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Hell. It still was.
“Are you hearing me, Isaiah,” LaQuandra badgered, reaching over and slapping his arm. “Shit’s gotta change. I refuse to . . .”
Isaiah opened his mouth to say something, anything, to get her to shut the fuck up, but a beautiful dark chocolate angel, with long sculpted legs appeared from out of nowhere—wearing a dangerously short, very fitted, black skirt and a pair of killer gladiator heels. A mouthwatering amount of cleavage spilled out over the top of a black corset, and her thick black hair was braided and coiffed in an elegant knot.
Isaiah caught himself admiring the way the gold straps wrapped seductively around her toned calves, then swirled up and around her shapely thighs.
“Hello,” the chocolate beauty greeted, clasping her hands together in front of her. Her full lips were spackled to perfection in gold lipstick “On behalf of Captain Daniels, welcome aboard The Pleasure Chest. I am LaLani. And this is”—she gestured toward a lighter-skinned, more voluptuous woman donned in the same outfit as she stepped beside her—“Mocha . . .”
Next appeared two tall, dark, and very chiseled men, who stood bare-chested and oiled on either side of the two women, wearing nothing but a pair of black slacks.
“And to the right of me is Sin.” He gave a slight head nod, his dreads brushed over his chest. “And to my left,” the strikingly beautiful woman continued, “is Saint.” He also gave a head nod—his smoothly shaven head gleaming under the cabin’s lights. He ran a hand down over his neatly trimmed goatee. “And we’re here, along with the rest of The Pleasure Chest crew, to cater to your every need. So, as we prepare for departure, please, get comfortable. And enjoy the experience.”
LaQuandra shot Isaiah a nasty look. “I mean it, Isaiah.” Her voice rose in frustration. “I refuse to continue to be disrespected by that bitch. I deserve . . .”
Isaiah sighed, waving over his Chocolate Angel.
She smiled. “Yes, Mr. Lewis. What can I get you?”
“Let me get a shot of Henny. Please.”
She gave him a slight nod. “Coming right up.” She looked over at LaQuandra. “Ma’am, can I bring you anything?”
“No. I’m fine,” she said tersely, sizing the sexy vixen up. Another bitch with a big, voluptuous ass, she thought as she glanced at her cantaloupe-sized breasts that were practically spilling out of her corset.
Isaiah eyed LaQuandra and shook his head. This was going to be one long-ass flight. “Um. On second thought,” he said to the flight attendant. “Make that a double.”
Four
Four hours, and fifty one-thousand feet of altitude later, the magnificent aircraft was somewhere h
igh above puffs of sunlit clouds. The start had been rocky due to a significant amount of turbulence that had kept Brenda and the rest of the passengers confined to their plush cream leather seats.
But now that the ride had smoothed and the captain had given the okay to move about the cabin, Brenda peeled her gaze from the breathtaking window view and quickly unlatched her seat belt to stretch. She had never ridden in a private jet before, but she’d experienced the comforts of first-class travel several times. However, this right here was how real ballers traveled—in sophisticated comfort and endless luxury.
And she loved every second of it.
She glanced over at Roselle, who was reclining in his seat, sipping a Hendrick’s gin and tonic. He seemed to be enjoying the velvety smooth drink as he peered out the window. Drink number three, of course. But she promised herself not to keep count.
When he drank gin, his dick stayed hard and he could fuck literally all night long. Cum. Then want to fuck again. A blessing and a curse, for her, her pussy, and the bitches he made time to cheat on her with. But Brenda wasn’t going there. Not now.
She eyed Roselle as he pressed his forehead against the portal glass and peered downward into the thick cloudbanks beneath the plane as if he were looking for something. Probably some damn pussy, she thought, narrowing her eyes.
She simply couldn’t trust his ass. Not even when he sat across from her, and she had her eyes trained on him.
His ass was sneaky.
Roselle smiled. He knew Brenda was staring at him as he attempted to get a glimpse at the terrain below, but all he got so far was a foretaste of the sun slicing through the clouds. And he was cool with that. The view was awe-inspiring nonetheless.
He took another sip of his drink, then glanced over at his wife and winked.
Damn, she was fine. He sensually licked his lips at her. Against her will, she smiled. Damn him.
The flight attendant, LaLani, came to Roselle’s seat. “Can I get you anything else, Roselle?” she asked in almost a breathy whisper, bending at the waist, her face mere inches from his.
Roselle smiled, then licked at his bottom lip, trying like hell not to ogle her cleavage nearly spilling out of her dress. “Nah, baby. I’m good. But thanks.”
“How about something to eat? I can have the chef whip you up something really delicious, if you’d like.”
