My Dark Knight Read online

  “Don’t even put the idea of another man into my head,” he growls. “I don’t want to know who’s touched you – I don’t even want to imagine you having ever been with anyone else. Your mine, do you hear that, Arielle? You’re mine – and you were born to be mine.”

  I instantly regret what I’ve said – it’s made him edgy. His gaze narrows – his green eyes on fire, covetous, greedy for me. I know I have to keep my secrets to myself, or all hell could break loose. I can’t risk letting him find out anything. But it turns me on – knowing his jealous flame is alight. I’m pounding with desire – I squeeze my thighs tightly together as both hands are holding onto my tablet and I don’t want to drop it in the bath. That already happened a couple of weeks ago with this very same scenario – Sex-Skyping is getting to be a regular habit with us. I’m writhing now, squeezing, crossing my legs and clenching myself. I need this release.

  “I want you to come in my mouth,” I carry on in a whisper.

  “Tomorrow night I’ll be back and I’m gonna lick you all over, tease your clit – then I’ll fuck you. Your. Tight. Wet. Pussy is going to Make. Me. Explode.”

  “Max, I’ll be with you in a minute.” I can’t bear it anymore. I set the iPad down on the floor and turn on the faucet of the showerhead. I can hear him moaning now, groaning at the release of his orgasm. I think of his gorgeous face, his dark hair flopping about his defined cheekbones, his huge, smooth cock stretching me open and fucking me. I turn up the power of the water and let it pound my clit. I press the metal on my mound and it’s enough to push me to the edge – the water’s firing inside my slit, shooting at my clitoris like tiny bullets – I start climaxing in a shattering orgasm, rushing through me with continual spasms as the water continues to draw out the intensity of pleasure; my sensitive core coming in undulating waves.

  I finally let go of the showerhead.

  I reach down for my tablet and observe the relaxed face of Max, spent, orgasmed-out, but then my freaking battery goes dead. I set the iPad back down. I lie back in the bath and press my fingers on my clit to draw out the last little ripples of satisfaction.

  I close my eyes and snooze off, the warm water lapping around me in a gentle swell.

  I WAS LOOKING HOT. Really hot. Loved getting ready to go out. That old song of Madonna’s, Secret was playing on the radio, and I was moving my hips to the rhythm, dancing around the room. I checked myself again in the mirror and tossed my teased-up curls about and then ran my fingers through my long, wild blonde hair. Eyes looking like smoldering fires – make-up just right. At least some guys appreciated me. Fuck him! Fuck Brad – I’ll show him. He needs space, I’ll show him goddam space.

  We’d been dating for just a month. Nothing serious had happened. I was still a virgin. But now he was telling me he needed space! I knew it was because of his studies, I knew – med school looming, exams to get through. That, I could understand, but all that studying lately with Alicia – all those all-nighters. I was not some Kleenex to be tossed aside, I was his girlfriend, I told myself. He didn’t want me to cramp his style? Two can play at that game, buddy.

  Julia breezed into my dorm. “Are you ready?”

  “What d’you think?”

  “I think your skirt might be a little short,” she said eyeing up my electric-blue mini, my legs going on forever in high, platform heels.

  I laughed. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

  “You don’t usually wear stuff so...so revealing,” she stammered.

  “I want to look sexy.”

  “You always look sexy, Arielle, you don’t need to try so hard.”

  “All I wanna do, is have some fun,” I sang (a favorite of my mom’s).

  “Come on Sheryl Crow, or we’ll be late. The boys said to meet them at the bar.”

  “So not my thing,” I said, rolling my eyes, “football, frat boys from that dorky college but, hey, who knows? Maybe we’ll have a good time.”

  I WAKE UP WITH A JOLT. The bath water’s tepid. I must have dozed off. I bury my hands in my face as hot tears pool in my eyes. Memories are being unleashed, but I’m not sure why. All this talk lately about keeping my past to myself is making me remember.

  I let the plug out and stand up. I grab a warm towel and relish the cocoon feeling it gives me when I wrap it tightly around my cold body. I wish Max were here. I need him. I need his strong arms to protect me, to envelop me with love.

