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“You feel that, right? It’s all yours, if you want. Stop running from me, Nairobia.”
Oh yes. She felt it. The answer twinkled in her eyes, hitched in her breath. Her toes kneaded the head of his dick as her eyes swept over his face. He licked his lips, his eyes darkening. A decadent ache pulsed over her clit. Why did he have to be so damn fuckable? Why couldn’t he simply leave her be?
Why, oh, why did he have to come into her life trying to dig up feelings she never knew existed, feelings she hadn’t believed she was capable of?
Nairobia bit that lush lower lip that drove Marcel crazy with want. “Maudite, bébé,” he hissed. Goddamn, baby. “Je veux faire l’armour à la bouche.” I want to make love to your mouth.
She felt her lips curl upward, before she licked her lips. Before she felt a sweet ache building up deep inside the walls of her cunt swelling her lips and clit.
“You naughty boy.”
Marcel’s eyes glistened. “All for you, baby. How about we head back to my place for dessert?”
“And what exactly, my darling, Marcel, will dessert be?”
Hunger flashed in his eyes. “You.”
THIRTY-NINE
“Yo, we good?” Lamar asked walking into Nairobia’s office, shutting the door behind him. She’d been acting shady toward him over the last two weeks and he wasn’t feeling the energy between them. He’d felt the change over a week ago, but planned on letting it slide. After all, he wasn’t there to be friends, or her fuck buddy.
Still, he had to work with her. And he wanted to keep things running smoothly between them. Not that he needed the paper. He’d been sitting on stacks long before he’d started his security firm. But when she’d dismissed him from her office yesterday without so much as a glance, that didn’t sit well with him.
“Hmm.” Her warm gaze sizzled over his body. He wore a pair of loose-fitting black jeans, boots, and his muscle-molding black tee. His locks were down, and he looked scrumptious. “Let’s see, my darling. We fucked. We came. And we’ve moved along. Why wouldn’t we be, good?”
Lifting his hands, he said, “I don’t know. You tell me. You seem kinda—I don’t know…distant ever since…you know…”
“Ever since your cock melted inside me?” she finished for him.
He bit out something under his breath. “I shoulda pulled out.” He took a seat in front of her desk. “My bad.”
Nairobia leaned back, twisting her chair from side to side as she seductively licked her lips. “You couldn’t help yourself, my darling.”
Lamar bristled. This fuckin’ broad, yo. She was being smug. He wasn’t feeling that shit. But she was right. He couldn’t. And he still felt like shit for not being able to beat down her guts right. He hadn’t delivered his best performance. And now that’s all she would remember, him busting a fast nut.
Giving into the temptation had been a blessing and curse for him. It had opened his eyes to the fact that Lana wasn’t the one for him. And he’d gone to her a few days later and ended it with her. Sure, it hadn’t gone well. But he’d tried his damnedest to hold on to all the things that were right about her to stay with her.
Sadly, it hadn’t been enough.
He just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life laid up with a broad with subpar pussy. Of course he hadn’t told her that. He wasn’t callous. He’d simply told her, “It’s not you, ma. It’s me. I’m not built for a relationship right now. You deserve better than I can give you.”
She’d cried and screamed. And demanded to know, “Who’s the bitch you screwing?”
“There’s no one else,” he’d told her. That was partly true. There wasn’t. But there was Nairobia who had confirmed what he’d already known. He needed someone who had the same hungry sex drive as him, someone who loved to suck and fuck as much as he loved fucking and getting sucked. Lana wasn’t it. So she had to get chopped.
And he had Nairobia to thank for it.
“I’ma keep it gee wit’ you, ma. I hadn’t had pussy in over a week. My stamina is usually through the roof.”
Nairobia’s mouth curved. “Okay, if you say so, Lamar, darling,” she said nonchalantly. “No explanation needed. Most men can rarely control their desires before spilling their loins in less than ten minutes. You, my love, lasted almost nine minutes longer the second time.”
Lamar cringed inwardly. So basically he’d only dicked her down for eighteen-minutes-and-some-odd-seconds before he’d popped his cork inside her.
What the fuck?
She’d timed him.
He guessed he should have considered that an improvement—eighteen minutes of fucking, considering that the night he went in raw he’d come in a little under fifteen minutes. Three extra minutes, whoopty-fuckin’-doo! He still hadn’t delivered.
