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Roselle went back to dazing out of the window, smirking. He was going to get a nut off tonight, with or without her, even if that meant using his damn hand.
Brenda headed toward one of the three bathrooms. As she walked through the cabin, she glanced over and smiled at Krista and Kendall. They seemed nice enough. They were in their seats, swiveled to face each other, playing a game of Scrabble. While Isaiah was on the sofa near the bar drinking a beer. And then there was LaQuandra seated across the aisle talking loudly on one of the sky phones that were mounted beside each chair.
She hadn’t officially met the woman with the braids cascading down her back, but so far what she was noticing, she didn’t like. Yet, she knew better than anyone to never judge a book by its cover. She reminded herself to keep that in mind.
Brenda finally reached one of the bathrooms at the far end of the aircraft. Once inside, she locked the door and took in the exquisite space. The walls were white marble, veined with gold. There was a glass shower stall with multiple showerheads. A white leather swivel chair faced a white marble vanity that held gold baskets of top-of-the-line hair-and skin-care products. On a shelf rested a tower of fluffy white towels.
Brenda ran her fingers over the gold embroidered lettering: THE PLEASURE CHEST. This was the kind of wealth she’d dreamed of her entire life. And she wanted it.
One day.
She relieved herself and then washed her hands. And when she stepped out of the bathroom to head back to her seat, she was greeted by one of the two deliciously sculpted male attendants—the dark-skinned one with the shoulder-length dreads.
Her breath caught in her chest at the up-close-and-personal sight of him. He had his locks pulled back. Damn, he was fine. And God knew she loved herself some dark chocolate, every now and again.
He met her eyes with a sexy grin. “How are you enjoying the flig
ht so far, beautiful?”
She blushed, and a quick rush of heat splintered through her. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected to feel her cunt pulsing between her legs, either. And she hadn’t expected to have this overwhelming desire to reach out and touch him, slide her hands over the stretch of rippled muscle over his dark, chocolaty skin.
She swallowed. “So far, so good,” she said. And then she swallowed again.
“Cool.” He grinned again. “If there is anything I can do to help make your flight an even greater experience, don’t hesitate to call on me. I’m at your service. For as long as you need me to be.”
Brenda’s mouth went dry, but her pussy got wetter as she drank in the sight of him, her eyes taking snapshots of his rippled abs and chiseled pecs; the way his dark nipples reminded her of two chocolate-covered raisins.
Raisinettes. Mm, yes.
Finally, the valves to her saliva glands opened, and her mouth watered. And, instead of swallowing, she allowed her lust to pool inside her mouth until she almost drowned in it.
Lord, help me . . .
“By the way,” he said. “I’m Sin.”
Oh yes you are.
Brenda was sure this fine black man, this Adonis, this Pussy Slayer, was full of just that. Sin. And if she didn’t hurry up and get back to her seat, she’d be tempted to pull him into the bathroom and yank down his pants. Yes, God. She’d drop to her knees and cup his balls and then spit-shine his dick.
Thick and veiny, she imagined. Dear God. Adding him to her sexual scrapbook of naughty deeds (and, yes, there’d be a few salacious moments) would be an exhilarating experience for sure, but not worth the risk of getting caught.
Or was it?
She finally swallowed. “I’m Mrs. . . . uh, Brenda.”
He smiled. “I already know who you are, Mrs. Woods.”
Wait. How did he know who she was?
Then it dawned on her before she could ask the question. From the portfolio each couple had been required to submit with a very lengthy application. Included in that packet were photos of her and Roselle. Yes. That was it. He had to have seen the photo of her to know who she was.
“Anyway,” Sin went on, “I’ll let you get back to your husband.”
Oh. Right. Him. Her husband.
Of course.
Sin’s eyes lingered on her face, her lips, and then traveled over the curve of her hips. He pulled in his bottom lip. Then he said, “I bet you taste like honey,” before licking his lips.
