Authors: Rosemary Rey
The Pentagon Group
By Rosemary Rey
Published by Rosemary Rey at Amazon
Copyright 2014 Rosemary Rey
Published by Rosemary Rey
Cover Artist: Rosemary Rey
Editor: Rosemary Rey
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
To all the readers of romantic erotica with a twist, I enjoy writing the story of Perla and Matt, two people with a deep desire to love and be loved, but are flawed and awkward in their approach.
I love reading books with cliffhangers, and rush to buy the next book in the series. This series is a labor of love, and I took my time to ensure I give the best I have.
I hope you enjoy the story. Please help me promote the book by leaving a rating or review in all the venues which assist you in determining your selection of a book. It helps me out as an author to continue bringing stories.
Enjoy . . .
“Come on, pick up . . . Fuck!” Of all days for him to let the call go on a continuous ring; the day I’ve lost the love of my life. I prayed Zipper didn’t ignore my call today. He couldn’t put me off today.
“Asshole!” I yelled as I hung up. Wanting to fling the phone at the wall, embed it deeply just like the pain piercing my heart. I needed him. I never thought I’d be the one needing one of the boys. They’d always come to me to give advice or fix something, even a gunshot or a few knife wounds which I never questioned. All of us made a pact to go straight, but I failed. I didn’t walk the narrow path in a straight line because I used her. I wanted her so badly, and I would’ve done anything to have her. Fuck the damn Inn. I didn’t care if we finished Pentagram; the hotel, convention, and residential property we’d been planning to build for years. It wasn’t my dream. My dream was her—Perla.
Perla Mercurio changed everything for me. Her name means ‘pearl’ in English, and just like the jewel, she was a rare find. I had closed the door on love after my divorce. I only wanted to find a chick and fuck her until she continued to feel my dick inside her long after I’d pulled out. Perla was different. She was sweet, inside and out. Her smile was infectious. She was also tough and strong. I admired her work ethic, responsibility and care for her friends and family. Mostly, Perla was sexy. Soon after we’d both come in each other’s arms, I’d want her again. I needed her touch, kisses, smell, and love. Perla was everything I’d create in the perfect woman.
Whenever the memory of our time threatened to fade away, I’d pull out my phone and scroll through pictures I’d secretly taken of her doing the most mundane things: her cooking and cleaning up the kitchen, her heavy titties straining through my white t-shirt; or sleeping in bed, relaxed and with the tiniest hint of a smile after we’d fucked to exhaustion. No, we didn’t just fuck. We loved hard. My dick jumped at the memory of her body, the heat and tightness of her soft pussy. I couldn’t lose her over my business. Shit, I needed her back.
The memory of the last time we made love was seared in my memory. She’d awoken me in the morning before leaving for a few days. I hated when she left, but she always gave me a good fuck before she departed. It was like she didn’t want me to forget her or our time together. I could never forget her. During those days and nights apart, I felt lost without her beside me. When I could roll over and climb on top of her, sticking my permanently hard dick inside of her sweet, willing pussy. Tuesday morning, Perla beat me to the punch. She climbed on top of me, grinding her creamy little mound over my instantly hard cock. She kissed, licked and nipped my lips and jaw to wake me. The tip of my dick found its way to her hot, tight opening and fused itself in place.
When she reared back and down onto my swollen shaft without our hands guiding me in, I felt like it was home—it would always find its way back to her. We both moaned at the sensation. We fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Every time, we made love was like losing my virginity over and over again. The nervous, feverish beginning and the euphoric ending of our lovemaking was all I ever dreamed about in my slumber and thought about during my waking moments. I couldn’t get enough of her body, and I couldn’t get enough of her taking pleasure from mine.
Perla rode me gently, holding onto my arms, guiding my hands to the places she needed me to touch. I gripped her beautiful breasts in my hands, squeezing her nipples between my fingers or rubbing her nipples on my palms. I loved stroking her clit as she writhed and wriggled on top of me. The pressure of her body, the feel of her soft skin caressing mine, and the tightness of her pussy were overwhelming. I felt I couldn’t contain myself before she’d gotten her fill of me. I always wanted her to get her pleasure first. I knew she needed to get her fill and find her release. Perla was like a starved creature, and it was my job to keep her satiated. I watched her beautiful face as she came apart over me.
