Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy (27 page)

“Blake,” I gasped breathlessly, “I want you. Right here, right now.”

And it seemed like Blake had exactly the same idea, pulling me quickly on top of him so that I was straddling him, my skirt riding up around my hips. He tugged his belt and pants open quickly, his cock springing free, hard and hot, from his shorts, and I knew that I too was just as ready for him, my pussy throbbing and wet.

He tugged my panties roughly to one side, and then just like that, he was inside me. I rode him hard and fast, my hands pressed against the glass, the whole of London glittering and sparkling below us as our carriage softly rocked to and fro.

I could feel my pleasure building, so quick and intense, doubling with each thrust Blake made inside me, and I reached one hand between my legs, working my clit, only needing to touch it a couple of times before I came with a cry, feeling my whole body shudder. And Blake came too, just moments later, burying himself deep inside me, his cock hard and pulsing.

It was only afterwards, as I was slipping off him and rearranging my panties, quickly pulling my skirt as demurely as I could back down over my thighs, that I realized that the glass might not be
quite
so tinted as I’d first thought. With a blush I looked away from the grinning group of students in the next carriage — suspended just a few meters above us — who were now all waving and laughing at us.

“Well,” said Blake, brushing the hair from his eyes with a carefree smile when he cottoned on to what had happened. “I guess it’s not the first time we’ve put on a bit of a show now, is it?”

And I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve had such an amazing time,” I said on our final evening in London, putting down my knife and fork on my empty plate, then taking another sip of the delicious Chateau Gruaud-Larose. “Thank you so much for this weekend.”

Blake had booked tonight’s evening meal at Claridges restaurant, and it felt wonderful to think that once we’d finished our food, we could make our way slowly back up to our sumptuous suite, to enjoy the rest of the evening in privacy.

I was wearing a brand new Alexander McQueen dress. It was a little more outlandish than the kinds of things I’d usually wear: sexy and tight, and a little bit eccentric, but that was the London style. I’d had a great time people-watching all day, picking up lots of tips. And while the shopping here wasn’t quite as good as Manhattan – how
could
it be? – there were still some great stores. Blake was right: I’d had a blast in Selfridges, did some damage to the credit card in Harvey Nichols, but I lost my heart in Liberty.

A tiny jewel of a department store, they stocked an extremely well-edited collection of clothes and accessories.
Everything
was beautiful. But the star of the show was the store itself. From the outside, it looked like a huge Tudor manor house, and inside? It was an Arts and Crafts wonderland. From the top of the store, you could lean over the carved wooden balcony and gaze down onto the atrium, filled with hundreds of brightly colored, delicate silk scarves. I was in heaven. 

“You look amazing,” Blake said, his eyes burning as he took in my new outfit, complimenting me for perhaps the third time that evening, but still I found myself blushing every time.

As my cheeks reddened, I looked away, around the beautiful, dimly-lit restaurant and all the other elegant, well-dressed couples. I wondered how many of them might be British nobility. I could have been surrounded by Lords and Ladies – the kinds of people who had stately homes that I’d read about in magazines. I might know where they lived, but I bet none of them had ever even
heard
of Glenbrook Falls. And yet, I felt I was doing a pretty darn good job of passing myself off as one of the privileged few.

Does this mean I’m changing?

What would Fallon think if she could see me now?

I shook the thought from my head, and began to tell Blake more about my day. “You were so right about the Wallace Collection,” I began. “I found this amazing picture? You know, The Lady with a Fan? It’s by Velazquez. The look on her face, it was so enigmatic. I stared at it for ages. It was just like the Mona Lisa, I don’t know why it isn’t more famous. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s just so
much
in this world that you’ve got to discover for yourself. Thank you for recommending it to me.” 

“You know what, Jessica?” Blake said, smiling at me from across the table. “I’m very glad I’m here with you. My lifestyle can be lonely sometimes. I meet many people, and sure, that’s exciting. But not many that I can really talk to.”

I couldn’t believe how much he was opening up to me, and I found myself holding my breath as he continued, not wanting him to stop.

“The circles I move in, people aren’t really interested in art. Sure, they fundraise for it all the time, and collect expensive paintings, but really? It’s just for show. I can’t remember the last time someone told me about
really looking
at a painting like you just did. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did that myself, not properly. But I used to do it all the time. You’re opening up parts of me that have been closed for years. All the money, all the success. It can be easy to forget how to
live
, and I want to live, Jessica ...”

He reached out his hand across the table, and I closed my own on top of it.

“I want to live, too,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

“Come on,” Blake said, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight as he nodded towards our suite. “Let’s skip desert.” 

