“Yes. All the guys on the beach have been staring at me; it makes my tits look great, you can see my nipples really clearly,” I teased, knowing that I was riling his jealous side.
He laughed. “An insecure man would get flustered by that remark, but me? I know it’s me you want. All those men can stare at you all they want, but it’s me you want to fuck. But just to be clear, Pearl. You’re mine.” He stroked the inside of my thigh with his long fingertips and slipped one inside my wet heat. “Do. You. Understand.”
He was hovering over me. My high bed was on the same level as his crotch. I took his fly and opened it, letting his erection spring free and pulled his jeans down. No underwear. “Yes, I understand, Alexandre.”
“Good girl. Now be an obedient fiancée and suck my cock. Are you over that penis phobia, baby? Do you think you can suck me so I come hot and heavy in your pretty mouth?”
“Oh yes,” I murmured. “Oh yes,” and I took his erection in my hands and then ran my lips over his soft, warm crown. My tongue flickered on his tip and I licked off the pre-cum and tasted his welcome salty-sweetness. I took his cock and teased my nipples with the top of it and then popped it back into my mouth. My groin was on fire, and even more so when he groaned and thrust his hips forward into my face so it went in deeper. “That’s right, baby, keep sucking, oh yeah, oh yeah, just like that. I’m going to really fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. That little lesbian fiasco? I knew it wouldn’t last because you crave cock at the end of the day, don’t you, Pearl? You like a huge, hard cock inside you, fucking your hot, tight pussy, isn’t that what you want?”
“Yes, I want ’ock,” I said, gagged by his massive size, hardly able to get out the words coherently.
“Whose cock, baby? Whose cock inhabits your brain every waking hour and in every wet dream?” he said, rocking his hips forward.
“Yours, Alexandre. Only yours,” and I wrapped my lips tightly around his huge penis, sucking as tight as I could as I clawed onto his firm butt with my hands, drawing him as close as possible to me.
“Good girl,” he groaned, and I felt him expand inside my mouth. A rush of cum shot at the back of my throat. He continued to moan and gently thrust back and forth, fucking my mouth very leisurely as his orgasm slowly faded. I swallowed desperately, lapping up every drop, savoring his taste.
“This is just the beginning,” he warned. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
He pulled out from my mouth and he was still erect. Round two “coming” up. I ran my eyes along his rock-hard abs; that sexy fine line of hair from his belly button seeping into his crotch did things to my brain. He still had a faint tan left over from the summer, his golden skin soft and smooth. I stroked my hands around his ass, his thighs, felt the strength of him, his powerful body, his flexing muscles. I practically came myself just drinking him in (ha, ha, yes, I giggled to myself at my joke). Alexandre was Beauty incarnate. I had genuinely never seen a man as handsome. No male model or movie star could compete. He was incredible in every way. It was true; all those pumped-up surfers could stare all they wanted at me, but it was Alexandre Chevalier I desired.
And only Alexandre.
As I was gazing at him he suddenly spun me around so I was in a letter L on the bed, my torso spread out flat and my butt on the edge of the mattress, my feet almost touching the floor. He stood over me, lording it over my wetness, my trepidation, my excitement. He started circling my ass softly with his palm and trailing his index finger over my opening, at one point dipping it inside as if it were nectar. I could feel myself clench. Oh wow, I was so ready for this, whatever “this” may be. Then he tied my hands together with a silk scarf he seemed to have in his jeans’ pocket and put my wrists above my head. Had he planned this? He seemed so prepared. He took my hair and gathered it in his hands, tugging at me so I couldn’t move.
He started a rhythm, chanting a tune that I learned as a child, a song from the American War of Independence. How did he know this song?
Left, right, left, right left
I left my wife with forty-eight kids
On the verge of starvation without any Johnny cakes
Oops, by golly, by left
Right, left right left . . .
At the “left” he smacked me on my left butt cheek and then on my right . . . wallop! Both with his right hand. His left hand was still fisted in my hair, making sure I didn’t escape. And then, on the last “left” of the song he crammed his erection into me hard and then withdrew immediately. Each time the smarting spanks were a warm-up to what I craved more than anything: the hard thrust into my opening on the last “left.” The pain was bearable . . . in fact . . . delectable, and I awaited each plunge.
I was groaning. Waiting with baited breath, screaming Alexandre’s name. On the next thrust I knew I was going to climax. This was so sensual so . . . erotic, despite the hard stinging slaps. And then it came, that last hard shove inside me and it tipped me into an ecstatic roll of emotional, orgasmic fervor, my brain and body ringing and trembling from deep within. This time he didn’t pull out but let himself rest within me as I spasmed around him, my muscles clenching onto his length like a limpet clinging to a rock. He came too, his enormousness filling my walls, pulsating inside me with his groaning climax as he emptied himself with a cry.
“Pearl—”
I heard bells sounding in my ears—no not bells, music so sweet. I blinked my eyes. What was the music? It was coming from above. It was She’s a Rainbow by the Rolling Stones . . . “she comes in colors everywhere” . . .
Yes, I thought, I come in colors. I see flashes of red and gold: the orgasm still sparkling within my body lighting me up like a firework display.
