Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy (23 page)

“You wanna sit down?” she asked, swinging her long, toned legs away from the other side of the couch.

“Sure,” I said.

I picked up my bag and carried it over to the couch, sitting down next to her before lifting out my MacBook. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself: I immediately began googling recent news articles for mentions of Blake Matthews.

It wasn’t hard to find the article. The headline read,
Blake Matthews Back on the Dating Scene?

With horror, I began to read:

Just a few months ago, things were looking pretty cozy between Blake Matthews and society heiress Camille Beringer. It was looking like the Parisian stunner was finally going to be the one to pin down one of New York’s most eligible bachelors.

But it’s been over a month since Camille and Blake have been spotted together, and we’ve heard reports that Camille has moved back to Paris, as her family were unhappy with the match. And it looks like Blake Matthews hasn’t wasted any time finding romance.

Blake Matthews was clearly enjoying the company of his new friend, as they walked through Central Park, laughing and joking. Onlookers say, he was clearly quite smitten.

But Blake’s new girl is a bit of a mystery. Dressed in jeans and sneakers, the unknown brunette isn’t Blake’s usual type, and looked even younger than his previous conquests. We don’t know who she is just yet, but might she be the one to finally get Blake to settle down and commit?

And sure enough, there was a photo, too: Blake and I, walking through the park. It must have been that afternoon we’d decided we needed some fresh air, the one when he’d bought me that outfit, after we’d been in bed for days on end. And we did look happy. We were both smiling and laughing, but we could have just been friends. It wasn’t like we were holding hands or anything.

And yet, even in that single photo, you could tell there was something there between us.

I knew there was gossip about Blake, online and in the papers sometimes. It wasn’t like he was
famous
though. But people would always be fascinated by wealth and power, and Blake’s life always attracted a certain unwanted interest. All the times I’d googled his name, and all the photos I’d seen, of all the glamorous, beautiful women he was linked with, I never imagined
my
photo would end up right there alongside them.

Mine wasn’t the only picture in the article. In fact, next to the single picture of me, and about five of Camille Beringer, looking stunning in a bright blue bikini, and posing for a photo shoot on the red carpet. In comparison, I was wearing no makeup, sneakers and jeans. I clearly wasn’t in the same league.

I was mortified, of course, but at the same time, I kept reading back over those final lines:
might she be the one to finally get Blake Matthews to settle down and commit?

Actually, the article wasn’t half as bad as Mom had made out. It was more about Camille than me, and although I didn’t like being compared to her supermodel good looks, they didn’t actually
know
anything about me, and the photo was just of us walking together. I could definitely play this one down. It didn’t mean anything.

But while the article seemed okay, I made the mistake of scrolling further down, to the comments section below:

OMG. If the bar is that low for Blake Matthews then maybe I’m in with a chance! I’m gonna move into the lobby of the 212 until he walks through. Then he’s all mine, baby!!

I dunno. I always thought he was kind of an asshat who only dated bimbos with no brains. But this girl seems normal. Maybe he’s not such a douche after all? 

What the hell? She’s about 12 years old! Are you sure it’s not his niece or something? I’m pretty sure Blake wouldn’t be seen dead with a girl in jeans.

Yeah, I don’t get it. She’s kind of plain. And she almost seems proud of it. I mean, she’s gone out for a walk with Blake Matthews without wearing ANY makeup? You’ve gotta be brave to do that. Props to her. But I give this relationship 2 weeks, max.

The mean, venomous comments went on and on, and I read through them, every single last one of them, tearing me and Blake to shreds.

I simply couldn’t help myself. I tried to stop it but my eyes welled up with tears, not just about those stupid hurtful comments, but also once more at the general frustration of my situation. If I thought things were complicated before, I realized that they were only going to get a whole lot messier now.

“Hey now, don’t cry, sweetie,” Gina cooed, surprising me with her warmth, her arms coaxing me in towards her in a hug.

And before I knew it, I’d burst into tears, my face resting against her ample bosom.

“Come on, come on now,” she whispered, stroking the hair from my face with her long slender fingers. “You think that’s bad? You should see the stuff they’ve written about
me
on the internet. Some of those people were actually saying nice things about you! And at least none of them called you a hooker. That’s what they’re always saying about me ...”

At this I felt guilty: hadn’t I thought the exact same thing about her, just a few minutes ago?

“But the thing is?” she continued. “Those people writing those comments? They’re nobodies. Bored nobodies. Their lives are in black and white. And they’re just jealous that
ours
are in Technicolor.”

§

The nightclub Gina took me to was called Provocateur, and it seemed like she was something of a celebrity there. From the way the doormen stood reverently aside to let us in, despite the long snaking queue that ran all the way around the outside of the building, to the way we immediately got served at the crammed-full bar, the bartender making a show of letting us both know that our huge (and incredibly
strong
) cocktails were ‘on the house’, Gina was treated like royalty.

I know, I know. What was I doing in a nightclub with Gina?

Well, earlier that evening, as we’d talked on the sofa, not only had she made me feel a hundred times better about my stupid situation and given me some real advice, she’d actually made me laugh, too. She was really funny and surprisingly down-to-Earth, although she certainly didn’t look it, what with the way she dressed. I’d started to think that maybe I’d been wrong about her.

Staring at the screen of my MacBook, I’d been too distracted to do any more work on the restaurant pitch for Max and Andy, so when Gina had told me that what I needed was a stiff drink, she didn’t have to ask twice to convince me to join her. 

