Hooked Up: Book 3 (7 page)

“This wet, hot pussy can’t deny me, baby. Whatever your brain tells it to do, it has a mind of its own.” I slammed into her hard and she cried out. I made little circular movements, my hips grinding round and round as I found her G-spot—her already sensitized clit was swollen like a ripe fruit.

She opened her thighs even farther, maneuvering her body and hooking her ankles around my neck, bucking her hips up at me, as she clawed her nails into my ass and started shuddering beneath me. Usually she screamed, but this time she started weeping. “I’m coming, baby,” she whimpered through tears, “I’m coming so hard.”

My button was pressed. My thick cock expanded even more as I felt her pussy contract around me, sucking me in, gobbling me up with its avaricious grasp. I thrust back and forth mercilessly, and she started screaming as I exploded inside her, my scorching seed shooting into her womb. I sucked her neck like a vampire needing blood. I had to have her taste on my tongue; I needed to mark her. As I pumped my orgasm into her, she climaxed again. I accentuated my thrusts with each word. “I. Love. Fucking. You. My cock thinks about you. All. Day. Long. All. Fucking. Day. Long. Your. Wet. Pearlette. Always. Ready to be fucked by my . . . Big. Hard. Horny. Cock.” More of my cum spurted inside her as I moved my mouth from her neck to her lips and lashed my tongue on hers, sucking, licking, locking together. The rampant carnal fireworks between us were insane.

“Are you cured of your cock phobia?” I asked, knowing the answer as she moaned into my mouth.

“Oh yeah, oh God Alexandre, as long as it’s you. I’m still coming, baby . . .
oh my God!”

There was no way we could stay apart anymore. We were addicted to each other. We had to fuck like this every day. We had to satiate each other’s craving for one another.

For the next twelve hours it was intermittent sparring, followed by make-up sex. Then Pearl would get suspicious again; the cross-questioning
Homeland-
style would begin once more, with me trying to explain. Then I’d fuck her again, and so on. Was it the drama that turned us on so much? Pearl getting me wild and emotional, with her cool games that got me simmering with pent-up irritation and desire? It seemed she loved playing cat and mouse so that I would then ravage her, dominate her; fuck the coolness out of her—make her crumble beneath me. Sexually, she was a natural submissive and this was bringing out my bestial instincts. It worried me and excited me. I didn’t want to fight; I wanted a smooth ride, but I asked myself if the kind of ride Pearl desired was more of a roller coaster. Or perhaps she was just testing me to see if I was worthy of her love.

But I couldn’t blame her suspicion about Laura. The question still remained unanswered. How the fuck
did
Laura know all those intimate things about Pearl? I sure as hell hadn’t let anything slip. Had someone betrayed me?

M
Y LEGS WERE tucked beneath me on the couch, Alexandre’s head in my lap. He had thoughtfully stocked the refrigerator for me before my return, and we were sipping freshly squeezed orange juice. He knew exactly when my plane had landed. He’d had my every move monitored since I’d last seen him. How? Through my cell phone, he now admitted. Duh. It was Alexandre who’d bought me that Smartphone; it was as good as a GPS. I should have thought that might happen, although assuming he had lost all interest in me, it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d be tracking my movements with modern technology.

I’d been trying to make sense, all morning, of what was going on between us, and I was still confused. For hours we’d been talking things through, about Sophie, about Laura, about the fact that he’d left me broken-hearted for two weeks, believing it was all over. Now he said he wanted me to return to his apartment and leave this place to Daisy and Amy. He’d shut me out, now he wanted all of me back. I was still recovering, still assimilating what had passed between us. I was not ready for this. Well, I was; all I’d been daydreaming about was getting back with him, but I still didn’t trust him a hundred percent. Maybe not even seventy-five percent.

I plumped up the cushion behind my back. “Is that
really
true, what you say, that you followed me to Laura’s through my cell phone?”

“Yes. But I got there too late. I did a quick detour to my hotel to pick up Laura’s box of books, but I wasn’t fast enough—you’d already left.”

“There I was, watching you, sitting on that park bench, listening to heartbreaking lyrics by Patsy Cline and thinking we were over and that you were back with Laura for good.”

