by Lulu Pratt
“I think I should leave,” I whisper in his ear. I then lick his ear and nibble on it. He groans.
“Then go,” he says, keeping his hands firmly on my waist.
I don’t make to move. I stay right where I am.
I begin to move my hips back and forth, grinding into him. His bulge, pulsating in his pants, pushes itself up against my lips. I can feel it stroking the outside of my clit. My body trembles every time I grind myself forward.
His hands move from my waist and to my back, where they find the clasp on my dress. He undoes it, and I slump my shoulders, allowing for my dress to fall open. My breasts are now right in his face, and he pounces. First, my left, and then my right. He bites down on both with just enough pressure that I squeal, but don’t scream.
“You like that?” He groans as he pulls his mouth from my heaving breasts.
In response, I grab the top of his head and push it back into my breasts. I want more.
As he continues to play with them, his hand moves down to my thighs. He pinches my thigh as his hand breezes past it. He then begins to stroke my panty line. My body shakes each time his finger goes near my pussy. I am so wet, and all I want is him inside me.
I am going to ask him to take me, but I stop myself. He has to do it on his own accord. I want him to want to. Luckily, I don’t wait long. He strokes the outside of my panty line and pushes it to the side, exposing my lips. His finger runs up the outside.
I shudder and grab him by the back of the head. He lets out a chuckle and then plunges his finger inside of me. I bite down on his neck as he penetrates me. I breathe into his ear. I let out a moan. His finger pushes itself inside of me, and I scream.
Someone knocks on the door.
We both freeze where we are. His finger is inside of me. My exposed breasts are in his face. We both look to the door, and then back at one another.
“Yes?” He calls out.
“Sir, it’s Marge. I have an urgent email that I forwarded you an hour ago. I really need you to read it.”
“Give me five minutes,” Blake yells through the door.
“Thank you so much, sir. That’s perfect!”
We remain frozen, and I hear the footsteps disappear down the hall. The moment they are gone, I slide off Blake’s lap. I am still hot and bothered, but I feel that the moment is all but gone.
“When can I see you again?” He asks.
I smile openly as I do up my dress.
“Saturday,” I assure him. “Like I said.” In truth, I don’t think that I can wait until Saturday. I’m more turned on than I have ever been, and I have to have him soon. I just might explode otherwise.
“I am not sure I can’t wait that long.” He stands up, taking my hand. The bulge in his pants is still there, demonstrating that he is telling the truth.
“Okay,” I say. “How about tomorrow night? Your house?”
“I can’t wait,” he says as I make my way to the door. We share a kiss as I step outside, and I make sure to close the door behind me.
As I walk to my car, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out, smiling to myself as I see who is calling. It’s Amy.
“What’s up?” I ask as I reach my car.
“What’s up with me? What’s up with you? You told me you were meeting Blake again today. How did it go? Tell me everything!”
“Yeah, it went pretty well. Nothing too exciting.”
I look over my shoulder, as if someone might be watching me. The lie is an obvious one, and even I don’t believe myself.
“Girl, you have got to be the worst liar. Just tell me! Something obviously happened. What was it? Sex? A blowjob? Oh, you definitely blew him didn’t you? You dirty little…”
“I didn’t blow him,” I hiss into the phone. As I do, I climb into the car and strap myself in. “But we did almost have sex. Like really close to it.”
“Amazing! Where are you now? What are you doing? I want to hear everything. Oh wait! Is that the time? Shit! Look, I have a client. What are you doing later?”
“Nothing.” I chuckle as I shake my head at my friend’s eccentric nature.
“Okay, I’ll call you. I want to hear everything.” She hangs up the phone, leaving it beeping in my ear.
I shake my head again as I start up the car. As I do, I notice that my hand is still shaking. In fact, my entire body is. That moment with Blake has left me a wreck. I need to get home as soon as possible and take care of this aftershock. If I don’t, then I truly will explode.
Chapter 17
BLAKE
I know that Carrie isn’t too fond of her apartment, and as I pull up out the front of it, I can kind of see why now that I see it in the fading daylight. It’s not that it’s a terrible place or anything like that. It’s more that there is nothing inherently great about it.
First of all, it’s tiny. I can see that from the outside. And as I walk to her front door, I instantly spot the dirt and grime lacing the walls. I guess it to be pretty old and has most likely passed through a dozen hands by now.
My main concern isn’t so much for Carrie’s living conditions, but for those of my soon-to-be unborn child. I can’t have it being born in a place like this. I don’t even want it in a place like this while it’s in the womb. This worry is further compounded as I knock on Carrie’s front door, and a piece of the drywall crumbles and falls to the ground.
“Coming,” I hear her call as she rushes around the apartment.
It sounds like a damn hurricane inside as she runs back and forth.
I remain where I am, rocking back and forth on my heels as the sound inside slowly dies down. The lock unclicks, and the door flies open, almost off its hinges.
“Hey,” Carrie says, as soon as the door is open.
