by Lulu Pratt
And it isn’t just the fact that he had done it, but the way that he did. He is so sure and confident in himself. It is like nothing I have ever experienced. I tried my best to deflect and act like I wasn’t impressed by his cockiness, but it was just that, an act. Really my heart was beating a million times a minute.
***
The restaurant is a fancy Italian spot that I have never been to before. It is the kind of place that I have never even dreamt of going. The items on the menu cost more than I make a week, and the drinks cost more than I make a night. Naturally, as I arrive and see the place, I’m a little nervous.
It’s earlier than Blake had indicated in the text, and that is by design. I like to arrive to dates early so that I can get my foundations down and settle myself in. Sometimes, I will even order a glass of wine, in case I need to loosen up.
I walk through the restaurant to the booked table, and as I do, I feel increasingly nervous, as if I don’t belong. In fact, I can sense the eyes of the other patrons on me, like they know I’m a faker.
Reaching my chair, I just about fall into it with relief. As I tuck myself into the table, I quickly order a glass of red. My plan is to loosen up myself, just enough so that when Blake does walk through the door, I can be myself and deflect the charm I know he is going to bring.
I am halfway through my glass when I spot him. The moment I do, I feel my knees go weak and I thank God that I am sitting down, another reason for arriving early. He spots me instantly and walks to me with a smirk on his face.
He looks as handsome as I remember. In a navy-blue suit, offset by an open white shirt, he’s more akin to a model than a mere mortal man. His hair is slicked back and impeccable, and his eyes seem to be undressing me or are those just my hopes being projected on him.
“You’re early,” he says as he slips into his chair.
“Maybe you’re late,” I quip back as I sip my drink.
He isn’t late. He is actually right on time. Perfectly so, as if he has been waiting outside for the clock to strike six.
“It’s possible, but unlikely,” he says, not in the least bit put off by my attitude. “And you started without me.”
“Oh this?” I ask, pushing my half empty glass across the table. “I got sick of waiting.”
“I’ll try to improve for next time.”
“Next time?” I ask, raising my eyebrow in an exaggerated fashion.
“Unless I’m getting ahead of myself. But I contacted my fortune-teller earlier, and she assured me that this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.”
“I think you should fire her,” I say, working hard to hide my smile. “She’s clearly a fraud.”
“So, Carrie, you’re saying that I’m not going to discover the cure for cancer tomorrow? How disappointing.”
He is unflappable. Everything that I say, he seems to have an answer for. But more than that, everything he says, I seem to have an answer for, too. I have never felt such a connection with a date as quickly as I do with him.
“How about you concentrate on the task at hand, Blake? That is keeping me entertained. You can worry about cancer tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he responds, smirking to himself as he does.
The banter doesn’t stop there. As the night progresses, our appetizers are replaced by our entrees, and those are replaced by dessert. Things between us only seem to escalate.
When we first had drinks, I thought that maybe Blake was just having a good night. But as we eat dinner, here and now, I can see that this is just his personality, calm, cool and oh so confident. And despite myself, I’m finding it harder and harder to resist him.
“So,” he begins as our desserts arrive. He wears the same attractive smirk that he has all night. It is clear that he knows what it does to those around him, especially women and he is obviously determined to use it on me. “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”
“Tonight? Nothing. But tomorrow, I told you already. I have that early start.”
I look away from him as I speak. I can’t look into his eyes. If I do, I know I will become lost and will thus find it a heck of a lot harder to say no to him.
“Oh, perfect. So, you’re free after dinner, then?”
“Technically speaking.”
There is a piece of chocolate cake in front of me that I am trying hard to resist as well. But I realize that I can use it to my advantage. I scoop a portion onto my fork, making sure to all but suck it off the end. My lips press out as I do.
“Does that mean you’re going to join me for a drink?” He leans in, speaking at just above a whisper. The restaurant is crowded, but all that noise is barely registering on me. Like a viper dancing before its master, Blake has hypnotized me.
“What do you think?” I say, swallowing the cake, nice and slow.
“I think you’re going to.” He smiles a little as he speaks. As if he knows the answer before I even say it.
“Again, I’m going to suggest that you fire that fortune-teller of yours because there’s no way that I’m coming back to your place.”
I don’t look at him as I speak, but somehow, I’ve managed to resist him, even though I hate myself at the moment.
“She will be disappointed. But not as much as me.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,” I say, smirking to myself.
I couldn’t be prouder of the self-control I’m exhibiting. Plus, something tells me that he isn’t used to be rejected. That thought fills me with indescribable warmth.
“I’m sure I will, Carrie.”
***
Blake drives a very modern, very expensive and very fast car. It’s one that I don’t recognize, and even as he tells me the name, it doesn’t ring a bell.
“So, this is you?” He asks as his car pulls up in front of my apartment building. It’s a small building, only housing four studio apartments. Mine is the smallest of the lot, too, and by the far the cheapest.
“This is me,” I confirm as I open the car door.