He threaded his fingers through mine. “And I thought the same. She told me you’d had a talk and that as far as you were concerned, we were finished.”

I wanted to scream.
She had me fooled and tried to do the same to him!
“And you believed her?”

“No. That’s why I’m here now. I knew in my heart you still loved me.”

I threw my hands in the air. “You’re so cocky! I wish I’d been that sure of myself. There
you
were, all cool, calm and collected, and I was a friggin’ basket-case!”

“Not cocky, just confident. I thought,
If I can fuck Pearl just one more time, she’ll remember how much she needs me.”
His lips flickered into a subtle but wicked smile.

I shook my head and raised my eyes to the ceiling. “So unbelievably cocky! By the way, Monsieur God’s Gift to Womankind, I’m not done with this conversation yet. I still have quite a few more questions. I mean . . . I’m sorry, Alexandre, but
someone
must have told Laura about Alessandra Demarr and me. You swear it wasn’t you . . . then who the hell
was
it?”

“I have no idea.”

I took a long sip of juice and said coolly, “Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell me the truth?” I made a mental note to myself that next time I wanted information I should hold back the sex. I had zero bargaining power now.

“Look, baby, I swear I don’t know, but everything that Laura told you is bullshit. I can’t believe—”

“Believe it! Don’t you fucking dare,” I snapped, “doubt me again when it’s my word against Laura’s. She lied to you,
too
. I should have recorded the conversation at her house with my Smartphone. I should have—”

He pressed his lips to my temple. “Okay, calm down, I believe you. But why would she say all that when it just isn’t true?”

“She wants you back, Alexandre.”

“Well, I don’t want her back.”

I finished my juice, looked into his eyes and asked, “Why were you in London, anyway?”

“I was curious as to why
you
were there. I wondered what you were up to.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. You could have simply phoned me and asked me straight.”

“I was forcing myself not to call. Trying to let some time pass—you needed a break. Feel it. Suffer a little so you realized how much you missed me.” A faint smile touched his lips.
He knew what he was doing. He was being calculating.
This man knows me too well!

I pouted. “You could have just come and gotten me.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes pursuing something you want is the fastest way of losing it. I learnt that a long time ago. If I had chased you relentlessly, Pearl, I could have lost you for good. You needed time to reflect and sort yourself out.”

I observed him cautiously. I so wanted to believe this.
Is he telling the truth? Or is all this a crock of horseshit?

“Why else were you in London?” I grilled.

“Business.”

“Not true. HookedUp didn’t have any meetings or Sophie would have said.”

“I told you, I have other projects in the pipeline.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated. Glugged down all of his orange juice in one go, and said in a flat voice. “Don’t ask me about my business, Pearl.”

“Don’t ask me about my business, Kay. My God, can you hear yourself? You sound like Michael Corleone!”

“You regretted meddling between HookedUp and Sophie. It won’t happen again. From now on, what I do is my concern and you, chérie, need to keep your pretty nose out of my business affairs.”

I bit my tongue. It was true. I’d gotten myself into a real pickle with Sophie; my imagination running wild. I still couldn’t work out, though, how Laura had private information about my sex life. Was Alexandre lying to me? Did he want us both?

“Why was Laura wearing a silk robe and told me you’d just had afternoon sex?”

He burst out laughing. “She said that? I suppose I should be flattered that two women are fighting for me but—”

“I’m not fighting for you. If you want her, go! Go on . . . fuck off out of here and fuck that skinny bitch for all I care. But you have to choose—”

He laughed even harder, and I scowled with fury. I stood on the couch, kicking him with my bare foot. “Fuck off!” I screamed, realizing that I’d said the word fuck way too many times. “Go on, go back to her if that’s what you want, but my ‘
pearlette’
is off limits forever. Do. You. Understand?”

He grappled me and pulled me back down on the couch and pinned me beneath him again.

“No! Alexandre, I’m sore.”

“That’s just how I like it so you can spend the day hobbling about, feeling like you’ve still got my cock inside you.”

“You’re disgusting! Obsessed with fucking. Obsessed!”

“Look who’s talking, you can’t get enough of me.”

