can drop you off at Soho.”
We hailed a taxi, and ten minutes later I was at Sheldon’s.
I let myself in and found him in the kitchen, eating pasta.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“There’s some in the pot for you, sweetie.”
I went over and had a sniff. The delicious saucy aroma made my tummy rumble. “Yum.”
“Have it all. I’m full.”
“You’re such a darling. Thanks.”
After I finished a big plate of pasta, which had me guilting over calories, we headed to the internet to study masks.
“I like the stick mask,” said Sheldon.
“Mm. I like the lacy black one.”
He nodded. “Sexy.” He brought up an image of Venice, where the Grand Canal had a parade of masked and caped characters.
“That is so surreal and seriously beautiful. I want to paint those figures.”
“Many have,” said Shelly, leaning on his elbows. “They’re so enchanting. I’m in love. Let’s go to Venice.”
I smiled at his contagious enthusiasm.
“I think I’ll settle for a black lace number. Simple but sexy. It will go with my new gown.”
Sheldon looked over at my shopping bags, which I’d left on the armchair.
“Oh, do please show.”
I sprang up and opened the box, lifting the red silk gown out of the tissue paper.
“Oh my…” He covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s so Rita Hayworth. It’s gorgeous.”
I placed it in front of me.
“I’ll want pictures, darling.”
I giggled. “A black lace mask will work with that, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. What are you doing with your hair?”
“A stacked bun, I think.”
“That will work. You’ve got a lovely long neck.”
Falling onto the couch, I looked up at him and tears welled up.
“What’s wrong, Penny?”
“He bought me a house.”
“Huh?” His brow pinched. “Fuck. That’s serious. Has he asked you to marry him?”
I shook my head and sniffled. “I wouldn’t anyhow. It’s too soon, and he’s got a few issues.”
“Mm… don’t they all, darling.”
Sheldon poured me a glass of wine. “So, what are the issues?”
“He can’t sleep with me.”
“But you’re having sex, aren’t you?” he asked. “Oh, please tell me he’s really gay.”
I laughed. “No. He’s seriously straight. I meant we sleep separately.”
His mouth stretched into a grimace. “Ouch. I know how that feels, only my lover leaves the house in the middle of the night. I even suggested he wear a balaclava.” He giggled but then went straight-faced again. “Is he having nightmares?”
I nodded. “He’s worried he may hurt me. He thrashes about.”
“Off to a shrink for him.”
“I made him promise me that he’d work on it.”
“And is he?”
“He actually had his first therapy session today.”
Just then my phone buzzed, and we both jumped. I looked down at the screen. It was Blake. “Talk of the devil.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the synchronicity. It wasn’t the only time that had happened. Often when I spoke of him, or even thought of him, he’d call.
“You’re in sync. A sign of true love,” said Sheldon.
I smiled and all the concern of Blake’s issues faded away. All I felt was a burning need to have his hands all over me.
The message read: Where are you?
I replied: At Sheldon’s house.
Can we meet? Tonight?
I looked up at Sheldon.
“He wants to see you?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Let me guess—this is every night so far?”
I nodded again, taking a deep breath. My body was dying to be crushed by Blake’s strong manly body. I was just as addicted as he was.
31
* * *
BLAKE
PENELOPE PERFORMED A SLOW pirouette. The red gown floated in the air and cascaded against her curvy figure like a dream. Her almond-shaped eyes smiled, encased in a black lace mask.
“You look beautiful.” I took her into my arms. “It’s an exquisite gown. A little low-cut.” My finger traced her milky soft cleavage, which prickled against my palm, and traveled to her spiked nipples.
My cock jerked against my fitted tux pants as I pressed against her.
She giggled. “Blake, we probably should go. And it took me ages to dress.”
I ran my hand up her leg to her stockings and above to the naked thigh. “I look forward to seeing you in your garter later on.” I pinched her ass and finished with a visit to her wet cunt. “Penelope.”
A smile touched her beautiful pout. “Yes.”
“You’re deliciously wet.”
“That’s because of the way you’re touching me, and seeing you in that tux isn’t helping.”
I laughed. It was the lightest I’d been all day.
The day hadn’t started so well, though. I’d had a meeting with Peter Barnes, who informed me that Tatiana was indeed working for Dylan again, just as we’d suspected.
“What would have motivated