by Young, M. L.
“I am,” he said.
“Not there,” I said.
I heard Blake chuckle before he got off of me and walked back over to his dresser. I watched him pull out a condom, the metallic wrapper reflecting the little light in the room. He ripped it open, pulling out the condom and rolling it down his cock as he walked towards me. I spread my legs apart as he got onto the bed, on his knees, and placed himself between me.
I could feel myself lubing him up as he rubbed his hard shaft up and down me. He loved teasing me, and I loved it when he did. He pushed himself up against me, my legs up in the air, as his cock sat on top of my pussy. I looked down, seeing how far up it went, and wondering how in the hell it even fit inside me. There was no way I should be able to take that fat fucking dick, and as I saw him there I couldn’t believe I did.
He grabbed his shaft as he bent back a little and pushed the tip of his head against me. I looked down at him, finally able to see him fuck me, and I felt my wet, warm pussy wrap around him as he slowly entered. I could see the pleasure in his eyes as he let out an almost silent moan just loud enough for me to hear.
He started to thrust, though not quickly, as my tight pussy needed a little stretching to accommodate him fully. He grabbed my thighs and pushed them all the way back so my ass went off the bed, and he got onto his feet, though his knees were bent. Rolled up on my back, my hands still restrained, he started to fuck me so hard I could hear the constant slapping of his balls against me.
“Don’t stop,” I said.
He picked up speed and started to go faster, each thrust making me moan a little louder. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and feel him against me, but I couldn’t, and it made me want it even more.
With my thighs against him, he reached forward, grabbing my tits and squeezing them, before he bent forward even more, stopping his thrusting, and started to suck on my hard nipples. I felt his tongue flicker back and forth against them.
“You’re fucking amazing,” I said.
He pulled back, my nipple still in his mouth, as it stretched a little before the cool air pressed against the spit he left behind. He came up, kissing me, and I grabbed his bottom lip and nibbled on it a little. He tried to smile, but I denied him as I sucked on him.
He pulled away and came back down, so my ass lowered back to the bed and his knees were now against the covers. He pushed himself in so my legs were out almost straight to the sides, as my gymnastics training from years ago made me flexible enough to accommodate his crazy positions. As his left thumb rubbed my clit, circling around, his right hand came towards me and he gently wrapped it around my throat.
I looked at him as he stared at me intently with his large green eyes. He wasn’t choking me, far from it, and I couldn’t help but feel my body tremble as I felt him dominating me in every sense of the word. His thumb found its way into my mouth and I sucked on it—my tongue wrapping around it like a snake trying to suck the life out of its prey. He pulled it out before I wanted him to, but I could do nothing about it while tied to his bed. Instead, he pinched my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and it hardened under his touch.
I always felt comfortable in the bedroom with him, even though I almost felt like I shouldn’t, and not for the reasons one would think. He was a little different in his tastes, but he never did anything to make me feel bad about myself. I was inexperienced, far more than him, and every guy I’d had sex with was only in it for themselves and my needs were set aside. Not him, though. I was always the subject of his lust and affection, and he made sure I came over and over again. I was sure he’d rather me orgasm than him, and that says a lot about a man.
“I’m getting close,” he muttered, as beads of sweat dripped down his forehead.
“I want to make you cum,” I said, looking him in the eyes.
“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked, which he hadn’t the last time.
“Wherever you want,” I replied.
With his hands now gripped around my breasts, he picked up his pace so his entire cock was pushing through me before coming out almost all the way. With my head against the pillows and my eyes closed, I bit my lower lip, feeling every inch of him sliding in and out of me.
He quickly pulled out before pulling off the condom and tossing it to the side. He stood up, though bending down and kneeling a little. I kept my eyes closed and waited for his warm, milky white cum to find its way to my soft, smooth skin. He moaned and the sound of him jerking himself slowed down and he finally came. I felt it hit me in the face and I jerked a little, not knowing he was going to finish there. I felt stream after stream splash against my face as I opened my mouth, little drops finding their way onto my tongue. I had never received a facial before, even though the guys I’d been with had tried many times, but with him, I didn’t even mind. Hell, I liked it. I liked the feeling of knowing Blake Hunter was getting off—and all over me at that. It made my pussy tingle and beg for more.
His hard breathing softened as the shots stopped and I felt him flick down the last droplets that were stuck to the tip. I opened my eyes, my right one covered, smiling and licking my lips as I tasted cum for the first time. His was sweet, not the way I thought it would be. He reached forward and untied me from his bed.
Blake reached down and handed me a towel before I wiped my face clean and looked at the sticky mess that was left in the towel. How a man could cum that much was a mystery to me. I had never seen that much before in my life—not even in a porno. I knew he hadn’t been saving it forever, either, since we were last together not all that long ago. He must’ve been really turned on.
“I hope that was satisfactory,” he said in a huffy voice as he tried to catch his breath.
“Oh please, you know it was fucking amazing. You fucked me like you were about to go to prison for life,” I said.