  I’d completely forgotten about that electric-blue skirt.

  I get out of the tub, take another towel and dry my feet. My tablet’s on the floor, and I take it back to the bedroom and plug it in. My cell phone is sitting on the bed – I pick it up and call.

  “I just want to hear your voice,” I tell my husband-to-be, but it’s just his voicemail. Where can he be? I flop on the bed, slip under the down comforter, and before I know it I’ve lapsed into a profound sleep.

  I WAS LEANING AGAINST the jukebox – lapping up everybody’s stares – all eyes were on me and my sexy dance moves. I’d lost count of how many shots of tequila I’d had. I was licking the salt seductively off my lips, then I tilted my head back to empty yet another glass. The blond guy – what was his name – he had his hand up my electric-blue mini; the other was fisting my hair. The retro music was loud – Snoop Doggy Dog singing intensely about something intense. The football player shouted in my ear, “Fuck, you’re hotter than a bitch in heat,” and then he said to his friend, “we all need to get out of here.”

  I’m suddenly in a lavender field and Max is smiling at me. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “But it already has happened,” I say. “It’s too late.”

  I wake up with a start and feel the small of my back drenched with sweat. The bottom sheet is soaked. I peel off my silk nighty, toss it, and shift my naked body over to a fresh part of the bed. Blurry-eyed, I look at my watch. Two twenty-five a.m. I swivel it around; it’s a Reverso, (another extravagant gift from Max) and the other face, the London-time side, says seven twenty-five. Five hours ahead. Perhaps Max is having breakfast like a true Brit, drinking a cup of tea. Should I call? And say what? My dreams are keeping me awake, but I can’t tell you what they are?

  As if he could smell my angst, Prince comes wagging into the room. His basket is next to the kitchen, but he comes to say good morning every day. Today he’s five hours early. He nuzzles his nose next to my hand, which is dangling over the mattress. Dogs know when things aren’t right – they know.

  “Alright, Prince, but don’t tell Daddy – come on up.”

  He gazes up at me with his almond-shaped eyes as if to say, “Really? Truly?”

  I’ll get in trouble for this. Prince isn’t allowed on the bed, but I’m sad and lonely, so who cares. I pat the mattress and he jumps up excitedly, his windmill tail in motion, digging his paws into the comforter, not believing his luck. Tomorrow I’ll change the sheets so there’s no evidence. He crawls almost on top of me, and I put my arms about his solid black body and squeeze him tight. “Just this once Prince, as a special treat – I could really use a hug right now,” and I kiss his soft, silky ears. I need him close to get through the night. He’s my bodyguard to chase away the bad dreams.

  I fall fast asleep with my doggie-love in my arms.

  “AH, HA! CAUGHT YOU, you naughty boy!”

  I rouse from my sleep and there’s a big commotion going on around me, Prince padding about the bed, wild with happiness. Max has tried to sneak into the bedroom without waking me but got more than he bargained for.

  I look at my watch – 7 a.m. “You’re back early,” I mumble into my pillow, my eyes half closed.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” he replies, planting a soft kiss on my lips, “but it looks as if you got there first – while the cat’s away–”

  “I couldn’t sleep – I needed a black lover by my side. You were gone, so Prince offered himself up.”

  Just then, I hear the elevator door open
and Prince leaps off the bed and into the hallway. Suzie must have arrived to take him on his morning walk. I rouse from my sleepiness and stretch my arms languidly in the air. “I’ve missed you, Max.”

  He throws his raincoat on a chair. “Next time I go, you’re coming with me. I don’t like us being separated.” He moves towards me, his eyes flashing with passion. He strokes my head and then folds me in his strong arms, pressing his face to my throat and breathing me in as if his life depended on it.

  “I felt empty without you,” I whisper. I relax into him, his natural scent is intoxicating, and my heart beats with anxiety at the thought of being away from him again. Ridiculous; it’s been less than two days. I bury my head in his wide, warm chest. He lifts my chin with his hand for a kiss, but I slip away from his clutch. “I’ll be back, hang on a sec,” I tell him, sidling underneath his embrace.

