Pearl on Cherry

by Chanse Lowell

  He extracted every ounce of passion he owned and poured it into her as his tongue thrust inside her warm, wet, inviting mouth.

  She jerked under him when he pinched her clit once more and then she was crying out in euphoria, climaxing beneath him.

  “Oh Christ—Clarissa—my wife. My heart.” He shook from head to toe, and he didn’t give a damn if this impregnated her and her acting career was short-lived because of it.

  He had to let this happen—he would not be complete any other way—and hadn’t really been until this moment when he spilled over with emotions and all that he was now coated inside her core.

  His semen was hers. His blood was hers. His breath—all of it—hers.

  “Oh my God . . . Oh my God . . . “ she chanted beneath him.

  She rocked side to side, pulling her arms out from under her.

  He finally removed the blindfold.

  “I see you . . . And you are all that I ever want to see from this day forth,” she said, her voice a soft rasp. She studied his face, and her eyes swam with excitement.

  “I was biting you.”

  “I liked it.” She nodded.

  “I scratched and pinched.”

  “Yes, and I loved that, too.” Her eyes flamed darker.

  “I slapped your puss. Did it hurt?”

  “Did you hear me say ‘Pearl’ once?”

  “No, but I . . . I’m sorry I was too rough.” He set his head on her chest. “Please forgive me for being a savage with you.”

  “William.” She exhaled. “Do it again, please. I beg of you. That was the best way to end what has been an incredible day.” She stroked his hair and then squeezed the nape of his neck playfully. “I am boneless now, and there’s no better feeling in the world.” She sighed, and her hands rested on his upper back.

  “You are entirely too good to be true. I would give up every penny I own if it meant I could keep you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He closed his eyes, shutting out the noise of the world outside.

  “Let us be pleased then that I feel the exact same way about you.” She chuckled, and the rumbling of her chest made his head teeter for a moment.

  He smiled. “Delicious woman. We should go before a policeman pulls us aside for questioning.”

  “I have nothing to hide—only my breasts poking out above my neckline.”

  He sat up, tucked them away for her and kissed the tops of them. “I so enjoyed tearing them free from your maddening dress. Whoever decided women’s breasts should be hidden away was an old goat with a wedge up his ass.”

  “I thought you liked wedges up the ass?” She giggled.

  “Only if it’s up yours while my cock is making its way inside you.”

  “I cannot argue with that.”

  He cleared his throat.

  Later.

  He would do those things and more later.

  She was an endless treasure to explore and play with.

  He put his cock away like a sensible man would do, then drove them straight home without another word. As soon as they were back where they belonged, he wrapped her up in his arms, carried her inside and stripped them both with expediency. He placed her in his bed, where he proceeded to tangle her in the sheets and in his naked limbs.

  “Let us wed soon. We leave for France next week so we can decide where to honeymoon, where to lavish each other with untold of affection. Say you are dying to be there with me in the land of unending lust and romance.” He stroked his hands down her neck, then cupped at the base.

  “You know I can barely see straight when you even mention France. And remembering how to speak is damn near impossible when you slip into French as well. I am lost to you with the thought of that land.” She flushed around the tops of her breasts.

  He tickled his fingers across them and pressed his palms over them to feel the heat.

  “Good. We leave next Monday. Pack little, for I intend to buy you an entire new wardrobe while there and place jewels about this delicate throat.” His fingertips drifted up around her throat once more and he whispered them and dipped them into the hollow there.

  “What of Clyde, though? Mustn’t I be in rehearsals—learning my lines and the songs?” She sucked in a tight breath.

  “I’ll arrange it all. Don’t you fret about anything but baring your beautiful body to me on command.” He kissed under the edge of her jaw and nipped at her ear. “He knows what you have sojourned through.”

  “You told him about where I come from?” she gasped. She fisted his shirt at the center of his chest.

  “No, not that. I told him of Tyrone’s plans to exploit you and use you for his own talents and to drive me to a jealous madness. He knows I broke that man down with my fists and would’ve gutted him if I’d had the chance to. Some bowels do not need to exist in a man for the world to continue toiling. I would’ve happily removed his for free—bets notwithstanding. I would not take that blood money, since my payment would be in his crunching bones.”

  She sighed. “I know I should not condone this behavior, but there’s this wicked piece of me that adores what you did to him. It helped me to see that I should’ve never sided with Miller when he tried to take advantage of me. But at the time, I only knew what it meant to be penniless, so I understood his struggle to survive.”

  “Ah, yes—another man I would’ve happily ended if it had been my choice.” He rubbed noses with her and gripped her by the upper arms. “So, you forgive me for having a blood lust and a thirst for carnage with my fists?”

  “Yes—but can you tell me where it stems from? I realize not all lusts can be traced back to a point of origin, but you said something when you were in full blows.”

  “I did?” He backed his head away, tipped his head back and groaned. He knew . . . It must have slipped.

  “You said something about not being a failure and then you said, ‘You—old man—are a blind fool.’ You were talking about your father?”

