Hooked Up: Book 3 (18 page)

“Did you notice something? We didn’t even kiss. Both so hungry to release weeks of sexual build-up and tension, that we haven’t even said hello properly.”

I laughed, and ran my finger over my sticky breasts, scooping up a taste of him and popping it into my mouth. “Powerful stuff this,” I remarked. “It can make a woman pregnant.”

His mouth flicked into a broad grin. “Hang on, chérie I’ll get a towel.” He kissed me lightly on the nose, went to the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. He gently wiped his sea of pleasure off my chest. “I just want you to know something, Pearl . . . ”

A panic of fear swept through me; a twisting, chilling knot in my solar plexus.
Another secret? Something else he’s been holding back
?

But he laced his fingers through mine and whispered in my ear; the soft wind of his breath sending shivers down my spine, “Of all the women I’ve ever been with, you are the most spectacular, the most beautiful, the
most
in every, single way.”

The knot unfurled and my heart felt as if it would explode with happiness.

“And I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about love, chérie. I love you, Pearl. Even in the days when I was happy with Laura, I
never
felt so serene, so at home with her as I do with you. I have never experienced this deep, bottomless ocean of love with anyone but you. It’s almost as if it hurts, there’s so much love bursting inside of me.”

“Semen bursting inside of you,” I joked, but then immediately wished I hadn’t made less of what he had just shared with me, opening his heart up the way he had. I tightened my grip on his hand, “I feel that bursting love, too.”

He took a loose, sticky tendril of my hair and parted it away from my face. Then lifted his head from my ear and his crooked smile seemed thoughtful as he squinted, honing his gaze on mine. “We both need a shower, I think.”

We entered the steamy shower. It was almost like a little room, all tiled in white mosaic, including the built-in bench. The heat suddenly got to me, and I sat down. He was standing before me; my eyes level with his beautiful, muscular ass. He was like one of those Greek statues, but so much better endowed—oh yes, this art was more exquisite than you would see in any museum, his sculpted thighs, his taut, flexing gluteus maximus, and the glorious V that ran from his waist to the core of him, the core that had me light-headed, that had created the living seed inside of me, the tiny being that belonged to us both.

“He held my hand as the hot water rained from above. “Are you okay, baby, you looked a bit dazed.”

True. I was in a daze. This was real. We were together and in love. We were going to have a baby. “I’m fine, I just get a little dizzy in the mornings.”

Alexandre lathered up his hands with some lavender body wash and began to cleanse my shoulders very gently, moving his hands softly around my breasts and under my arms as he lifted each up to massage me. This was crazy . . . his soapy hands softly kneading my breasts was turning me on again. I was like a hormone machine. I didn’t know if it was because that crazy Indian doctor forbade intercourse that I had it constantly on the brain, or if it was my pregnancy playing havoc with my body parts, but flashes of Alexandre claiming me, pumping me with heavy thrusts had me squirming. His penis had hardened with every one of his gentle strokes, and his fingers gently tugged on my nipple, shooting tingles directly to my pulsating clit. I grabbed his butt and pulled him close to me, nipping softly on his balls as the water fell on my face and breasts like a cascade. Just the pressure of water was doing things to me, let alone the vision I had before me: the veritable piece of art that was my fiancé.

“Alexandre,” I moaned into his thick, hard cock, licking the under-shaft with long sweeping strokes of my tongue.

“Pearl, oh yeah, baby.” He held my hands, his legs parted, to lower the height of his body so he was at the right level for me. My lips nibbled his length, and my tongue flickered all over the enormity of his smooth, dreamy cock. Not even Michelangelo could have created a penis so beautiful as Alexandre’s. I remembered riding him, how he filled up my walls, pressing all the right places which effortlessly brought me to mind-blowing orgasms every time, and just the memory of it made my core pulsate, swelling with needy desire.

“I need you to fuck me, Alexandre,” I breathed into his groin.

“Not a chance, until these three months are up, baby.”