I looked around the packed nightclub and wondered what all these people made of us together: after all, Gina and I must have made quite the odd-looking couple. Everyone seemed to know her, and I imagine I wasn’t her usual kind of date. She was dressed in one of the hundreds of green dresses she seemed to own, the red of her hair so vibrant in comparison. Meanwhile, I was wearing a pretty conservative Marni dress, and of course I was the only woman in the entire place in flat shoes.

It was a pretty strange, surreal experience.

I’d never really been out ‘nightclubbing’, not even while I was back at Savannah. The closest I’d ever come to heavy nights out were the occasional noisy art rock bands that Fallon had dragged me to, in dive bars and cold disused warehouses. But this was completely different. A real nightclub, with pulsing music and flashing lights and dancing sweaty bodies …

Actually, on second thoughts, it
did
remind me of something:

It reminded me of that
other
kind of club I’d been to recently. And again I found myself wondering just what Gina made of me — after all,
she
knew I’d attended Blake’s party, didn’t she? And for all I knew, she might have even been there in that circular room, watching on during our little show, or even ...

I stole a quick glance at her long, manicured fingers with their glossy nails.

Were they the same fingers that had parted my buttocks and slipped inside me?

And was that the same tongue that had fucked me from behind?

Yes, the more I thought about it, the more this nightclub reminded me of Blake’s parties. There was exactly the same kind of tension in the air, the same hungry looks in the eyes of the men and women, all stalking the shadows and writhing on the dance floor …

And as I began to dance, I felt my pulse quicken, triggered by memories of my experiences at Blake’s club, and I felt a certain throbbing wetness between my legs, my nipples stiffening and tingling, as I began to give myself up to the music, moving my body slowly and sensuously in time to the beat, there in the center of the dance floor, Gina and I both dancing close together, our eyes locking for a moment — sending a surprising flash of excitement through me.

And the more we danced, the more I could feel the hungry eyes of others, too — mostly men but some women also — watching on expectantly. I’ll admit it: this was turning me on. 

I could feel my pulse racing, as my eyes moved hungrily over Gina’s perfect body: so full and voluptuous and curvy, both lithe and toned, yet at the same time so
womanly
, so unlike my slim boyish frame.

It took me by surprise when she closed up the remaining space between us, her sensuous body now only inches from mine, the rest of the room fading into the background as our eyes locked, Gina’s full breasts brushing softly against my own, her hands moving tenderly around my waist then straying down to my buttocks, her right knee pressing eagerly between my thighs, her full glossy lips softly grazing against mine.

Am I really about to do this?

Because it was
me
who took the next step, shocking myself a little: pushing my mouth hungrily against hers, parting her lips with my tongue, feeling myself throb hard as Gina ground her thigh further between mine in response, her hands now eagerly cupping my ass, her firm breasts pressing against my own … 

§

We stumbled back into the apartment just a few hours later, our heads swirling both from the insanely strong cocktails and also from our new-found interest in each other.

Almost the moment the door swung closed, we were kissing again, just as we had in the club — pausing just moments long enough to flag down a taxi home, the whole ride escalating the electric, crackling tension between us.

Gina took control immediately, leading the way to her room, taking me by the hand, so dominant and forceful it gave me not a second to pause and think about what exactly I was doing.

And the thing was, I wanted this, and it surprised me. You see, I’d never had any kind of thoughts or experiences with girls before this night. But I’d opened up so much over the last few weeks, learnt so much more about myself, and I really wanted to know what it was like with another woman. I wanted to explore this new side of myself, and who better than someone as experienced and sexual as Gina? 

We fell back onto her purple silk bed sheets, our hands exploring each other’s bodies. Gina’s breasts felt so full compared to mine, her nipples so big and hard, and I found I just couldn’t stop touching them. They felt absolutely amazing. This was nothing like a man’s hard, sculpted pecs. I just loved the way their softness filled my hands completely.

Within moment’s she’d tugged off her dress, revealing that she was wearing nothing beneath it except a matching green g-string, and soon I was on top of her, unable to control myself any longer, my mouth closing eagerly over her nipple, my tongue flicking tantalizingly against that puckering, hardening flesh, while my fingers strayed downwards, slipping easily into her panties, finding her so hot and wet, her lips shaved and silky-smooth to the touch. She arched her hips and ground herself hard against my hand, moaning softly, and I shivered too, relishing what I was doing.

It felt
so
different to anything I’d done with a boy; so much softer, so much more sensual. I began working my kisses downwards, too, over her smooth toned belly, making my way down between her legs.

Here goes nothing ...

I’d never really thought I’d ever go down on another girl, but now I wanted to try it more than anything in the world. I pulled eagerly at her panties, tugging them over her thighs, positioning myself between her legs, and at first lapping rather timidly at her clit, tasting the sweetness of her juices.

But once again, Gina took control, running her fingers softly through my hair, then becoming more direct, grabbing my head and guiding me further between her legs. I responded by tonguing her clit more eagerly, lapping at it, running my tongue in circles around the sensitive little nub, trying to replicate the way
I
liked to be licked there, and she let out a deep, shuddering sigh in response. And as I licked at her, I brought my fingers to her pussy, too, slipping first one then two digits so easily inside her, feeling just how hot, wet and surprisingly tight she was.

I sucked her clit hard between my lips, increasing my motions with my fingers, feeling her tremble, enjoying hearing her sighs and moans get louder and louder. Then with a final shudder, she cried out, clamping my head with her thighs as her pussy spasmed around my fingers, her body trembling as she came.