  “Meanwhile, I’m getting straight into bed,” he says.

  I go to the bathroom to pee, freshen up and brush my teeth. When Max tried to kiss me just now I closed my mouth tightly, lips sealed – morning breath, the horror of it. Why is it I always want to be perfect for him? I want to be his princess – faultless, blameless and flawless. I want to reach unattainable heights. Yet at the very same time, I yearn for him to love me just the way I am and for all my faults, even my wrong doings.

  A paradox. I’m asking for the impossible.

  When my teeth are squeaky clean and I’ve washed my private parts in the wonderful bidet that Max had specially installed, I feel ready to come back to bed. I stand at the bathroom door and just survey the scene around me, realizing that my luck is a chance in a million. How many people get to love someone in their lives? I mean, really fall in love, not because of habit, or convenience or security, but for passion – get to experience a real romance? I observe Max lying in bed and imagine there must have been angels fluttering around me that day when I bumped into him at the coffee shop, four months ago. Was Cupid there, himself, with his bow and arrow? What were the odds of that?

  Was Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream sprinkling love dust in Max’s eyes?

  Because what were the chances that a ravishing, sexy Brit with the world at his feet would fall in love with a girl-next-door American woman?

  “What are you staring at?” he asks with a grin.

  “You.”

  “You’re so beautiful, Arielle. Even when you’re all ruffled up and half asleep – especially when you’re ruffled up. You’re like a fluffy chick, all sweet and innocent. Come here, I need to hold you.”

  I scurry over and slip under the comforter. Nestling myself next to him, I wonder where he gets these notions that I’m so unblemished. If he knew otherwise, would he do a one hundred and eighty degree turn?

  He takes me in his arms again and strokes my hair. “You’re my jewel, my angel – your hair’s like spun gold in this morning light.”

  I run my fingers underneath his T-shirt; I need to feel him, to own his flesh and blood, press my fingers against his heartbeat to make sure this is all real. He raises his arms, and I ease the T-shirt over his strong shoulders and fix my eyes on the rise and fall of his pecs moving with the rhythm of his breath. I touch his smooth skin and marvel at the fact that this gorgeous man before me is going to be my husband.

  He gazes at me for a moment, his green eyes tender and warm, and then rests his defined lips on mine, softly at first. Then his tongue begins to tease me, running quietly along my upper lip. I let my mouth open, and close my eyes in response. My tongue meets his and the tips tantalize each other in little flutters, like wings of a humming bird above a flower full of nectar; quivering, flickering. I moan and grip my arms tightly about his shoulders – I can’t be near enough to him – close enough – this is beyond desire; it is an aching need for Max to own me, to possess me. I abandon myself to him completely. I tilt my head back and melt into him; relaxed like a rag doll as his lips devour me, wet and all-consuming into a deep, insatiable kiss – our mouths as one, our tongues tangled in love and want for each other. I pull back for a beat to catch my breath, then nip his bottom lip playfully and open my eyes to observe his all-male beauty.

  “I love you, Arielle. I need you.” He pulls me into him and cups his hand under my butt forcing me even nearer. I feel his solid erection up against my belly and a bolt of desire shoots between my legs, making me moan again. He licks my tongue with fiery lashes, the passion growing as if this kiss were alive – a being with a heart and soul all of its own. “You’re mine, Arielle,” he growls like an untamed panther. “Only mine – you have never belonged to anyone else – you were made for me, God created you just for me.”

  I pull myself up a little higher so that his erection is poised at my entrance. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, even when I didn’t know it,” I breathe through the kiss. “All my unhappiness, my loneliness before I met you was so I’d know what it was to really feel loved. You can’t appreciate true love until you’ve been in a desert, looked despair in the eyes. I don’t want to be like that ever again.”

  “I’ll never let you go, I promise.”

  A hot tear trickles down my cheek, and Max licks it before it falls. We’re now lying side by side, and I feel him enter me slowly. I gasp. I’m throbbing, my nipples hard and rosy. He thrusts himself into me and I cry out at the surprise.