I took some body wash on my hand and lathered his balls, tracing my fingers up the crack of his butt, exploring the dips and valleys of his solid boulder of an ass. I turned him around so it was in my face. Water was cascading over us, and I let all the soapiness rinse away before I parted his butt with my fingers. I began my tongue’s journey from his swollen, hard sacks up his crack, lashing my tongue up and down. I heard his low moans beneath the rush of water. There it was: that scar. Once, I’d asked him how he gotten it, and he wouldn’t tell. I kissed him there, now—licking the old wound with all the love I had inside me. At first he flinched but then relaxed. Then I traced my tongue up and probed his hole—only a woman beside herself in love would do anything so intimate. A low growl emanated from deep within him. His right hand was on his erection now, fisting it into a tight vice.

“Come on my face, Alexandre. Come on my lips, come all over me, baby.” I guided his body back around so I could see his glorious cock as he slid his hand up and down from the huge crown to the root, his long fingers gripping tightly around himself. All I could think of was having it inside me, fucking me, slapping itself on my clit when it withdrew, then ravaging me with hard, ruthless, pumping thrusts. I was aching, tingling, delirious with the space that was between us. I needed my fiancé inside me.

Alexandre’s tongue ran along his parted lips, his green eyes hooded with pleasure, as if he was thinking exactly the same thing . . . fucking me . . . owning me . . . ripping through the core of me with his relentless virile masculinity. The fingers of his left hand were in my mouth and I sucked them, imagining my mouth was my man-eating pussy; that his fingers were his cock. I pulled them in, my lips a vacuum. I also cupped his balls with my hand. My gesture made his hips jerk, his hand jacked his cock back and forth at a feverish pace.

“Pearl,” he cried out as cum spurted everywhere like the Trevi Fountain.

Rivers of white-hot cum snaked over my still seated body as the water washed it away. Alexandre caught back his breath, got down on his haunches and took my face in his hands. He started with a flick of the tongue, and I moaned into his mouth, opening my lips, letting the kiss go deeper, tongues tangling and probing together, sending direct hits to my clit. I saw his penis harden and I whimpered at how horny I felt. I wanted that between my legs. His kisses brushed my jaw, my neck, and then my breasts. My legs splayed open in readiness and I cried out:

“Please, I beg you, fuck me!”

He sucked each nipple in turn, and I threw my head back in ecstasy. He turned on the hand-held shower and directed the water at my ready, horny vulva, and the power of the spray had me more excited than ever. I jutted my hips forward to meet the tingling pressure on my clit and jerked with spasms of pleasure, feeling I could come at any moment. Every bit of my body was alive with sensation. Then he held the showerhead away and nestled his face between my thighs—his hair tickling my flesh as he began his slow, languid tease. He didn’t touch my clit with his tongue, no, the water had already made it super-sensitive. He avoided it, flicking and wavering his hot lips everywhere else so I was moaning and begging.

“Please, Alexandre.”

“See how wet you are for me, baby? When I fuck you, your tight pearlette is like a welcoming haven for my cock, clinging onto it like a tight glove, contracting around my cock—never wanting to let me go.” Then he slipped his magic thumb inside my glistening opening, slowly lingering there until it found its way to my lush Garden of Eden: my G-spot.

“I
never
want to let you go,” I screamed out, tortured by pleasure.

Every part of me was clamoring for attention. Just as I thought it couldn’t get more intense, Alexandre started sucking at my nipples again, his thumb still inside me. The familiar electricity sparked my connected inner-wires: tits, clit, mouth, all quivering in unison, building up to the Mighty O. With his other hand he pressed my clit with his flattened fingers, gently rubbing in small circles, his thumb on the nub of my G-spot, the pressure on my clit, his tongue on my tits. It was as if there were three Alexandre Chevaliers all at once . . . as if I was in the sexiest threesome in the universe. I arched my back and pushed out my hips, moving my ass up and down, pressing hard against his fingers.

“Alexandre!” The force of his touch, his lips on my tits, his thumb, his fingers, had me coming in a rush of frenzied contractions. I held his head to balance myself; I felt as if my whole body could detonate with bliss and pleasure-pounding gratification. “Aah . . . Alexandre,” I screamed out like a banshee.

Half a minute later, I felt weak, my orgasm had sucked all the life out of me as it pounded its way to a plateau, and finally calmed itself like a gentle heart beat.