I lay there panting and opened my eyes from my sexual stupor. It was no longer dark outside but dawn was creeping slowly through the bedroom window. I moved my wrists . . . but wait . . . why aren’t they tied? My eyes flew open and I felt my hands, not above my head but between my hot, wet thighs, my post-orgasm still tingling through my core. My wrists were free. I was not splayed across the bed . . . no, I was tucked up under the sheets. I turned over to feel for Alexandre. The song was louder now. It was my father’s alarm; he liked to wake to music instead of a clock.
I sat up with a jerk. Alexandre was nowhere to be seen.
Of all the nightmares I’d had, this was the worst of all.
Because this was nothing but a dream.
GIRL TALK
PEARL
DAISY AND AMY had been here for two days. She was like the sister I never had, and I was so grateful to have her in my life. Coming here was just what the doctor ordered. She needed to get away and gain a little perspective. Being under the same roof as Johnny, while he procrastinated about what he wanted or didn’t want, was not doing her any favors.
Johnny. Johnny Cakes. Funny how dreams mix up everyday occurrences and names and places with fantasies. There I was the other night dreaming about bondage, accompanied by an American Civil War marching song about Johnny Cakes (sung by a Frenchman, no less). Needless to say, I didn’t share that with Daisy—a little too bizarre, especially as Johnny played a symbolic role—“without any Johnny Cakes.”
When we walked into my father’s house, after I had collected Daisy and Amy from the airport, I noticed something I hadn’t anticipated:
My father’s expression the moment he set eyes on my friend. He had known Daisy for years but hadn’t seen her for ages. He wasn’t expecting a new, slim version of her. He still had the Annie girl in his mind, the chubby-cheeked redhead. At least, that is what I deduced, judging by the way his jaw dropped when she walked through the front door. All he said was, “My, how fabulous you and Amy both look.” But I could see a sparkle in his eyes. I was not sure how I felt about my friends and co-workers (Daisy and Natalie) being offered up as love fodder for my father. Luckily, Daisy didn’t notice and I kept silent. The last thing she needed right now was more complications, but still, nice to have someone be so
attentive even if he was twenty years older than she was.
Amy was in Seventh Heaven. Coming from a city, Kauai was a big change; she was free to roam about in the garden, and when we went down to the beach she had no end of admirers. Her sassy sense of humor ensured it wasn’t long before she had a throng of people gather around her, curious to hear a five-year-old’s outtake on life. She had an old soul for such a feisty child, and even though she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her parents, she came out with things like, “Don’t worry, Mom, everything will work out just fine,” and “Look at the waves, Mom—sometimes nature can be really powerful, more powerful than we are so don’t sweat the small stuff.” She made friends with one of the surfer’s children; a little boy named Pete.
As Daisy and I were having a light picnic on the beach, and Amy and Pete were busy making sandcastles, Daisy told me about a new plan she’d hatched. Payback for Johnny.
“I’m not actually going to do anything, God forbid, but I’m going to let him know how it feels.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to catch on to her runaway train of thought. Every day she came up with something different. A newfangled plot to punish him.
“I want him to feel what it’s like being in my shoes. I’m going to pretend I’m having a fling with a surfer.”
I tried to suppress a grin. Daisy was being dead serious.
She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe that will shock him into action.”
“Yes, but what kind of action? It could make him run into the arms of Mrs. Phoenix all the faster.”
“You have a point there.”
“The truth is, Daisy, honesty really is the best policy. Playing games isn’t the best line of action. At least if you’re honest with your feelings you can hold your head up high with dignity. Because if you lie to him, or to yourself, it could catch up with you in the end.” I said this wisely, aware of my own failings. Do as I say, not as I do.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“But at the same time you can’t be Johnny’s doormat. You need to be strong and have barriers. There are things you have to let him know that are not acceptable. It is not acceptable for him to expect you two to remain under the same roof while he makes up his procrastinating mind.”
“I wish I had some of that ‘fuck-you’ money you told me about. Then I could get my own place.”
“Yeah. That’s what every woman needs. You never know when things can change. It’s always good to be prepared. A woman needs to be like a one man army. Ready with her ammunition, ready with her armor, yet actively seeking and living a peaceful existence. But if she’s attacked emotionally or physically, she has the tools—the strength to protect herself.”
Daisy pulled her curly red hair into a high ponytail, which set off the cheekbones on her pretty freckled face. “In a perfect world,” she said with a sigh.
“I know, easier said than done.”
“I’m just not making enough money yet. I have a few clients, but I depend on Johnny’s income. I can’t just get up and leave.”
“Such an archetypal scenario,” I said. “Women, the world over, are in this predicament. Worse. Many of them are being physically abused or have five kids to feed. Think about it, Daisy. Maybe you and Amy should move in with me to my new apartment.”
“How do you feel about that? Alexandre paying for your apartment when you aren’t even with him anymore?”
“I told him I couldn’t accept it, that I wouldn’t move in.”
“And what was his response?”
“He said it was too late, that all my stuff had been moved there, and if I didn’t take it, it would sit there empty. That’s why I came here. I needed time to sort my head out. I still don’t really know what the next step is.”
