be ready by then. Okay?” He kissed me sweetly on the lips.

  “All good.” I smiled, indulging in his elegant stride.

  Life was great for me, except that I’d tried to move my mother somewhere nice and clean, but she’d refused to budge. As Blake put it, my mother was married to her habit. I hated hearing that. It sounded like a cop-out to me. In spite of that, I was at a loss about how to change things. I could have called family services, but they would have taken her by force. The thought of that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

  Around fifteen minutes later, Pierce knocked at the door.

  “Come in.”

  He was like a sweet uncle. “Good morning, Penelope. I’m not sure where you want your breakfast?”

  “Oh, just leave it there, thanks. I’ll go and tell Blake.”

  “I can if you like,” he said.

  “No. I will. Thanks, Pierce. It smells marvelous.”

  “That’s Maria for you. She’s made us all a little chubbier with her amazing cooking.”

  I giggled, thinking of Blake, who wasn’t chubby. He was just broad and muscular in that knee-weakening masculine way.

  Pierce left the food on the table, and I headed to Blake’s office which was more like a small library. I entered the room, and loved how the sun filtered through the colored-glass windows, infusing the space with a moody, warm glow.

  My eyes settled on his desk, where I noticed an open folder with photos. I stretched my neck to look at them.

  The image showed Blake on his side, his back to the camera. I recognized the scar. A very young girl, lying up on her side, faced him, wearing a flirtatious smile.

  My heart sank to my feet. I ran out of his study. Blake was coming down the hallway. The blood drained from his face. He must have guessed what I’d seen.

  “Penny!”

  I ran into his bedroom, grabbed my shoes and jacket and ran out onto the pavement.

  Blake followed me out and held me. “Where are you going? Let me explain.”

  I shrugged out of his arms. “Don’t touch me. She’s a fucking child.”

  A pair walked past and turned.

  “Not here, Penny. Come inside. Let’s talk about this.” He grabbed my hand. “I’ve been set up.”

  I yanked my hand away. “I feel sick. She looked really fucking young. And what about all those young girls at that club where I first saw you?” My eyes pooled with tears. Having been on a high, the fall was steep, crashing me down to the gutter.

  A cab happened to come by, and I hailed it.

  Barefoot, Blake watched on helplessly, his hair uncombed and looking like we’d been fucking hard all morning. Which, of course, we had.

  Was it just sex disguised as love?

  That thought bounced around in my frantic mind, which switched between that image of the young girl on her side and Blake pleading innocence.

  I arrived at Sheldon’s. That was the only place I could think of going to. Being at my new home didn’t feel right, and I just couldn’t stomach the thought of the estate.

  “Sweetie,” said Sheldon at the door. “What’s happened? Your exam results weren’t good?”

  “I did really well,” I said flatly.

  “But that’s brilliant, isn’t it?” He let me pass.

  I followed him into the kitchen. “Sorry for barging in like this.”

  “No. It’s good. Roger’s just left.” He smiled sweetly. His policeman boyfriend had finally owned up to their relationship, and I couldn’t have been happier for him.

  I hugged him. “You look so well.”

  “Mm… that’s what a little morning rough and tumble will do for one’s day.” He giggled, but then his face became serious again. “I’m sorry to be so upbeat when you’re clearly not. What’s happened?”

  I grabbed a glass of water and
gulped it down, hoping to dilute the bitter taste of anguish. “I’ve left Blake.”

  His eyebrows contracted. “Why?”

  “It just happened. We were so good, in such a great place. He was sleeping with me. No nightmares. I was—or should say am—in love with him.” I buried my face in my hands, and sobs gave way to a deluge of tears. Just hearing myself say that had finally broken me.

  Sheldon passed me a box of tissues. “You found him cheating?”

  I blew my nose. “I discovered an image of him in bed with a girl that looked very underage.”

  Sheldon grimaced. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s have a coffee and think this through.”

  “Thanks Shelly for being here.”

  He hugged me, and tears erupted again.

  I blew my nose. “He said he was being set up.”

  Sheldon lifted the espresso from the stove. “Then he might be. You don’t know for sure.”

  “I felt like fainting. It was disgusting seeing that young girl…”

  “He’s very rich and powerful. It’s feasible that somebody might have set him up.” Sheldon poured coffee into two cups.

  I picked up a cup and sipped. “But they were in bed together,” I reiterated. Each time I uttered those ugly words, it didn’t get easier.

  “What about Photoshop?” asked Sheldon.

  “That thought did cross my mind, and Blake mentioned it, but I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Has he been calling?”

  My phone was off. I turned it on out of curiosity, and sure enough, there were some messages but only one from Blake.

  I listened to his first.

  “Penny, I’ve been set up by Dylan Fox. You saw how he threatened me at the ball. That was photoshopped. I’ll do everything to prove it.”

  “It’s from him?”

  I nodded glumly, staring down at a mysterious number. I listened to the message.

  “This is Detective Constable Stephens. I’m calling about your mother. It’s urgent that you call.”

  My hand shook.

  “What’s wrong, Penny? You look pale.”

  “I’ve got to make this call.”

  I pressed on his number, and he picked up straightaway. “Detective Stephens.”