Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy

by Eve, Charlotte

  We were in a private booth on the London Eye, a kind of enormous ferris wheel right on the River Thames. It moved gracefully and slowly, and as it rose we could see out across the whole of London.

  And it was just as beautiful as I’d imagined it.

  Of all the places in the world he could have taken me, this was perfect. I’d not even mentioned my long-running love affair with England (or at least the idea of it), but once again it was as if he had read my mind. Or at least, he’d noticed my passion for proper English tea.

  From up in our little swaying carriage I could see all the sights I’d read about in so many novels and seen in so many movies: Tower Bridge, Big Ben, St. Paul’s Cathedral and of course the Thames, its water shimmering majestically in the early evening darkness.

  I gazed out at the view, as captivated as a child seeing her very first Christmas tree.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Blake said, flashing me a warm smile.

  He’d flown us here in a private jet; I’d found him waiting for me inside it, complete with a chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot. A few months ago, I’d barely tasted champagne, but now I was actually able to taste the subtle differences between bottles, and this was definitely fast becoming my favorite vintage. Blake had obviously paid attention to the small things, and wanted to make me happy. All of my worries about his business trips melted away. Because if a guy as busy as Blake could take the time to notice a small thing like my favorite champagne, then I must mean something to him, right?

  And he’d booked us into the most gorgeous suite at Claridges. This too was done just to please me. Because remember, Blake owned more than one hotel in London already.

  But in one of our many conversations about design, I’d enthused about the sumptuous classic Art Deco style at Claridges, and Blake had agreed. It was beautiful, he’d said, but he knew it was a hotel he could never own, and that made him envious. But still, he’d booked us in just to please me.

  I guess lust trumped envy after all?

  Blake was here in London for another short business trip, too, to survey another of his hotel expansions, but this time he’d decided to take me along for the ride. So, tomorrow, while he was tied up in a meeting with clients, I was totally free to explore the city, to shop and sightsee to my heart’s content, then spend a second night together, before we flew back early the following morning.

  It was all just too perfect and I shook my head, smiling to myself, unable to believe that one of my biggest childhood fantasies – exploring London – was finally coming true.

  “What’s so funny?” Blake asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just having such an awesome time,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  “Next to New York, of course, London is the greatest city in the world,” he said. “Nothing beats it for culture. Not just the National Gallery and the British Museum. They obviously have world class collections. But there are hundreds of other small museums. I’ll make sure my driver takes you to the Wallace Collection tomorrow. I know you’ll love it. And best of all? It’s just behind Selfridges. So you can sample some British style along with your culture.”

  Wow, he really has thought this through, hasn’t he?

  “I first came here after I finished my undergraduate degree at Harvard,” he continued, looking out at the beautiful city below us. “I had no money, just about enough for a plane ticket, but I was desperate to travel the world. I stayed in a rat-infested hostel, and lived off cheese and bread. I didn’t even have the money to take the tube, but that didn’t matter. I just walked everywhere, soaking up the city. In many ways, it was the best holiday I’ve ever had.”

  I thought about just how much that visit must have meant to him, if living off cheese and bread beat sunning himself on a private island in Mustique ...

  I did have one nagging thought, though: What was the privileged Blake Matthews doing without any money?

  He’d probably upset his parents, and they’d withdrawn his trust fund or something, I figured.

  I didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere by asking, so I let it go, instead leaning in to kiss him, feeling him respond eagerly. And as our kissing became even more passionate, I began to wonder just how tinted the glass of our private carriage on this ferris wheel was — my mind fogging as I was overcome with the sudden but definite urge to take things a little further.

  “Blake,” I gasped breathlessly, “I want you. Right here, right now.”

  And it seemed like Blake had exactly the same idea, pulling me quickly on top of him so that I was straddling him, my skirt riding up around my hips. He tugged his belt and pants open quickly, his cock springing free, hard and hot, from his shorts, and I knew that I too was just as ready for him, my pussy throbbing and wet.

  He tugged my panties roughly to one side, and then just like that, he was inside me. I rode him hard and fast, my hands pressed against the glass, the whole of London glittering and sparkling below us as our carriage softly rocked to and fro.

  I could feel my pleasure building, so quick and intense, doubling with each thrust Blake made inside me, and I reached one hand between my legs, working my clit, only needing to touch it a couple of times before I came with a cry, feeling my whole body shudder. And Blake came too, just moments later, burying himself deep inside me, his cock hard and pulsing.

  It was only afterwards, as I was slipping off him and rearranging my panties, quickly pulling my skirt as demurely as I could back down over my thighs, that I realized that the glass might not be quite so tinted as I’d first thought. With a blush I looked away from the grinning group of students in the next carriage — suspended just a few meters above us — who were now all waving and laughing at us.

  “Well,” said Blake, brushing the hair from his eyes with a carefree smile when he cottoned on to what had happened. “I guess it’s not the first time we’ve put on a bit of a show now, is it?”