  He dropped his head, and his eyes hung like sad curtains over an old warped pane of glass. “Yes.”

  “Please—I know it’s excruciating, but sharing your pain will help.” She licked her lips and edged closer to him, her soft breath pelting his lips. Her velvet fingertips explored his jaw, and he rubbed his whiskers across the pads of her fingers. “For you—I want to share everything, but you’re so tenderhearted—my pain will cripple you. I don’t think it would be good for you, and I cannot wound you. The expense would be too great.”

  “Please . . .” Her eyes softened into blue pools of kindness.

  “My father disowned me long ago. I’m not what he thinks I should be. And no amount of success or wealth amassed can compensate for how I’ve disappointed him. He rejects all that I am, and for that, I may never recover. I loved my father, and I wanted to be just like him—emulate all his noble character traits, but it wasn’t to be. I was a degenerate in his eyes—still am. There’s nothing to help for it. So, I look to you for my example of who I strive to be like.” He cupped her cheeks while she explored the contours of his face. “It’s you who shows me there is still goodness in the world, and that I was lost, but no longer.”

  “I do that for you?”

  “You do.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and slid his forehead across hers, allowing his eyes to drift closed as he soaked up her sincerity and infinite goodness.

  “Then it’s because I reflect what I see in you. Your father must’ve been blinded by his wealth, so I agree with what you said when your fists were flying. He was and is a blind fool. How unfortunate for him to be unaware of what a truly magnificent son he has. I’m proud of you and all you accomplish, and it has nothing to do with your money or mansion or motorcars.” She dragged her right palm down to his heart and set it there. “It’s this—it’s what beats in here and thrums into your body, spilling out into your deeds. No one compares to the likes of you. Who else in your world would have stopped to help me, or Elizabeth, or Pauline? I know what you did to help Paul
ine before I came to live with you. She told me how appalled you were that this man that evades us had hurt and abused her.”

  “But I wanted to do the same. I was ready to whip her,” he said like a bleating sheep—his voice cracking and hideous.

  “Shhh . . .” She shook her head. “With her consent. There is a world of difference, and you know this. You were making certain she got something out of it—and she wanted and needed money.”

  “It’s disgusting. I should have never turned to women on the street and exploited them that way.” He choked on a sob, welling up in his chest. “I’m a pig—no better than that man. I sent her on her way to fend for herself, knowing that man would possibly come back to her. And when you asked me for help the other day for her, what did I do? I disregarded her because compared to you—she means nothing to me. Those are not the actions of a gentleman.”

  Her eyes hardened. “William Berling Ferrismore III—you listen to me. You are good. You were not taught any better. Your experience was that the world was a cruel place. You have needs, and you were finding unusual ways to meet them. Now we have each other, and we no longer need to dwell on past mistakes.” She tossed her head onto his chest. “I don’t even know that I would go as far as to say they were even mistakes on your end. They were decisions that were the most agreeable at the time. No more sadness. Please. As you say—my soft heart cannot take it. So, tell me you forgive yourself, even though there is nothing to forgive.”

  “For you? I will do it.”

  “For you—do it for yourself. Be well, my love. Be the man I see. You have potential to be the best man in New York. That’s what I see—that’s what I know is available under this coat you call a skin. A giant with an unrivaled heart meant for brilliant things. Burst free. Ignore what your father taught you about yourself. He was more than blind—he was ignorant.” She snuggled into him. “I love you. I love you for all that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will yet be. And I am proud of you beyond measure.” She sniffed.

  He tucked her up into his lap, and like a broken woman—he cried.

  She had broken through to him, and it was a masterful blow that he could not have achieved with all his fists hacking at men’s bones.

  She was the implement needed to get through to what lay inside him—a man with a full heart and a desire to use it for the sake of goodness.

  * * *

  A week later, Clarissa had her script in hand, and William held her bags.

  They would be leaving within a few moments to go have some breakfast and then board the boat that would take them to France.

  “You look lovely,” he told her.

  “Thank you, but not as lovely as you. Must you be so dashing and distracting?” She fanned herself with the script.

  “Stop. You, vixen, will ensure we miss our boat—forcing my hand so I must fuck you again.”

  She laughed. “I take no credit for that. I had no notion that the simple act of my brushing my hair would turn you into an uncivilized brute. My backside still tingles.”

  He grinned. “Yes, I rather liked using that brush on your cheeks. They pinked very nicely, and it ensures you’ll sit on my lap today for the trip, rather than the hard seats. I have more of a cushion.” He patted his thighs.

  “Such the fiend.” She spotted Elizabeth and Pauline heading to the kitchens. “I’ll go say my farewells,” she told him and then she was after them.

  He smiled and went in search of Samuel.

  When was the last time he’d taken to using Samuel’s services as his driver? Lately he’d been driving himself around—enjoying the opportunity to stop on a whim and fuck Clarissa all he wanted.

  It was a cramped, sweaty affair, but she moaned louder than ever when he trapped her in that tiny space, bit, sucked, pinched, scratched and pulled hair—all while fucking her until her senses had dissipated completely.

