Pearl Trilogy: Shimmers Of Pearl Part 12

I don't respond but I can imagine. After all, Alexandre is his son.

"He was witty, charming, very charismatic. Clever, too. He could walk into a room and everyone would pay attention. People wanted to please him, be loved by him."

"But he was violent."

"Not at first. They had several happy years. He was Bipolar, you know, what they used to refer to as manic-depressive.' Everyone is affected differently. Some Bipolar people lead almost normal lives and are p.u.s.s.ycats; never show an aggressive side at all. Others...well. When my father was nice he was great, very loving. But when he was in a manic state, he became a complete monster."

"A real Jekyll and Hyde?"

"He was violent and very s.e.xual if he drank. Drinking sent him over the edge."

"And that's when he s.e.xually abused Sophie?"

"Yes."

"And you, too?"

Alexandre lowers his head and nods. Pain is wavering between us, filling the room. "That's when Sophie knew she had to take me away. She could deal with him but when he started on me, she lost it. That's why she stabbed him in the groin. She was outraged that he could sink so low."

I lay my hand on his. "It must have been h.e.l.l for you, I'm so sorry."

"I blanked it out mostly. The same thing happened to me as to you...just blacked my mind from the whole ordeal."

But I know what he is telling me is not completely true. Muscles have memories. When we first started spending nights together, when Alexandre was fast asleep, I would cuddle into him in the spoon position, me behind. A couple of times he woke in a panic, elbows and knees crashing everywhere, flailing his legs and arms about. Someone edged up behind him still means only one thing: s.e.xual abuse. My heart aches for him so badly. What happened to me was horrific but at least it wasn't betrayal of the first degree.

"Didn't your mother realize what was going on?" I ask, tears pooling my eyes.

"She was in total denial."

"Does that make you angry?"

His face is impa.s.sive, although his calm demeanor doesn't fool me for a second. "I was too young at the time to be angry. But Sophie still feels bitter towards her. She has tried; gone through G.o.d knows how much amount of therapy, but Sophie will never be able to truly forgive her. That's why I've never let on to her about the murder. I couldn't trust her a hundred percent."

"Just awful to have that treachery come from your own father. I can't even imagine." I bring Alexandre's hand up to my face and rest my lips on his long fingers.

He frowns and says, "Have you noticed that whenever they deal with incestual abuse in films or novels they always have a step-father or step-brother? Never blood parents or blood siblings. Why? Because it's such a taboo topic that n.o.body wants to talk about it, let alone believe it. It's such a shameful subject. I've felt shame all my life. Illogical but that's how it is for victims, I don't need to tell you that."

"I know," I say quietly.

"But you know what, Pearl? I'm not the only one. Believe it or not, there are lots of us out there. More than anyone would dare to imagine. Fathers f.u.c.king their daughters and sons, brothers, uncles, even mothers doing it to their sons. And within wealthy, privileged families, too this disease isn't a cla.s.s, race or monetary issue. It's happening all over the world even in nice, tidy, middle cla.s.s households."

I know that he's right, although it seems impossible to accept, but it's a vicious, insidious truth eating into society, ruining many people's lives - sometimes forever.

"Why wasn't your father on medication? Lithium or something?" My question seems redundant, ridiculous, but Alexandre is discussing this, finally. He is trusting me with his dark, buried secrets and opening up. I know how painful that is.

"Oh, he was on medication at the beginning, but pride got the better of him. He felt he didn't need it, that he could fix himself. Of course, he couldn't. When he came out of the manic episodes he could never explain why he'd done what he did, and he'd always feel guilty, sad and remorseful. My mother always used to end up forgiving him."

A spike of fury stabs me in the heart. How could she do that? Forgive such a monster? But I remain calm. Alexandre loves his mom, however sick she makes me feel. I ask simply, "So what tipped her scales, finally?"

