Hooked Up: Book 2 (45 page)

I was moaning, “Please Alessandra, please.”

“Please what? You want me to whack you again?”

“Touch me, press it, make me come.”

“Not so fast, you bad girl who thinks cocks are the answer to her prayers.” She slipped what felt like her thumb into my wet slit and started moving it around. The balls were doing their thing. I could feel the build-up . . . all she needed to do was stroke my clit . . .

But whack! Down came the whip with the tassels. It really stung this time.

“That freaking hurt!” I had tears in my eyes.

“That’s for getting gang raped, that’s for putting yourself in so much danger. Tell me you won’t do it again.”

“Of course I won’t, are you crazy?”

“I’m crazy about your sexy ass that makes me want to rub myself all over it and make my pussy come hard, but I have a job to do and that’s to make you never forget why I’m punishing you. To whip those filthy needle-dicks out of your memory.” SLASH! The whip came down on my ass again, and I shrieked this time. I was sore as hell. “That’s enough!” I yelled at her.
Should I scream ‘Sicily?’

“Tell me you’ll kiss me first.”

“That wasn’t the deal, Alessandra!”

She pinched my lips hard, just at my entrance. The smarting pain was mixed with desperate carnal lust as I felt myself about to come. But my clit was begging for just a nudge of pressure. I needed that release so badly. Suddenly the idea of kissing her soft mouth and licking her full, beautiful tits filled me with horny desire.

“Do what you did when we were in the bath and I’ll come, please . . . I
will
kiss you Alessandra, I promise.”

She trailed the whip up along my stomach and on my nipples, brushing the tassels over them. I groaned with desire. She softly stroked my cleft with her hand and pressured my clit firmly with her whole palm with a few hard rubs. I rocked back and forth to meet her hand. I felt a thunderous rush of blood well up and my orgasm burst from deep inside. The silver balls, her palm, the image of her breasts, Alexandre’s gorgeous, sexy face when he was fucking me—all united into a wave of ecstasy. I pushed hard on her hand, the waves undulating through my core, and I moaned, still blindfolded, all the sensations doubled by not being able to see.

My legs were trembling and I collapsed facedown on the couch, pressing my own hands between my legs to eek out the post-orgasm quavers. Like musical notes they danced through me, chiming and jingling, the balls heavy inside me, the tingling and shivers now light and feathery after feeling so deeply intense from within.

“Girl power,” whispered Alessandra. “Tell me you liked that.”

“I loved it,” I murmured. “Well, not the beating bit but—”

“Stay there, I’m going to get some balm for that poor sexy ass of yours.”

She went off to the bathroom and came back with some calamine lotion. I knew because I recognized the smell. It reminded me of when my mother would rub it on me when I was a child, after too much sun, which just made the reality of what I’d done hit home.
I am playing sex games with a lesbian!
Was it wrong? Now that I’d had my orgasm, I regretted making that promise—I really didn’t want to kiss her—it was too intimate. I thought of Julia Roberts in
Pretty Woman
and remembered that was what her character said.
I should go soon, anyway. Get out of here.
I felt a wave of shame, mixed with exhilaration. What a paradox!

I still lay on my front. Alessandra took my wrists and tied them together with what felt like a bandana.
Why am I letting her do this?

I said weakly, “I said,
no restraints
, Alessandra.”

“Oh this is nothing. I just want to ensure you don’t go trying to pleasure yourself. That’s
my
job.”

I chuckled. I’d just had an incredible orgasm, I didn’t need another! “I’m good. My whole center has just exploded, believe me, Alessandra, I’m done. The last thing I need to do is pleasure myself.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“What are you going to do now?”

She said nothing but began to gently rub the lotion on my butt, careful not to hurt me. It was sore, but not too bad. I’d live.
But . . . oh God
 . . . 
here she goes again
. Her massage turned me on once more. This was insane! Her fingers gently opened my cheeks, and with a little pressure she rested her thumb at that sweet spot, where my thighs joined my ass. She slipped her thumb inside me. Holy Moses! Circling it . . . those sexy jiggle balls still there. Oh wow. Multiple orgasms were not something that happened often, not even with Alexandre . . . but . . . this . . . Holy Heaven . . . this felt amazing.

Her thumb was inside, the balls doing their thing—she had several fingers resting on my mound, on my clit . . . the pressure . . . oh wow . . . any second now I was going to come again. I rubbed myself hard on her hand. This felt so horny.
It’s coming . . . it’s coming . . .

