Pearl (The Pearl Series) (9 page)

You see, women like the
fantasy
of being fucked. Rough. Hard. With no mercy. They even like to imagine being tied up, whipped and chastised. But in reality, they’re just looking for one true thing.

And that one true thing’s called
love.

It’s easy for a guy to fuck. Easy to play the rough and tough bastard that women often fall for. What’s hard is to
not
be a bastard.
Not
to be a jerk.

Call me a fool, but I’ve always liked a challenge.

There I was, feeling on top of the world. I felt cocky and self-assured after that mind-blowing blowjob. It was obvious Pearl Robinson was crazy about me. I kissed her and she slowly, teasingly, kissed me back.

“Oh Alexandre,” she groaned into my mouth.

Suddenly my tune changed. Her lips felt as if they no longer belonged to the sweet little neo-virgin who needed to be guided, but were part of a over-confident, cool, I’ve-fucked-a-lot-of-people-too, woman of the world. What was it? The way her tongue flickered over my top lip and made me instantly hard again, my cock throbbing for Round Two? I couldn’t tell, but a jealous rage soared through my hot veins. The idea of Pearl ever having been touched by another man filled me with absolute fury.
Ridiculous!

“Who else has fucked you before me?”
What the hell kind of question was that?
Women either lie or tell you the truth. Either way, you’ll never know for sure.

She gazed at me, her look pure as a puppy. “It’s been so long, I feel like a virgin,” she said, her lips parting in a let-me-suck-your-cock-but-I’m-a-schoolgirl kind of way. I stared her down. Was she lying? Now I was flummoxed. I just couldn’t read her.

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t believe you. The way you made me come in your mouth was too good. Too expert. Who taught you how to do that?”

“Instinct,” she blurted out, her big blue eyes as innocent as a lying teenager who has just been caught with a big sack of weed. “It’s you, Alexandre. You make me want to be sexy like this.”

“Who else has been fucking you?” I thought I said it in a quiet voice but it came out as a roar. I jealously sucked her tits and palmed her pussy.
Mine. All mine.
My heart slowed to a normal beat as I understood how absurd I was being. I never showed jealousy. Hell, I never even felt it. How this woman already held me so tightly under her spell after such a short time of knowing her, I couldn’t fathom.

“I swear,” she promised, “I haven’t had sex for two years. Not since my divorce.”

No sex in all that time =
tight,
I thought, and my cock got hard thinking about how I was going to be her first in so long. Divorce meant vulnerability. My cock twitched again at the thought of her needing me to care for her, protect her. For some reason that really aroused me. And if she was telling the truth about not having had an orgasm, then boy, I was going to really make her head spin.

“Good girl,” I said, feeling convinced, after all, that she was telling the truth. Then I whispered in her ear, “I don’t want you involved with anyone else, is that clear? I want you for myself. I’m not a jealous man but I am possessive of my treasures. You and your tight, hot pearlette are both mine, do you understand?” Choice of words, again. Not
pussy
or
cunt
or anything else that can make a woman feel like a tramp. But
pearlette.
Pearl deserved to feel treasured and loved. She’d obviously had a shit time of it in the sex department, and probably in the general male department. I could change that for her, I decided.

At the time, I would have said that I was telling her all this to put her mind at rest; let her know that I wanted to ‘go steady’ with her, to date exclusively. But the truth was that I was scared for the first time in my life when it came to the opposite sex. I was scared of losing her.

Because, God damn it, I realized that I was falling in love.

8

O
kay, love is a very strong word. Although, lust just didn’t quite cover it. Yes, I was feeling horny as the Devil himself, but I felt so much more. Yet I hardly knew Pearl. I hadn’t asked her about her dreams and aspirations, whether she wanted children and a family like I did, hadn’t discussed her career with her in depth. I knew nothing about her ex-husband, except for the fact he was obviously lousy in bed. I wasn’t even sure how old she was, not that it mattered to me.

It felt as if I was in one of my sports cars going from 0-60 in 4.3 seconds. It was all going so ridiculously fast.

She loved dogs, she was adventurous enough to go rock climbing. She was sexy, smart, beautiful, independent, and although I very much liked what I saw, I needed to get to know her better.

I’d start by fucking her. Or rather, making love to her.

“On the bed,” I ordered, leading her into the bedroom and adding, pokerfaced, “where you belong.” I’d test her sense of humor.

Her lips curled up into a subtle smile. She thought I was kidding. But I wasn’t. I did want to dominate her. Control her body. But willingly. Not with whips or handcuffs, but with my sexual prowess. Make her need me, make her body lose control and have her begging for more. Give her mind-blowing orgasms, every time. I guess you could say that was pretty narcissistic but I think it was more out of insecurity on my part. I’m a pretty cocky bastard, very self-assured on the outside, but on the inside I’m just a regular guy looking for approval. I wanted Pearl to think me the hottest thing that had come along since the sauna.

“Seriously, Pearl, get on the bed. It’s about time you got fucked properly.”

She lay on her rather ornate, four-poster bed, nervously waiting on her back. Her breath was shallow, her breasts rising and falling, her moist folds already glistening with anticipation. I straddled her, my cock proud, rock-hard against my abdomen. I cupped her with my hand and slipped my middle finger inside her warm core, locating that sweet spot. I picked her up like a six-pack again, and she whimpered, giving herself over to me readily. I could see she had a submissive streak in her and it turned me on.