  And I couldn’t help but laugh.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’ve had such an amazing time,” I said on our final evening in London, putting down my knife and fork on my empty plate, then taking another sip of the delicious Chateau Gruaud-Larose. “Thank you so much for this weekend.”

  Blake had booked tonight’s evening meal at Claridges restaurant, and it felt wonderful to think that once we’d finished our food, we could make our way slowly back up to our sumptuous suite, to enjoy the rest of the evening in privacy.

  I was wearing a brand new Alexander McQueen dress. It was a little more outlandish than the kinds of things I’d usually wear: sexy and tight, and a little bit eccentric, but that was the London style. I’d had a great time people-watching all day, picking up lots of tips. And while the shopping here wasn’t quite as good as Manhattan – how could it be? – there were still some great stores. Blake was right: I’d had a blast in Selfridges, did some damage to the credit card in Harvey Nichols, but I lost my heart in Liberty.

  A tiny jewel of a department store, they stocked an extremely well-edited collection of clothes and accessories. Everything was beautiful. But the star of the show was the store itself. From the outside, it looked like a huge Tudor manor house, and inside? It was an Arts and Crafts wonderland. From the top of the store, you could lean over the carved wooden balcony and gaze down onto the atrium, filled with hundreds of brightly colored, delicate silk scarves. I was in heaven.

  “You look amazing,” Blake said, his eyes burning as he took in my new outfit, complimenting me for perhaps the third time that evening, but still I found myself blushing every time.

  As my cheeks reddened, I looked away, around the beautiful, dimly-lit restaurant and all the other elegant, well-dressed couples. I wondered how many of them might be British nobility. I could have been surrounded by Lords and Ladies – the kinds of people who had stately homes that I’d read about in magazines. I might know where they lived, but I bet none of them had ever even heard of Glenbrook Falls. And yet, I felt I was doing a pretty darn good job of passing my
self off as one of the privileged few.

  Does this mean I’m changing?

  What would Fallon think if she could see me now?

  I shook the thought from my head, and began to tell Blake more about my day. “You were so right about the Wallace Collection,” I began. “I found this amazing picture? You know, The Lady with a Fan? It’s by Velazquez. The look on her face, it was so enigmatic. I stared at it for ages. It was just like the Mona Lisa, I don’t know why it isn’t more famous. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s just so much in this world that you’ve got to discover for yourself. Thank you for recommending it to me.”

  “You know what, Jessica?” Blake said, smiling at me from across the table. “I’m very glad I’m here with you. My lifestyle can be lonely sometimes. I meet many people, and sure, that’s exciting. But not many that I can really talk to.”

  I couldn’t believe how much he was opening up to me, and I found myself holding my breath as he continued, not wanting him to stop.

  “The circles I move in, people aren’t really interested in art. Sure, they fundraise for it all the time, and collect expensive paintings, but really? It’s just for show. I can’t remember the last time someone told me about really looking at a painting like you just did. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did that myself, not properly. But I used to do it all the time. You’re opening up parts of me that have been closed for years. All the money, all the success. It can be easy to forget how to live, and I want to live, Jessica ...”

  He reached out his hand across the table, and I closed my own on top of it.

  “I want to live, too,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

  “Come on,” Blake said, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight as he nodded towards our suite. “Let’s skip desert.”

  §

  Back in the suite, there was no time for me to admire the furniture. We hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other in the elevator, and as soon as we got back into the room, we began kissing feverishly, Blake pinning me up against the wall, tugging roughly at my dress ...

  “Wait,” I panted, not wanting him to tear such a beautiful garment.

  I’d only just about managed to unzip it, letting it fall to the floor around my feet before he had fallen onto me once again, his eager hands quickly unhooking my bra and cupping my breasts, his mouth closing upon my puckering left nipple, his tongue flicking, his other hand slipping down between my legs, quickly working me up to a state of shivering ecstasy through the flimsy fabric of my panties.

  I too began tearing at his shirt, racing to get it off his body, and then, once I’d freed up his torso I reached down between his legs, my trembling fingers finding his hot hardness, so prominent through the soft tailored cloth of his pants.

  “This is perfect,” Blake whispered, beginning to tug open his belt. “I don’t even want to get into bed. I just want to take you right here against this wall ...”

  Is it perfect?

  I mean, this could be the most romantic thing in the world.

  But what if this isn’t romance, what if this is just sex ...

  I could feel it happening again: that strong, decisive girl inside me taking control once more, opening her mouth, preparing to speak her mind, not caring about the consequences.

  “Wait,” I blurted, causing Blake to stop, his pants now fully unzipped, exposing that meaty bulge in his tight white briefs beneath.

  “What?” he said, raising an eyebrow, clearly hoping I was just teasing him.

  “What exactly am I to you?”

  No turning back now.

  I waited for his response, but his silence said it all. This obviously wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. But the cat was out of the bag now, and the mood in the room had changed completely.

  “Well,” I carried on. “I was just wondering … about us.”

  “Us?” Blake repeated slowly, like it was some kind of strange foreign word.

  I could feel my blood begin to run cold, and I knew I should just stop there, not push it any further, but instead, of course, I carried on.

