Maybe I’m just out of practice, I thought as I sat back into the back seat. This could be what I need to turn my thoughts back around.
Apparently Patricia was having the very same idea, her finger pressed down on the control for the privacy screen that separated us from the driver. I looked at her, watching those full lips turn up into a wolfish grin that I’d seen so many times.
Once we were hidden from our drivers’ prying eyes, Ms. Atmore undid her seatbelt and got down onto her knees in front of me, her eyes cast up through those long lashes as her hands began to rove over my thighs, her nails raking over my slacks.
“You haven’t been quite the man they told me you were,” she said, her hand sliding along my inner thigh and up to the bulge of my cock. “You’re so distant… almost like I haven’t been forward enough to keep you entertained.”
Her fingers tugged at my zipper, biting on her lip as she waited to see if I would resist. As much as I wanted to tell her no, I also knew that I had to try and make this date work. If we had a little more adult fun then perhaps I’d be a little less stressed about what my stepsister was doing at that moment.
Patricia slowly pulled my zipper all the way down until my fly fell open, revealing my silk boxer shorts underneath. Once again her hands greedily explored this newly revealed territory, eager to discover if the rumors that had undoubtedly surfaced about me had all been true.
“Good lord,” she gasped as I felt her slide my cock from the confines of my underwear, her hand wrapped around its lengthening shaft as she marveled at the cold steel piercing its head. “I didn’t think you actually had it.”
“There it is,” I said, trying to sound at least somewhat flirtatious as she ogled my dick. “In all its glory.”
“Oh, glorious is certainly a word for it, you naughty boy,” Patricia giggled, chewing nervously on her lip. “Never been with a man with his cock pierced like that… should be loads of fun.”
Her hand began to slowly work me from the tip all the way down to my base, her eyes locked on mine as she began to jack me off. I was surprised at how skilled she was, my cock hardening like a rock in her hand. But despite all of that I still didn’t feel right. Something was wrong.
Whenever I looked down at Patricia I wished that it was someone else—someone I had wanted ever since that night together in that pantry. When I looked into this woman’s eyes I kept trying to picture my Gwendolyn there between my legs, her eyes locked ravenously onto my throbbing member in preparation to slide it all the way back into her throat. But try as I might, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it wasn’t her. It wasn’t my Gwennie.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hand over hers to halt her expert ministrations. “I don’t think that I can do this, Patricia.”
For a long while she stared at me, her mouth agape in what could either have been shock or preparation to suck me off. Either way she did not at all seem particularly thrilled that I’d just refused her attention.
“Are you really telling me no?” she asked, her eyebrows rising in a mixture of incredulity and annoyance. “How in the world does a bloke get his cock played with and then just up and tell a girl no right when she’d about to suck him dry?”
“I just don’t think that this is the right thing to do,” I tried to explain as she—thankfully—released my cock from her tight grip. “You seem like a wonderful woman, and I had a fantastic time at dinner. But I think this is moving a bit fast.”
“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes as she sat herself on the seat opposite mine. “Unbelievable.”
I almost felt bad that I’d refused her, either that or I was ashamed of how soft I’d become since I’d been away. I could hardly believe that I was refusing to get a blowjob just because of one girl. It was ridiculous. Unheard of! Tristan Wolfe hung up on some girl that he’d almost fucked?
But she wasn’t just “some girl.” She was Gwen, the one girl who’d told me no in my entire life. The one girl who wanted her time with me to be special, instead of all the other women who were in it for a good time—to say they’d been done by the son of a royal duke. Gwen valued what it would have been to have slept with me for more than just my name or who my father was. Gwen had wanted me. And I wanted her… at least I did now.
“I’d like to go home,” Patricia said, her tone icy. “I believe that’s more than enough reason to call it a night, I think.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I said, wishing I had less awkward way of saying I was sorry. Patricia could have been the perfect match for me that no longer existed, the Tristan that loved dirty sex with women I hardly knew. But that Tristan died back in Afghanistan. “I really do apologize.”