In the moment, flushed from desire, she looked sexy, innocent, and vulnerable. For a split second, a flash of guilt coursed through my heart, knowing I used her. It was selfishly easy to dismiss the remorse because I had her in my life. And I’d dismiss it by taking hold of her lush hips and grinding her down into me as I plunged upwards into her, seeking my own release. Her moans and soft cries sparked the intensity of my thrusts. I was torn between wanting to come and giving her more pleasure, drilling into her how much I desired her. When she had her second orgasm, I allowed my own release. She begged me to come, falling onto me as I continued to pound into her. Our sweaty bodies pressed against each other until I spurted my seed deep inside of her, panting until our heartbeats decelerated. I could still remember the feel of her pussy pulsating around my cock. I held her tight until she forced me to let go. I never wanted to let her go. If anything, I only wished to hold on tighter and keep her near me for as long as possible.
Before Perla, I had women who wanted me to do everything in the sack. I didn’t mind it. I liked the control. I liked giving a woman pleasure and taking my own. With other women, I was rough and commanding. However, my first time with Perla, she fucked me first. She took control by climbing on and riding me until she came, only then did she allow me to take my pleasure whichever way I wanted. Her control set the tone for the rest of our relationship. Perla led my dick around like a puppy on a leash. She was so self-assured, confident in her body, with the exception of those times when she felt insecure about her curves. Her full, lush curves were exactly what I needed near me, on me, and beneath me. She knew how to work every inch of her thick, soft body, and she intuitively knew how to elicit my pleasure.
I thought I’d found my match, but I realized I was a lightweight in the sexuality ring. Perla constantly surprised me with her sensuality and kink. When I saw the burlesque fans in her studio, I learned she acquired her sensuality not just from her formal dance training, but by dancing burlesque in Vegas. She knew how to move her body. I saw it when she danced seductively for her friend at the club. Perla carried her body flawlessly; straight back, an achingly slow, feminine walk with a sway in her hips. She could eat a man alive with a look.
When I entered the examination room the first time we met, she looked at me from head to toe and back again. She unabashedly lingered over my body and stopped me in my tracks. I could barely grasp my bearings. Neither of us moved for a beat. I had to gather all the strength I could muster to talk and move. I was perplexed by her naiveté of her effect on men, arguing she couldn’t ‘see’ how men looked at her. With time, I believed her. I noticed whenever we’d walk in public how men would look at her, and she never glanced or turned her head in their direction. She devoted her attention to me, and I savored her loyalty. I needed her faithfulness. Without it, I couldn’t make a commitment to her. My heart told me to make her mine.
Perla owned her body and knew how to work it to her advantage, even if it was unconscious. And she owned my body. I’d let her take control and do whatever she wanted to me. I trusted her with my life and I wanted whatever pleasure and pain she wanted to give me; like when she tied me up and held me off longer than I’d ever thought I could go. I’d been waiting for her to take more control over me. I thought I was dominant in the bedroom, but I learned I could relinquish power, and by doing so I still dominated. I was by no means submissive. However, we easily switched the roles and were comfortable doing so. I craved more of what she had to offer. Just when she was pushing through the boundaries of our passion, she found out the truth about me.
Even after obtaining the critical information needed to finish the Pentagram project, I never intended to let her go. I claimed her as mine. I knew she was different from other women, and I couldn't possibly allow Brady to take the reins and entice her to give him the keys to Liberty Inn. I wanted her as soon as I saw her standing in my examining room, in little bike shorts, her hips were wide and her ass was big and round. I imagined her thick thighs hugging my hips while I bent over her and thrust deep inside her. ‘She’s a patient.’ I had to keep reminding myself. I remembered every moment of her visit: when she let her long curly hair cascade in front of her shoulders and my dick jumped; when she bent over so I could feel her spine and my body shivered; and the instant when she slipped into my arms and my hand was so close to her breast, fighting against rubbing my thumb over her hardened nipple. I had to leave the room quickly to mask the hard-on she triggered. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaning in, kissing her deeply, and tasting the syrupy sweet coffee scent of her mouth. In an instant, knowing I affected her, I knew she was mine.
