“Hold onto the headboard, baby. I have to keep fucking you.” I grasped her ass with my hands as I slid into her—she held on, her head leaning against the soft headboard as I consumed her. Not in her ass, no, but entering her from behind. Her. Sweet. Hot. Addictive. Pussy.
She was groaning. I knew I was being unreasonable. Dominating. Bestial. But I couldn’t stop.
“Love. Fucking. You. Fucking. This. Sweet . . . Jesus, Pearl, what is it about you? All I want to do is make you come, come inside you.” I kept pumping her. Fucking her relentlessly. I knew she must have been sore as hell but I had to admit, I liked that idea. I wanted her to feel me. Raw. Untamed. A man who at times would lose control. A man who had to have her. Own her. Take all of her. All mine.
But I slowed down. A voice inside my head told me I was acting like a dick. I pulled out slowly and went to “kiss it better.” Kiss that sweet “pearlette” that I’d been treating like a hot, juicy cunt. Pearl was too special for me to be losing control like this. I flickered the tip of my tongue around her bruised center and she whimpered with pleasure . . . but I could taste myself, taste her, taste sex, and it got me ravenous again.
The beast was back. I had to come inside her, once more. I entered her again.
She cried out, “Oh God Alexandre, I love this!”
“This ass is . . . oh fuck . . . this creamy, peachy, hot ass has got me hooked . . . your hot, sweet pussy . . . ” Pearl had me beside myself. I cupped both butt cheeks with my hands and carried on with my assault as I drove myself into her. In. And. Out. In. And. Out. She was tight like a glove around me. The sensation was incredible. “This ass belongs to me. All of it belongs to me,” I heard myself growling. I eased up and stilled myself, knowing I’d gone too far. Knowing I’d pushed poor Pearl to her limits, my Neanderthal instincts had taken me over.
But what do you know? My rock-hard, throbbing cock, still inside her, had her contracting all over it. She started moaning, her nipples hard, her golden hair flopping like bands of silk over her shoulders.
She moaned, “Oh God . . . Alexandre, I’m coming again. This is insane. What are you doing to me?”
I flooded into her. I was coming again too. Every sweet sensation was in my dick. As if every brain molecule was there. It was ruling me. Ruling her. This was my true queen: Pearl Robinson. I wanted her to reign with me; run my empire by my side.
“Je t’aime, Pearl. Je t’aime,” I whispered, my climax surging through me like flashes of white lightning.
She didn’t reply.
I just told her I loved her. That was a huge thing for me. But she said nothing.
I wished I knew what she was thinking.
Wished I knew what was going through her mind.
THE DAGGER
PEARL
WE WERE HAVING lunch, overlooking the sea, and I was quietly meditating on what just happened. If I had read about my experience in a woman’s magazine I would have thought it was an invented fantasy to sell more copies, but it happened—it really did—multiple orgasms had rocked my world.
I, Pearl Robinson, had multiple orgasms! The notion seemed extraordinary. Surreal. As if the new Pearl had been prized from her oyster shell and re-packaged as a shimmering piece of priceless jewelry. Pearl—the exquisite. Pearl—the treasure. That is how I now felt.
I mused on of all the wasted years in my thirties. My sexuality stagnant, sitting on a shelf like an unread classic book. Something of quality but ignored, or worse, in the hands of somebody who did not know how to read, or at least, did not know how to read me. My ex-husband– oblivious to the wealth inside my body.
It took a twenty-five-year-old Frenchman to unleash my riches.
Now I felt cocooned in love. I sat there inhaling the salty sea breeze and watched a couple on their honeymoon, swimming and splashing below us, next to the rocks. Once, that would have filled me with benign envy.
Not now.
Alexandre’s lip was curved into a quiet, satisfied smile. Mind-blowing sex followed by grilled wild sea bass for lunch. At least, I thought that’s what he was pleased about, although it could have been because he had arranged to pick up Rex from Paris on our way back to New York. He had indeed organized a private jet. Rex would be travelling in style. We’d be leaving tomorrow morning for Paris, by helicopter. So much for Alexandre’s “ecological” carbon footprint, I began to realize that he gadded about the globe this way a lot. Why had he made out he was so politically correct, never using private jets? What else wasn’t he telling me?
