Thrill Seeker (36 page)

Her voice was caught in her throat.

He held her in a firm embrace and swiftly drew her towards a rickety wooden door, which he kicked open to reveal a cobbled backyard. Sofina’s body stiffened as she was propelled against the brick wall. She lost one of her shoes and her handbag was flung to the floor.

The man pulled off his sweatshirt and threw it across the yard. His expansive chest was adorned with a tattooed Celtic cross. He pinned her to the wall with just the strength of his groin forced into her pelvis.

Staring down at her, held fast before him, he methodically took each of her arms by the wrist and held her hands above her head, grazing them against the rough brick. She could feel the hard muscular contours of his athletic frame cutting into the soft flesh of her body and she knew immediately that physically she was helpless to resist this man’s brute strength.

He was a foot taller than her and she had to crane her neck to look up at his face. In an instant, she took in the bruising around his left eye and the old silver scar on his right cheek. And then she connected with his piercing blue gaze that bore into her wide brown eyes and held her there transfixed.

In contrast to this man’s solid, cocksure presence, Sofina betrayed her desperate state with her breathlessness and trembling limbs.

He leaned in to her, bringing his face down to a level with hers and slowly traced his nose over her soft dusky skin, from her nose, across her cheek, to her earlobe. His sweet-sour breath left a warm moist trail across her face.

‘Now what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ he whispered in her ear. His Cockney accent was rough but his tone was playful. ‘Are you looking for someone, darlin’?’

She unconsciously bit into her bottom lip. The scent of him, of his sweat blended with that aftershave, Trussardi Uomo, intoxicated her mind, her heart, her sex.

‘Come on. You can tell me. Tell me what you want, love.’

He licked her gold-droplet earring into his mouth and sucked on it, tugging at her fleshy lobe.

She felt faint and nauseous. She had to shake her head to bring herself to. She caught her breath.

Sofina stuttered, her words almost unintelligible, ‘I … I want you.’

‘Again. Say it again,’ he demanded.

Now he bit into her earlobe and held it between his teeth.

She whimpered, ‘I want you.’

‘Who?’

‘You, Patrick. I want you.’

He released the marked, swollen flesh. ‘Do you?’ he whispered.

‘Yes. Patrick, please…’

‘And do you feel how much I want you, Sofina?’

She could feel his stiff cock bulging against the metal buttons of his jeans and digging into her belly, forcing her bottom against the wall. His powerful sex trapped her there in the alley.

But she had enticed him, she thought, and smiled to herself.

Patrick bit into her earlobe again and whispered between bites, ‘Do you know I can only get hard when I smell jasmine or sandalwood?’ He laughed. ‘You’re my drug. I’m addicted to you, Sofina. You’re opium.’

He brought his face to hers, seeming to kiss her then pulling away at the last moment, again and again. This man was toying with her, testing her. Then he lunged at her mouth, forcing his over hers, scratching her harshly with his facial stubble and bruising her lips. His tongue penetrated her mouth, thrusting deeper and deeper and licking her inside-out; overwhelming her with his carnal passion.

He pushed his knee between her legs, roughly spreading them.

‘I’m the only man who’s ever had you. And I’ll always be the only one. The
only
one. Do you understand, Sofina?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded.

‘You’re mine, Sofina. Since the first time I saw you. I’ve only wanted you.’

He stretched one hand around her slim wrists and with his other he hoisted her silk tunic over her breasts to her neck and then pulled at the cord to loosen the paijama, which dropped to her feet.

She was left naked, exposed in that derelict yard off Brick Lane. No bra and no panties to cover her most intimate parts. The parts of a woman that only her husband should see, her mother had warned her. And especially that part between her legs that would be opened up by her husband on the wedding night.

She was torn between the instincts of fight or flight – but the fight in her with this man was more primitive than that. The energy was caught between her legs.

Patrick looked her up and down, from her eyes to her mouth, her breasts to her sex, and slowly back up again. God, he loved her. But he was caught up in this place between love and lust and madness. He wanted her. He ached for her night and day. And he wished he had never set eyes on her.

