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“Yes.” He slid his index finger inside her, and she moaned her approval. He maneuvered his fingers in and out of her body, alternating from one finger, to two, then back to one, causing her cunt to clench hungrily.
“You keep my kut wet,” she said in a sultry tone. “So very wet for you.”
Nairobia would never deny how Josiah’s heated touch always brought bliss to her body. No matter where he touched her, she would surely come. She nibbled on his ear, then moaned when he added a third finger inside her. “Ja, ja…mmm…faster. Finger me, faster…”
Nairobia’s folds dripped, her juices dripping out over Josiah’s hand. She’d already had two mini orgasms in less than five minutes. Now she was on the verge of another, this one with more heat, more force; a rising tide of an orgasm so powerful that she felt it flooding her body. Her orgasm shot from her clit to her toes, then back up over her body. She closed her eyes, and moaned low in her throat, squeezing Josiah’s wrist as she shook with pleasure.
A silent moment later, Nairobia caught her breath. Josiah nearly groaned when she took his wrist again and removed his hand, his fingers, from her body. She brought his hand up to his lips and watched him—without prompting—lick his fingers clean.
Nairobia leaned in, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “My darling, Josiah. What would I ever do without you?”
Josiah looked her in the eyes. God, she was incredibly beautiful. He took a breath, and said, “Replace me for another.” He leaned in and kissed her on the side of the mouth. “But hopefully not anytime soon.”
Nairobia smiled at him as he turned to walk out of her office, before plucking out the white envelope nestled in between all the beautiful pink and white flowers.
Thinking of you. I’m already missing you, baby. Longing for your touch. Your sweet kisses. Stay beautiful.
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Marcel
TWENTY-FIVE
An hour later, Nairobia was at her desk interviewing a strikingly beautiful woman wearing a print wrap dress that bared a hint of cleavage. Nairobia kept her gaze on her as she crossed her smooth legs. She was petite, but shapely. The woman already held a silver membership, but wished to upgrade to the next level. She had access to the first two floors, but decided that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted access to the Love Tombs. From what her application had stated, she was new to BDSM, and wanted to explore her Domme side more; something she wasn’t able to do at home.
Nairobia glanced down at her application, then back up into the woman’s eyes. “So tell me, Persia. What do you desire most, sexually?”
She licked her lips. “Well, as you can see from my application, I have no sexual hang-ups, but what I want most is sexual freedom.”
Nairobia glanced at the three-carat diamond on her ring finger. “And your fiancé? Does he not fulfill your desires?”
Persia swallowed. “Not all of them. Don’t get me wrong. I love him. Royce—that’s my fiancé—he satisfies the vanilla part of me, and some parts of my freaky side, but my dark side, no. That part of me goes unfulfilled.”
Nairobia nodded, understanding flickering in her gaze. “So he does not know about your membership here?”
Persia shook her head, clutching her neck as if she were reaching for a set of pearls. “Ohmygod, no. He’d lose his mind if he knew.”
“How often do the two of you have sexual relations?” Nairobia pried.
“Twice a week; sometimes three times a week if I’m lucky.”
“And it is good, no?”
“Yes. Remarkable. Royce is a good lover.”
Nairobia tilted her head. “But?”
Persia sighed. “But it isn’t enough. I need more. I want more. If it were up to me, I’d want it morning, noon, and night. I just love sex. And I love sex with him more.”
Nairobia stared at her almost pathetically as she wondered how she could ever expect her marriage to last with lies. No judgment. Her indiscretions and dirty secrets were none of Nairobia’s business, or concern. Most of the club’s members had spouses and/or significant others at home who knew nothing about their partner’s dark desires. They, like the woman in front of her, lived double lives. And, sadly, in Nairobia’s experience, nothing good ever came out of it once their deceit was discovered.
Curiosity pushed Nairobia to ask, “So you are fine with sleeping with married men, no? You do know most of the club’s members are indeed married or—like yourself—happily involved.”
Persia uncrossed her legs, shifted in her seat, then crossed them again; right over left this time. “I’m not looking to disrupt anyone’s home situation. And I’m not looking for anyone to try and disrupt mine. At the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, I’m going home to my man. Satiated and completely satisfied.
“So to answer your question, I am more than fine sharing another woman’s man. Man sharing is nothing new for me. In fact, my sisters and I used to…” She paused, shaking her head. “Oh, never mind. Let me not go there.”
Nairobia’s brow raised, her eyes flashing in curiosity. “Please, my darling. Do tell.”