I whispered in her ear, “You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

She could hardly speak. Just moaned and nodded her head. Her nipples were stiff, her tongue was licking lasciviously along her lips. She looked like a fucking centerfold and I wanted to plunge into her. But I had to remain focused. I lifted her up higher. She loved me taking control. I lifted that sweet pussy to my face. Her back arched and I supported her ass with both my hands. I let my tongue rest against her clit and she started bucking her hips at me. I didn’t do anything—just let her feel my wet tongue pressing against her. Then I started long, sweeping strokes up and down. Up and down, along her slit. Up. And down. Slowly. Up. And down.
Oh yeah.
She tasted deliciously sweet and salty. And horny as hell; my taste buds were laced with her sexy nectar.

“Please fuck me, Alexandre. Please.”

But I wanted to make her wait. Part of my plan, my history of success with the female sex:
Make women beg for it.
Make them want more. Control yourself.

I began a slow, torturous tease, fucking her with my tongue. In and out, careful not to touch her clit, which was swelling with desperation for me to play with it. Pearl was moaning, clawing her fingers in my hair, and yelling out.

“I can’t take this anymore. Please. Please Alexandre, I
need
you to fuck me!”

I laid her ass back down on the bed and fished a condom out of my jeans’ pocket. Lambskin. Better sensation. The only ones that fit properly and didn’t pinch me. I rolled it onto my solid length. I wanted her to feel every tiny nuance, every little movement as I stretched her open. So I’d go slow. Little by little. I couldn’t overwhelm her or my whole game plan would be spoiled.

I lay my naked body carefully on top of her, my erection poised at her wet entrance, throbbing and twitching a millimeter away from her. She was flexing her hips at me again; her legs open wide. Every time she pushed forward, she could feel my hardness, her clit slapping against me. She was moaning, her tongue lashing out at my mouth and I kissed her hard. Deep. Hungrily. She was getting the kiss she wanted but I wasn’t going to fuck her yet, as most men would have done at that point. This took willpower, believe me.

I let myself dip into her, with tiny, shallow thrusts. Only my tip was fucking her. She was going wild.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Please, oh God. Don’t stop. This is incredible.”

Then I stopped. I pulled back a touch.

“Alexandre! What are you doing to me? Why are you torturing me?”

My lips flickered into a gentle smirk. “Torture can lead to heaven,” I murmured. I started fucking her clit. Again, just tiny, almost imperceptible thrusts, as my hard cock massaged her between her wet folds. She was screaming.
Screaming.

“Ssh, baby. Quiet now. So juicy. I love your hair, your soft skin, your incredible body, your Big. Blue. Eyes. On each of those words I thrust inside her, rolled in little circles to massage her clit with my pubic bone, and then pulled back out. I was huge. Swollen as fuck. I was counting in my head.
One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three
….I had to stop myself from coming. This was getting too hot to handle.

“Are you ready for all of me?” I said with a low groan.

“You’re so big. It’s so
huge
. Oh God!”

What she told me was the truth. What I said about your cock being a tool—that was no joke. Tools can do wonders but tools can also do damage, depending on how you use them. I had to go easy. If I pounded into her now, it would be uncomfortable for her; there was no way she’d come.

“Jesus, you’re tight. Like a virgin,” I said, entering her a millimeter more.

I still didn’t feel she was ready to be fucked yet so I carried on teasing her with tiny thrusts, my crown feeling incredibly sensitive, even though I was wearing a condom. Then I withdrew completely, took my cock in my hand and slapped it back and forth on her hard nub. From the noises she was making and her movements, I saw she was on the verge of coming. Her eyelids started fluttering, her legs stiffened and she looked as if she was entering another zone. I pushed my cock halfway inside her and she started shuddering, her inner contractions pulsating and quivering all over me. I held it there, not even all the way in. She was moaning again, her back arched, her fingers clawing and gripping my ass like she never wanted our groins to part. Ever. She was coming hard, her hands clutching my buttocks to bring me closer.

“Alexandre, I…. Jesus,
aahh… aahh
…oh my freaking
God!”

I stopped my
one, one thousand
and let myself go. Fuck, this girl was hot. I imploded inside my sweet, hot pearlette, luxuriating in her as we both came together, united in our carnal frenzy: our greedy, insatiable feast. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming hard,” I groaned into her mouth, lashing my tongue all over her, thrusting into her with abandon at last, as my orgasm ripped right through me.

She lay there panting. Satiated. Fulfilled, with me still inside her. “I came with penetrative sex,” she meowed, releasing her claws from my ass. She was shocked. Amazed. She couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Was I shocked?

Not a bit. I knew what I was doing.

I started young, remember? I’d made more women come by the time I was twenty-five than most men could even fantasize about doing over an entire lifetime, even if only in their wet dreams.

9

B
y the time I hit my fourteenth birthday, I was already physically mature. My balls had dropped and my voice had broken to a deep baritone. I was getting tall, muscular; my Alsation roots from my mother’s side of the family began to really show. Compared to other guys my age, I was pretty developed. I was masturbating constantly. All I could think of were pussies, asses and tits. But I was shy and had no intention of doing anything about my obsession.

One of Sophie’s co-workers took a shine to me. She took me under her wing.