As I do, his hand reaches out and touches my shoulder. It sends a shiver up my spine as goosebumps break out across my skin.
“I’ll call you, okay?” He asks.
“I hope you do,” I say, smiling at him.
Then, just as I am about to climb from the car, his hand moves from my shoulder to behind my head. He pulls me to him, and I find myself moving. I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.
I have been glancing at his lips all night, wondering what he tastes like. As our lips meet, I am not disappointed. I could kiss him for hours, days even. But I am playing a game, and at the moment, I am winning.
After no more than a second, I pull myself from his lips, offer him another smile, and climb from the car. Walking up to my apartment, I turn back slightly and offer him a short wave before disappearing.
The entire walk to my front door, I think about what I am doing. Should I turn around, jump in his car and go back to his place? It takes all my willpower to assure myself that I am making the right decision. But even still, as I walk through my front door and into my cold, lonely apartment, I’m not so sure.
I go to the window and see that he has already driven away. Even if I had changed my mind, he has already made it up for me.
Chapter 7
BLAKE
After watching Carrie walk inside, I pull my Aston Martin out onto the street. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes and mind on the road as I slowly navigate my way back to my house.
I just can’t believe how that date went. And not just how it went, but how it ended.
Right from the get go, I could sense the spark. Right from the start, that spark ignited a flame between the two of us that burned brighter and stronger as the night progressed. And as we ate, drank and laughed, I was sure that tonight she would be mine.
And yet here I am, driving home alone.
The funny thing is, now I only want her more. She has this power over me that she is surely aware of. I know she is. She lures m
e in with her light flirting and playful banter, only to sidestep my advances like a pro. I have never met a woman like her. I am, without a doubt, going to see her again. I have to.
I pull my Aston Martin up to my house, and I have to blink myself back into reality. That drive, one that takes at least thirty minutes, feels like it took ten seconds. The entire way, my mind was occupied with thoughts of Carrie, and even now, I can’t for the life of me think how I managed to get home.
My house is a pretty lush kind of a place. It’s a two-story affair, located just off Beverly Hills. I had the option of living in Beverly Hills, but that isn’t really my scene. The people there are all born into money, and I’ve never really been able to connect with them.
So instead I opted to buy a place that is close enough to carry the same kind of cache as Beverly Hills but houses different sorts. The people I work with remind me that I don’t fit in with them either. Which is fine, as I am doing well enough that I don’t need their connections or their inherited wealth, while I have the drive and intelligence to ensure that I succeed on my own terms.
I’ve always found that’s the problem with coming from nothing. I don’t connect with anyone. Not really, anyway. My high-school reunion confirmed that I’ve outgrown those I grew up with.
That’s why tonight was so unique. I feel like I’ve known Carrie for years, not days. She is from a similar background as me, but like me, she aims to make something better of herself.
Walking into my house, I’m reminded that despite all my money and success, how beautiful my house is, with its modern architecture, artwork, wooden floors and open spaces, I am isolated.
It’s odd, but I can’t help but think of what it would be like if Carrie was here. And not in a one-night stand sense either. But if she lived here. If we were together. Sure, it’s way too soon to have such thoughts, but still, there’s no reason I can’t dream it. Even if it is only for a second.
Those thoughts quickly mutate though. As I make my way to my bedroom, it doesn’t take long for me to wonder what the night may have been had Carrie said yes to coming home with me. Standing at the end of my California king-size bed, I imagine how it would have been to have her here, to have stripped off that black dress she was wearing. To have kissed down the back of her neck, play with her breasts and bend her over.
I can feel my cock growing thick and hard. Still thinking of Carrie, I undo my pants and drop them to the ground. The release is sensational as my hard cock springs forward, already sticking straight up like a rocket.
I sit on the edge of my bed, closing my eyes as I wrap my hand around myself. My cock is thick, and it pulsates in my palm. I imagine myself kissing Carrie, sucking on her nipples and stroking her thighs as I begin to stroke my own cock. My hand is wrapped around its base, and I slowly move it up and down.
I’m going down on Carrie now, licking her folds and sucking on her clit. She is moaning with pleasure and I can taste her excitement. As I do, I continue to stroke my cock. I loosen my grip just enough so my hand can slide all the way up and down the long, stiff shaft. It feels amazing, and I imagine what it would be like if it was Carrie’s hand instead of my own.
Up and down I stroke. I increase the speed as I imagine Carrie sitting on it. I increase the tempo as I imagine her bouncing on it, her tits jiggling. She rides me with full force, moaning, screaming. She loves how big I am. I love how tight she is, how wet she is. I fall on my back, imagining her hands pressed on my chest as she rides me. I reach up and squeeze her heaving breasts.
She tells me she is about to come. A playful smile on her lips and her eyes shining with pleasure. I stroke myself harder. She asks me to come with her. I continue to work myself. Up and down. And then, as she comes on top of me, I explode.
