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This bitch was bad as fuck.
And she was about her paper. Getting that bread. She was a hustler. And he dug that about her. So he couldn’t hate on her for using what she had to get what she wanted. Hell, he couldn’t front like he hadn’t been known to trick up his money on strippers and hoes, even taking his share to one of the private rooms for some head, or taking a ho or two to his whip and fucking their lights out in the backseat.
He’d blown thousands of dollars on tricks and hoes who’d gladly offered up a night of pussy and head.
So who was he to judge?
When the elevator doors opened, he stepped in. Then pressed the button for the fourth floor. He couldn’t wait to get this shit over with. He needed to set boundaries. He needed to check Nairobia’s ass and set the record straight once and for all, so he could do his fucking job without all the unnecessary distractions.
This wasn’t personal.
It was business.
And if she didn’t like it, then hell…she could fire him. And, if necessary, terminate the terms of their contract. Yeah, right. He sighed, shaking his head. Who the fuck was he kidding?
It wasn’t just about him. True, he could remove himself from the situation and replace himself with one of his partners, or with another member from his security team. Quick fix, for sure. But was that what he really wanted?
He couldn’t be sure.
But what he was sure of was, losing this contract would mean the people under him losing bread. He couldn’t have that. Many of them had families, had mouths to feed, and loads of bills. They needed this. So he wasn’t about to fuck this up for them.
The thought of being caught up in her web of seduction unnerved him and made his blood boil. He found himself wondering if he’d done the right thing not giving this assignment to his boy, his partner in crime, Mel, instead of taking it on himself.
Regardless, limits still needed to be set. Clear, defined lines needed to be drawn in the proverbial sand.
And, tonight, before the sun rose, Lamar planned on making it clear to Nairobia what his role in her hire would or wouldn’t be.
Period.
The elevator doors opened, and Lamar stepped out, making his way down the carpeted corridor, passing several playrooms. He did his damnedest not to stop and revel in the debauchery around him. Instead, he kept walking, keeping the sexually explicit goings-on up on the fourth floor locked in his peripherals. It was what he was trained to do. Be on alert. See everything around him at all times. And, right now, all he saw were tongues on pussies—on clits, mouths on dicks…and people climaxing.
He walked past a condom and lube station on the right of him, followed by the Cognac lounge, whirls of cigar smoke floating around the space. To the right of him, sultry music seeped out from beneath the closed door. Some side ho anthem he couldn’t recall the name of. He wasn’t sure what the hell that large space was called, but he called it the Stripper Room because of its three stages and stripper poles. All he knew was the room was filled with a bunch of horny broads taking turns up on each stage, embracing their alter stripper egos, and whatever else.
He made a quick left down another hall, then stood in front of thick sliding glass doors. He stared at the keypad to the right of the door, then punched in his four-digit passcode. He hadn’t had to use it before, until now.
A split-second later, the doors slid open and he stepped through, the doors sliding shut behind him. Instantly, quietness followed in behind him. He realized then that the area was soundproofed. The walls were painted red. Red lights shined overhead. Dramatic. Sensual. He found the color fitting since the owner of the club was hot like fire.
He breathed in the heat as he made his way toward her office, toward the flames.
• • •
Her office door was slightly ajar. He heard the moan before he reached it.
He blinked.
Took a step closer. Then another. And peered in, hovering just behind the crack in her door.
Oh shit.
What the fuck?
Nairobia was atop her desk—fucking butt-ass naked, her body bathed in the glow of low lighting, playing in her pussy.
Pleasuring herself.
He couldn’t believe this shit.
What the fuck is wrong with her? he thought as he sucked in a breath and eyed her breasts. And those mouthwatering nipples! Hard nipples. Sweet. Chocolate, melt-in-his-mouth nipples he wanted to feel dissolve onto his wet tongue.
