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She sets her drink back down on the bar, then starts toying with her napkin. “Is it that obvious?”
I nod. “Something like that. But it’s all good, baby. I’m not here to judge.” Just to hit them walls right.
I order her another drink and order myself another cranberry juice. “But obviously shit’s not right at home, ’cause if it were, you wouldn’t be sitting here without your wedding ring on.”
She glances down at her hand. “It’s in the safe.”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“When I spotted you at the airport in Miami, I noticed you didn’t have it on then, either. So … that says to me, beautiful, that your little getaway with ya girls is really for something more.”
“Listen … look. I’m really flattered, but—”
“Hold up, ma,” I say, cutting her off. “I’m not looking to wife you, or disrupt your life. All I’m saying to you is I like what I see. You sexy as fuck. And I wanna swirl my dick all up in that sweet chocolate of yours.”
She almost chokes on her drink.
I stand up. “Damn, you aiight, ma?”
She pats her chest, then gulps down the rest of her drink. She’s staring up at me.
“Look,” I say in almost a whisper. “I want you to feel something.”
“What’s that?” she asks cautiously.
I glance down at the bar and notice she and I are the only ones still out here. Wyndel is too busy cleaning up to even notice us. I take her right hand, lift it up to my lips, then gently kiss the inside of her palm. Then I take it and place it on my hard dick. Surprisingly, she doesn’t snatch her hand back.
“You like how that feels?”
She sheepishly grins, nodding.
I lean into her ear. “Yo, tell me something. And keep it a hunnid.”
She eyes me. “What?”
“Is your pussy wet?” She nods again. “Good.” I take her by the hand, gently pulling her. She wants to know where I’m taking her. “Back to my room.”
The minute we step inside, I pull her by her hair toward me and slide my tongue in her mouth, massaging her titties. She moans; tries to pull away from me. I hold on. Nibble on her earlobe, then kiss the side of her neck. “You know you wanna ride this dick.” She moans again. I lift her short skirt up over her hips, carry her over to the desk, then sit her up on it.
“Oh, God … I don’t know what you’re doing to me. You have me about to do things I never thought I’d do.”
“Oh, word? Like what?” I ask, sliding my hand between her legs, pulling at her G-string. I pop it up against her clit, then slip my middle finger into the center of her goodness.
“Like this …” she pants. “Cheat on my husband.”
“Obviously, the nigga isn’t handling his business right,” I whisper in her ear. “’Cause if he was, you wouldn’t be sitting here with ya legs spread and ya pussy all hot ’n wet, now would you?”
I pinch her clit. She lets out a gasp.
“Yeah, that nigga isn’t hitting this pussy the way you want, is he? Hell, he can’t be. This hot pussy needs to be stroked e’ery night, baby.”
She moans.
“Oooh, aaah, mmmmm … Wait, wait … aaah, mmmm … I can’t.”
“Yes you can, baby,” I say, unbuckling my belt, then letting my jeans drop down ’round my ankles. I’m standing in front of her with my dick thick as steel. I pull her G-string, let it pop against her pussy, again. I reach over for a condom on the dresser, then roll it down on my dick before pushing it up into her. She gasps, grips my arms, digs her nails into my skin. I lift her hips up off the desk, then give her everything she isn’t getting at home—thick dick, waves of orgasms. I make her feel everything her husband can’t or won’t—wanted, beautiful, sexy. She throws her head back, closes her eyes. Lets my dick take her on a journey she’s never been on before. She screams ’til her body starts to tremble. I pick up my pace; speed-fuck her with half my dick, then slow fuck her with all of it. She wraps her arms ’round my neck. I take in her face. Eyes rolled back, bottom lipped pulled in.