He must’ve liked that, because he laughed a little before getting off the bed and helping me up. I didn’t know if he was playing the cocky card or not, but he had to have known that the things he did to me were beyond satisfactory. He was the best goddamned lover I’d ever have or hope to have. There were women out there who would kill, literally kill, to be fucked the way Blake Hunter fucked me. And yet, I was the one who got to do it. Little old not-so-special me. The same girl who wore two different shoes out to the store the other day. Somehow I was here, and even though I wasn’t going to question it, I sometimes still did—secretly.
“How about a shower? I need to get this sweat off me,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m still a little sticky,” I said, as I touched my forehead.
“I don’t think I can take another fuck, though. You wear me out,” he said, as we grabbed our clothes and walked towards the door.
“I wear you out? I think you have that backwards,” I said.
“It’s a lot of work to fuck you, you know. Your pussy is tighter than the security at Fort Knox,” he said.
I slapped him on the shoulder before he smiled and we walked out of his library and towards the bedroom. That internship interview was the best thing Nicolette could’ve ever done for me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Penelope
I woke up the next morning with my arms around Blake. The sun was bright as it shone through his windows and with my eyes squinted, I tried to adjust them adequately. The sunlight never broke through my windows like it did here. I guessed living in a small building surrounded by other buildings didn’t really help. Blake was on the top floor and with his bedroom positioned how it was, it meant glaring light in my eyes whenever I woke up here.
“Good morning,” he said, as he looked at me with squinted eyes.
“How did you sleep?” I asked.
“Well, and you?” he asked.
“Great. Your bed is so comfortable. I think I could die here,” I said.
“And what, miss your big day? I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be good for anybody,” he said.
“Oh yeah, what am I doing?” I asked, as I perked my h
ead up and looked at him.
“I can’t tell you. Wouldn’t you rather be taken there and surprised?” he asked.
“No, not really. I hate surprises. One time my mom surprised me with a new dog, a black poodle that tackled me and started to hump me on our front lawn. Never again, I told myself,” I said.
“Promise you’ll still act surprised when you get there if I tell you?” he asked.
“Promise,” I said, smiling.
“I got you a spa day and shopping spree,” he said.
“Oh,” I replied, as I broke eye contact.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the sentiment, I did, but it just wasn’t my thing. I’d never been that girly girl who liked to go shopping, as I usually spent hours on end looking at clothes I wouldn’t ever be able to afford anyway. Maybe that was good for girls like Nicolette, but not me. I was a different breed. I’d like to think so, anyway.
“You don’t want to? I could cancel it,” he said.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just that I’m not a big shopper. I don’t really know style, anyway,” I said.
“That’s why you’ll have a personal stylist there to pick things out that you can wear. That’s what I do. It’s money well spent,” he said.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
“Are you doing all this, the spa makeover and shopping spree, because you’re embarrassed by me? I know I’m not that stylish and all,” I said.
“That’s not it at all. You’re beautiful the way you are, Penelope. I just thought that all women liked this sort of thing. I didn’t know you didn’t like it. I’ll call right now and cancel it,” he said, as he reached for his phone on the nightstand.
“No,” I said, grabbing his arm.
“No?” he asked.
“I’ll try it. It won’t hurt, and besides, I could use a few new tops. Mine have all kind of blended together into one big blah,” I said, smiling.
“You’re sure? I don’t mind calling it off at all,” he said.
“I’m positive. It will be good for me, and besides, I want to look good for you, especially if you need me to go somewhere with you like you talked about before,” I said.
“Oh yeah, about that, I actually have something coming up in a few weeks. I’m going to need you to join me,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A gala. It’s important for my social circle. Well, I don’t really care about it or the snobs going to it, but it puts on a good image, you know?” he asked.
“Kind of like when I had to go to the retirement party for my mom’s boss when I was thirteen. Nobody liked him, but we went anyway to put on appearances,” I said.
“Just like that,” he said, smiling, before he kissed my forehead.
“Are you patronizing me?” I asked with a smile.
“Just a little,” he replied, winking.
Blake and I stayed in bed for another twenty minutes just talking about pointless and random things before he said he needed to get ready for work and I needed to get ready for my day, as they were picking me up when he left.
Naked in bed, we got out and I lost the comfort of the warm covers and had to run to the shower with him, where the warm, steamy water splashed across our bodies. We couldn’t help but kiss a little as our hands wandered. Being around him was so effortless that sometimes I forgot who I was with. I had never been this comfortable with a man before, and I thought it showed—at least when I was with him. I was pretty much the same old me the rest of the time when he wasn’t there. It was a shame our lust for one another was a secret.
Blake walked me to the front door yet again, where Gustav was waiting with a smile. He kissed me, his left hand stuck to my hip like it always was when we kissed goodbye. I didn’t know when I’d see him again; I never knew when I’d see him again, as our meetings seemed to be fairly random and sporadic. He called me when he needed me and I called him when I needed something, which I really hadn’t so far, aside from some groceries. I did have an upcoming rent payment I should talk to him about soon. He did say he’d pay for anything, even if I felt a little cheap asking.