"The violence. He was raping her, repeatedly. His condition got worse and worse. He was beating her up, continually. Broken ribs. Nose. You name it. That's when she decided to leave. She tried, once, but she ended up in hospital. He said if she tried again, he'd kill her next time. And us, if he found us we were in hiding by that point. That's when my mother hatched the plan to get rid of him, once and for all. But deep down inside? She's still in love with him, even now. The good side of him. She kept the teeth and stuff to remind her that he was dead but she also has photos of their happy times in a secret box in the attic. She sneaks up there, sometimes, when my step-father's out of the house, or she pretends she's spring cleaning."

"Pretty screwed up, huh?"

"You bet."

As much as I hate her for what she did to Alexandre by not protecting him, I do identify with Alexandre's mother. Falling in love with someone you think is the perfect man and then he turns? That must be hard. What would I do if Alexandre suddenly changed his colors? Women all over the world face this predicament, especially if they have kids. It's easy to spot an abusive man as an onlooker, but when he is living with you every day and you love him? Not so much.

I look at my fiance and wonder. What would I do? Because the truth is, Alexandre's dominance turns me on. It's only in small ways that he demonstrates it and he has never, ever made me feel scared of him physically, but I do enjoy being beneath him (no pun intended). I know it's crazy but being submissive makes me feel s.e.xier and relieved that I don't have to make all the decisions he can take command. But it also causes me to feel frustrated with myself, as if I'm putting the clock back on women's rights by a hundred years.

We sit there in silence. I know this must be the first time he has really opened up to someone about his past. He's been carrying this all on his own shoulders. No wonder he has been so protective of Sophie. She's the only one who has been through h.e.l.l and back with him. She truly knows him. I think of how understanding he was about what happened to me, horrified that I'd even considered that it had been my fault.

I get the feeling that he is all talked out. He's revealed so much about himself, laying his wounds open to the elements. It's time to change the subject. I slip my hand under his T-shirt, maneuver myself so my head is on his stomach, look up at him and say in a soft, seductive voice, "I had an erotic dream about you when I was in Hawaii."

He narrows his green eyes that seem to be twinkling with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Oh yeah, you mentioned you had a little secret. Tell me about it."

"I dreamed that you were spanking me."

He gives me a wry, wolfish smile. "And?"

"I woke up the next morning, soaked between my legs, nursing a post-o.r.g.a.s.m after-glow. After-shock, more like. Pretty high on the Richter scale, it was. The truth is, what you did in the dream really turned me on."

He licks his lips. He's the wolf and I'm Red Riding Hood. "Is this an invitation?"

"I'm curious," I whisper stroking his navel.

"You girls have been reading too many erotic novels. You think you want it but, in reality, it would freak you out."

"I might. I might love it. I did in my dream."

"Because it was a fantasy, baby. Some women fantasize about being raped but would be horrified if it happened in real life. I don't need to tell you that, of all people."

"I enjoyed my little adventure with Alessandra, though."

"Because she's a woman. You knew you were equals in strength. Neither was the dominante."

"Oh, I don't know, she wielded that little whip with panache and relish," I joke, remembering that mad evening of lesbian bondage as if it only happened yesterday, although I realize now that she really did take advantage of me. She sensed that I was weak and vulnerable and honed in on me.

Alexandre's eyes scan me from head to toe and settle on my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I know this conversation is turning him on, even if he won't admit it. I add, "I'm just curious, that's all, about a little BDSM."

"So am I."

My eyes widen. "Really?"

"Of course. But I would never act on it."

"It wouldn't mean that you were like your father, Alexandre. Not if it's consensual and both parties are up for it."

He runs his fingers along my collarbone. "I wouldn't dare, Pearl."

"Why not?"

"What if I liked it? What then? What if I got a taste for it and it took me over?"

"It wouldn't."

"Don't be so sure," he tells me with a dry smile. "I might develop an addiction for putting you over my knee. Whipping that wet little p.u.s.s.y of yours. Whipping it, then sucking it, then f.u.c.king it."

