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

by Eve, Charlotte

  I summoned Blake’s private elevator with my keycard, quickly stepping inside and letting the doors swish closed behind me, giving myself a final look over in the polished chrome of the elevator’s interior: my lipstick (blood red, to match my shoes), my eyes rimmed in thick vampish black (I’d spent at least an hour trawling through YouTube tutorials to find out how to do the perfect cat’s eye flick), my skin even paler than usual from the brand new Yves Saint Laurent Touche Eclat foundation I’d picked up in a really pale shade, and my hair scraped up in a severe bun on top of my head.

  I looked fierce — as if I might eat someone alive.

  Perhaps that’s exactly what I’ll do, I thought as the elevator rocketed me upwards. I felt my pulse quicken as I mentally rehearsed just what I was going to do to Blake: pushing him roughly against the wall of his apartment, practically attacking him, tearing off his clothes, biting his skin, sucking him and licking him and lapping him, slinking on top of him like a sex-crazed panther, maybe even tying his hands behind his back with one of his ties, driving him crazy with lust but not giving him what he wanted until I’d driven him right to the edge of desire first …

  The doors slid open and I stepped out into the lobby.

  The green-eyed girl in the painting stared down at me, her pretty eyes flashing with jealousy and I blew her a kiss before I strode confidently, my head held high, my heart pounding, straight towards the dark mahogany door to Blake’s apartment.

  I reached out and knocked, my other hand holding my raincoat tightly around my waist, yet eager to let it slip open the moment he answered.

  I waited, my breath shivering in my chest.

  Come on, come on …

  I knocked again.

  And again.

  And after another excruciatingly long wait, I had to finally admit it to myself:

  He’s not in, is he?

  Damnit!

  It’s so easy for him. Whenever Blake has a fantasy, all he has to do is click his fingers and I’m there, submitting to his will. And just this once, I wanted to turn the tables and show him what I’m made of, and of course he isn’t in. It’s like he’s able to read my mind, as if he’s playing with me …

  I was about to turn and head back to the elevator, defeated. But just then, a naughty new idea sprung into my head.

  Well, two can play games like that, Blake.

  I shot a final glance towards the elevator doors and, when I was doubly sure I was definitely alone, I pushed my raincoat off my slim frame, letting it drop to the floor, leaving my bare skin tingling in the cool evening air of the lobby, my skimpy underwear providing little warmth.

  I took out my cell, then set my bag down by my ankles.

  Finally, I leant back, arranging myself in a sexy and coquettish yet in-control pose, draping myself against what was clearly the dark brown wood of his apartment door. I held my phone above me, angling it so that it caught me from above, my eyes cartoonishly wide, my mouth held in a sexy pout, my nipples clearly stiffening beneath the flimsy cups of my bra, one hand on my hip, the other holding my phone above me.

  I hit the button and the camera flashed, capturing the picture message.

  Look what you could have had x, I wrote beneath.

  And then, before I could change my mind, I hit send.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I looked around me and smiled. Okay, so it might have been tiny — like the tiniest apartment in the whole wide world, making the place I’d shared with Greg back in Ocean Hill seem like a palace — but it had so much potential, too. And even better than that? It was in Manhattan!

  I felt bad that I’d left Gina on her own. Despite everything, we’d become good friends, and I’d tried to make it clear that moving out had nothing to do with her, that I’d really enjoyed living with her in fact, but that I had to make it on my own. And to be honest, it was hard to tell how she took the news, when I finally broke it to her. She’d been acting kind of … weird, ever since I got back. Sort of manic, like high-energy, but her focus was all over the place, you know, scatty too, and occasionally moody and quiet.

  When I finally told her, she was definitely in one of these moody phases:

  “Good for you,” she’d mumbled that morning in the kitchen, sipping her coffee, her face streaked with last-night’s makeup.

  I suppose even if she understood that I needed to live on my own, the news was still going to be a bit of a bummer. I tried my best to persuade her that not all that much was going to change between us.

  “I’m only a few blocks away!” I insisted. “We’ll still see each other all the time! For shopping, and I just can’t wait to invite you round to my new place, for pizza,” I added, meaning it sincerely. After all, since Fallon had left for tour, Gina was my closest friend in this city.

  “Sure,” she’d mumbled again, her eyes kind of glassy and vacant, so different to that super-positive, intense mood I’d caught her in the previous night.

  Perhaps the break-up with Julius had hit her harder than she was letting on?

  And I found myself missing the old Gina, the one who gave me advice, who asked me questions. Because for all her sulking about my moving out, she hadn’t even asked me where I was moving to.

  Well, I resolved, now taking another eager look around my new apartment, I’d just have to make sure to be true to my word and be there for her if she needed me, invite her round, do something girly … And with that, my thoughts had flitted back to the present, to this cute little place that I was determined to make amazing.

  It was one of those apartments advertised as a ‘studio’ space, and I have to admit, I’d got kind of excited at the idea of some cool, functional, loft style live-work space, where I could spend all my time. But the reality was just this single room, for use as a bedroom, living room and kitchen, and a closet that the landlord had somehow managed to cram a shower, basin and toilet inside.