She looks a little flustered, like she’s just run a sprint. Actually, as I step into the apartment and see the attempted clean-up job that she has done, I figure that she is more akin to having just run a marathon.
“Quaint,” I say as I look over the apartment.
It’s not a messy place, or at least, not anymore. It’s a studio apartment. I guess the entire mess to have been shoved into a corner somewhere where I can’t see it.
“Shall we go?” She asks, still sounding flustered as she picks up a small bag.
The way she tries to push me out the door, I’m sure that she doesn’t want me seeing any more of that apartment than I have to.
“Is that all you’re taking?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, still trying to lead me out of the building.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking,” I say as I turn back on her, halting our exit. “I don’t think that one night will be enough. In fact, I would be shocked if it were. While you are ovulating, I think it would be best if you stay at my place.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that we’re going to have to fuck a lot, and I think you should stay at my house permanently until you have conceived. What do you think?”
As I ask I notice her trying her hardest not to smile. She is really fighting against it. “Sure, I’d like that,” she finally says. “I’ll just grab some more stuff. I’ll be quick, okay?”
She hurries away, throwing her overnight bag onto her bed as she begins to grab more clothes from her closet. As she does this, I remain where I am, looking around the apartment. The inside is exactly as I thought it would be. It only confirms what I know to be true, that my baby can’t be born within these walls.
That’s the biggest reason for asking her to stay with me. Sure, I would like her to be around while her fertility window is open so there is more of a chance of conception. But if this all goes well, I imagine that I will be asking her to stay while she is with child. But that’s a conversation for a later date.
“Finished,” she exclaims, catching me off guard. I’m still looking around the apartment as she sidles up to me, bulging suitcase in her hand.
“Let me.” I take the suitcase from her hand and lead h
er out the front door to my car.
“I always forget how nice this car is,” she says as she climbs in the passenger seat. “Like seriously, I think it costs more than my apartment.”
“It better,” I quip as I jump in the driver’s seat and start up the engine. “Otherwise, I need to get a better one.”
“Hey,” she exclaims jokingly as she whacks my arm. “My place isn’t that bad, is it?”
“I’m kidding,” I say, pulling the Aston Martin onto the main road. “But still, I am happy that you agreed to come and stay with me.”
“Yeah, me too,” she says, giving me a warm smile. As she does, she reaches out and squeezes my arm.
It feels good, and for a moment there, I almost forget to keep my eyes on the road as I return the smile.
“So, tell me about your day. What have you been doing?”
“Do you really care?”
“What? Of course, I do. Listen, Carrie, I don’t want you to think that I’m only using you for this baby thing. I still like you. A lot actually. Even if we weren’t doing this, I imagine we would be in a pretty similar position to now. Only without a signed contract.”
“Oh, you don’t usually make your girlfriends sign lawyer-drafted documents?” She quips, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Not the ones I like,” I shoot back.
She offers me a warm smile again. “Okay, let’s see then. Today, I worked on my book actually.”
“Really? That’s interesting. What’s it about? Or is that a secret?”
“It’s not a secret. It’s a romance novel, and that’s all you’re getting out of me.” She smiles slyly.
“Okay, I’ll take that for now. But I guarantee that you’ll tell me more, soon. In fact, I predict that you will be begging to tell me more.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, I know so,” I shoot back, returning her smile.
As I do, I reach out with my hand and take hers in mine. I give it a squeeze, and she returns the squeeze with enthusiasm. I can’t help but feel that however this whole thing turns out, I’ve made the right choice in Carrie. There is something about her that I find impossibly alluring. A deep connection that I am sure she feels.
“So, is your house as impressive as your car? Or did you blow your wad on the wheels?”
“I’m going to have to let you decide on that one.”
“I will,” she responds. “And you will be the very first to know what I think.”
“I hold my breath for your review.”
I pull the Aston Martin onto the freeway, gunning it down the road and to my house. I smile knowingly to myself as I do. Something tells me that she is going to be just a little impressed.
Chapter 18
CARRIE
His house is huge. Well, house is probably the wrong term to use. It’s a mansion.
An extraordinary mansion. It’s the kind of place I gaze openly at as I drive through Beverly Hills. It’s the kind of place that tourists take photos of when they go on street tours of L.A., if they can get that close.
His home is mind-blowing. As Blake navigates his car down his long driveway to the garage, I can’t believe that I am going to spend the next few days here.
“You like it?” He asks knowingly, smiling to himself as he notices my mouth hanging open.
“Just a bit,” I say, not even bothering to hide my awe. “How do you afford this? I thought you said you produced small, independent films?”
“I do,” he assures me. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t pay well. Plus, I made a few smart investments when I was younger.”
“Like what?”
“Property,” he says, nodding to the house.
This one gets a laugh out of me, and I don’t even care that my defenses are down slightly. I was worried about him earlier, and whether or not I am doing the right thing. But now, as he pulls his car into a garage that’s as big as my apartment, I can’t help think that I’m on the right track.
