Hooked Up: Book 2 (13 page)

“I always keep an emergency overnight bag in my car. Dumb, really. It started in LA, having to be ready in case of a fast getaway after an earthquake. I got caught out once, and it shook me. Call me a geek, but I like to be prepared. Next time, I’ll pack for you, too.”

I smiled. ‘Next time’ –I liked that. “So what else have you got in your bag of tricks?”

“A shirt, shorts, jeans, cash and so on.”

A man prepared for anything. I had a feeling this had less to do with any earthquake than a little boy of seven having to leave home at a moment’s notice, never to return.

“We can have dinner here later, if you like,” he suggested. “Watch the sunset.”

“I’d love that.” I started to giggle.

“What?”

“Already thinking about dinner, Monsieur Frenchie, and we haven’t even had lunch yet.”

“Just to prove I’m really French, I carry a corkscrew in my car, too.”

WE WERE BACK in our luxurious suite, drinking chilled champagne (my no-drinking resolve didn’t last a second), and I was lying naked on the bed, admiring my tan.

“You can always tell an American girl,” he observed, “by her tan mark.”

I looked up at him.

“Tits like vanilla,” he explained.

“You think I should have taken off my top, don’t you? Like the European women.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, running his eyes along my body and biting his lower lip. “It’s sexy. Provocative. Those arrogant little breasts are asking to be sucked and played with, just asking for it.”

I took a cube of ice from the ice bucket and circled it around my nipples until they went hard. “Like this?” I teased. The melting water trickled down my breasts and onto my stomach. “And what about my pale-skinned bottom and—”

“Your little cream-colored pussy,” he interrupted, coming over to the bed. But he didn’t touch me, just continued to drink in the view of my sun-kissed body. “All of it’s asking for it,” he noted, narrowing his eyes. “Asking to get fucked.”

I took another cube and slipped it in between my legs, up inside myself. I gasped at the chill, but then it felt welcoming. I traced my finger up along my wet slit and watched his expression. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me. I ran my tongue around my lips, staring at him as I did so. He took off his swim shorts, and I watched his huge phallus spring free. It too was paler than the rest of him. Also asking for it. Begging to be ridden. To get sucked. I wanted to get on top of it, feel it deep inside me. Wanted it to make me come again.

He took a gulp of champagne, held it in his mouth, and straddled me, so his hard penis was resting in between my breasts. I was pinned to the bed. He leaned forward, pressing his thumb on my lower lip, opening my mouth and then kissed it, letting the champagne run down past my tongue. He slowly licked my mouth.

“It’s so good to see you naked in the full light, Pearl. A few freckles have come up on your face, you look beautiful.”

I looked into his green eyes flecked with gold highlights, rimmed with black lashes. “You . . . you look like . . . sex,” I whispered in his ear, the words falling out incomprehensively, and then I nibbled his lobe, which tasted of salt. I breathed in the smell of Mediterranean sun-on-skin, mixed with Alexandre; a perfume designed just for me. I clawed my hands on his butt and drew him higher, closer, and took his smooth erection in my mouth. It too tasted of the Mediterranean. I closed my eyes and sucked on it. It smelled of sun and sea. I let my tongue flicker, rim and slap its round tip, sucking off the pre-come, tasting the love I had for this man, the surge of sexual desire and the hunger I felt, like an ache, to have all of him inside me, his soul, his body—all of him.

“Kiss me again,” I demanded. He pulled his hips back and grazed his lips along my throat, then lifted my wrists in the air and licked me under the arms. The sensation was so erotic, and I sensed my clitoris swell with excitement. I expected him to go to my breasts next, but he didn’t. His tongue journeyed south, all the way down, stopping to lick my thighs yet avoiding my opening. Oh, no, not that again . . . the slow, tantalizing torture. It was throbbing, my hips flexing and bending, wanting attention in that core center, but he left it be. Instead, he lifted my legs high, one at a time, and licked me behind each knee. He carried on, down my legs and took my salty toes in his mouth, sucking each one, slowly. I was so relaxed, floppy as a soft doll.

I popped my finger inside myself and felt the heat, slick with desire. I told him about last night’s dream with the black horse.