The arrogance!
I pummeled his head with a cushion, and the next thing I knew we were at it again, this time he rolled underneath me and pulled me on top of him, slipping himself inside me. I found myself riding him, my anger boiling (even though I was smiling), but because I had control and could dismount any moment, I took a long, deep breath and decided I could use this to my advantage. Yes, I had control! Now was the time to ask some more questions. I rode him for a while until he was really aroused, and then I slowed down.

He scowled when I stopped and flexed up his hips. “Keep going baby, it feels incredible.”

I wouldn’t let him win this round. It was my turn to take the reins. “When you left Laura’s house, how did you leave?” I tested him.

“What do you mean?”

I froze my movements. “Which door?”

“Out the back.”

“What back?”

“Through the garden, through to the garage.”

“Why did you go to the garage?”

“What is this,
Homeland?
Why are you cross-questioning me?”

“Why did you go to the garage?” I repeated, punctuating my question with a thrust.

“Because I keep my Aston Martin there.”

“What! You have stuff at her house?”

“My Aston Martin is not ‘stuff.’ It happens to be a 1964 DB5, the same Bond car, I’ll have you know, that featured in
Goldfinger
and
Skyfall
. Anyway, the last I heard, it wasn’t Laura’s house but
James’s
and Laura’s house. Yes, I keep my car there, for now. They have the space—they borrow my house in Provence for summer vacations, I use their garage from time to time, what’s the big deal?”

I relaxed into him for a moment and went back to my stallion ride. I felt sore, but then I dragged my sleepy eyes over his body and got a renewed rush of desire. Christ, he was handsome. His wide chest smooth, warm, his biceps chiseled and strong, and the cords of his forearms flexed as he held me around my waist, making me feel petite and feminine. His dark hair was mussed up, a lock falling over his face, and when I lifted up my butt and plunged back down on him, he groaned, biting his beautiful lower lip, red and lush. He grabbed my ass and started pumping from underneath.

“Not so fast, cowboy,” I scolded. “I’m sore, remember.”

I lifted myself almost off him and rested my body forward so just the tip of his crown was inside me. I teased myself with just the big satiny head of his cock and no more, all my nerve endings gathered in a sensuous dance at my aroused entrance. My eyes fluttered and I keep my rhythm as he groaned beneath me. I piled cushions behind his head so he was in the perfect position to suck at both of my nipples, pleasuring each one in turn, flicking his tongue over the puckered areolas. My clit rubbed up and down on his taut stomach, with my rhythmical, almost horizontal movements, while his erection pushed in and out, just a couple of inches inside my wetness. Mixed with the tit sucking, it drove me crazy with desire. I plunged hard back down and that was it . . . I started coming in both places: a deep vaginal spasm mingled with a massive clitoral orgasm, slapping against his hard abs, pulsating through me. This was a Mighty Big O and I started screaming. How I loved the fact that every time I came, Alexandre’s button was also pushed. It is impossible for a woman to come on command: our bodies just don’t work that way, we’re not wind up dolls. But men are different; Alexandre, anyway. My excitement always got him hot, and he too was crying out my name, his release intense . . . there seemed to be no end to the semen inside him.

He started kissing me, his tongue probing, pulling and sucking on it. He breathed into my mouth, “Pearl . . . Pearl, forever. You’re mine forever, please never leave me baby, I’m so in love with you.”

“Me too,” I cried out. “I love you, Alexandre,” and another wave rolled right through the core of me, making me clench and contract with unbelievable tremors.

9.8 on the Richter Scale, this one.

I
T STRUCK ME that I had a real problem. We both did. Alexandre and I were hooked on each other sexually. I thought back to my marriage with Saul. He was completely faithful to me. Yet I was in The Desert. If Alexandre was not being faithful and he was cheating on me with Laura, what should I do?
Which would I rather be: in The Desert with a faithful man or in the flames with a cheater
?

Cheating Flames: Alexandre?

Safe but Lonely Desert: Saul-type of man?

My head was opting for The Desert but my heart . . .

Not to mention my nether regions . . .

Because, maybe the twain cannot meet. Maybe the sex-god, Mr. Good-Looks-Charmer only comes with the cheating strings attached.