Once the car is parked, he jumps from the driver’s side and hustles his way across to the trunk to collect my bag. He’s there before I even have my seat belt off, and as I reach for the door handle, he beats me to it and opens the door for me.
“May I?” He asks, holding out his hand for me to take.
“You may,” I reply, offering him a bemused smile. The whole thing is a little over the top, and yet, I can’t help but be impressed by it. It’s impossibly romantic.
He opens the door to the house, leading me inside. As I step through the door and into the foyer, I don’t know what to gape at first. The inside of the house is as breathtaking as the outside. Modern everything is the theme. It’s spacious, warm and inviting.
I want to live here. I want this to be mine.
Not only does the house impress the hell out of me, but I am also blown away by the reception itself. Standing by the door, waiting to greet us, is who I assume to be the housekeeper. She holds two glasses of Champagne, one in each hand.
“Would you like a drink?” Blake asks as he steps inside. “I figure you may as well take advantage of it now, while you can.”
“True. And I’ve never been one to say no to a free drink.”
Once we both have our glasses, Blake takes my hand and leads me to the living room. Again, I gasp openly when I see what he has waiting for me. There are dozens of roses spread out on the floor. He walks forward and picks up one.
“I didn’t know what your favorite flower was. So I deigned to get you the most beautiful one, instead. For no other reason than to match your beauty.”
I blush heavily as I take the rose from his hand. It’s real, too. I can’t believe the effort he has gone through.
“That’s got to be it right? No more surprises?” I let out an exaggerated sigh, as if the whole ordeal has tired me out.
“Well,” he begins, a smirk on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
He takes my hand and leads me through a small hallway to what I instantly guess to be the kitchen. I guess this because the smell hits me as soon as I step foot in the hallway. And as I walk down the hallway, the smell gets stronger and stronger.
“My God!” I exclaim, taking a deep whiff. “What is that?”
We walk into the kitchen. It’s a small kitchen, but a busy one. There are two chefs, hard at work. Seeing us, they offer a brief nod before going back to work. I look over their shoulders, trying, but failing, to guess what they are making me.
“It’s grilled salmon,” Blake says, seeing my curiosity. “With avocado mango salad, coconut rice, a side salad and, for dessert, chocolate cake.”
My eyes bulge as he rattles off what we are going to be eating. “Seriously, Blake you didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I did,” he smirks. “Are you hungry?”
“Suddenly, I am. I can’t imagine why?”
“Boys, how long?” He asks the two chefs.
“Five minutes,” one of them replies.
“Perfect!” Blake smiles. “Shall we?”
He holds his hand out for me. I take it without hesitation, and he leads me from the kitchen to the dining room.
The dining room table is already set, with a glass of Champagne waiting for me. I haven’t even touched the one currently clutched in my hand. I’ve been far too mesmerized by the night. I quickly drink it, finishing it before I reach the table. This allows for me to scoop up the next one.
“Professional,” Blake jokes as he watches me.
“Preparing for an upcoming dry spell,” I reply as I take a seat.
Blake joins me, and we engage in some lighthearted, not-too-serious banter as we wait for our food. The conversation is, as always, free flowing and natural. If it wasn’t for the fact that it is my first night in the house, I would assume that I was a regular.
The food is served exactly five minutes after we sit down, and it tastes just as good as it smells. In fact, I have to work hard to control myself from guzzling down everything put in front of
me. So instead, I take small portions, allowing the flavors to work over my tongue. Never filling up, but always satisfied.
This is helped by the Champagne, too. I have one more glass before the food arrives and then another before I take my first bite. It is as I’m about to dig into the dessert that I suddenly become aware of how tipsy I am feeling.
It’s not on purpose. It’s just that in the moment, because of how nice the food and drink is, I have gotten a little carried away.
The only reassurance is that Blake appears to be feeling it as well, albeit, not as much as I am. Truth be told, I am feeling a little nervous. Tonight is the night that Blake and I are finally going to have sex. Although I have been looking forward to it with relish and desire, I am obviously a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
Hence, why I am drinking so freely. But either way, as I dig into the cake, trying not to moan over the taste as I finish it, I become aware of the way that Blake is looking at me. It’s a look of desire and temptation, and it can only mean one thing. He wants me.
Chapter 19
BLAKE
I may have overdone it slightly. I want to impress her and make her see what living here is going to be like. But I could see as soon as we walked through the door that I caught her by surprise.
Even before that, when we pulled up to the house, her mouth was hanging open in pure shock. I sometimes forget how intimidating this house and the gardens can be. I know I was like that when I first bought it.
But Carrie has cooled off significantly since then. I watch her pour herself another glass to drink, her cheeks flushing red and her smile increasing in warmth. She has clearly come around to the idea of staying here. She is far more comfortable now.
“So, tell me,” I say as I take a sip of my Champagne. “How was the food? The chefs will be hounding me later so I’d like some feedback for them.”
“Are you kidding?” She says excitedly. “It was incredible. Do you always eat like that?”
“Not always,” I say, smirking. “Only when I have company. Special company. I figured that you fit into the category nicely.”