“You want to ride me again, baby, is that what you want,” he said, his face between my thighs. He was kneeling on the floor now, staring up at me from between my legs. His tongue flicked just once on my clit but not again. Teasing me. I could feel its pulse.

“Please fuck me,” I begged. “I need it deep inside.” I was wriggling on the mattress.

He got back on the bed and slipped underneath me, lifting me up with his muscular arms, placing his head in between my feet, and he hauled me close to him so my legs were either side of his torso. He pulled my back up so I was sitting on top of him.

“Swivel round,” he instructed, and he maneuvered me so I was straddling him, my knees either side of his hips. I was sitting on his crotch but facing away from him. His view was my ass, and I was looking at his feet.

“Now ease yourself on top of my cock.”

I knelt up to position myself and took his erection in both hands. I aimed it inside me, rimming it around my wetness first. It felt great.

“Won’t this hurt you, being at an angle?” I asked, slapping his hard rock against my clit and rimming it up and down and around the lips of my opening.

“No, this feels . . . delicious,” he murmured with a groan, pushing his hips forward so he was closer and slipping all the way inside me. “They call it the Reverse Cowgirl. You’re in control, Pearl. You call the shots . . . but using my pistol.”

I grinned. I began to ride him slowly, easing myself up and down. This was novel; I had never tried this before. His hands were on my waist, guiding me as I fixed my gaze on his strong calf muscles, his elegant feet. He had a bird’s eye view of my curvy buttocks.

“Your ass is out of this world, oh yeah, keep that rhythm, this feels great, chérie. Love that peaches and cream ass, love that tight, wet pearlette moving so sweetly.”

I leaned forward and slipped my hand under his balls. I could hear his breath in gasps. I kept riding. Up and down. Up and down. Then I lifted myself off his cock completely and squeezed his erection in a tight grip. I slapped his cock against my clit again, guiding it around my hot entrance and back on my clit. Oh yeah . . . this felt amazing. I observed my nipples darkening like crimson rosebuds. Then I eased myself on top of him again and pressed down so his erection slid deep, deep, deep inside.

“Rodeo me, baby. That’s right, you Wild West American cowgirl.”

I wanted to laugh but the sensation felt so intense all I could do was concentrate. I pulled almost all the way out, teasing myself and then making circular movements with my hips.

“I just love to wet your whistle,” I said, in a faux Texan accent. I grazed my thumbs across my nipples and they hardened like bullets. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear his murmurs. Oh yes, he did like this. Then I rested my hands back on his legs, impaled myself upon him so he was deep inside me again, and I started to rock back and forth. He stroked my butt cheeks with his hands, and just knowing how turned on he was getting made me hotter. I could feel that G-spot getting rubbed . . . oh yeah, this was nice. I arched my back. Alexandre lifted his hips a touch and . . . ah, he hit the spot. I rocked forward once more and started . . .

“I’m coming, Alexandre. You’re making me come.” I clenched my muscles tighter and felt another wave roll over me. He started pumping, his hips rising from beneath in hard thrusts.

“Me too, I’m coming.”

Feeling him thicken inside me brought on another surge of pleasure, and I slammed down on him. As I did so, I pressed my clit with my middle finger and felt an intense roll of orgasm rush again to the surface. “It’s happening again,” I screamed out, hardly believing this was real. Ripples and spasms rushed through my body like patterns.

“I think I’ve accomplished my mission,” he said in a low voice.

A wave of panic engulfed me. Did that mean it was over?
He’s made me come with penetrative sex again, so that’s it?
But I didn’t say a word. The aftershocks were making my body tremble. I was like putty.

Alexandre was in my bloodstream like a drug.

While my nerves were still tingling, he pushed me off him so I was kneeling on all fours. He grabbed my hips from behind and shoved his huge erection into me from the back. I gasped.
More?
I held onto the bedhead as he fucked me so hard my head bumped up against the padded part. He was literally growling like an animal, ramming me from behind, punctuating his words with thrusts.

“Love. Fucking. You. All I can do is . . . fuck you, Pearl. All I can think . . . about is . . . making you . . . come.”

