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“I sure will,” Persia said, eyeing him.
He brought his attention to Nairobia. “I’ll be up on the fifth floor if you need me.”
She nodded, then escorted Persia toward the club’s foyer. She glanced over her shoulder, then said in low voice, “Tell me, my love. How well do you know Lamar?”
Persia shrugged. “Not well at all.” A sly grin curved over her lips. “But I’d love to see him strapped to a Saint Andrews cross.”
Nairobia licked her lips.
Now wouldn’t that be a delightful sight.
TWENTY-SIX
Nairobia took the three steps that led up to the deep marble tub already full of mint and eucalyptus bubbles. She dropped her robe, then dipped her toe in, testing the water. It was deliciously hot, but not scalding.
A sigh of pleasure eased from Nairobia’s lips as she slowly slid in, the steam and heat enveloping her. She leaned her head back on the inflatable pillow attached to the edge of the tub as Marsha Ambrosius’ “Late Nights & Early Mornings” played low in the background.
The last week had been exhausting. Between the club, a
nd flying out to Spain for an International Adult Film ceremony to only return for a meeting in L.A., Nairobia was drained. She needed this…this moment to do absolutely nothing.
She swept her gaze around the bathroom aglow with candles, then closed her eyes and inhaled. She didn’t know what she was doing here, but she’d allowed herself to be enticed into coming over with the promise of nothing more than a massage.
“Nothing more, baby,” he’d assured her.
So how could she say no to that?
Now here she was. Wondering if she’d made a mistake. She didn’t want to give the wrong message. Smearing her sweet juices over his lips and letting him stretch open her kut was one thing, but this…
Marcel stood in the doorway, his eyes appraising the sight before him. She didn’t know he was standing there, watching her. Adoring her. He didn’t know what was happening with him, but he felt himself…changing. He felt lighter. Freer. And it was because of Nairobia. She’d done that to him.
Unlocked something inside of him.
He wasn’t sure what would come of this…this thing—whatever this was—he was feeling. But he wanted to pursue it, to see where it took them. He just needed Nairobia to open her mind to the possibility, to explore with him.
She’d been ignoring him the last week. Not taking his calls. Basically avoiding him. And he wasn’t feeling that. He wanted her. And being ignored wasn’t something he took lightly to. Today, he’d tried her cell again, and when she answered he’d convinced her to come over for a night of relaxation. No sex. Simply her allowing him to pamper her and worship her in the way a beautiful woman deserved to be catered to.
But fuck if he didn’t want to be inside her, to tie her to his bed and have his way with her all night, his legs wedged between hers, spreading her until her legs rested against his outer thighs, his dick slowly easing in and out of her body, stroking her walls until she orgasmed over the length and width of him.
Marcel felt himself growing hard.
Goddamn.
He wanted her to feel his cock pulsating inside her as it shot his nut, filling her, coating her walls with his semen as her pussy convulsed around his girth. Marika was gone, but he still wanted a family. Something they’d hoped for in the very near future, something that sadly didn’t come to be. All future plans shot down, literally and figuratively.
His chest burned from the memory. He closed his lids for a brief moment, willing his emotions from taking over. This wasn’t the time. His focus needed to be on the beautiful woman soaking in his tub.
Nothing else.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his chocolate brown eyes. His mouth curved slightly, his eyes warming with a look of satisfaction and approval. Seeing Nairobia in his tub with her eyes closed, looking peaceful, was a beautiful sight. He stepped inside the bathroom. Even though he knew how skittish she was about relationships, he wanted her. He wanted to possess her in mind, body, and soul. And he wouldn’t rest until he had all of her. He was a patient man. He’d take it slow. After all, he hadn’t gotten this far in life not being enduring.
But God, he wanted to fill her to the rim with everything he had. Not with just his throbbing cock—his hands, his mouth, his lips, his fingers, his love.
All of him. Every part of him. Filled deep inside her.
Floetry’s “Getting Late” oozed out of the speakers as Marcel eased forward, bare-chested with his hard dick trapped beneath boxers and lounge pants. He wouldn’t get naked for fear of not being able to keep his promise. He was a man of his word, but tonight, if he stripped out of his clothes, he’d take her.
No questions asked. He’d take her for himself, greedily and hungrily.