Alexandre was talking on his cell. I loved listening to him chat away in French.
He slapped his phone on the table and said, “Today everything has come together,” and we laughed at his double-entendre. Come together. So true.
“What else are you feeling cocky about?” I asked, smiling.
“A deal.”
“I thought you were tired of making deals, that that side of things didn’t thrill you anymore.”
He chuckled. He had a mocking look in his eye, which disarmed me, and I discerned a slight sneer on his face. “Are you kidding? I’m making silly money. That turns me on, Pearl, as much as what happened today between you and me. A challenge complete.”
My stomach dropped like lead—a thousand stabs pierced my gut. Is this the same human being I thought I knew? The man with the black Labrador? The man who would have stuck by a crippled woman for love?
I felt like a gutted fish. Empty. Dead. But he was smiling away, unaware of the turmoil inside me. I was no more important than a money deal. A challenge.
“I’ve had too much sun for one day,” I managed to say before my voice cracked. “I’m going back to the room.”
“Okay, just got to make another call or two. I’ll join you in a bit.”
When I got back to our suite, I turned on my phone, which had been re-charging. Five messages. The latest from Anthony, who had received my “Madonna is here” message—although I wasn’t sure, still hadn’t seen her with my own eyes. I had called him that morning, S.O.S., as a joke. He was hysterical, wanting to know if I’d done what he asked, namely, to chat her up and become her New Best Friend. Another two messages from him. Next, Natalie asking me to pilfer her a towel from the hotel, “So chic,” she raved. “So iconic. Must have.” My dad had also left a message, harping on about Natalie, wondering what had happened. Men are so clueless. I really didn’t want to play piggy in the middle to their drama. Then, a voice I didn’t recognize at first. Then it dawned on me who it was. The dagger voice: Sophie. She and her brother had something in common. They could slice your heart open with just one word.
“Pee-earl,” she began. “I don’t know what ze fuck you sink you are doing wiz my leetle brozzer almost twice is age, old enough to be is muzzer, but I sink I should warn you, you are barking up ze wrong tree. Ee does not give a fuck about you, you know? Eet woz a bet we made in ze coffee shop. Ee said zat he bet he could make you crazey about im, fuck you on zee first date. Zen ee told me he had a challenge wiz you. I know all about your sexual problems, Peearl. Your frigidity. Eet woz a game he play wiz you. Game is over, stalker woman.” There was a crackling on the line and then the Simon and Garfunkel song, Mrs. Robinson began playing in the background.
Wow, what a bitch.
I stared blankly at the wall of this zillion star hotel. Dazed, out of focus. Alexandre had discussed my private secrets with his sister. It made me feel nauseous. As if there had been some incestuous tryst between them. How dare she know about my sexuality? How dare he tell her? A bubbling heat was consuming me, too furious now for tears. I rummaged about the room and found what I was looking for: my bag and passport, and the clothes wrapped inside a plastic bag. The suitcase was obviously too big to bring by bike courier. Never mind, they’d brought all the essentials. I grabbed it all, put on the same 1950’s dress I arrived in and some flip-flops. I ran out of the room. I dared not even ask for a taxi at the front desk. They could have alerted Alexandre. I raced from the grounds, l
eaving the scent of pines, the chirping crickets and the Mediterranean paradise, behind me.
I WAS NOW AT Nice airport. Luckily there was a flight to Paris, and I could change there with just a few hours layover for a flight to New York. I was listening to Beyoncé on my iPhone – If I Were a Boy –you tell’em, Beyoncé. I longed to understand how certain men’s minds worked – how some would stop at nothing to puff up their egos even if they knew they were breaking someone’s heart.
Just before takeoff, I did the decent thing. I called Alexandre to let him know I had left. Just in case he reported me missing to the gendarmes or something. Thank God his voicemail picked up and I could just leave a message.