§

Back in the suite, there was no time for me to admire the furniture. We hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other in the elevator, and as soon as we got back into the room, we began kissing feverishly, Blake pinning me up against the wall, tugging roughly at my dress ...

“Wait,” I panted, not wanting him to tear such a beautiful garment.

I’d only just about managed to unzip it, letting it fall to the floor around my feet before he had fallen onto me once again, his eager hands quickly unhooking my bra and cupping my breasts, his mouth closing upon my puckering left nipple, his tongue flicking, his other hand slipping down between my legs, quickly working me up to a state of shivering ecstasy through the flimsy fabric of my panties.

I too began tearing at his shirt, racing to get it off his body, and then, once I’d freed up his torso I reached down between his legs, my trembling fingers finding his hot hardness, so prominent through the soft tailored cloth of his pants.

“This is perfect,” Blake whispered, beginning to tug open his belt. “I don’t even want to get into bed. I just want to take you right here against this wall ...”

Is it perfect?

I mean, this
could
be the most romantic thing in the world.

But what if this isn’t romance, what if this is just sex ...

I could feel it happening again: that strong, decisive girl inside me taking control once more, opening her mouth, preparing to speak her mind, not caring about the consequences.

“Wait,” I blurted, causing Blake to stop, his pants now fully unzipped, exposing that meaty bulge in his tight white briefs beneath.

“What?” he said, raising an eyebrow, clearly hoping I was just teasing him.

“What exactly am I to you?”

No turning back now.

I waited for his response, but his silence said it all. This obviously wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. But the cat was out of the bag now, and the mood in the room had changed completely.

“Well,” I carried on. “I was just wondering … about us.”

“Us?” Blake repeated slowly, like it was some kind of strange foreign word.

I could feel my blood begin to run cold, and I knew I should just stop there, not push it any further, but instead, of course, I carried on.

“Yes,
us
,” I continued. “I mean, what exactly is
this to you? What are we? Is this just a casual thing? Isn’t it about time we decided what this was, exactly?”

There.

I’d finally said it.

I could tell Blake was surprised: surprised I’d been so open and forward with him, addressing the issue head-on for once.

I was surprised, too.

After all, I hadn’t planned on this new little outburst of mine. As usual, it had just leapt from my mouth without warning. And now I was waiting, waiting with a drumming heart, for Blake to tell me just where exactly I stood …

“Well,” he said slowly, casting his cold grey eyes around the room for a moment in obvious discomfort, formulating his thoughts carefully before he spoke. “Let me put it like this …”

His icy eyes locked onto mine and I felt my heart stop.

“You’re extremely special to me, Jessica. Very special indeed. But …”

But?

Why does there always have to be a but?

“This isn’t exclusive. I mean, you know I’m seeing other people, right?”

I felt my head begin to swim, and when I opened my mouth to speak, I realized I had no words. Instead, I simply nodded my head, trying my absolute hardest to fight back the tears. I moved my arm to cover my breasts, suddenly feeling so stupid to be standing there, half naked.

“I thought it was clear,” Blake said, obviously worried now that he’d hurt me.

“Crystal,” I replied, forcing a smile onto my face.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

You know I’m seeing other people, right?

“I’m fine,” I lied.

I gave myself a final critical once-over in the mirror, taking in my black skinny jeans, my Ramones tee, and the gorgeous black beat up leather jacket I’d picked up from a thrift store that afternoon for thirty bucks. I’d completed my look with a pair of black low-rise Converse and bright red socks, and I’d done my hair in a high ponytail, applying just a little make up: black eyeliner and a dash of bright red lipstick to match my socks.

This was a different outfit than the kind I’d been used to wearing lately. For a start, it wouldn’t matter if anyone spilt beer on my sneakers, and I certainly couldn’t say that about my Louboutins. Sure, it might have
looked
more comfortable than the dresses I needed to wear to pass the test in those fancy restaurants I’d been frequenting with Blake, but I still didn’t feel quite myself in this getup. I felt as much of a fraud pretending to be a rock chick as I did when I was passing myself off as an heiress.

I felt another flutter of nerves, partly for Fallon, after all this was the biggest show her band had ever played, in NY or anywhere, and I’d seen the Facebook event page: a
lot
of her old friends and acquaintances would be coming to check her band out tonight —not to mention the fact that since their awesome Pitchfork review, Circles had picked up a
lot
more attention in other music blogs and magazines, too. There was a lot of hype surrounding them now, and I know Fallon was worried they might not live up to it.

But I was also nervous for myself. I never quite felt comfortable at rock shows. Were you supposed to dance, or what? All the really cool kids just stood there, nodding their heads, which seemed like no fun at all. Also, I was more of a white wine spritzer kind of girl, and people looked at you like you’d got Ebola or something if you drank anything other than Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I’d been put on the guest list, and I knew Fallon would be able to hang out and talk to me for a little while beforehand, but for most of tonight I’d be totally alone.