Alexandre turned off the faucet, cocooned me in a warm, larger-than-life towel, and carried me to the bedroom. He laid me on the mattress like a sleeping baby and said, “You rest, my angel, I’m going to make us some breakfast. You need your strength, as I’m not done yet, certain parts of my body are aching for more of this. Call me a beast, I am . . . I can’t get enough of my pregnant fiancée. After we’ve eaten, I’m going to tease you into another orgasm, but this time we’re going to come simultaneously.”

He patted me dry with the towel. I noticed his erection was full-on again. Hearing me scream, watching me climax so intensely had gotten him hot once more. We were both insatiable. I lay there, feeling very pregnant and yes, still as horny as a rabbit in spring.
How does he know I want more?
As if he could read my body. I was so wanton. And I knew Alexandre: his Latin blood had been bubbling away. Aware that his seed was inside me, growing every day, made him want to claim me whole—possess me even more. Never had I been so turned on. Never had I felt so ravenous for sex.

And
never
had I wanted a man to own me. Until now. I ached for that wedding ring to be placed on my finger. I wanted Alexandre’s hard cock inside me whenever he wished it. I needed to be dominated by him. Enjoyed by him. I wanted to be a vessel for his pleasure. Forever and ever. Did that make me crazy?

A revelation struck me. This was the first time I had really truly been in love and wanted to put another person’s happiness before my own. Everything else had been a dress rehearsal.

This was it. Now. This was the final act. And I’d better not blow it.

W
E SAT ON THE bed eating breakfast: the usual mouth-watering selection of
patisserie,
freshly squeezed juices, and fruit. No coffee for me, at least for now. I knew that a woman in her twenties could probably guzzle down whatever she chose, but I had to be vigilant; this could be my last opportunity to be pregnant. I couldn’t take any risks, even with something innocuous as coffee.

Alexandre brushed the back of his hand along my cheek. “Thank you, Pearl, for letting me forget about my quandary for a while.”

I kissed his hand. “I know. Sex and sleep are the only two temporary cures.”

“Every time I wake up, I’m okay for a few split seconds, and then I remember the mess I’m in.”

“
We’re
in,” I corrected. “We’re in this
together.
”

“I wish you weren’t involved in this fiasco. My mind spins in circles all day long; I just can’t come up with a solution. Laura’s threat could cause havoc. My uncle, my father’s brother . . . if he got wind of this . . . he’s never believed my father just disappeared; he’s always been suspicious. If he knew about this, he’d be down on my mother like a ton of bricks.”

I felt so bad for Alexandre. The searing regret he felt at not having destroyed the evidence when he’d had the chance. “It’s in a safe deposit box in the bank, right?” I asked.

“That’s what Laura says.”

“We have two options: to steal it back or to
make
her give it up.” I took a long swig of apple juice.

“She won’t, there’s no way. Even if, hypothetically, I gave her everything she wanted, she’d still protect herself; still wrap up her blackmail like a neat burrito.”

“Then we must steal the evidence. Well, not
steal
. It doesn’t belong to her in the first place.”

“It’s in a vault in the bank. I may have a bit of money and can pull some strings but I’m not Tom Cruise in
Mission Impossible.
Nor can I pay anyone to do it for me. The job’s too . . . too bloody difficult.”

“Not do a robbery in that way, silly.”

He stared at me and shook his head. “No way, Pearl. Don’t even think about it. I already said I didn’t want you to get involved.”

“I’m already involved. Look, Laura and I don’t look that unalike. Well, she’s taller and skinnier than I am but we’re both blonde, both have blue eyes.”

“What about I.D?”

“Steal her passport, or we can make a duplicate.”

“You’ve been watching too many thrillers.”

“Alexandre, you’re ridiculously wealthy, now’s the time to really
use
some of your money, your clout, pull some of your weight. I’m sure you can work something out, you have all kinds of people on your payroll.”

His crooked smile made the dimple in his cheek stand out more than usual. “
Now
look who sounds like Michael Corleone.”

I replied seriously, “We have to
do
something. She’s going to want an answer sooner or later, you can’t stall her forever.”

He sighed and stretched out his long legs. He was half dressed but his feet were bare. I never tired of looking at those elegant feet. He leaned his head against the headboard of the bed and mumbled in a tired voice, “But I don’t want to see her again.”