Despite himself, Blake flushes with anger. He turns away from his father. ‘I’ll thank you to stay out of my business. I don’t want to leave everything for her. It is only a fling. Temporary.’
He walks away from his father and stands close to the door. He is so angry at his father’s suggestion to pay Lana off that he barely listens while his father accuses him of letting ‘a woman’ get under his skin. Eventually, he leaves and walks the streets of London for almost an hour. He feels confused and lost. The only thing he knows for sure is that he aches for her. With every fiber of his being, he aches for her.
He tells himself it is just lust. But he knows, he knows it isn’t. It isn’t lust when you want to reach out and wipe away her tears and press her body against your own. He doesn’t just want to fuck her, he wants to hold her after that. She fills the void inside him that has never been filled by the best schools, the most beautiful women, the fastest cars, the most expensive champagnes, the most glamorous parties.
He takes a cab back to St John’s Wood and lets himself in quietly. For a moment he stands at the mouth of the corridor. The living room is dim. Then he walks towards it—his feet soundless on the thick carpet—and stops at the threshold. Only the lampshade by the sofa is lit. She has fallen asleep on the couch. Her fingers are slack and trailing down. There is an empty glass that has rolled away from her. He goes to her. She is unbearably, impossibly beautiful. He puts his hand under her neck and the other under her knees and lifts her. She moans softly, but she does not awaken. He smells the alcohol on her breath.
‘Don’t leave me,’ she mumbles.
He freezes. For a time he is still, but she does not awaken so he carries her to their bed and puts her down.
He bends down and kisses her lips. She is half-asleep, but she opens her mouth and he deepens the kiss. Her hands come up to his hair, her fingers entwine in the silky strands. She moans and arches her body towards him. He supports her body with his forearms and lifts her towards him and begins to suck at her exposed throat.
‘Please, Blake…’ she gasps and molds her body towards his.He lets his mouth trail lower. At the soft swelling where her breast begins he stops and sucks again. This time longer. He will leave his mark on her. She moans with pleasure. He takes his mouth away and looks at the red mark possessively. He feels like an adolescent again.
She is his to mark. He put his mouth on another part of her creamy skin and sucks diligently.
Her hands are moving towards his belt. They are urgent but useless against the metal buckle. She is more than half drunk. He puts his hand into her pajama trousers, slips it under her panties, and touches her between her legs. Her sex is wet and tingling for him. She has never begged him to enter her before. He wants her to.
He rips open her pajama top. A button hits the mirror in the room and makes a sound. She does not hear it.
He grabs the ends of her trouser legs and tugs. They come off and he flings them behind him. He rips her panties. He unbuttons her top and latches his mouth on her nipple. Her head falls back and she sighs with abandonment. He gazes at her body exposed to him, his to do as he pleases with. He has never felt the need to sexually possess anyone like this before. But her he must. She is like a craving. An addiction.
‘Tell me you’re mine,’ he orders hoarsely.
‘I’m yours,’ she says.
‘Beg me to enter you,’
‘Please Blake, enter me. I want you to. Badly.’
‘Open your legs and show me your pussy.’
She opens her legs and he sees how wet and glistening her open flesh is.
He takes his shirt and his trousers off. She watches him from the bed. Her eyes are huge and strange with desire.
He has never seen her like this. It turns him on. He stands a moment longer savoring the way he feels. Hard, ready and so horny. That feeling of animal passion. This is his mate. He owns her. He has paid for her.
He climbs on the bed—the mattress gives under his weight—and enters her. She cries out, and then she is gripping him so hard, her nail dig into his flesh. He lets her climax before he allows himself to. When they are finished she falls asleep almost instantly. He lays his large hand on her stomach possessively. He thinks of his father and of Victoria. He will not ruin his father’s plan. They are also his plans. Soon he will tire of sex with her, he tells himself.
Some deep part of him knows it is a lie, but he goes to sleep snuggled against her warm, soft body, feeling good.
There is still time. Plenty of time to sort it all out.
Twenty four
lake has a business dinner that he expects to run late, Bso Billie and Lana are going to a wine bar that has just opened in Seymour Place. She washes her hair and dresses in tight jeans and the top that Fleur had called basic even though it is rather grand, with lace and pearl buttons down the front. Peter is on holiday and Blake has left strict instructions for her to take a taxi to and fro. Lana goes to see her mother first.