Thrill Seeker
Page 29
‘I love you, Sofina,’ he panted. ‘I fucking love you.’
He pressed his mouth over hers, catching the skin of her lips with his teeth. She could taste the blood in her mouth as he kissed her, violently, possessing her. He kissed her like his life depended on it. And she kissed him back with a passion that fuelled his desire.
He released her hands and she held on to his neck and gripped his hips with her thighs as if she were riding a stallion. His sheer strength bounced her entire body up and down on his throbbing erection. Her breasts were pummelled against his chest and her legs ached with the tension of being fucked in that contorted position. Sofina’s sex was impaled on his shaft, bruising the delicate flesh, but the pain made it all the more pleasurable for her. Somehow, the ferocity of the way he fucked her made their bond stronger. It was tangible. It was real. It hurt.
‘I want all of you!’ he told her through gritted teeth as he increased the tempo of his thrusts.
The yard echoed with the slapping sound of his cock and balls slamming into her soaking wet pussy.
‘I’m coming!’ Sofina cried out.
He covered her mouth with his hand as her cries grew in volume.
He felt the bite into his finger and then he felt her vagina contract around his cock, gripping and releasing him, pumping his cock to orgasm as she experienced the waves of her climax flooding through her body.
‘Come for me, Sofina,’ he demanded.
He could feel her juices running down his shaft and he was unable to hold back any longer. Patrick arched his back and spasms surged through him as he gave up control and spurted his hot come deep inside her. His fingers dug into the plump flesh of her arse cheeks as he pumped the final drops of semen into her pulsating sex.
In the afterglow of coitus, catching their breath together, he held her there suspended in mid-air.
He bent to gently kiss her forehead and then her lips. She had gone limp in his hands.
‘I love you,’ he whispered against her damp hair.
Sofina moaned softly.
Patrick gradually set her down again to stand on her own two feet. Her sex was soaked with their come and she felt it trickle down her legs. She slowly pulled up her trousers and retied the cord. Sofina did not want to wipe away the memory of their brief time together. It prolonged the pleasure to so intimately carry him about with her. She held on to anything of him that she could. These were stolen meetings.
He helped pull her top down over her bust.
Holding her close, he told her, ‘Sofina, I want more than just this.’ He kissed her hair. ‘I want to be with you. I want to wake up with you. I want to come home to you,’ he said quietly.
Sofina’s heart ached. Tears filled her eyes.
She shook her head. ‘Patrick, I need more time. You don’t know what it’s like for me. I could lose everything.’
She reached up and held his face in her hands as she kissed him tenderly. ‘Please, Patrick.’
He nodded and stepped back.
‘How could they say no to the chessboxing champion of the world?’ He grinned as he buttoned his jeans.
Sofina surveyed the black eye and tattoos and imagined her father’s look of horror.
‘A chess-playing doctor or lawyer would be infinitely better,’ she replied. ‘With brown skin and circumcised,’ she added.
‘I could do the snip, at a push.’
Patrick shadowboxed around her, unleashing a flurry of jabs and uppercuts in her direction. He jabbed at her face and she shielded with her forearm and kicked out with her foot at his shin.
‘Nice try but in the real world aim the kick to the balls or use the heel of your shoe as a weapon,’ he said.
‘Very romantic, Patrick!’
‘And don’t forget to go for the eyes.’
‘You’re mad, bad and dangerous to know, Mr Riley!’ She laughed.
‘And you love it, Ms Khan.’
He moved in again and his fist connected with her cheek but deftly turned from a punch to a caress on impact.
‘Of course, you know, in the game of chess the queen has all the power,’ he told her.
‘Not in its original form, shatranj. She was the weakest piece. My lot invented the game, remember.’
‘But this is twenty-first-century Britain, Ms Khan.’
She sighed. ‘I have to go now, Mr Riley.’
‘And what about my tax return?’ he asked.
‘That’s funny, Patrick. I didn’t know you paid tax!’
He winked with the good eye.
Patrick took hold of her hand. He brought it to his lips and imprinted it with a kiss. ‘Always my queen?’ he said.
‘Forever my king?’ she responded, smiling.
They paused for a moment, eyes locked, silent.
Then she spoke, thinking aloud, ‘How is it that love can hurt so much?’
He let go of her hand and walked away quickly to the gate. She knew that he had tears in his eyes and that he did not want to share them with her. Big boys don’t cry, he once told her; they get drunk and start a fight and then cry.
Sofina blinked back her tears and went to pick up her shoe and bag from the floor where she had dropped them just a short time ago. She smoothed down her hair and threw over the dupatta.
Patrick opened the gate and poked his head out to look left and right down the alley. It was clear.
‘Go on,’ he told her. ‘And take this,’ he added, pushing a crumpled brown envelope into her hand. ‘I did it for you.’
Sofina squeezed past him. She took a few steps out then stopped and hurried back to the gate.
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.
She threw a fig at him. He raised his hand and caught it.
‘A gift for my champion,’ she said. ‘Forbidden fruit.’
Patrick immediately put the fig to his mouth and bit into its velvet-brown flesh. The ruby-red innards released their secret juices to his tongue and he noisily licked his lips of the honey-sweet stickiness. In only two bites it was gone – as was she, out of the gate and out of sight.
In minutes Sofina was safely concealed within the hustle and bustle of the lively Brick Lane crowd and heading for home. She wound the dupatta more fully around her head so that just a part of her face was on show. The spiced air was chilly now and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she walked, with her head down and her eyes to the ground.
The paper gift was tightly balled in her clenched fist. It was a flyer from the recent chessboxing world championship fight between Alex ‘The Invincible’ Ivanov and Patrick ‘Hunter’ Riley dated a week ago.
On the back of the flyer, in a familiar black spidery scrawl, Sofina had read the following words.
Sonnet for Sofina Khan
Imagine my lips touching yours through this
Suffocating fears with breath of a kiss.
Our hearts entwined now no harm may befall
My lady, my light, my love with you all.
Whispering words across worlds far and wide
To stifle your fears with faith deep inside.
No cell can confine truth, no court outlaw
The heart and mind ever cling to love’s shore.
This supernal spirit true love doth make
Will fiery dragon lay tamed in its wake.
My angel, my honour in you I bide
Needed not until with you I reside.
Trust in and await your lover so nigh
I will against your beating heart soon lie.
Sofina smiled through the tears as she held on to the precious words of the poet, the boxer, her lover. She crushed them in her fist to draw the strength from him that she needed to fight this battle. She was on her way home, to her mother and father, to ask to be allowed to be free to marry the man who had won her heart with his strength and vulnerability.
The only man for Sofina was a fighter who had handed her his heart to keep and was begging her not to break it.
And he just ha
ppened to be mind-blowing sex on very strong legs and to have eyes so blue that looking into them was like floating in the deep, blue sea.
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