I recognized I could have her, if I wanted. And I wanted. I'd never fucked a curvaceous woman before Perla. The tall, waif like women who were bone and silicone paraded themselves around me, and I’d indulged. Under peer pressure, I kept up appearances for my friends who always had a vapid bimbo on their arm. Even marrying my first wife, a tall and lean former model, was for everyone else, disregarding my true desires. Sonia was beautiful, but I soon realized underneath the pretty package was ugly filler. Because of my upbringing, I tried to make it work. Thankfully, I’d never had children with Sonia. I married her because I wanted a family, but she didn’t. Once I learned she was using me for what I could give her, I divorced her. Despite the iron clad prenuptial agreement Sonia signed, I was able to pay her off with a little extra financial incentive, preventing a lengthy court battle. I washed my hands of her the second the last dot was on the divorce papers.
I was told not to fuck up my relationship with Perla. Ever since my sister, Stella, met her and experienced the selfless acts Perla did without even thinking twice, she wanted Perla in my life. Perla attended dinner at Stella’s home and cleaned up the entire kitchen, alleviating my sister’s need to clean after creating a large meal for us. Sonia would’ve never stepped up or offered to help. Stella said Perla was a gem to be treasured. I vowed to her I’d keep Perla happy and safe. I didn’t get the chance to introduce her to my parents who’ve yet to return north from their winter pilgrimage to Florida. Their social circle decided to stay a few extra weeks in Florida, which delayed their return to Massachusetts. I had these grand plans of introducing Perla to my parents during a family dinner in the next couple of weeks, but may never happen.
I smacked my head to feel the pain somewhere other than in my heart. The pain was sharp and nagging. I’d never felt this way before, and I understood how people would prevent themselves from falling in love again. The thought of losing her was actually worse than I could’ve ever imagined which was why I was never honest with her about Pentagon; the business my friends and I created when we were just kids. It was for fun. Privileged kids making money was the business plan. Our parents didn’t know about the investments and businesses we created until we went to college. They were pleasantly surprised and proud we incorporated our ventures. We utilized our collective knowledge and experiences to produce various businesses and diversified our investments. When our parents didn’t need to pay for the last couple of years of college and graduate school, they realized Pentagon was a serious endeavor. For those of us without trust funds, we were able to care for our families and employ family and friends in our businesses. Pentagon became an irrevocable responsibility. I was beholden to, not just Pentagon, but my friends. The only business I maintained separately from Pentagon was my medical practice, which was lucrative on its own.
My friends found Perla to be sweet and funny. I knew they’d like her. I worried they’d like her too much. The long gazes and stolen looks weren’t lost on me. I’d seen three out of the four friends lick their chops when she walked through the door. I could’ve killed Brady when he hugged her. I knew it was a cheap way of pressing her body against his, catching an innocent feel of her sumptuous curves. He’s a breast man, and Perla had them in spades. Brigit, his girlfriend, lacked the natural, soft curves I knew he preferred. I knew Perla wasn’t interested. I could see how she stiffened at his touch, which gratified me to know he didn’t stand a chance. I had to restrain myself from beating the fuck out of Brady for holding her a bit too long.
When Kent did the same, I was sure I’d have a psychotic break and surgically cut both of their balls off. My suspicion of infidelity by my ex-wife left me insecure of Perla’s feelings for other men. I wasn’t proud of how I claimed Perla when some guy stood too close to her, and she called me out on my shit. Perla never gave me any indication she was interested in another man, but I’d feel insane with rage whenever I perceived other men to be a threat to my relationship with her. She assured me I was the only man for her.
The best day of my life was when I told Perla I loved her. I met her father and sister for the first time on her friend Chelsea’s wedding day, and they were really kind people. It was no wonder where Perla got her kindness and attentiveness. Her father was a gentle man, who obviously loved his daughter. Her sister warned me she would cut my balls off if I hurt Perla, and I promised her I wouldn’t. I had planned on telling her about the whole sordid Pentagon situation. It was early enough in our relationship for honesty to soften the blow, but I couldn't. I missed her tremendously when I went away on business. I wanted one last time with her.
I was on my best behavior the night of her best friend’s wedding. I restrained myself from taking her somewhere, bending her over, lifting up her dress, ripping off her panties, and prodding my hard dick into her fluttering pussy. I needed her desperately. I profoundly missed her, and the only thing I could do was be balls deep in her delicious lips. Then I told her I loved her and she responded in kind. I made my decision right then that I wouldn’t tell her or let her find out about my part in Pentagon’s acquisition of Liberty Inn.