  That was when he felt himself—right to the marrow. Everything made sense when he was permitted to do that without fear of her censure afterward.

  She usually cooed, told him how wonderful he was and asked when they could do that again.

  The damn woman was definitely a match for his ferocity and insatiableness.

  She was even impatient with his refractory period a few times, so he used his fingers and tongue to bring her the next sought after release.

  With her juices on his lips—he’d drive them home, grinning like a wolf.

  He was a rake—oh yes, and she loved him that way.

  His chest lifted and warmed as he strutted through his home still searching for Samuel.

  The phone in his office rang, so he went after it.

  With his imminent departure, nothing could dampen his uplifted outlook on life.

  He would have her in France—make love out in public, like he’d always wanted to. At home, there were too many eyes that followed him, but there . . . Whew. He was more anonymous. Just some American with money.

  No one cared about him, and he traveled freely.

  She would revel in the freedom it afforded them, too. He knew it absolutely.

  “Hello, this is Ferrismore,” he answered the call.

  The operator said her lines, and he ignored them, barely listening.

  “Yes—put them through,” was his absentminded reply.

  “I have you now. You will resign as head of the rail station,” his father started.

  William set his left palm on his desk. “Oh, I see. You think you’re back in charge, do you?”

  “Yes—I know I am. A Mr. Miller Westerly has sent me an alarming report about your unprovoked attack on him. You broke ribs, his nose and he even lost a finger due to your despicable combatant nature. If you do not resign your position and sell your shares to me, then he and I will sue you and take it against your will. The choice is yours.” His father gloated.

  William held his breath. “His finger was missing before I ever laid a hand on him, and I can attest and will do so before a judge when I get back from France—that this barbaric man was about to rape my darling girl as she tried to fight him off. Have you seen the size of him?”

  “Yes, and he’s a gentleman. He would never do such a thing,” his father said.

  “He would, and he did. I have neither the time nor inclination to stand here and argue with you. I board a boat shortly to leave this place and show my fiancé the wonders of a French countryside.” He blew out.

  “No—no walking away from me this time. Tell me what you have to say to defend yourself.” His father’s voice escalated.

  “Why should I? You never believe me.” William patted his coat to find a cigarette, but he didn’t have any on him. “I had no choice but to harm him so I could save her. That is all I have to say to you.”

  “This is the way with you—always. Some excuse, some grandiose reason that explains it all away and takes away your portion of the blame. It is time you became a man and took responsibility for your actions.”

  “And giving you the rail station will do that? Fucking hell! Why hadn’t I seen that before?” William smacked his forehead with the butt of his palm. “It’s all so clear now. Give my controlling asshole father what he wants, and all will be well. I’ll be redeemed. Well, I thank you for enlightening me,” he said through his teeth. “You can both rot in hell—and for him—I pray it is free of women, since he clearly does not know how to treat them.”

  “And you do? You are projecting your own vile inclinations on this honest working man. You are the one that touched that woman and treated her like the foulest whore al—”

  Click!

  William ended the call and stood in place, fuming as his chest heaved.

  “Will, was that him?” Clarissa’s soft voice floated around him.

  “Yes.”

  “Was he cross with me?”

  He turned to her. She was standing in the doorway, looking timid and worried.

  “Why would he be upset with you? He doesn’t know you.”

&n
bsp; Guilt swept across her face. “I . . . Well, I met him this week.”

  “You—how? And why?” He crossed the room in five long strides and gripped her arms, fending off the overwhelming urge to shake the truth out of her. “Why would you do this? Did my blindfold teach you nothing? Must I spank you to get you to keep away from these filthy, diseased-ridden men that plague our planet?” He crushed her to his chest.

  “I thought he had a right to know we were to wed, and since my writing is barely legible, I wanted to tell him in person.”

  “But the men at the rail station . . .” His eyes screwed shut, and his entire back tensed.

  “I took Samuel along. He helped me. He was . . . Please, don’t be angry at him. He was only doing as I commanded.”

  “Commanded?” He held her at arm’s length to look in her eyes. “Did you use your influence as my soon-to-be wife to do this when you knew it was against my will?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to. I wanted to face the man that has made you feel worthless for so many years. I slapped his face, spit on his shoe and called him a coward.” She dropped about an inch or two as she slumped in his grip. “I didn’t want it to hurt you. I just needed to see for myself what kind of a man would do that to you. And you were right—he’s cruel. He called you all sorts of treacherous names, and made you out to be the villain.”

  “Did you believe him?” Christ—his eyes welled up, and he could scarcely breathe.

  “Not for a second. I could see the lies seeping out of his pores. He repulsed me. How that man could ever have a son as amazing as you, I will never comprehend.” She searched his eyes. “Please believe me—my intentions were good.”

  “I believe you, but you’ll still be punished for this. Spankings—and lots of them when we are in France. I may even do some of them in public.”

  Her eyes flashed open wide. “All right—if it suits you to do that.”

  “It most certainly does.” He slapped her right ass cheek to prove his point, then groped it. “Did you say your goodbyes?”