Belle Pearl (11 page)

“No, baby. No! I love
you.”

“Why are you torturing me? Leave me alone.”

I couldn’t help myself. I started to kiss her ravenously, licking her lips, forcing my way in; anything to quell her suspicions, to wipe Laura from her mind. My cock was rock-hard against her belly, pounding in my pants. I loved Pearl but my insatiable need for her after being apart for so long was overwhelming. “Please baby, believe me, I am so
not
with Laura.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you entering her front door! I saw you with my own eyes!” Pearl pushed me away, rapping her fists against my chest.

I quietly closed the front door. Her suitcase was still outside but I feared the whole building would be woken with the noise. For the next few minutes the banter continued; Pearl’s accusations and my defense. Yet I could hardly concentrate on the conversation: my eyes hooded with longing, my groin raging. All I wanted was for us to fuck and forget this Laura nonsense, but I had to calm Pearl down first. I could see it in her eyes too—she wanted me urgently but her head was telling her to protect her heart. Yet right now, her heart was telling her to make love to me. I could read it in her gaze, her tweaked nipples. She was hungry for me. Fucking ravenous.

I stepped close to her again and took her flailing wrists. “Pearl, my darling—please, please let’s just be close. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“Bullshit! You haven’t even called me!”

“I did call you. Today actually, but your cell was switched off.”

“Big deal!
Finally,
after all this time making me suffer, making me plan my life without you, you call. You call when you feel like a fuck! You want to be with Laura but you’re using me. For sex. Laura was right, you’re only in ‘lust’ with me—all your marriage talk was bullshit.”

Yeah, a waiting jet and a huge rock of a ring is bullshit.
I realized this Laura thing had taken over her mind. Not letting her see coherently. “NO! Pearl, I
do
want to marry you.”

“Oh, so you can have little wifey waiting for you at home while you go off and have affairs! I’m not that kind of girl, Alexandre. Maybe there are plenty of women out there who would stand that kind of marriage for the luxuries you can provide, with all your money, but I don’t
care
how rich you are! I just want a faithful husband; a man who sees
only
me.” Her eyes flashed like warning lights, the blue a deep, glimmering ultramarine.

I kissed her hand. I dared not do more—her wrath was impressive; her fire blazing. “I only see
you,
Pearl, I swear. It’s been hell for me. I’ve missed you like crazy—I’ve been obsessing about you night and day. I’ve been going around with a hard-on for two weeks—please calm me down, chérie—I feel like an animal. I need you. I need you baby.” Bad little speech that one. It made her rage all the more—it sounded as if I only wanted her for sex. The whole ‘books in the box’ saga was dredged up. More explanations while Pearl raised her eyebrows at me with suspicion and disdain. I explained the gift-wrapped box, the fact that I’d gone to Provence, first, and why I hadn’t sent it by mail. I finally thought I’d won her over. But no.

Not even close.

“That doesn’t explain how Laura knew so much about me. She said you’d called me a “loony with a slutty past.” Pearl pushed me away again and tossed her head in disgust. “You told Laura my secrets, things about my private life. About Alessandra, because Laura just happened to know
everything!”

I had been able to explain my movements and reasons up until now, but not this. How
did
Laura have all that information? Sophie hadn’t spoken to her, and Elodie didn’t know that stuff. I thought back. Had Elodie listened in on one of my private conversations with Pearl? No.
How the fuck did Laura know all this?
The argument between Pearl and me went on, back and forth. Pearl not believing me. A bolt of rage shot through me.

I shouted, “I don’t fucking
know
how Laura knew that stuff but I
love
you, I want to marry you and I don’t want Laura fucking well
near
me! You
have
to believe me!” I roared so loudly that the sound echoed through the fresh, newly decorated apartment.

Finally Pearl was silent. The drama had appeased her. I saw her breathing was erratic, her lips parted and her gaze flicked down to my crotch and then to my eyes.
Her look said, Please just fuck me—I can’t take this mistrust.
Make-up sex. I couldn’t wait a second more. I had to get my tailored pants off—my dick was wedged uncomfortably beneath the fine wool fabric like a massive steel rod. I closed in on Pearl, pinioning her wrists above her head with one hand as I slowly unzipped her jeans with the other. She let me, as she nipped her bottom lip between her teeth and moaned quietly. I eased my hand inside her panties and felt her oozing moisture trapped there, waiting to explode.

I growled into her mouth as I kissed her, my fingers entering her liquid warmth, “That’s it, no more drama games Pearl—you want this as much as I do.”

I gathered her in my arms, carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. Being a gentleman was not the first thing on my mind in that moment. The scene that ensued was hectic, wild, both of us like savage beasts. We ripped off our respective clothing, both acting like a pair of jungle cats in heat. Pearl spread herself out like a starfish—wanton—on the bed. I lay on top of her, no time to lose. But ever the little actress, she then squeezed her thighs together, trying not to let me enter her, meanwhile kissing me frantically, her slick pool beckoning me to stretch her wide open. She wanted me to ravage her. Play the dominant.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” I said, my hips pumping into her as I fucked her dripping wet clit. “You want me to despoil your tight little pussy?” The crown of my cock was going to detonate any second. I kept the rhythm up, sliding my length up and down her slit, the pressure of her tight, worked-out thighs like vices around my dick, not letting me in. This game was really arousing me—Pearl’s thighs squeezing the sides of my cock as she whimpered and moaned beneath me.