“Alexandre – what can I say?” I started in a small voice. “I have left. Obviously. I received a message on my cell from Sophie, who seemed to know every intimate detail of my sex life. I’m glad your ‘challenge’ worked out for you, and for me, too. It was a real eye-opener, an experience of a lifetime. It was beautiful. Beautiful because I believed in it. But . . . now I’ve found out that it was all a game for you, I know that it could never be the same between us again. As you said yourself, the biggest sex organ is your brain. And my brain is shot to pieces right now. Goodbye, Alexandre. Good luck with Rex, shame that cute dog and I will never meet. Bon voyage.”
I ended the call, sat back in my economy seat and let the tears fall. The catchy tune to Mrs. Robinson was playing over and over inside my head like background music to my misery—a tune I used to love.
A reminder of who I was.
And who I knew I’d never be.
ALEXANDRE
I GUESS I SHOULD have known that when things seem too good to be true, they usually are.
Sophie really outdid herself this time. She had made me so furious that I began to have fantasies of having her shipped off to a desert island and dumped there, with no means of communication. I’d have care packages flown in by parachute, but she’d have to survive on her own. Because, boy, was she being one hell of a bitch.
I was happily basking in the sun, on the hotel rocks by the sea, having sex flashbacks of Pearl, when I discovered she had done a runner on me. While I was busy being Master of the Universe; taking care of business calls and making more money that I didn’t need, Pearl had taken herself to Nice airport, alone, and never wanted anything to do with me again. I listened for the forth time to her phone message on my voicemail (the message had come in when I was otherwise engaged). It was too late to catch up with her. More fool me.
“Alexandre—what can I say? I’ve left.” I listened with horror as she revealed things Sophie knew about her sex life. What the fuck! Her message ended with “Bon voyage.”
What the fuck had happened?
I called my sister.
“Alright, what have you done this time?” I demanded when she picked up.
“You’ll get your share of the rubies and stuff, don’t be impatient, Alexandre.”
“I’m not talking about the fucking rubies, I’m talking about a rare pearl—more important than any gem. Pearl. What did you say to her?”
“Nothing she doesn’t already know.”
“You told her stuff about our sex life, didn’t you? Stuff I have never, ever discussed with you. Why did you spin her a load of lies, Sophie?” I shouted, my voice on fire.
“Not lies. The truth. She’s a stalker. A cougar-stalker, almost twice your age. I found things on your iPad, too. You should lock it with a less obvious password, you know.”
“My iPad is private, for fuck’s sake. I had no idea you’d be gatecrashing my house. Plus, I write stuff down in English so people like you can’t snoop. More fool me, obviously.”
“Google Translate is my new best friend, Alexandre. Sorry, but I couldn’t resist taking a peek.”
My stupid list about Pearl, I remembered. That’s what freaked Pearl out and made it look as if I’d betrayed her confidence.
I said coldly, “You and I are over, Sophie. From now on, speak to my attorney because I can’t deal with you anymore. I’ll find a solution to HookedUp. Meanwhile, stay out of my fucking life.”
“She’s too old for you, Alexandre. What’s more, she was trying to stalk you. I was just looking out for you.”
“You yourself know that Pearl doesn’t look her age, Sophie. And even if she did, so what? And Pearl and I have moved forward. She was not stalking us, per se. The past is the past, and I want that woman in my life. As I said, stay out of my affairs. You and I are DONE.”
Sophie was silent. I could hear her hitched breaths on the line. “Shit, you’re really in love with Pearl Robinson, aren’t you?” she said in a shaky voice.
“Yes, I am and I’m choosing her over you, Sophie. So either get with the fucking program, apologize to Pearl, be nice to her for evermore, or get the fuck OUT of my life for good, because not only are you making Pearl miserable, you are making me miserable, too.”
“Okay,” she muttered in a quiet voice.
“You mean it?”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Alexandre, I didn’t know she meant that much to you. I don’t want my little brother to be unhappy, I really don’t. I care for you too much.”
“The damage may be too great. She might not even take me back. She’s a nice girl, Sophie. A nice, wholesome girl, who doesn’t need a couple of dysfunctional French nutcases in her life. I’m hanging up now. You’d so better make it up to her in the future. That is, if she and I even have a future. She might not want me now.”
