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Recharged by Lulu Pratt (43)

Chapter 7

BLAKE

 

 

After watching Carrie walk inside, I pull my Aston Martin out onto the street. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes and mind on the road as I slowly navigate my way back to my house.

I just can’t believe how that date went. And not just how it went, but how it ended.

Right from the get go, I could sense the spark. Right from the start, that spark ignited a flame between the two of us that burned brighter and stronger as the night progressed. And as we ate, drank and laughed, I was sure that tonight she would be mine.

And yet here I am, driving home alone.

The funny thing is, now I only want her more. She has this power over me that she is surely aware of. I know she is. She lures me in with her light flirting and playful banter, only to sidestep my advances like a pro. I have never met a woman like her. I am, without a doubt, going to see her again. I have to.

I pull my Aston Martin up to my house, and I have to blink myself back into reality. That drive, one that takes at least thirty minutes, feels like it took ten seconds. The entire way, my mind was occupied with thoughts of Carrie, and even now, I can’t for the life of me think how I managed to get home.

My house is a pretty lush kind of a place. It’s a two-story affair, located just off Beverly Hills. I had the option of living in Beverly Hills, but that isn’t really my scene. The people there are all born into money, and I’ve never really been able to connect with them.

So instead I opted to buy a place that is close enough to carry the same kind of cache as Beverly Hills but houses different sorts. The people I work with remind me that I don’t fit in with them either. Which is fine, as I am doing well enough that I don’t need their connections or their inherited wealth, while I have the drive and intelligence to ensure that I succeed on my own terms.

I’ve always found that’s the problem with coming from nothing. I don’t connect with anyone. Not really, anyway. My high-school reunion confirmed that I’ve outgrown those I grew up with.

That’s why tonight was so unique. I feel like I’ve known Carrie for years, not days. She is from a similar background as me, but like me, she aims to make something better of herself.

Walking into my house, I’m reminded that despite all my money and success, how beautiful my house is, with its modern architecture, artwork, wooden floors and open spaces, I am isolated.

It’s odd, but I can’t help but think of what it would be like if Carrie was here. And not in a one-night stand sense either. But if she lived here. If we were together. Sure, it’s way too soon to have such thoughts, but still, there’s no reason I can’t dream it. Even if it is only for a second.

Those thoughts quickly mutate though. As I make my way to my bedroom, it doesn’t take long for me to wonder what the night may have been had Carrie said yes to coming home with me. Standing at the end of my California king-size bed, I imagine how it would have been to have her here, to have stripped off that black dress she was wearing. To have kissed down the back of her neck, play with her breasts and bend her over.

I can feel my cock growing thick and hard. Still thinking of Carrie, I undo my pants and drop them to the ground. The release is sensational as my hard cock springs forward, already sticking straight up like a rocket.

I sit on the edge of my bed, closing my eyes as I wrap my hand around myself. My cock is thick, and it pulsates in my palm. I imagine myself kissing Carrie, sucking on her nipples and stroking her thighs as I begin to stroke my own cock. My hand is wrapped around its base, and I slowly move it up and down.

I’m going down on Carrie now, licking her folds and sucking on her clit. She is moaning with pleasure and I can taste her excitement. As I do, I continue to stroke my cock. I loosen my grip just enough so my hand can slide all the way up and down the long, stiff shaft. It feels amazing, and I imagine what it would be like if it was Carrie’s hand instead of my own.

Up and down I stroke. I increase the speed as I imagine Carrie sitting on it. I increase the tempo as I imagine her bouncing on it, her tits jiggling. She rides me with full force, moaning, screaming. She loves how big I am. I love how tight she is, how wet she is. I fall on my back, imagining her hands pressed on my chest as she rides me. I reach up and squeeze her heaving breasts.

She tells me she is about to come. A playful smile on her lips and her eyes shining with pleasure. I stroke myself harder. She asks me to come with her. I continue to work myself. Up and down. And then, as she comes on top of me, I explode.

I let off a moan as hot, sticky cum shoots from the end of my cock. I don’t even care about the mess it makes. I don’t even care that my hand stays wrapped around my dick long after I finish myself off. All I care about in that moment is Carrie and how much I want her.

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