Page 45 of Solomon’s Temple

“Mmmm,” I moaned, hips moving in circles and gaining a rhythm. I could feel myself on the brink of a climax, and he still didn’t stop me. I felt like a horny dog humping his lap, but at this point, it was too late.

Then . . .

He pulled those soft lips away from me, kissing my jawline and neck until he whispered deep and softly in my ear. “I smell her cumming for me. Let it go, mamas. I hate leaving food on my plate. This is the first and last time I’ll ever let it go to waste.”

Shit.

“Lo, baby,” I breathed out as my forehead landed on his shoulder.

He growled into my ear, making me move faster against him. “Do your thing, mama. I promise before the ink dries, you gon’ wish you had been patient.”

That growl, those words, and the friction had my body vibrating from the climax that ripped through me.

How the fuck did he do that?

Why did I just do that?

Oh, my goodness. I’m a thirsty, horny bitch.

My cheeks heated from embarrassment as I kept my head tucked in the crook of his neck, trying to slow my breathing. He rubbed my back in circles while kissing my shoulder.

“You good?” he asked after a moment of silence passed. I shook my head. “What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.” His voice was soothing.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be. You needed that, and before I let that H&M shopping nigga handle that, I knew I would have to accommodate you somehow.”

I lifted my head with a smile on my face, but kept my head low, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I don’t know how you’re going to deal with me. I’m a mess.”

“My mess.” He placed his finger under my chin to lift my head. “My beautiful mess to keep it a buck. Don’t sweat it, baby. Big Homie ain’t through with me yet.” He pecked my lips then lifted from the chair, still holding on to me. “Let’s get cleaned up. The chef will be here in another hour.”

I nodded, and he carried me all the way up to my room. When he set me on the bed, I could see the wet spot I left behind and that thick log straining to get out of those briefs and joggers he wore.

“I can take care of that for you,” I told him.

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss my lips. “You’ve done enough, my love. Get showered and dressed. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I smirked and watched him walk out of the room.

Way to go, stupid. With your freak ass.

An hour later, I was dressed in a simple black maxi dress and black sandals. I pulled my hair up in a messy bun since we would be staying in for dinner. I headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where Solomon told me to meet him.

When I entered, Solomon and the chef stood at the kitchen counter looking over some paper.

Before I could announce my arrival, Solomon’s eyes came to me, and I could see a hint of lust in his eyes. He lifted his palm to summon me, and I walked over with a smile.

He dropped a kiss on my lips. “You look beautiful.”

I blushed. “Thank you.”

“Baby, this is Chef Marcille Giani. He’s going to help us prepare our meal for this evening. Chef Giani, this is the beautiful Temple.”

“Pleasure to meet you, mia signora,” he said, holding his palm out to me.

I accepted. “You as well . . . wait. Are you the Marcille Giani? The celebrity chef? The one who featured on the Food Network USA?”