Then he pulled out slowly and started sucking me so gently, so softly, his tongue darting between my thighs in tiny, almost imperceptible sweeps. The rough and now the smooth, the combination and surprise of it had me on the edge again. I found myself willing him silently to fuck me hard once more. And he did.

“This ass is . . . driving me . . . crazy. This round, silky-smooth ass is . . . ” he didn’t finish his sentence, just rammed himself into me and started pumping hard again. I felt another wave building up. He cried out in French and then more words that I didn’t understand. His hands were cupping my butt tightly, claiming it. Possessing it. “This ass belongs to me,” he roared. He was thick and rock hard inside me. And then . . . he stilled. Stationary. All I could feel was his throbbing, the rush of his release. It was filling me up. He was still, motionless, and the sweet soreness I felt inside me, and the big pulse of his cock had me about to come. I could feel it. My head was down on the bed, my butt high in the air, his still erection pounding like a slow drum beat inside me. I touched my clitoris softly with my fingers, and felt the double-hot sensation build up, and I climaxed once more.

I was quivering all over. “Oh, Alexandre,” I whimpered. “What are you doing to me?” I was moaning and he started moving gently back and forth again.

“I’m coming again, baby,” he whispered, and I could feel a new surge of his release pulse through me. “Je t’aime.”

He just said he loved me! But I didn’t reply. It was the moment of passion—I knew—I couldn’t be really sure if it was me he loved, or my body parts. Either way, my psyche was jumping up and down for joy. I remained still, lapping up my post-orgasm spasms.

Cool, calm and collected.

That’s me.

I
GAZED AT MY beautiful Pearl lying on the sumptuous bed, as she teased me—trailing ice cubes about those full tits; making the nipples pucker up into stiff buds that I wanted to stroke with my rock-hard cock. Yes, I wanted to fuck those tits.

“You’re asking for it again, Pearl Robinson,” I said.

She lay there seductively, her lips curved into a knowing smile, her smooth legs splayed open. She slid the ice cube down her stomach, then up and down her slick cleft, slowly inserting it inside herself. She gasped. My dick flexed as it prepared itself to fuck her, throbbing with desire. I took off my swim shorts—there was no more room and they were getting uncomfortable. I could feel how big I was—huge. I sauntered up to her, my dick proud against my abdomen, and straddled her on the bed, pinning her beneath me. She had hunger in her eyes; a look of lust that matched mine. I took a sip of champagne, and fed her with the liquid, letting it trickle into her luscious mouth.

I studied her oval face. Her blue eyes shone the same color as the Mediterranean, with glints of turquoise, and faint freckles had appeared about her nose and cheeks. It gave her the air of a teenager. I still couldn’t believe that she was forty—she looked so young, so fresh. And, because I appeared several years older than I was, we were an ideal match. We must have looked exactly the same age to anyone seeing us walk about, arm in arm.

The perfect couple in love.

“You’re so beautiful, Pearl. So, so exquisitely
beautiful
. Your eyes . . . ”

“
My
eyes? What about yours? They’re green, but not really green, at all. They’re like tiger’s eyes with flecks of gold in them.
You’re
the beautiful one, Alexandre. You take my breath away—every time I wake up with you next to me, every time you catch my eye, and when you touch me?”—she whispered in my ear and licked my lobe. I shivered, electricity coursing through my body, making my dick swell even more—“I can hardly—” she continued, with another swipe of her tongue—“function. And when you fuck me?”

Her attention switched from my earlobe to the rest of me. First, my mouth, which she kissed with fervor, exciting me so much that I couldn’t take the ache in my groin anymore. I edged my way up the bed and slipped my throbbing erection between her lips. It was as if I were entering the twilight zone. Having her pouting mouth suck on me was the most erotic thing in the world. She flickered her tongue, moaning as she licked off my pre-cum, and I pushed my hips forward, rocking slightly, languidly, fucking her mouth. Damn, it felt good. I could smell her sweet taste of sex as it lingered in the air with the scent of pine and sea. I needed to lick her all over; explore every crevice, every secret place. So I did.