“Oh baby, fucking you is like flying on a cloud straight to Heaven.” I grabbed the mane of her hair as I fucked that nub relentlessly until she couldn’t hold out any longer—she opened her thighs and I slipped right in. Deep. Cramming her full.
Oh fuck!

“This wet, hot pussy can’t deny me, baby. Whatever your brain tells it to do, it has a mind of its own.” I slammed into her hard and she cried out. I made little circular movements, my hips grinding round and round as I found her G-spot—her already sensitized clit was swollen like a ripe fruit.

She opened her thighs even further, maneuvering her body and hooking her ankles around my neck, bucking her hips up at me, as she clawed her nails into my ass and started shuddering beneath me. Usually she screamed, but this time she started weeping. “I’m coming, baby,” she whimpered through tears, “I’m coming so hard.”

My button was pressed. My thick cock expanded even more as I felt her pussy contract around me, sucking me in, gobbling me up with its avaricious grasp. I thrust back and forth mercilessly and she started screaming, as I exploded inside her, my scorching seed shooting into her womb. I sucked her neck like a vampire needing blood. I had to have her taste on my tongue; I needed to mark her. As I pumped my orgasm into her, she climaxed again. I accentuated my thrusts with each word. “I. Love. Fucking. You. My cock thinks about you. All. Day. Long. All. Fucking. Day. Long. Your. Wet. Pearlette. Always. Ready to be fucked by my….Big. Hard. Horny. Cock.” More of my cum spurted inside her as I moved my mouth from her neck to her lips and lashed my tongue on hers, sucking, licking, locking together. The rampant carnal fireworks between us were insane.

“Are you cured of your cock phobia?” I asked, knowing the answer as she moaned into my mouth.

“Oh yeah, oh God Alexandre, as long as it’s you. I’m still coming, baby…
oh my God!”

There was no way we could stay apart anymore. We were addicted to each other. We had to fuck like this every day. We had to satiate each other’s craving for one another.

For the next twelve hours it was intermittent sparring, followed by make-up sex. Then Pearl would get suspicious again; the cross-questioning
Homeland-
style would begin once more, with me trying to explain. Then I’d fuck her again, and so on. Was it the drama that turned us on so much? Pearl getting me wild and emotional with her cool games which got me simmering with pent-up irritation and desire? It seemed she loved playing cat and mouse so that I would then ravage her, dominate her; fuck the coolness out of her—make her crumble beneath me. Sexually, she was a natural submissive and this was bringing out my bestial instincts. It worried me and excited me. I didn’t want to fight; I wanted a smooth ride but I asked myself if the kind of ride Pearl desired was more of a roller coaster. Or perhaps she was just testing me to see if I was worthy of her love.

But I couldn’t blame her suspicion about Laura. The question still remained unanswered. How the fuck
did
Laura know all those intimate things about Pearl? I sure as hell hadn’t let anything slip. Had someone betrayed me?

10

P
earl’s resolve to keep me on my toes continued for the next couple of weeks. The chill of the winter air seemed to match her emotions. She refused to move back in with me. Daisy and Amy took up residence with her in her new apartment, which meant I didn’t have her all to myself. Daisy had split with her husband who had cheated on her—all the more reason why Daisy was acting like a guardian phoenix—always on the lookout, scrutinizing me with quiet reserve to see if I behaved well; if I did right by Pearl. Yes, I was on probation; all female eyes monitoring my every move, even little Amy who was only five years old.

Pearl had been trying to get in touch with Laura. She wanted a direct explanation from her. How, she wanted to know, did she have all that personal information? I sure as hell wanted to know too, and at that point—considering my line of work and now knowing how scheming Laura was—I stupidly hadn’t put two and two together. What a dunce.

As for Pearl, she just didn’t trust me—about Laura, about the history of my father—no she didn’t buy my tale that he’d just ‘disappeared into thin air,’ and would slip it into the conversation every so often. I so wanted to reveal my secret, be honest with her, but it wasn’t my call. I was protecting someone who had sworn me to secrecy.

I wanted to be as close to Pearl as possible but I felt that she was only half mine. We were still having sex, but somehow the situation was very confusing to me. She had discovered a newfound joy: sex without full-on commitment. It was as if she were twenty-two again. All those wasted years in her twenties and thirties after the rape—some of those married years (when she had been emotionally and sexually blocked), were given a new lease on life—her inner 1960’s-sexual-revolution-babe had been unleashed. She’d become like a young Jane Fonda. I could hardly complain, but I was wondering if our marriage would
ever
go ahead. Pearl had what she wanted: me at her beck and call, ‘servicing’ her, filling her up’ but without binding herself to me. She even had a nickname for me: the Exxon Guy. I laughed at her joke—what else could I do?

Talk about an odd juxtaposition of roles; it was as if she were my age and
I
was forty. All I could think of was getting rings on our fingers, while she stalled me with excuses. The bottom line was her wavering mistrust.

And just as I thought that there was a beam of light at the end of this tunnel (yes, the word tunnel could sound crass), an earthquake separated us as if we had been standing on the San Andreas fault line itself—Pearl and I seemed doomed. Just when I thought that I, the frog, had a chance of becoming Pearl’s prince by finally getting that magical, proverbial kiss, Laura chucked parts of me into her bubbling cauldron, stirring me in with her poisonous ingredients.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

Wool of bat, and tongue of dog.

Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,

Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hellbroth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble,

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Shakespeare’s lines—which I’d once learned at school—reverberated in my brain. I was busy shopping at Dean & DeLuca when Laura caught me by surprise. I had been eyeing up delicious Stilton cheeses and Christmas cakes and cookies but now I felt like throwing up.