  It was tiny. And way more rent than I’d first imagined. But I was determined to do this on my own. I’d just have to scrimp and save, eat Campbell’s soup and ramen noodles all year.

  Taking in the room and making some mental notes, I knew I had my work cut out. This might even prove a harder job than Mermaids to pull off, but I was going to make this place gorgeous, and functional. Because from now on, this really was going to be my studio, too.

  And thinking about working here, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my other office – the one in Blake’s penthouse. How funny. Just that single room was bigger than this whole studio. Well, he did say it was ready for me, whenever I wanted to use it ...

  No more of Blake’s help.

  I’m doing this on my own from now on.

  Okay, first things first, I just need to find space to fit a small desk somewhere …

  Perhaps if I rearranged the bed and the wardrobe?

  And I was still puzzling over this Tetris puzzle when I heard my cell chime from my bag, signifying a new SMS. I pulled it out and scanned the screen, feeling that familiar flash of excitement whenever I saw his name.

  Sorry, I was away on urgent business until this morning. I just got your picture message. Can you come round now?

  I smiled as I tapped out my reply. It felt so outrageous, I couldn’t quite believe what I was typing.

  Sorry, but that was a once-in-a-lifetime offer.

  I was actually doing it! I was blowing off Blake Matthews!

  I hit send, imagining his temperature rising, as for once in his life he wasn’t getting exactly what he wanted, and a satisfied smile played on my lips.

  Seconds later, my cell buzzed again:

  Enough now. Your photo had the desired effect. And now you need to come over.

  I glanced over at the mountain of boxes and bags I’d finally rescued from Fallon’s storage locker, taking up practically every inch of available floor space, wondering if I was really about to drop everything, get dressed up, and head back over to Blake’s apartment.

  Instead, I simply composed a new message,
just my new address, nothing more than that, and hit send.

  If you want me, Blake, then you can come and get me.

  §

  And I was still dressed in my scruffy decorating clothes — an old pair of jeans that I’d cut into little shorts and the summer camp t-shirt I usually slept in, no make up, and my hair tied up in a simple high ponytail — when I heard the knock at the door a few hours later.

  I put down my paintbrush and gave myself a quick glance in the mirror. This outfit was a world away from what I’d been offering last night. Was he just gonna take one look at me and head straight back out the door? Suddenly nervous about what he might make of my appearance, I felt my blood quicken as I headed over to the door to let him inside.

  “So you found it then?” I said, casually as I could, leading him into the room.

  And with Blake here, this already-tiny apartment looked smaller than ever before. It seemed to accentuate just how tall he was. He stood there awkwardly in his pristine Burberry raincoat, holding his shining black leather briefcase, looking slowly around this cramped little shoebox that I’d chosen to actually pay for instead of living rent free in one of his properties, the look of confusion building on his face. After all, never mind my old office, the elevator up to his apartment was probably bigger than this place.

  “It’s certainly … cozy,” he began, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Is this really all you can afford?”

  I knew he wasn’t saying it in a mean way; if anything, it just showed how rich and out-of-touch he was with the soaring cost of rent in this city. It had probably been years since he’d had to rent anywhere, I figured … And never mind renting, Blake could buy this whole building without even making a dent in his bank account.

  “Well, I would have tapped Mom and Pop for my inheritance,” I quipped back, meeting his smile with one of my own, “but I don’t think two hundred dollars and a kiss on the cheek is going to help me all that much, is it?”

  “And you’re going to work here from now on, too?” he added, choosing to ignore my obvious dig at his privileged upbringing.

  I nodded, throwing my shoulders back, hands on hips, defiant. I was determined to show that I could make this work.

  I started by telling him my plans for the place: how I figured if I could somehow work out a way to get the bed fixed on an upper level, like a bunk, it could leave just enough space for a desk below.

  He took a step confidently towards me, closing up the small distance between us. But then again, even if he was at the other side of the room, he’d still be close to me in such a minuscule apartment.

  “I like you when you’re like this,” he murmured softly.

  “What?” I replied. “Dressed in a t-shirt I’ve had since I was a teenager, no make up on, and covered in paint?”

  “No,” he smiled, reaching up to cup my chin, turning my face to meet his, his eyes burning, sending a flash of fire straight through me, “like this. Like yourself.”

  I was about to say something else when I felt his other hand slip beneath my shirt, cupping my small, tender breast, and all I could do was gasp. By now his fingers knew just what to do to turn me on, and I found myself melting at his touch, pressing my lips hungrily against his, as Blake’s fingers tweaked my stiffening nipple, while his other hand began to tug open my shorts, yanking them forcefully down my thighs, just far enough to grant his other hand access to that hot wet place between my legs.

  He knew just what to do. He only had to work my clit a couple of times with his thumb before I came with a shudder, my tongue stuffed hard into his mouth, my arms wrapped around his neck, my whimpers stifled, my whole body trembling.