But she stopped.

What is she playing at?

My nails clawed into the material of the couch, my wrists in front of me tied with the silky bandana. She had me so worked up. Teetering on the edge.
Please!

“Please Alessandra,” I pleaded in a desperate voice.

“Quite a selfish lover, aren’t you?”

But I told you I’m not gay. I don’t do girls.

“Turn over,” she commanded.

I did as she said. I felt my wetness hot between my legs. I brought my arms down to touch myself. I just needed that little push and . . .

“Not so fast.” She grabbed my wrists and put my hands above my head. I was on my back again. Ouch, my butt was sore. “Bend your knees up and press the small of your back into the couch, it’ll take the pressure off your ass,” she instructed.

I did as she said, all my nerve endings tingling with trepidation, my clit pounding . . . wanting round two. Not round two of a beating . . . no, I was done with that little experiment for good, but round two of . . . oh wow, I felt her warm breath on my inner thighs. She splayed my legs apart some more, and I detected her mane of hair nestling between me. Softly. I flexed my hips up higher to meet what I assumed was her tongue. Oh wow. She was licking me with long swipes using just the tip of her tongue. I writhed and pressed my groin into her—her tongue was resting so, so gently on my clit . . .
I’m going to come, I’m going to come . . .

But she stopped.

Pussy-teaser.
“Please,” I begged.

She moved away from her position. What was she doing? My blindfold was still keeping me in my dark little world, each movement multiplied a hundred times, each sensation more pronounced. I smelled the rose incense and calamine lotion, and her sweet minty breath—she must have brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She started licking my tits, flicking her tongue around my nipples, nibbling them gently with her teeth. I sensed her hand on my head and she slipped the blindfold off me in one quick movement. The room was dimmed, but suddenly everything seemed bright. Her cherry-red lips parted seductively, her dark hair falling like a cascade about her bare shoulders . . . she had taken off her shirt and her breasts were full, the nipples erect, but she still had her jeans on, straddling me, not sitting on me, just kneeling on the couch. Tendrils of her long hair rested on my cheeks. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and I gasped at this unusual situation of, not just having an upcoming movie star desiring me and pleasing my desires, but a
woman!

“You really are stunning,” I heard myself say.

Her lips grazed me lightly on the chin and then lingered on my mouth without moving.
I shouldn’t do this!
But she smelled so sweet, her skin soft as silk. I found myself parting my lips and offering her the tip of my tongue. Slowly—so slowly we licked each other, playing with just the tips, flickering together like a flame of a candle. Desire shot like a current of electricity down to my groin. I moaned into her mouth.

Her lips were lightly teasing, her finger tapping my clit as she kissed me. Oh, yeah. Her kiss got deeper, more sensual and I thought,
I am loving this.
She made little circles with her fingers, flat against my mound, pressuring me in all the perfect places. I gyrated against her and yes, oh yes, the build, the stairway . . . I start climaxing in a rush of rapture—Seventh Heaven—ignoring any preconceived notions of what a woman should or shouldn’t do with another female. My tied hands were grasping, fisting in her wild hair as she pleasured the fuck out of me. I saw stars of color flashing through my brain. The orgasm was long, it kept going . . . rolling over me, under me, through me, the jingling balls wriggling about inside as I cried out with intense gratification.

Finally, the waves rolled into ripples and the ripples began to fade. Alessandra got off the couch and adjusted her position. With one leg firmly on the floor and one still on the sofa, she held my knee and thrust it between her crotch, the material of her jeans pressing hard into my knee. I felt her heat. All it took was a few dry rubs and I saw the expression on her face change to a clenching of the teeth, her nipples hard as nuts, and with one last push she screamed out. “I’m coming Pearl, coming hard.”

This was a first! If Alessandra hadn’t been so beautiful I would have laughed out loud at the madness of it all, but her vulnerable face as she looked at me with such an expression of bliss and her tight, peachy ass thrusting her crotch on my knee in such a sexy way as she tipped herself into ecstasy, made it all okay.

I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It
. The song captured my imagination as the tune hummed about in my head.

But Alessandra looked serious. Like a guy who had just got what he wanted, she got off me and slumped herself down into the armchair opposite. I was relieved. The idea of post-coital cuddles with another woman would have been going too far. It was curiosity. Sex. Carnal desire. A physical release. An adventure. But it was Alexandre I wanted, not a woman. That was clear to me. Crystal clear—however much fun I’d just had.

