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Besides, it made for great press.
She felt the thickening of Carlos’ cock against her clit, then remembered the heavy feel of him on her tongue and the musky smell of him as she’d taken him deep in her mouth. The memory of how he’d enjoyed her wandering tongue wetly loving over every inch of his turgid flesh brought a wicked tilt to the corners of her lips.
Mmm. Got milk?
She swallowed.
Behind her, Lamar’s jaws tightened. He’d felt his dick stirring in his boxer shorts as he watched her ass—literally, on the low. And no matter how many times he mentally scolded himself for looking, he couldn’t help himself. There was no denying it. She was a stunner, sexy as fuck. He didn’t know how he’d be able to concentrate on the job, if she insisted on wearing skimpy shit around him. Fuck.
At the rate he was going, he’d have to wear bigger slacks and an extra pair of underwear to keep his dick strapped down and from bulging. He was slowly starting to hate himself for taking on this job. He should have handed it over to one of his employees, or his partner.
He sighed, tearing his sight from her plump ass just long enough to glance at his watch before surveying the area. The airport was crowded as fuck and all she wanted to do was stand here dicking around with this…pretty-ass muhfucka.
What the fuck is she doing? he thought as his cell phone buzzed in the front pocket of his black blazer. Though he could use the distraction, he ignored it, his eyes drifting back over the globes of Nairobia’s mouthwatering booty.
There was no denying it, no matter how hard he tried. First day on the job and there was definitely a raw attraction to the infamous Nairobia Jansen.
Motherfuck. Lamar shook his head. He’d already concluded, as beautiful and desirable as she was, she’d be more trouble than her worth. She was self-indulged. Used to getting her way. Too damned high-maintenance. Thought the sun, the moon—hell, the whole fucking solar system—revolved around her. And she had a ton of starry-eyed mofos falling at her feet.
He wasn’t the one.
Though he’d never admit it right out, he’d bust a nut or two to a few of her porn videos back in his day, fantasizing about fucking the shit out of her sexy ass. Hell, he even had a pinup of her when he was, like nineteen, up on his wall.
She was flawless then. And she was more dangerously perfect now.
Now, here he was working for her. He’d have to keep his distance. Keep this shit strictly professional. He’d crossed the line once with his last client. But he wouldn’t get caught up again. At least he hoped like hell not. The last thing his security firm needed was to be tangled up in a bunch of drama, like with his last employer. Or worse…some sex scandal.
Lamar looked back over at Nairobia and stared at the back of her head, instead of her juicy ass cheeks. He cursed himself, his dick growing harder against his will. He was hired to protect her, not fuck her. He knew this. Sadly, his dick hadn’t gotten the memo, yet. He made a mental note to purchase those jockstraps and baggy pants first thing in the morning, and pick up two more pairs of dark-lensed shades.
Carlos grabbed her hands and stepped back from her, his eyes appraising her. “Damn, baby. Are you coming or going?”
Nairobia licked her lips. “I’m coming, my love. And you do know how much I love to come, no?”
Carlos grinned. “I already know. Damn. You’re starting to make me sweat with your fine-ass. So what brings you out to L.A.? Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure, my darling,” Nairobia said saucily as she cast her gaze down to the lump in his designer cut-up jeans. Tonight, she was attending an all-white party at Hugh Hefner’s infamous Playboy Mansion in Beverly Hills. Then later in the evening, she’d be hosting one of her very own exclusive, invite-only sex parties at her Bel-Air estate, before flying back to New York just in time for the doors to her club to open.
“And you, my love. Is this business or pleasure for you?”
“Business,” he told her. He had a meeting with his PR team, followed by a photo shoot, then he was performing at the Staples Center tomorrow night. “But I am always in the mood for something pleasurable.” His eyes gleamed mischievously.
Nairobia seductively licked her lips.
He added, “Speaking of which, I hear you’ve opened a Manhattan gentlemen’s club. I’ll have to come through and check it out.”
Nairobia cringed at hearing her club being trashed down to that of a gentlemen’s club. Yes, there were lots of scantily dressed women, and plenty of happy endings. But there was nothing gentlemanly about her establishment. “No, no, no, my darling. I do not have a nightclub for men. The Pleasure Zone is a den of sinful goodness for the uninhibited.”
She removed her diamond hairclip letting her hair tumble down past her shoulders. She shook her head, running a hand through her tousled mane.
Carlos grinned. “Nice. Put me on the guest list.”
Nairobia eyed him and smiled. “Enter if you dare, my love…”
“Oh, I’m always up for a dare, baby. How about we start with you coming to my show tomorrow night? Up close and personal?”
Nairobia pursed her lips and pondered the invite. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a concert. It’d been years. For some odd reason, the thought of seeing a bunch of star-struck women, throwing themselves—and their panties—at the sexy crooner made her that more interested in attending. After several more seconds of thought, she told him she’d love to go.
He smiled. “Cool. I’ll make sure my publicist has two tickets for you.” He shot a glance over at Lamar, then brought his attention back to Nairobia. “You’ll be my special guest.”
