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Isaiah laughed. That was some shit his son’s mother would say. “You been drinking?”
“Yeah, and? I had a few nips. Why?”
He shook his head. “Figures. Your drunk-ass needs—”
“Now, mijn liefdes,” Nairobia said, cutting Isaiah off, “lean into your husbands’ ears and whisper, ‘I want you.’ Let him know how badly you can’t wait to make love to him. Tell him how you can’t wait to love all over zijn lul—his dick. How you want to lick it. Tease the head and then suck him deep . . .”
“You know I’m not into this kinda shit,” Brenda said flatly.
“I know, baby,” Kendall said softly. “But do it for me. Let me hear you talk dirty.”
Nairobia noticed Krista’s hesitation and eased her way over toward her and Kendall.
She sauntered in back of Kendall’s chair, her erotic scent sweeping around them. Nairobia glided her hands over Kendall’s shoulders and then slowly down his arms, leaning over him, his smooth head nestled in the center of her bosom.
Her mic now off, Nairobia pressed her cheek against Kendall’s, eyeing Krista. “Love your man with your words, my darling. Get into his thoughts. Tell him how good he makes your kut feel . . .”
Krista frowned.
“Your pussy, my darling. Tell this fine chocolate man how good he feels inside of you.” Nairobia gave Krista a hard stare. “Tel
l him.”
Krista caught the way Kendall was looking at her, all lusty-eyed and she wasn’t sure if it was because of this freaky-bitch or if he’d already had that look in his eyes before Nairobia had come over here, brushing her titties all over her man.
Krista leaned in, her lips flush to Kendall’s other ear, and said, “I love the way you touch me. I love the way you stroke me . . .”
“Damn, baby,” he murmured.
“I can’t wait to have you tonight,” Krista pushed out, determined to not let this bitch upstage her.
“You are good love,” Nairobia whispered in Kendall’s other ear. And then she urged Krista to tell him how wet he made her, how she loved when he stroked her deep. The sound of Nairobia’s sultry voice had Kendall’s head spinning, his thoughts now swimming in images of her licking over his balls and then sliding her tongue in his ass.
Nairobia pulled back, her fingertips lightly grazing over Kendall’s bald head, then down the back of his neck, then over his shoulder. “Tell your husband how good he feels on your tongue, how good he tastes in your mouth.”
“I-I . . .” Krista’s face flushed, shame washing over her. She couldn’t. She’d never tasted him. A nut in her mouth—oh God no. And—hell, his dick brushing over her tongue wasn’t a favorite of hers—had this bitch not been briefed?
“C’mere, baby,” Kendall said, pulling Krista onto his lap, rescuing her from further embarrassment. Truth was, he appreciated Krista’s gesture. It needed work—lots of it, but still, she’d tried. And that was all that mattered.
A sly smile eased over Nairobia’s glossed lips. Her work with Krista was done. She was a helpless sap. “Deze teef is een waardeloos lay,” Nairobia murmured.
Kendall grinned, turned on even more by Nairobia’s dialect, thinking she’d said something utterly sexy, before sauntering off, when what she’d said was: “this bitch is a worthless lay.”
Mic back on, Nairobia said, “Tell your husbands what you can’t wait to do to him tonight. Say it slow and sultry. To him, my loves, you want him to stretch himself into your heat . . .”
Roselle grinned as Brenda’s lips brushed against his earlobe, her breath warming his skin. “I want you so badly, baby,” she cooed. “I can’t wait to suck your dick and feel your nut bust all in my mouth.” She moaned. Then lapped her tongue over his ear. “Me and my wet kitty can’t wait for you to make slow, sweet love to us . . .”
“Keep talking that nasty shit, baby,” Roselle responded as his dick swelled in his pants. “You gonna fuck around ‘n’ have me fuck you right now. All that sweet, juicy ass in that skimpy-ass dress. Got my dick brick, baby.”
“Mmm, you make my pussy so wet,” Brenda murmured, slowly winding her hips to the music that played in the background. Two Feet sang about twisted love.
“Sinking . . . sinking love . . . sinking . . .”
Yes, she was that type of girl. The one to get down and dirty with her man, for her man, and over her man; Brenda would kill a bitch and she’d kill him, too.
“Your dick feels so good inside of me,” she whispered. And then she nipped Roselle’s ear with her teeth.
A few feet away, Isaiah sat with his arms folded. He wanted to stay in the moment, but LaQuandra’s mouth and bullshit made it difficult for him. And, as he sat here, all he kept wondering was why the hell he was really here—on this island. Was his marriage really worth saving?