I clicked end and dialed Pearl’s number. I suspected her cell would be off, but still, I just wanted to hear her voice. I left three messages in a row, explaining things and I prayed to God, Jesus, even (my Personal Jesus), that I could make things right again, and that Pearl hadn’t given up on me for good.
REX
ALEXANDRE
I FLEW BY HELICOPTER to Paris. I had planned to do this with Pearl, of course, so she could meet my mother and we could collect Rex and take him back to New York with us. That part of the plan still stood; I needed my dog with me now more than ever, not just for myself and for Rex, but as bait to catch Pearl. Even if she hated me by now, and loathed Sophie’s guts, surely she wouldn’t be able to resist my loving black Lab? I refused to give up.
I would win Pearl back, no matter what.
When I saw my mother, I took a double take. People say that the woman you end up choosing will resemble your mom, and I laughed to myself. I could see Pearl in her. Tall, elegant, poised. Beautifully dressed. Blonde hair and large blue eyes—her complexion flawless. What lay beneath her cool exterior, though, nobody would have guessed. I had still kept her dark, dark secret; hadn’t told a soul, not even Sophie.
Maman was reading a book in the living room, a romance, no doubt—she was hooked on them. She loved the dominant alpha male, the type that rode up on horseback and swept a lady off her feet and galloped off with her into the sunset, the lady protesting but secretly delighted that the hero wouldn’t take no for an answer. I slipped in quietly and observed her lying back on the sofa, shoes off, her feet up, and I wished that her real hero, my father, hadn’t turned out to be such a demon. Wished that she could have been stronger, more resilient, because what happened in the end—the finale—could have been a scene right out of a horror story. She was smiling as she read, and as I stepped closer I realized that it wasn’t a book she was holding in her hands, but an e-reader.
“You’re very modern, I didn’t think e-readers had caught on yet in France,” I remarked.
She jumped up and hid the thing behind her back. She looked mortified, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “Alexandre. Darling! How wonderful to see you.”
I came up to her and kissed her on both cheeks. “Did I interrupt something, Maman?”
She quickly switched off the contraption and composed herself. “No, of course not. Just a non-fiction, non-descript book, you know. Quite dull, actually.”
Yeah, right.
She smoothed her hands over h
er skirt. “Where’s your friend? The girl you said you were bringing to meet us?”
“She had an important meeting in New York sadly. Had to get back early.”
“Oh. How disappointing. This is the first time you’ve asked a woman to come here to meet us, so I was all excited. I figured it must be someone very special to you. I’ve got all sorts of delicious treats for dinner.”
“Yeah, she is special to me. Look, Maman, I’m so sorry but I can’t stay long. I also need to get back to New York. I just came by to say hi and pick up Rex. I’m sorry you went to so much trouble for dinner, I feel terrible. But we have a jet waiting for us; I’ll need to get going any minute.”
“A jet? A private jet?”
“Yes, I didn’t want Rex to travel in the hold.”
“I know you’re doing very well, Alexandre, but a private jet for an animal?”
“Sure, why not? Speak of the little devil!” Rex came bounding in from his walk with my stepfather, who stood in the doorway awkwardly holding his leash. Ever since I had started making so much money, my stepfather felt redundant. As if a man’s merit were measured by his wallet. . . ridiculous. But I guess that’s how he felt. I stroked Rex’s soft black ears and kissed him on the nose. “Thanks for looking after him so well.”
Silence was thick in the air, save the tick-tock of a grandfather clock in the hallway. The house was replete with antiques and Persian rugs, which gave the atmosphere an even more somber air. More reminders, I supposed, that I had furnished this house with these luxuries. You can’t buy love. Only fear, respect, and resentment. My stepfather smiled at me uneasily and came over to shake my hand, and patted me on the back.
“Still in flip-flops and jeans even when you can afford the best shoes and suits that money can buy,” he quipped, eyeing my feet disdainfully. It was only a matter of time before he suggested I get a haircut.
Hooked Up: Book 2 Page 11