I can feel moisture flush through my hot kernel.

"Enough of this conversation, cherie, it's dangerous. Although, I have to admit, it's a good distraction from our dilemma." He rests his hands on his huge hard-on. "And you've got me in the mood again."

"To f.u.c.k me?" I purr, stroking him through his pajama bottoms, feeling that comforting ridge that never lets me down.

"No, baby, you know the rules."

I squeeze him a little. "But my gynecologist said it was fine to have intercourse! Only if I was spotting was it risky. She said-"

"I don't care what she said. I'm going by the Indian woman's advice. Delicious s.e.x comes in many forms; it doesn't have to involve penetration. It's like martial arts - training with your hands tied behind your back your footwork gets better, so do your kicks."

"Do you know anything about martial arts?" I ask, running my hands along up his solid thighs he must have gotten those sinewy muscles from some kind of hard training.

"A little." He winks at me.

"By the time we have s.e.x I'll be desperate."

"You'll be like a virgin on our wedding night. I'll f.u.c.k you then. When is our wedding, by the way?"

"It's a surprise. Just make sure you don't double-book. Keep your calendar open until the end of February, at least."

"From now on, cherie, you are my calendar. You take top priority."

"What about your business?"

"We're going to be even richer."

I raise my eyebrows. "What have you got brewing?"

"You disapprove of video games so I won't tell you."

"Video games?"

"You see, I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Okay, tell me. You know I'm not a video game kinda girl but I do respect the creative process that goes into them."

"As well as that side of things, I'm not selling HookedUp to Sophie, after all. She simply can't afford to buy me out she pulled out of our deal at the last minute. We might both sell at a later date strike while the iron's hot. You can be a lady of leisure if you like, Pearl."

I feel relieved that the family business hasn't broken up because of me. I think back to our other conversation, fondle his c.o.c.k and say, "If you spanked me, Alexandre, tell me how you'd do it."

He strokes his thumb languidly over my lower lip and I suck on it, letting my teeth graze across the ball of his thumb, flickering my tongue on his shiny square nail. He takes my other hand and presses it against his erection.

"See how hard you get me, Pearl, lying against me with your pregnant t.i.ts, those nipples like silk bullets? But you're wrong if you think I'd spank a woman with my child inside her."

"Please, just humor me. Just pretend. Tell me how you'd do it." I walk my fingers under his PJ's and squeeze his p.e.n.i.s, feeling the throb of it in my fisted hand.

"I'd bend you over my knee with my arm over your shoulder so you were locked into position and couldn't wriggle away. With my right hand I'd stroke your hot little p.u.s.s.y-pearlette, tickle it, tease it until it was glistening wet. Until it was begging me for more."

I run my tongue along my lips and stroke the length of his smooth erection, softly. He bucks his hips up a little so I can roll his pajamas down, and I hear his quiet moan.

He talks on in his deep voice, "Once you were really aroused, I'd bring my flat palm down hard on your a.s.s with a stinging slap. It would shock you, might even hurt you a little, but it would also make you want more. Then I'd tap your hot, juicy little pearlette so gently, letting my fingers dip inside."

I grip him harder and begin to jack his c.o.c.k up and down, concentrating on the crown of it, teasing the bulbous tip.

"Then I'd slap you again, this time the tips of my fingers would land on your p.u.s.s.y. You'd be moaning for more. I'd plunge my fingers inside. Then slap you again with my other hand. Then stroke you softly. You'd be going crazy because my rhythm would change. You wouldn't know if you'd get the tease or the slap. Then I'd throw you on the bed and f.u.c.k you so hard from behind while your own fingers played with your c.l.i.t. I'd ravage you like an animal. Bad boy style. Play the ruthless, selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Girls like that. Pump your p.u.s.s.y until it was numb. I'd f.u.c.k your a.s.s off, thrusting in and out till I came really hard deep inside you, emptying all my seed. Then I'd pull out before you had a chance to come."

