Patricia Bloom Nude Novels & Stories

I could see most of the hot tub from her window. Melody and Patterson were in the tub and naked, bathed in the light coming from inside the house. Melody in the flesh was even more awesome, but that was just the appetizer. She moved out of the water and sat on the edge of the hot tub, facing me. Her large breasts barely sagged. The water ran over them, then her flat abdomen, then finally her shaved vulva. Patterson stood in front of his naked mother. He was a stocky kid -- athletic. His cock -- probably bigger than mine -- was rigid, resting in Mom's hand.

His eagle like eyes gawked at her as if she was his prey. "I am done." Lisa ate to her desire and stretched her arms feeling refreshed. She then left the bed and headed to bathroom. After a long a nice bath, Lisa wore Mustard Crepe Plain Balloon Ruffled Dress, which complimented her pale skin. She stepped out of walk in closet and frowned. Brad was sitting on couch with business magazine in his hand- reading it with leisure. His tilted face under the bright sunlight was a beautiful sight for Lisa. He had a different charisma.

After a moment, a series of faint rustling sounds from the other side transmitted thru the mobile in my hands before her voice echoed beside my ears. "Whoa, then congrats, your 'flower' was finally 'watered'! Helga, girl I am so proud of you! You fucking go on and multiply, like literally" Patricia burst out laughing. Her merry laughter echoes in the four corners of the room. "Patricia Beethoven Gimenez! No, no, what if we never use any protection and he has STD’s? I’m doomed!" "Ok, ok," Patricia fake a cough to clear her throat.

Opening her wh*****p, she downloaded the images sent by Collins and scrutinized them. They were images of how Patricia Crawford went in and out of an apartment. She looked like she was being vigilant. One photo showed a burly man with a buzz cut and several tattoos coming out of the same apartment. The next one, the man had grabbed Patricia’s neck and was kissing her right outside the door. Rita chuckled when she went through all the photos. “Well, well, well. What do I do with these??” She asked herself as she selected the photos, clearly in a good mood.

Patricia suggested, her tone nonchalant, as if we were discussing something as simple as changing a lightbulb. I blinked at her. “What?” “I mean, take the lead,” she clarified with a shrug. “Though, I’ll admit, it doesn’t always work.” She hesitated, her voice dropping into something more vulnerable. “I tried that once—with my ex-husband. I went all in, walked into his room completely naked.” She let out a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t turned on. Instead, he threw a blanket over me and told me to leave.” The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of her story settling over us.

Benjamin stated and the rest of them stare at Patricia while she stood still hardly covering herself with a towel and water dripping from her head to foot. "What the fuck." I exclaimed and immediately covered the others view with my body while she remained frozen in her position and almost drop her towel. "Excuse us." I stated and dragged her back in her room. "Patricia." I glared at me. "I didn't realize we have visitors." She replied and smiled at me. "What were you planning to do?" I studied her and she drop her towel exposing her naked body. "Walk around the house naked and find out how much self-control you have left." She admitted. “So?”

“With whom?” “ With Me,” Patricia said. There was silence again. “You were involved with Ace Blacke?” “I was. Recently. And I’m pregnant.” “Are you willing to go public?” “Yes. But only if you use the photos and the test results. I want it all out. Nothing left out.” “Can you prove the pregnancy?” “I took another test this morning,” Patricia said. “It’s dated. I can send a photo of it.” “And the affair?” “I have photos. From the London hotel. Clear and personal.”

“I’ll fix this. I swear.” A knock cut through the moment. She pulled away and wiped her tears as I stood and stepped out of the room. Patricia was waiting in the hall, her face pale. She held out her tablet. “It’s bad,” she said. I took it—and froze. Billionaire’s Lust: The Scandal That Has the World Talking My heart stopped. The screen showed images of me and Hyacinth—blurred footage, but recognizable. Our faces. Our bodies. Us. How the hell did it escalate this fast?

Joel placed it gently on the table. Patricia looked down. Then froze. The photograph showed a woman. Standing outside a shopping mall in Nairobi. Beautiful. Elegant. Perhaps in her late forties. Patricia's pulse exploded. The resemblance was undeniable. The woman looked exactly like the older version of the face in Rose's photograph. Exactly. Patricia slowly raised her eyes. "What is this?" Joel's voice became unusually quiet. "That photograph was taken last month." The cafeteria disappeared. The world disappeared. Everything disappeared.

Silence. Then a voice. Cold. Broken. — It's a bit late, isn't it? I close my eyes. I inhale slowly to give myself courage and I enter. She is there. Sitting at the edge of the bed. Wrapped in a blanket. Staring blankly. Her features drawn. Not made up. Not styled. Not masked. And she has never been so beautiful. Not because of the suffering. But because of the truth. She is real. And I come with my ruins.