I’d not asked Blake — for a start it wasn’t his scene, but also, after our weekend away and his cutting remark about ‘not being exclusive’, I’d been trying to give him more space. And I didn’t really have anyone else I could take either. While I was really getting to like Gina, I couldn’t quite imagine her coming to something like this. And what’s more, since her date with Julius, that backing dancer, I’d hardly seen her, just heard her loud gasps and moans from across the hall at odd times of the early morning …

Just as I was preparing to leave, I heard my cell vibrating on the dressing table. I checked the display: Blake.

Leave it.

I paused for a moment, then felt my hand reach out to take the call.

“Hello?” I said, casually as I could.

“Cancel your plans. I’ve got us dinner reservations. I’ll send a cab over for you in half an hour …”

“Um, the thing is,” I interrupted.

He stayed silent, but I could tell he was confused. Any time he’d set a date, I just ran to meet him like an obedient puppy dog. I could hear the faint chatter of some kind of wine bar in the background, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the only reason he was calling was because he’d had one too many drinks and suddenly felt in the mood for some action.

Before now, I’d been desperate for the chance to blow Blake off. I’d imagined myself enjoying it, like it was just another move in our chess game. But now? Now, I just felt angry that he was using me.

“I’m actually busy tonight,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my voice; I didn’t want to show him he’d got to me.

He remained silent. The insane idea that I didn’t just drop whatever I was doing and fall in with his plans was obviously something that Blake Matthews was totally unused to. But the silence made me nervous, too, and suddenly I felt the urge to fill it: to offer him an explanation, not that he deserved one.

“My friend Fallon’s band is playing a show tonight, at Terminal 5,” I offered.

Should I ask him if he wants to come after all?

“Okay. Well, have fun,” he replied.

And then, just like that, the phone went dead.

§

“My name’s Jessica Clark, I should be down on the list?”

The skinny guy on the door with two full sleeve tattoos and thick black glasses (was I
really
the only person my age without a tattoo in this city?) slowly and disdainfully checked over the long, three-page guest list, before finally locating my name and striking it through with a quick, dismissive motion. And as he did so, I noticed that there was a ‘+1’ next to my name, in case I’d decided to bring someone. Not that I had in the end.

What would Blake have made of a place like this?

I thanked the guy on the door, and then weaved my way into the venue. Wow. It was big,
much
bigger than the dive bars I’d seen Fallon play in before now. And it was actually busy
too, already filling up with a painfully cool, carefully-dressed crowd of, yes, tattooed hipsters, all swigging nonchalantly from brown beer bottles. I felt a twinge of worry, in case I was a little over-dressed, but no — I’d pitched my outfit just right.

I was making my way towards the bar, wondering if the venue stocked anything other than beer, when I heard a familiar friendly voice behind me.

“Hey there, stranger!”

I spun round and there was Fallon. I squealed when I saw her and we raced towards each other, hugging and spinning each other round, not caring if we weren’t playing it painfully cool like everyone else in this place.

“Oh my
god
have I missed you,” I said, squeezing her so tight I worried I might hurt her.

“I’ve missed you too,” she grinned, squeezing me right back.

But at the same time, I knew from the little contact I’d had with her over the last week or so that she was obviously having an awesome time on tour, and I couldn’t wait to hear all about her adventures in far greater detail. After all, I was still somewhat used to almost hourly updates about her life via phone call, email and g-chat (not to mention in-person), but since she’d left for tour, I’d only got two (admittedly long) emails, sent during the few times she’d managed to grab a moment to herself.

And I was about to fire a million and one questions at her, when her eyes moved to someone behind me and she began waving and calling to them.

“No way! Josh! Over here! Come say hi!”

I turned around to see who exactly she was waving so madly at, and when I stared into those big brown eyes once again, I felt my heart flip.

No way.

What are the chances!

It was
Josh
, the guy from the Guggenheim, the one I’d made such an ass of myself in front of. I couldn’t quite believe it, but at the same time, I was really glad to get a second chance to be friends. And I guessed the feeling must have been mutual, because when he saw me his face lit right up in a bright, surprised smile.

“Josh, this is Jessica,” Fallon began, still totally unaware that we knew each other. “And Jessica, this is Josh. He used to live in my building.”

“Hey,” Josh said, his brown eyes so unbelievably big and warm behind the tortoiseshell frames of his glasses that they kind of took my breath away for a moment.

“Hello … again,” I replied.

“Again?” Fallon cut in. “Oh wow! I didn’t realize you two knew each other already.”