He traced his wet tongue over her parted lips, under her tilted chin, down her arched neck and over her full breast to the large, berry-brown nipple. Sofina gasped as gently he took the sensitive flesh in his mouth and grazed it with his teeth. He teased it with his tongue while he watched her beautiful face react to his touch, to the pleasure and pain of oral foreplay. He sucked hard on the erect nipple between his teeth and she moaned long and loud.

While his mouth worked at her breast, his hand worked its way between her legs. His fingers stroked the soft delicate skin at the inside of her thighs, following the curve, and reaching the wetness of the mons. She was shaven according to her cultural habit, and the smooth plump folds were open to him like the succulent flesh of an exotic fruit.

Its musky scent and nectar drew him in. Was he hunter or was he prey, he wondered.

‘Is this for me?’ he asked.

Sofina nodded and smiled, biting her lip again.

‘Beg for it, Sofina.’

‘Please –’

Before she could finish, he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

She responded with a sharp intake of breath and her whole body tensed.

‘You’re really wet. I like that. Excites me.’

He felt her pelvis gyrate her sex against his cupped hand.

‘You want it, don’t you? You want my cock inside you.’

Sofina swallowed hard and mutely indicated her desire with the longing in her dark eyes. He made her want him so badly. She would say or do anything for him. It felt like she had lost her mind to him. She hated losing control of herself yet she craved the release.

‘I’m going to fuck you now, really hard and fast. Just the way you like it, Sofina.’

Patrick withdrew his fingers from her wetness and unbuckled the belt of his jeans.

Sofina loved to watch his hands at his belt buckle. It was so sexy knowing that he was about to unleash his manhood. And his hands were so elegant even though he was a fighter. The leather belt was soon hanging open and he fingered the top button of his jeans. Sofina was aching to see his cock and feel it deep inside her.

In her most private moments, when she would think of Patrick, it would most often be with the image of him with his big, hard cock in his hand, smiling down at her with those sea-blue eyes, somehow both intense and playful at the same time.

All the while, he watched her – her head back, her eyes closing, her mouth opening, breathless as she anticipated him entering her.

So rare was the time they had together, Patrick had willed himself to commit her every feature, every expression, every movement to memory. In these snatched meetings, he studied her face and body like a work of art in a gallery. The areas of light and shadow on her dusky skin, the fine dark line from naval to pubis, the large dark rounds of her areolae, the auburn and chestnut tones of her black hair.

In one swift move, he took his erection and slammed it up into her tight, wet hole. Still holding her hands fast against the wall with one hand, he cupped her buttocks with the other, lifting her away from the wall and impaling her on his thick cock.

Patrick was an athlete and a martial artist. His body was testimony to a punishing training regime for strength, speed and stamina. This physical prowess thrilled Sofina. She loved how he could so effortlessly overpower her. She marvelled at how he could hold her down simply with his body weight and that he had the energy to fuck for hours.

Patrick made her feel so intensely alive.

‘Look at me, Sofina!’ he instructed. ‘Watch me fuck you.’

She opened her eyes to his smile.

He thrust all the way into her and pulled out almost immediately and then rammed his cock back inside her again and began to pound into her sex. She cried out as Patrick fucked her painfully hard, just as he knew she liked it. She could barely breathe; he slammed into her so hard and fast with no time for her to recover between strokes. His cock filled her and stretched her, time and time again, in a frenzied fucking action. She took his entire length and savoured every inch of the divine penetration.

Suddenly he withdrew his sex from her and stopped in his tracks, his erection poised at her now empty, gaping hole. The shock of his withdrawal brought Sofina back from the ecstatic brink. She opened her eyes to his face staring down at her. His eyes were blazing.

‘I love you, Sofina,’ he panted. ‘I fucking love you.’

He pressed his mouth over hers, catching the skin of her lips with his teeth. She could taste the blood in her mouth as he kissed her, violently, possessing her. He kissed her like his life depended on it. And she kissed him back with a passion that fuelled his desire.

