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“That’s the last thing I’m trying to do, Nairobia. I want you. You. But I’m not going to throw myself on you. I think I’ve done enough begging. If you’re not ready for love, then I can’t force it on you.” He sighed, his heart aching. “God, I want you. But I’m not going to pressure you. I want you, when you are ready to be wanted. When you’re ready for me, baby. I’ll be here. When you’re ready for a good man, a real man, to love you, baby, you’ll know where to find me.”
She leaned up and pressed her lips against his, grabbing him by the back of the neck and kissing him in a way she’d never kissed a man. Any man. Suddenly, she was kissing him with her heart, her whole mouth over his, devouring him, tasting him, savoring him, as if this would be their very last kiss—with a passion she hadn’t wanted to admit she had for him.
He did this to her.
Made her feel weak with want, with desire.
She didn’t like this feeling of feeling open and vulnerable.
But he had her becoming undone.
One last sweep of her tongue against his, Nairobia pulled away, and Marcel groaned out his disappointment. He’d felt it too. The finality.
She was leaving him no other choice. He’d have to let her go.
They both stared at one another.
He leaned in and pressed his forehead against her, one last time. Then pulled back. “Go do you, baby,” is all he could say. Nothing else would matter. Her mind was made up. And he wasn’t about to stand in her way. If she wanted him, she’d have to find her way back to him.
End of story.
Nairobia stared at him, blinking, as he let go of her. She stood there and eyed him as he turned from her and walked out the sliding doors. It was in that moment she felt herself blinking back tears. Maybe in another life, she could be the kind of woman he deserved. The kind of woman he needed. Maybe in another life, in another place, she could allow her heart to open to him.
But for now, she loved being her own woman. Loved endless pleasure. Loved the freedom of doing whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted, wherever she wanted—answering to no one.
Maybe, in another life, she could fall in love.
Be in love.
With him.
Maybe.
IF YOU ENJOYED “THE PLEASURE ZONE,” BE SURE TO CHECK OUT MARCEL, MARIKA AND NAIROBIA’S FREAKY PAST IN
BY CAIRO
AVAILABLE FROM STREBOR BOOKS
TEN
Marika
The black-suited driver rolls the stretch Bentley with its tinted windows through the ornate iron gates of the Beverly Hills mansion where tonight’s extravaganza will take place. He slowly pulls in front of its circular driveway, then stops the car and slides out of the driver’s seat, walking around to open the door for Marcel and me.
Marcel leans over and kisses me lightly on the cheek. He takes in my white draped, sleeveless Azzaro Capricieuse jewel dress with its plunging V-neckline and long slit in the middle, revealing my inner thigh. I’m wearing the six thousand-dollar dress—that is sure to catch the eye of many of tonight’s elite guests, shakers and movers in the movie and music industry as well as some well-known sports figures—with a pair of white Valentino Garavani six-inch, rock-stud sandals.
His gaze drops down to my perky nipples peeking from underneath the thin fabric of my dress, then onto my smooth, shimmering thighs.
He licks his lips. “Damn. You look sexy as fuck, baby.”
I smile, breathing in the scrumptious scent of his cologne, Creed Royal Oud. Every time he wear this, it drives me wild. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” The glint in the diamond studs in his earlobes is blinding. He’s donned in an elegant, black-fitted Valentino suit with a matching pair of loafers. “And you smell delicious, I might add.” My hand slides between his legs, finding his meaty dick. I gently massage it until it starts to thicken.
“Yo, c’mon, baby,” he says, grinning while trying to pull away. “You better stop before shit gets serious back here ‘n’ I end up ripping that dress off you ‘n’ beatin’ that fat pussy up in this backseat.”
“Ooh, yes, daddy,” I coo into his ear. “Beat this pussy up. Fuck it until it stretches and burns. I want to feel you still inside of me throbbing and pulsing long after you’ve pulled out.”
Marcel leans in, and whispers, “Hold tight, baby. By the end of the night, I promise. I’ma be doin’ just that. Putain la gueule d’ya cul sexy.” Fucking the shit out of ya sexy ass. “But, for now, let’s save the foreplay for inside.”