“Goodbye,” I said, turning around and walking towards Gustav.
“Goodbye. Send me pictures later,” he said, though I didn’t think he was talking about my new outfits.
I got into the car, Gustav shut the door behind me, and I was soon whisked away somewhere I had never been before—the trendy area of the city. I hoped I didn’t come out of this in a zebra print skirt and five-inch heels.
I must have looked like a fish out of water when I walked into the salon because they looked at me like hungry lionesses stalking an injured baby impala. There was a strong smell of lavender in the air and rows of chairs behind the front desk. There were a few other people getting their haircuts, laughing and chatting with their hairdressers while sipping on mimosas and nibbling on snacks. I usually just went to the ten-dollar place down the street to get my hair cut, so this was all very foreign to me.
“Hello, may we help you?” the younger woman behind the counter asked as she scanned me up and down.
“I believe I have an appointment. I hope I’m not too early,” I said.
“Name?” she asked, with a snotty tone reminiscent of the girls in high school who used to pick on me.
“Penelope Wells,” I said.
She perked up, the other two people with her too, as the sheer sound of my name sent them into a tizzy. Blake must’ve name-dropped himself, because there was no other reason for these bitches to act like this.
“Ms. Wells, thank you so much for coming. You aren’t early at all, in fact, we have your station ready and waiting for you just like you requested,” the girl said.
Just like I requested?
“Please, if you’d follow me, I’ll escort you there,” the girl said, now sporting a friendly smile.
I followed her near the back of the room where I saw two carts around the chair I’d be sitting in to be styled. One of them had croissants, strawberries, melon, and some Danishes. The other had iced water, a mimosa, and what looked like coffee. There was a man with choppy hair and an oversized white sweater with a tray of tools next to him who greeted me. I shook his hand politely and sat down in the chair before the girl who escorted me scurried away like the pest she was.
“Good morning. My name is Antoine and I’ll be your stylist today. I hear that we’re doing a full makeover, is this right?” Antoine asked.
“I think so. I’m not really sure. What does that entail, exactly?” I asked, as he ran his fingers through my hair.
“You will have a haircut, style, makeup, nails, eyebrows, and waxing,” he said.
“Isn’t the waxing eyebrows?” I asked curiously.
“No honey, the other waxing,” he said, as he laughed.
I perked up a little as my eyes opened wide. I’d never had that done before, and as I thought about my hair being ripped out of my body, I started to quickly remember why.
My hair, which was neatly styled by my standards, was now all over the place, as Antoine couldn’t stop playing with it. He put a cape around me, a hot pink one, and grabbed a razor from his stash of goodies.
“What’s that for?” I asked nervously.
“Honey, you have a mane going on. We need to thin this down if we’re ever going to get anywhere. Just relax, I promise it will all look fabulous,” he said, spinning me around so I couldn’t see myself in the mirror.
Even though I trusted him and knew he’d make me look good, I still couldn’t help but be nervous for what I’d walk out of here with. I had just this morning learned about my excursion today, and I was damned glad I asked Blake ahead of time. I couldn’t imagine what I’d be feeling if I had been dropped off here without so much as an explanation. I would’ve kicked Gustav’s ass.
Strands of hair fell down around me. Antoine wasn’t shy about rotating me and my head wherever he saw fit. He put down the razor
, opting for his scissors, which cut through my strands of hair like a hot knife through butter. I didn’t bother with the breakfast treats, both because I was too nervous and didn’t want to get wads of hair all over them, so I mostly kept my eyes closed and fiddled with my fingers underneath the privacy of the hot pink cape.
Antoine took me to have my hair washed, even though I already did that this morning, after he finished dry cutting it. The shampoo girl massaged a senses-tickling peppermint shampoo into my scalp as Antoine stood nearby to make sure I didn’t try to look at myself in the mirror. He was like a dictator with that.
I was rinsed and my hair patted dry before he took me back over to the chair while covering my eyes from anything but the ground directly in front of me.
“Now we’re going to style it, darling,” he said.
I could feel my hair a few inches shorter, the somewhat poufy mess I’d had before now slightly more streamlined and slick, which was a look I had seen countless times but was always too scared to ask for when I got my hair cut. I guess I’d never been a big fan of changing up my look. I couldn’t even remember two times when I’d done that all throughout my childhood. I was more comfortable with something I always knew, which I guess was a far cry from what I was doing now—both in this salon and in my life. I was now doing things very differently, things that took me outside my comfort zone, and I couldn’t say that they quite terrified me any longer. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t accepted Blake’s initial invitation out or back to his apartment. Things would be a lot different.
Antoine put a plethora of products into my hair as I sat back and kept my eyes mostly closed. He blow-dried it straight before doing some more to it and even bringing out a flat iron, which I thought was overkill. After about twenty minutes of styling he put down his products, stood back, crossed his arms, and looked at me with a small smile.
“Done,” he said.
I didn’t say anything but flashed a little smile, and only for the sole reason that I wanted to get out of the seat. Antoine spun me around, and as my brain caught up to the image of myself in the mirror, I was in shock.