He released her hands and she held on to his neck and gripped his hips with her thighs as if she were riding a stallion. His sheer strength bounced her entire body up and down on his throbbing erection. Her breasts were pummelled against his chest and her legs ached with the tension of being fucked in that contorted position. Sofina’s sex was impaled on his shaft, bruising the delicate flesh, but the pain made it all the more pleasurable for her. Somehow, the ferocity of the way he fucked her made their bond stronger. It was tangible. It was real. It hurt.

‘I want all of you!’ he told her through gritted teeth as he increased the tempo of his thrusts.

The yard echoed with the slapping sound of his cock and balls slamming into her soaking wet pussy.

‘I’m coming!’ Sofina cried out.

He covered her mouth with his hand as her cries grew in volume.

He felt the bite into his finger and then he felt her vagina contract around his cock, gripping and releasing him, pumping his cock to orgasm as she experienced the waves of her climax flooding through her body.

‘Come for me, Sofina,’ he demanded.

He could feel her juices running down his shaft and he was unable to hold back any longer. Patrick arched his back and spasms surged through him as he gave up control and spurted his hot come deep inside her. His fingers dug into the plump flesh of her arse cheeks as he pumped the final drops of semen into her pulsating sex.

In the afterglow of coitus, catching their breath together, he held her there suspended in mid-air.

He bent to gently kiss her forehead and then her lips. She had gone limp in his hands.

‘I love you,’ he whispered against her damp hair.

Sofina moaned softly.

Patrick gradually set her down again to stand on her own two feet. Her sex was soaked with their come and she felt it trickle down her legs. She slowly pulled up her trousers and retied the cord. Sofina did not want to wipe away the memory of their brief time together. It prolonged the pleasure to so intimately carry him about with her. She held on to anything of him that she could. These were stolen meetings.

He helped pull her top down over her bust.

Holding her close, he told her, ‘Sofina, I want more than just this.’ He kissed her hair. ‘I want to be with you. I want to wake up with you. I want to come home to you,’ he said quietly.

Sofina’s heart ached. Tears filled her eyes.

She shook her head. ‘Patrick, I need more time. You don’t know what it’s like for me. I could lose everything.’

She reached up and held his face in her hands as she kissed him tenderly. ‘Please, Patrick.’

He nodded and stepped back.

‘How could they say no to the chessboxing champion of the world?’ He grinned as he buttoned his jeans.

Sofina surveyed the black eye and tattoos and imagined her father’s look of horror.

‘A chess-playing doctor or lawyer would be infinitely better,’ she replied. ‘With brown skin and circumcised,’ she added.

‘I could do the snip, at a push.’

Patrick shadowboxed around her, unleashing a flurry of jabs and uppercuts in her direction. He jabbed at her face and she shielded with her forearm and kicked out with her foot at his shin.

‘Nice try but in the real world aim the kick to the balls or use the heel of your shoe as a weapon,’ he said.

‘Very romantic, Patrick!’

‘And don’t forget to go for the eyes.’

‘You’re mad, bad and dangerous to know, Mr Riley!’ She laughed.

‘And you love it, Ms Khan.’

He moved in again and his fist connected with her cheek but deftly turned from a punch to a caress on impact.

‘Of course, you know, in the game of chess the queen has all the power,’ he told her.

‘Not in its original form,
shatranj.
She was the weakest piece. My lot invented the game, remember.’

‘But this is twenty-first-century Britain, Ms Khan.’

She sighed. ‘I have to go now, Mr Riley.’

‘And what about my tax return?’ he asked.

‘That’s funny, Patrick. I didn’t know you paid tax!’

He winked with the good eye.

Patrick took hold of her hand. He brought it to his lips and imprinted it with a kiss. ‘Always my queen?’ he said.

‘Forever my king?’ she responded, smiling.

They paused for a moment, eyes locked, silent.

Then she spoke, thinking aloud, ‘How is it that love can hurt so much?’

He let go of her hand and walked away quickly to the gate. She knew that he had tears in his eyes and that he did
not want to share them with her. Big boys don’t cry, he once told her; they get drunk and start a fight and then cry.

Sofina blinked back her tears and went to pick up her shoe and bag from the floor where she had dropped them just a short time ago. She smoothed down her hair and threw over the dupatta.