I let off a moan as hot, sticky cum shoots from the end of my cock. I don’t even care about the mess it makes. I don’t even care that my hand stays wrapped around my dick long after I finish myself off. All I care about in that moment is Carrie and how much I want her.
Chapter 8
CARRIE
My laptop is my haven. Whenever I’m stressed out, sad or feeling a little emotional, I know I can sit down, spend a few hours typing, and all those emotions will melt right off me. But today, I’m at my laptop for a different reason. It’s all to do with Blake.
He is incredible. I can’t stop thinking about him. I haven’t been able to since last night. My sleep last night was one of the most uncomfortable in recent memory. The moment I got home from my date, I got ready for bed. But it was a fruitless effort as I quickly realized that sleep wasn’t going to come. I tossed and I turned, all the while wondering if I made the right choice in denying Blake. Maybe I should have gone home with him? Maybe I should have invited him in for a night cap?
That is why I’m sitting at my laptop right now. I have all these thoughts running through my head, so I figure I best channel them into my work. I was working on another book, but I’ve decided to put that to the side for now. I feel a fresh wave of inspiration, and I know that while I have that, I best take advantage of it.
My new book will be a romance. It will be filled with passion, love and regret. And, most importantly, it will be inspired by Blake.
***
I have been writing for the better part of two hours now. As predicted, the plot is coming along nicely and I have already come up with some great dialogue. I don’t want to get too cocky, but I think that this is going to be the one. I can just feel it. If I keep this up, there is no way that it won’t be.
As a writer, I am constantly on the lookout for that big break. I am only ever one good piece of work away from writing something that sells. This is going to be it.
All I need is to keep the inspiration coming. That’s going to be the hardest part. What I need is to see Blake again.
I just can’t get last night out of my head. Even now, channeling my thoughts into words, my feelings are as strong as ever. I have never been so turned on before. I have never wanted someone more. I keep telling myself that I made the right choice by coming home instead of going to his. But now, I’m not so sure. What if I never hear from him again?
Divine intervention is a real thing. And if I need any proof, the fact my phone has just started to ring as I am having these thoughts should be all the proof that I need.
Snapping myself back into reality and the moment, I look across to my phone, smiling to myself when I see that it is none other than Blake calling me.
I reach out to pick up the phone, but stop at the last second. The phone has only rung the one time, and I let it ring out a couple more times before finally answering. I want to make him think I am busy, and that he has put me out by calling. I don’t want him to know that I have been thinking about him all night and day.
“Hello?” I say casually as I answer the phone.
“Apparently there are rules that say not to call the next day, but I decided to break them. Just this once,” he says, speaking into the other end of the phone. His voice carries that same effortless charm, and even as he speaks, I feel the need to keep typing. He is a fuel for my inspiration.
“I’m sorry, but who is this?” I reply, trying my best to sound like I mean it. I’m not usually this playful, but he brings it out in me.
“Oh, sorry. It’s the plumber. I’m calling about that busted pipe that you wanted me to fix. I wanted to know what time I can come over and service it.”
“Oh, that pipe?” I say with fake realization. “You know what? It no longer needs servicing. Yeah, I thought it did, but I checked it out when I got home last night, and it is actually in perfect working order. Sorry to get your hopes up.”
“I think you mistake me. My hopes weren’t up. It was you I was doing it for.”
“Is that right?” I smirk, leaning back in my chair as I do. I’m glad that he is on the phone and not here in person because I wear the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. I’d hate for him to see it and know what effect he has on me.
“That’s right. So, if you want me to come over and double check that for you, now is that time. Otherwise, you might find me very hard to book in again.”
“Oh no,” I gasp. “I guess I better make that booking. I’d hate to ruin any chance I had of requiring your services again.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Through the whole charade, he hasn’t broken character and has kept that same cool arrogance that he wears. If it wasn’t for how teasing I am being, I might have held it against him.
“So, Mr. Plumber. Now that we have that figured out, what can I do for you?”
As I speak, I lean across to my laptop and type out snippets of the conversation we are having. Some of it is too good to waste.
“In all seriousness,” he says. “I want to see you again. I had a good time last night, believe it or not.”
“How generous of you,” I say.
“I can be. I’m going to assume that you had an okay time last night, too. If just okay. “
“Maybe,” I say, biting my lip. I am going to go out with him, of that I am sure. But still, I have to play with him just a little more.
“What if I told you I had a proposition for you? Something I can’t ask over the phone.”
“Really?” I ask, sitting up. I’m curious now, despite how coy I am acting. What could he possibly want to ask me?
“Really, really. I promise that it will be worth your while.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I guess there’s no way I can say no,” I relent. “Where and when?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ll text you the time and place.” He says in his usual, short manner. It’s odd, but I felt almost like a client in the way he asks me. As if it’s a business dinner, rather than a date. What could he possibly want?
“Deal,” I say, and I hang up the phone the moment I do.
I know that if I stay on the line any longer, I might say something I regret. And besides, I could feel the power slowly going in his favor, and I wanted to realign it in my direction.