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Kendall flexed his fingers back and forth. Goddamn this shit. He wanted to touch her. Taste her. Fuck her. And yet he sat here fighting for control.
Kendall sputtered, “I-I . . . damn—I wish I could. Shit. But I’m still married . . .”
“And unfulfilled,” Nairobia said.
Kendall shook his head. “I want to, but—”
“She’s leaving you,” Nairobia reminded him. “No?”
“It’s over, Kendall . . .”
Kendall stammered, “I-I’m . . .”
“A good man, a loving man. A man who should not go unsatisfied.”
Kendall nodded, the truth resonating through him. “You’re right. But—”
“She does not deserve you; her kut has not earned good loving, my darling.”
Kendall inhaled, breathing in her sweet, intoxicating aroma—the scent of heated arousal and perfume. She was breaking his resolve.
Nairobia’s lips slid to the corner of Kendall’s mouth, and then she kissed him there, softly, purposefully, every so often her eyes flickering over at the mirror.
“You want to dive into me, no? Sink deep inside me? U wilt uw grote lange lul glijd in me . . .?”
Kendall had no idea she was asking him if he wanted to slide his big, long dick inside of her, if he wanted to fuck himself inside her body, her soul. And yet his dick managed to throb in response.
Yes, he wanted to fuck her. To fuck away thoughts of Krista, to pound out the sting of her words as they still rung in his ears. “I will not stay married to an undercover faggot! I want a divorce . . .”
Nairobia craned her neck, and again, her eyes fluttered over at that mirrored wall. Her lips curved into a sly grin and then her tongue slowly, sensually, slid over her top lip.
Her pussy did not burn hot for Kendall, but it warmed at the promise of being a pleasure to him; it grew wetter at the knowing that she would bring him to orgasm. Her cunt juiced knowing what (and who) stood on the other side of that mirror.
Watching.
Forty-Nine
Eyes narrowed, Krista gasped as she felt blood draining from her face.
Kendall.
With, with . . . Nairobia.
She stood here, unsteady on her feet, yet unable to look away from the sight of them. Krista thought she’d seen Kendall’s body tense, his muscles tightening as that brazen bitch tried to entice him with her sexual wiles, as she preyed, stalked around him with her amazing tits, touching and rubbing and hovering over him.
Krista winced when Nairobia pressed her breasts against Kendall’s back and then wrapped an arm across his chest, whispering in his ear again.
She was certain that Kendall would refuse Nairobia’s advances. She hoped, had stood here and prayed, that Kendall would resist the seductive wiles of that—God, she wished she knew what was being said inside that room. Audio, that’s what she needed—but then she saw it, desire. The hunger on Kendall’s face was undeniable, unmistakable. And she knew then . . . he wanted that bitch. And Nairobia was going to find a way to exploit the heat burning in his eyes.
It took all Krista’s willpower to keep from banging on the two-way mirror. It took every ounce of her
stubborn, Christian will to keep from taking her fist and swinging it upside Dr. Dangerfield’s flawlessly smooth forehead.
Yes, she’d told Kendall she was leaving him and, quite frankly, she was more certain now than ever before that it was the right decision. And yet she was disappointed and disillusioned that Kendall chose to be in that room with that enchanting slut instead of scouring the island looking for her, to at least try to talk her out of leaving him.
Krista was beside herself with hurt. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, behind the glass, on the other side of that very wall where Kendall was engaging in dirty, filthy—
“Please know you are welcome to leave at any time,” Dr. Dangerfield said, extending an arm toward the door. “No one is keeping you here, Mrs. Evans.”