He's really rock solid now and I'm soaked hearing him describe this particular brand of torture, my c.l.i.t pounding with arousal.

He's grinning now, enjoying this game. "You'd be confused, cherie. Almost in pain, but wanting more. I'd leave you there for a few minutes. You'd spread your legs begging for me to come back."

I lick my lips. "Yes, I would."

"I'd spank you once more, just so you'd know who was boss. Then I'd turn you over. I'd f.u.c.k your c.l.i.t with the tip of my c.o.c.k till you screamed. Then I'd enter you again. You in the missionary position. But really slowly and gently, this time. I'd cup your a.s.s with my hands tightly so it was all mine, bringing it as close to me as possible. I start a slow f.u.c.k, hauling your peachy a.s.s up towards me with each thrust. My pubic bone would be rubbing on your c.l.i.t, or I'd change my position so the root of my d.i.c.k would ma.s.sage your c.l.i.t - and my c.o.c.k would be pressing against your secret places, those places that drive you wild. I'd keep my motions as rhythmical as a metronome, the thing musicians use to keep the beat..."

I feel I'm about to come just listening to his description.

"Come here, Pearl," Alexandre grabs me about my waist and maneuvers me so I am above him, my Venus on his face, my b.u.t.t in the air, doggy style. He flickers his tongue up beneath me, lapping at my opening - he's groaning. "f.u.c.k you're wet," he murmurs.

We commence our 69. I wrap my lips about his steel rod and start sucking the tip and then put as much as I can into my mouth, sucking in like a vacuum, riding my head up and down, letting my mouth f.u.c.k him as if I were mounting him. It's hard to concentrate because his tongue is doing magical things to me, also sucking in a vacuum, drawing out my juices.

My eyelids flutter I'm entering another realm. "Alexandre..."

His hands are clamped on my thighs so I can't escape not that I want to. He's pulling my groin closer to his face and taking me whole, f.u.c.king me now with his tongue. Then with his right palm, he brings it up between my legs and cups my mound, keeping the flatness of his hand hard against my c.l.i.t and rubbing in small circles. His tongue lashes at me from behind as I relish the pressure of his hand on my c.l.i.t...aah...Incredible.

I compress my lips around his broad length and fist my hands about the root....there's too much of him to fit in my already stretched mouth. I can feel him thicken...

"Jesus, your wet, sweet-tasting p.u.s.s.y is driving me wild," He groans. The throbbing expansion of him inside my mouth is giving me all the clues I need...he's going to come any second.

I grab his hand and push it even harder against my c.l.i.t and start coming in a powerful rush. His hand is moist from my oozing and I slap my groin into his palm, my mouth trying not to leave his c.o.c.k I need to keep the pressure up. He needs me but my o.r.g.a.s.m is making me selfish. "Aah, baby, I'm coming so hard," I cry, releasing my own hand from his.

Whorls of bright colors spiral in my brain as intense spasms crash through my core. I tighten my lips about him and he's coming too, spurting inside my mouth. I swallow eagerly, sucking it all in.

"Je t'aime, Pearl," he groans. I love you.

"Moi, non plus," I scream out, aware I'm quoting Jane Birkin in the song and what I've said is mad nonsense...'me, neither' is the translation.

He pushes my legs further apart, holding his tongue flat against me as my aftershocks fade slowly, my o.r.g.a.s.m riding on its vibrating plateau. Alexandre can read my body like a memorized book he always knows what to do, always senses when I need extra pressure or when I need stillness. It's as if he has studied the art of lovemaking somewhere along the line. He knows when to f.u.c.k hard and when to be gentle. When to be a pirate, and when to be a gentleman. Right now, his tongue is motionless just what I desire. As my climax shimmers like the glistening pearl he tells me that I am, I collapse my face into his crotch, licking all the droplets of c.u.m from there and his solid thighs. Whoever imagined that carnal l.u.s.t could be so beautiful...

I am totally spent.