“Maybe we should all move here to Kauai,” Daisy suggested with a giggle. “Life would be so much less complicated.”
“That’s what my dad keeps telling me.”
“So what are you going to do about Alexandre?”
“There’s nothing really I can do, he’s decided for me.”
“For your own peace of mind, I think you need to talk with Laura.”
“I’ve tried calling. I’ve left messages.”
“Well maybe you need to go and see her. She might be ignoring your messages because she’s scared of Sophie finding out and doesn’t want to attract attention to herself. You need to talk to her face to face. Sort out all this Sophie stuff, once and for all.”
“What difference does it make now? Alexandre and I aren’t together anymore.”
“You say that, Pearl, but do you remember last time you split up? He came back to you. He was still in love with you. If that happens again, the Sophie problem will still be there. You need to know for sure what happened.”
“She tried to kill Laura and pretended it was an accident.”
“You really believe Sophie would have risked that? That’s attempted murder, Pearl. Surely Alexandre would have guessed?”
“Not when it comes to Sophie. He can’t see the forest from the trees. He protects her no matter what. His loyalty is unwavering.”
“Well, I still think you need to see Laura—one on one.”
“Fly to London?”
“You can stay with my mother, she’d be thrilled. I can set you up with some mates of mine—they’ve all heard about you, all dying to meet my beautiful, American, best friend Pearl.”
“You’ve told them about me?”
“Yes, of course. Only terrible things though.”
I laughed, then grabbed a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers like an egg timer. My decision time was running out. “I need to get back to New York. This ‘break’ has morphed into too long a vacation. But still, at least I’ve been able to spend time with my family. Anthony and I have patched up our relationship and I’ve gotten to know my dad better. We’ve bonded with the surfing. It’s been a very healing time for me. Adversity sometimes brings hidden gifts.”
“True. So what’s happening with HookedUp Enterprises?” Daisy asked, her eyes fixed on Amy as she rushed toward a wave with her little bucket.
“Natalie and I are carrying on the company. I’ll finish Stone Trooper, which has now started filming.”
“Who was the movie star they picked in the end to play the male lead?”
“Nobody famous, the budget simply wasn’t available even with Sophie’s input. But he’s an excellent actor and very handsome. I received the final script. It’s good, actually. I think it will turn out well.”
“And then what?”
I poured some iced-tea from a thermos flask into a paper cup and handed it to Daisy. “Back to documentaries. There are so many topics that deserve attention.”
She took a sip. “Good for you, Pearl. Do you feel deflated? Disappointed by all this?”
“It’s been a learning curve. I always wanted to write scripts, but the truth is, there’s no better script than real life. Documentaries suit me way more.”
“And what about Alexandre? If he came back to you, even if it meant the whole Sophie saga going on forever, would you want him anyway?”
“Some days I think the answer to that question is a definite ‘yes,’ I’d want him, despite the risks, but I don’t know, I think you’re right, Daisy. I need to go and see Laura and talk to her face to face. She and Alexandre were together for at least a couple of years. If anyone knows Sophie, she does.”
“Well if it isn’t Pearl, the jewel of Kauai.”
Daisy and I looked up abruptly from our girl-talk. A deep voice interrupted us and for a moment I was irritated. Go away, leave us to our privacy. But Daisy’s mouth hung open and she quickly pulled her hair loose from its ponytail so I knew the interruption must be worth it.
“My name’s Zac,” the man said. His huge frame towered above us. Floppy blonde hair half covered his sparkling blue eyes. His toned and muscular legs were covered in sand and he grinned down at us with a dazzling white smile.<
br />
“You must be our local champion,” I said, my neck craning up at him, noticing his defined abs, not an inch to pinch anywhere.
He crouched down on his haunches and shook both of our hands. “Finally I meet Billy’s beautiful daughter,” he said, gazing at me. “And who have we here? Her gorgeous friend Daisy. There should be a law against having such stunning women grace our beaches. We’re trying to surf here, and you two women are way too distracting.”
We both tittered like teenagers. The fact he knew our names was very flattering. He must have been talking to my dad. And who could resist a bit of male attention, especially when we were both nursing broken hearts, and especially when it came from a god-like apparition with a deep tan.
“Perhaps we can hook up for a drink later?” Daisy suggested bravely.
“Nothing would please me more,” he replied. “You two ladies have a good day now.” He stood up. “I’ll see you around. Excuse me, I need to catch a few waves while the going’s good.”
He strolled off and we both trailed our eyes after him. His neat butt in long, black surfer shorts sauntered along the shoreline and he picked up his surfboard, his rippling muscles moving as he lifted it up from the sand and carried it with him to the ocean.
“There you go, Daisy, the answer to your payback plot. Maybe you can give Johnny something to genuinely worry about.”
“It’s you he fancies,” she told me, an eyebrow raised.
“I don’t think so. Didn’t you see the way he eyed you up? Anyway, I’m too hung up on Alexandre.” I sighed. “Still . . . can’t complain about the attention.”
Hooked Up: Book 2 Page 42