  And once I’d just about returned to planet Earth again, I feverishly began pulling my clothes from my body, pushing off my shorts, pulling my t-shirt awkwardly over my head, just wanting him so badly inside me now that it was like a kind of fever.

  We both fell to the floor, Blake on top of me, the spicy scent of his cologne swirling around us as he tugged open his suit pants, his cock springing free, hard and hot; obviously he wanted me just as badly right now as I wanted him.

  He guided himself inside me, stretching me so wide that I gasped again, wrapping my legs tight around him, my hands grabbing his buttocks, urging him to fuck me harder and faster than he’d ever fucked me before, kissing his mouth, his chin, his neck, my pleasure coming now in deep animal moans as he drove himself hard and deep inside me.

  “God, you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured, his breath hot and wet on my neck, his hands once more moving to my breasts, cupping them tightly as he fucked me, sending fresh shivers of pleasure around my trembling body with each thrust, my second orgasm fast approaching now. “I love fucking you, Jessica …”

  Okay. It was the first time I’d ever heard him use the L word. And sure, it was in relation to this — to the hot rough sex we were having on my apartment floor — but still, it felt kind of … odd.

  “I love it too,” I gasped, kissing him hard in reply. “I love your cock, Blake. I love it when you come. I love feeling you explode, in my mouth, my pussy, my ass …”

  I’d never in my life said such dirty, kinky things before, and I had to admit: feeling all those horny secret thoughts I’d had for so long finally come spilling from my lips was turning me on, more than I’d ever imagined.

  “Come for me, Blake,” I purred. “I want to feel that big cock of yours shooting its load, deep inside me.”

  He threw his head back and with a final growl I felt him tense and shudder, and then, sure enough, deep within me I felt the hot thick pulse of his come. It was enough to throw me over the edge, and with a whimper and a shudder, I came for a second time too, wrapping my legs tight around him, my fingernails digging deep into his sculpted buttocks, my whole body bucking and trembling.

  “Thanks for christening my apartment,” I said a few minutes later, once we’d both recovered a little and got our breath back.

  It felt kind of strange, curling up to Blake, totally naked, while he was still dressed in his full suit, just his pants unbuttoned. And it made me think that perhaps I’d like to try it the other way round sometime, too: undress him, get him completely naked, tie him up even, while I remained fully clothed and in control.

  Hell, it seemed that these days I was changing and growing by the minute, my brain flooding with all kinds of kinky, sexy new things I wanted to try out …

  “I’m just happy being here with you,” he whispered, brushing my cheek. “You’re beautiful like this, you know. So natural. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl in New York without makeup before. You look radiant.”

  “Why, thank you,” I said. “Until a certain person told me that I needed to reconsider my shade of lipstick, I’d never really thought that much about makeup ...”

  “Well, I’m glad you took my advice,” he replied. “But I like you like this, too.”

  And as he spoke, his eyes drifted down, grazing over my naked body, still flushed and tingling, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment for being so totally exposed before him. I pushed myself to my feet, quickly retrieving my panties and shorts.

  “Say,” I said, pulling them on, “you know when you said you wanted to do some ‘normal’ stuff with me?”

  Blake nodded. “Yeah? Why?”

  “Well,” I continued, unable to keep the smile from my lips, as I pulled back on my scruffy t-shirt, too, “wanna do something really normal? More normal, even, than driving one of your classic cars around the countryside?”

  “Sure,” Blake grinned, hopefully. “What did you have in mind?”

  §

  Did We Really Just See That?!

  Billionaire Blake Matthews, 35, owner of the Matthews Inc hotel chain, not to mention ex-lover of a string of supermodels and heiresses including his most recent squeeze, Camille Beringer, was reportedly spotted yesterday shopping with an unknown brunette in … wait for it … Bed Bath and Beyond!

  Yes, you read that correctly
folks. The hotel tycoon, whose most recent acquisition was the super-stylish five-star DeMontfort in Miami, was seen shopping for economy kitchenware with the anonymous young brunette.

  And while Matthews was dressed in a stylish midnight-blue suit, sources are reporting the brunette’s outfit as ‘extremely casual’.

  Did anyone manage to snap a pic of this curiously mismatched couple? If you have any photos, or know someone who does, make sure to get in touch at tips@NYgoss.com.

  We’ll have more on this story as we get it, folks!

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  §

  “It’s been years since I did this,” Blake said, smiling happily at me, cross-legged on the bare floorboards, his chopsticks digging into the box of noodles before lifting some precariously to his mouth, looking like any minute now they might drop and ruin his thousand-dollar pants.

  And watching him, I found myself wondering if he’d ever done something like this. I mean, when would Blake Matthews have ever have had no money, ever had to live in a tiny apartment without chairs and a dining table?

  But still, I was enjoying myself. I couldn’t help it. I knew I was supposed to just be having ‘fun’ with Blake — sex and nothing more — but we were getting on so well. He was really opening up, showing a much warmer side than usual, and I found I was enjoying it. Could it be that he was actually changing? Did he maybe want something more?