  “Yes, us,” I continued. “I mean, what exactly is this to you? What are we? Is this just a casual thing? Isn’t it about time we decided what this was, exactly?”

  There.

  I’d finally said it.

  I could tell Blake was surprised: surprised I’d been so open and forward with him, addressing the issue head-on for once.

  I was surprised, too.

  After all, I hadn’t planned on this new little outburst of mine. As usual, it had just leapt from my mouth without warning. And now I was waiting, waiting with a drumming heart, for Blake to tell me just where exactly I stood …

  “Well,” he said slowly, casting his cold grey eyes around the room for a moment in obvious discomfort, formulating his thoughts carefully before he spoke. “Let me put it like this …”

  His icy eyes locked onto mine and I felt my heart stop.

  “You’re extremely special to me, Jessica. Very special indeed. But …”

  But?

  Why does there always have to be a but?

  “This isn’t exclusive. I mean, you know I’m seeing other people, right?”

  I felt my head begin to swim, and when I opened my mouth to speak, I realized I had no words. Instead, I simply nodded my head, trying my absolute hardest to fight back the tears. I moved my arm to cover my breasts, suddenly feeling so stupid to be standing there, half naked.

  “I thought it was clear,” Blake said, obviously worried now that he’d hurt me.

  “Crystal,” I replied, forcing a smile onto my face.

  “You okay?” he asked, concerned.

  You know I’m seeing other people, right?

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I gave myself a final critical once-over in the mirror, taking in my black skinny jeans, my Ramones tee, and the gorgeous black beat up leather jacket I’d picked up from a thrift store that afternoon for thirty bucks. I’d completed my look with a pair of black low-rise Converse and bright red socks, and I’d done my hair in a high ponytail, applying just a little make up: black eyeliner and a dash of bright red lipstick to match my socks.

  This was a different outfit than the kind I’d been used to wearing lately. For a start, it wouldn’t matter if anyone spilt beer on my sneakers, and I certainly couldn’t say that about my Louboutins. Sure, it might have looked more comfortable than the dresses I needed to wear to pass the test in those fancy restaurants I’d been frequenting with Blake, but I still didn’t feel quite myself in this getup. I felt as much of a fraud pretending to be a rock chick as I did when I was passing myself off as an heiress.

  I felt another flutter of nerves, partly for Fallon, after all this was the biggest show her band had ever played, in NY or anywhere, and I’d seen the Facebook event page: a lot of her old friends and acquaintances would be coming to check her band out tonight —not to mention the fact that since their awesome Pitchfork review, Circles had picked up a lot more attention in other music blogs and magazines, too. There was a lot of hype surrounding them now, and I know Fallon was worried they might not live up to it.

  But I was also nervous for myself. I never quite felt comfortable at rock shows. Were you supposed to dance, or what? All the really cool kids just stood there, nodding their heads, which seemed like no fun at all. Also, I was more of a white wine spritzer kind of girl, and people looked at you like you’d got Ebola or something if you drank anything other than Pabst Blue Ribbon.

  I’d been put on the guest list, and I knew Fallon would be able to hang out and talk to me for a little while beforehand, but for most of tonight I’d be totally alone.

  I’d not asked Blake — for a start it wasn’t his scene, but also, after our weekend away and his cutting remark about ‘not being exclusive’, I’d been trying to give him more space. And I didn’t really have anyone else I could take either. While I was really getting to like Gina,
I couldn’t quite imagine her coming to something like this. And what’s more, since her date with Julius, that backing dancer, I’d hardly seen her, just heard her loud gasps and moans from across the hall at odd times of the early morning …

  Just as I was preparing to leave, I heard my cell vibrating on the dressing table. I checked the display: Blake.

  Leave it.

  I paused for a moment, then felt my hand reach out to take the call.

  “Hello?” I said, casually as I could.

  “Cancel your plans. I’ve got us dinner reservations. I’ll send a cab over for you in half an hour …”

  “Um, the thing is,” I interrupted.

  He stayed silent, but I could tell he was confused. Any time he’d set a date, I just ran to meet him like an obedient puppy dog. I could hear the faint chatter of some kind of wine bar in the background, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the only reason he was calling was because he’d had one too many drinks and suddenly felt in the mood for some action.

  Before now, I’d been desperate for the chance to blow Blake off. I’d imagined myself enjoying it, like it was just another move in our chess game. But now? Now, I just felt angry that he was using me.

  “I’m actually busy tonight,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my voice; I didn’t want to show him he’d got to me.

  He remained silent. The insane idea that I didn’t just drop whatever I was doing and fall in with his plans was obviously something that Blake Matthews was totally unused to. But the silence made me nervous, too, and suddenly I felt the urge to fill it: to offer him an explanation, not that he deserved one.

  “My friend Fallon’s band is playing a show tonight, at Terminal 5,” I offered.

  Should I ask him if he wants to come after all?

  “Okay. Well, have fun,” he replied.

  And then, just like that, the phone went dead.

  §

  “My name’s Jessica Clark, I should be down on the list?”