  His eyes flutter half closed in ecstatic reverie and he murmurs, “Jesus, you’re so tight but so warm and juicy – coupled with that kiss – I think I’m gonna come.” He holds his hips still. I can feel the pulse of his cock flexing inside me, stretching me, blood pumping through his taut veins, filling my walls – but he doesn’t come, he has too much self-control. “I don’t want to fuck you,” he whispers, “I want us to make love.” I sense myself shudder at the deliciousness of his lips grazing against my ear, sending shivers all through my body.

  He may have self-control, but I don’t. The shaft of his penis is rubbing delicately against my clit and I start to make little circles tilting upward with my pelvis, my arms hooked about his neck. I can feel it building – the double pleasure of his huge girth inside me pushing all the right places – still motionless – and my clit rubbing against the thick base of his penis – pushing me to my limits.

  Then Max starts licking my tongue again in slow swipes and under my tongue, too, at its sensitive root....faster now – little flicks as if he’s fucking me with it. The sensation is exquisite. My clit is tingling like a thousand little bells – as if there’s a golden thread linking it to my nipples and tongue. Never has a kiss been so sensual. He then presses his thumb on that little space just behind the base of my entrance and I climax in a shudder, riding myself up and down his huge cock, the only movement made by my own friction – he’s still motionless. I’m moaning. He clasps both of his large hands around my buttocks and pulls me on top of him in one smooth movement.

  “That’s right baby, ride that orgasm all the way – ride my big, hard, throbbing cock.” I’m still climaxing around him when he lunges at me from his position underneath. “Arielle—”

  “Max,” I moan. I can feel the zealous spurt of him shoot inside me, squirting into my depths in a hot fountain of desire. Both of us are as one – an extension of that kiss now melded into an orgasmic zenith of emotion.

  Fucking is great, but making love is even better. And that is what I feel emanating from Max’s psyche, his soul – the force and power of pure Love with a capital L.

  We stay like this for a long time. He’s still hard inside me but relaxed as miniscule ripples fade little by little contracting deep inside me. His breath is on mine; he’s still looking into my eyes – the orgasm spent but the love surrounding us like a halo of light. No words are needed for how we both feel. I can behold it in his gaze, and my core is flashing with a radiant energy from within. I am alive. If I were to die right now I would have tasted Heaven on Earth. My gentle smile creeps into a grin, paired with my teary eyes. My emotions are raw and so are his.
Like me, he is vulnerable. He, too, has misty eyes, but a smile is also dancing on his lips.

  We are united in every way.

  The essence of true love.

  5

  A WEEK HAS GONE BY, both of us busy with work but having lunch every day together and then meeting up later at home, where we usually order something in for dinner. In New York City you are spoiled for choice; whether it be Thai, Indian, Chinese, Mexican or Japanese – even Ethiopian; you name it, you can get the best of it all in Manhattan. Sometimes, Max whips up something mouth-watering himself. He has a knack with any type of cuisine, but especially French and Italian. Max’s chef, Vincent, is on vacation.

  I need to start getting used to saying things like, ‘our chef’ and ‘our apartment,’ but it’s still taking a while for it all to sink in. Also, this is not my money paying for all this luxury, so I find it difficult to use the word ‘we’ when it concerns ‘necessities’ that most human beings live quite happily without.

  Max set up a mini movie theatre in the apartment, so we get to watch movies on the big screen and eat popcorn. Occasionally, Jenny’s stepdaughter Sylvie comes over, still painfully shy and only just eighteen. Max refuses to speak French with her, so she’s learning fast. He’s also paying for her to have private English lessons, so movie night is extra tuition as far as he’s concerned – nothing like a good film to make you absorb a language. With a head on her shoulders for anything technical and frighteningly nerdy, Sylvie is being groomed as a future heiress to Finders Keepers – at least that is how it appears to me, although it’s unspoken. Max even wants her to spend some time working with me. He’s set her up in a pretty apartment in Greenwich Village. He suspects that she rarely goes out, and neither of us has seen any evidence of her making friends, hence the choice of Greenwich Village; he thought it would be the right ambience for her to mingle and meet people. So far, she seems to keep to herself, though.