I still stood by my resolution, though. I wouldn’t accept marriage if I had to live in a proverbial threesome with Sophie.

I observed Alessandra as she lay back in the chair, her legs stretched out before her, her pretty toes pointed, her bare golden torso smooth as caramel.

“I have extremely intense orgasms, Pearl,” she whispered. “Afterwards, I feel drained . . . wiped-out. This one’s been building for a long time, thanks to you. Excuse me, I just feel like resting a while.”

I took the terry robe, which had been strewn over the back of the couch, and put it back on. “That’s fine,” I whispered back. I noticed her eyes were now closed.
Good. I can leave—slip away and she won’t get upset. Phew.

I tiptoed to the bathroom, untied my wrists, and gathered my clothes together. I checked out my butt in the mirror. It was red, alright, with a couple of obvious welts. Lucky, Alexandre wouldn’t be around to see. I pulled the jiggle balls out, washed them with hot soapy water, and left them by the sink. Somehow I didn’t think I’d be using them again, fun as they were. I got dressed back into my panties and jeans, gently easing each article of clothing over my sore behind, trying not to graze the sensitive skin. I quickly put my bra and T-shirt back on. I’d grab my sweater from the kitchen.

I tiptoed past her. “Bye,” I said quietly, but she didn’t hear me. Or she was pretending not to. What a fascinating character. It seemed like it was her mission to kiss me, and now she gotten what she wanted she felt as if she’d won me in some way. But I wouldn’t be returning.

I grabbed my sweater and purse from the kitchen. I checked inside for my car keys, but suddenly remembered . . . I hadn’t put them there because they always got lost in an ocean of darkness. Where had I left them? By the stove? In a bowl? Where? Lucifer trotted into the kitchen, light on his paws, and started doing a pole dance against the furniture and my legs.

“Where did I put my keys, Lucifer?” I whispered. I didn’t want to wake Alessandra, I needed to hightail it out of the scene of the crime . . . yes, I did feel as if I’d broken the law.
CSI could be arriving any minute to scan for evidence. I am a naughty girl, no two ways about it.

As if by magic, Lucifer jumped up onto one of the countertops and started clawing at another basket piled high with bills. “You clever puss,” I marveled, finding the BMW rental keys right there. “Are you a warlock pussycat? Do you understand human talk?”

He meowed as if answering and stared at me with his shimmering green eyes.
Jesus, this cat really is magic!
I grabbed the keys from the basket and then something caught my eye. Again! But this time it wasn’t a letter. It was a photo peeking out from under a bill. I froze. Was it really . . . ? No, surely not. My heart started pounding. I eased it out from the pile.

Alessandra . . . and yes, unmistakably . . . Sophie. Nude bodies entwined in an intimate embrace, Sophie’s hand on Alessandra’s breast—both grinning away at the camera. The picture told a story . . . best friends? Nuh-uh . . . I didn’t think so. They looked like a couple in love.

I grabbed the photo and shoved it in my purse.

And ran.

I
WOKE WITH a jolt. The plane was landing. Pearl and I had more in common than she realized. We were both victims. The only difference was that I was a victim who would seek revenge because I’d grown tough over the years. I wasn’t that vulnerable little boy anymore. I’d find out who had hurt Pearl and give them what was fucking coming to them.

The rental car my assistant had organized for me was waiting. I was glad to see it was the latest Mercedes—I’d need something speedy because Pearl was really giving me the runaround—not picking up her phone. I drove to the hotel in Santa Monica, where she was still staying. But soon found out she wasn’t. She’d bloody well checked out without giving any indication of where she was headed. Calling her was fruitless. She was obviously in a terrible state and it seemed she wanted nothing more to do with me until I literally, handed her a signed affidavit proving that Sophie and I had parted ways. It was crazy—as if that were something I’d be able to do overnight . . . a multi-billion dollar company? Pearl should have known better, but then I guessed that working in documentaries and film was a far cry from what I did, and she simply didn’t have a clue about how many people it would involve—the logistics of doing such a thing. Pearl was morally blackmailing me: wanting me to choose between her and Sophie, obviously still convinced that Sophie was out for her blood. I could see, from Pearl’s perspective, why it looked like Sophie was being sneaky. What a fucking mess!