“Yeah, we’ve kind of met before,” I explained sheepishly. “But only briefly …”

“I gave Jessica my phone number ... and she never called,” Josh added with a cheeky, hard-to-resist smile.

Wow, I can’t believe he just came out with that. Maybe not everyone in the world likes to play games ...

At this Fallon laughed and shook her head. “Well, I’ll leave you to catch up and grab us some drinks from the bar. I’ve got some tickets! It’s only for beer, but hey, it’s free! You want?”

“Thanks,” we both said.

And with that, she was off, leaving me alone with Josh. He was even taller than I remembered, and I had to admit -- even more handsome, too.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t ever call you,” I said, and I realized in that moment that I meant it. “If I’m honest, things have been pretty crazy lately. My head was all over the place.”

“And how’s your head now?” he asked. 

“Clear as day,” I said.

“So, how do you know Fallon? I used to live in the apartment below her. We used to jam sometimes. But the rest of the neighbors weren’t quite so keen on her drum kit ... I moved out last year, when I got this amazing live-work space. But I never saw you
around before?”

“We went to the same college,” I explained. “But I did Interior Design, not Print Making. And we certainly didn’t jam together. Fallon was definitely in a way cooler crowd than me. We bumped into each other again last year, and hit it off.”

“Right, Interior Design. I remember,” he smiled.

I blushed; it felt kind of nice that he’d remembered our conversation.

“Anyway, you look pretty cool to me,” he said, jokingly. “I can’t believe you didn’t run with the cool kids.”

“I’m undercover. In disguise. Don’t tell anyone” I whispered, unable to keep the smile off my face.

He laughed and so did I.

It was infectious. It seemed as if, like last time at the café, Josh exuded this crazy warmth and good humor, wherever he went. It wasn’t so much that he made me laugh, but that he made me feel like I could crack a joke, too.

“So, if I invited you out for coffee again, would you run away this time?” he continued. “Or maybe we could have lunch some time next week? Or what about ... Wait, what’s wrong? Have I said the wrong thing? I’ve pushed it to far, haven’t I?! You’re clearly not a girl that lunches on the first date ...”

I shook my head. There was only one thing in the world that could have pulled me out of my good-humored flirting with Josh. And sure enough, there he was, coming towards me. The last person I’d expected to see in a place like this.

Blake.

He looked so out of place, pushing his way awkwardly through the crowd in his tailored blue suit and cream raincoat, and from the snooty looks he was getting from the hipsters all around him, it was clear they found him just as puzzling as he found them.

His icy grey eyes locked onto mine and he began striding purposefully towards me, just as Fallon returned with our beers.

I stood rooted to the spot. There was
no way
this was going to turn out well. But what could I do? I couldn’t just run away now, could I?

Sure enough, Blake gently took my arm trying to draw me into a private conversation. But I didn’t let him. I was still angry about our phone call earlier, and seeing him here, so out of place, I suddenly felt in charge. 

“Jessica, I’d like a word,” he said quietly but firmly, just to me, completely ignoring Fallon and Josh, who gave each other a ‘who’s
this
guy?’ glance.

I could tell they were both wondering why I would know a slick businessman like Blake, and why in the hell he’d come
here
, to an indie rock show in his suit and Burberry raincoat.

But if Blake was going to be rude enough to ignore the people I was obviously here with, then the only thing I could do was play it super-polite.

“Oh, Fallon, Josh! Meet Blake!” I cooed, as if I hadn’t noticed just how awkward this whole thing was becoming.

“
Of course!”
Fallon replied.
“
Good to finally
meet you
!” She shook his hand, forcing a smile onto her face as the penny dropped. It was obvious I wasn’t the only one pretending to be all sweetness and light; I’d known her long enough to tell that there was something guarded about the tone of her voice.

She obviously doesn’t get a good vibe off him, and I’m not surprised.

“Can I have a word with you? Alone?” Blake whispered, turning his cold grey eyes towards the exit.

“I’m with my friends,” I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral and not show how pissed I was that he’d just turned up here, and was trying to boss me around once again.

“
Please
, Jessica,” he urged, perhaps a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

I looked to Fallon, then to Josh, then back to Blake, and sighed with frustration.

“Excuse me for just a minute,” I told them, before taking his arm and heading out with him in silence, both of us weaving through the crowds of hipsters without speaking, a strange tension building between us with each fresh step we took.

“What do you
want
?” I asked, as soon as we were out on the street.

Now we were alone, I wanted him to see just how angry I was.

“
You
, Jessica, I want you,” he said, taking an urgent step towards me, backing me right up against the cold wet brickwork of the club, his hands reaching for my ass.