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The black-suited driver rolls the stretch Bentley with its tinted windows through the ornate iron gates of the Beverly Hills mansion where tonight’s extravaganza will take place. He slowly pulls in front o
f its circular driveway, then stops the car and slides out of the driver’s seat, walking around to open the door for Marcel and me.
Marcel leans over and kisses me lightly on the cheek. He takes in my white draped, sleeveless Azzaro Capricieuse jewel dress with its plunging V-neckline and long slit in the middle, revealing my inner thigh. I’m wearing the six thousand-dollar dress—that is sure to catch the eye of many of tonight’s elite guests, shakers and movers in the movie and music industry as well as some well-known sports figures—with a pair of white Valentino Garavani six-inch, rock-stud sandals.
His gaze drops down to my perky nipples peeking from underneath the thin fabric of my dress, then onto my smooth, shimmering thighs.
He licks his lips. “Damn. You look sexy as fuck, baby.”
I smile, breathing in the scrumptious scent of his cologne, Creed Royal Oud. Every time he wear this, it drives me wild. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” The glint in the diamond studs in his earlobes is blinding. He’s donned in an elegant, black-fitted Valentino suit with a matching pair of loafers. “And you smell delicious, I might add.” My hand slides between his legs, finding his meaty dick. I gently massage it until it starts to thicken.
“Yo, c’mon, baby,” he says, grinning while trying to pull away. “You better stop before shit gets serious back here ‘n’ I end up ripping that dress off you ‘n’ beatin’ that fat pussy up in this backseat.”
“Ooh, yes, daddy,” I coo into his ear. “Beat this pussy up. Fuck it until it stretches and burns. I want to feel you still inside of me throbbing and pulsing long after you’ve pulled out.”
Marcel leans in, and whispers, “Hold tight, baby. By the end of the night, I promise. I’ma be doin’ just that. Putain la gueule d’ya cul sexy.” Fucking the shit out of ya sexy ass. “But, for now, let’s save the foreplay for the onlookers inside.”
I press my thighs together, reluctantly retrieving my hand from his hard dick.
The back passenger door swings open.
Marcel winks at me, grinning. “You ready?”
I lick my lips as sordid scenarios of lewd sexapades flash through my freaky mind, causing heat to creep inbetween my thighs. My clit tingles, causing my pussy to instantly moisten.
“I’m always ready.”
• • •
“So, what…or should I say who…are you in the mood for tonight, baby?” Marcel asks as we maneuver our way through the maze of designer-clad and diamond-studded guests, giving customary smiles and head nods, along with generous hugs and handshakes.
“I’ll know when….”
There are several VPs and A&R executives from various record labels and numerous A-list celebrities and athletes milling around the room, drinking flutes of some of the finest champagnes while mingling, flirting, groping, and sidling up to their objects of desire as bare-chested waiters wearing black bowties and tuxedo pants circle with champagne on silver trays.
“Ooh, the two of you are simply delicious together,” says a sultry voice in back of Marcel and me. We both look over our shoulder and our eyes flicker into the face of Nairobia Jansen—the half-Dutch, half-Nigerian author, model, and sex goddess who has graced the covers of both Penthouse and Playboy and has built a multimillion-dollar empire with her adult toy line.
“Mmm,” she purrs, running a finger lightly down my spine, causing a burst of sensations to erupt inside of me. She’s dressed in a scandalous white sheer dress sans bra and panties, brazenly revealing the assets she’s most famous for—her voluptuous breasts, curvaceous hips, and beautiful round ass. “I’d love to have the two of you in my chambers tonight doing all sorts of naughty things.”
“Nairobia, my darling,” I say saucily, casting my gaze to the swell of her breasts, “you’re looking irresistibly scrumptious as always.” I lick my lips zooming in on the outline of her dark areolas and thick chocolate-tipped nipples.
She air-kisses both my cheeks, then hungrily eyes Marcel as he leans in and kisses her lightly on the lips, cupping her delightful ass.
He licks his lips, then says, “Good to see you, baby.”
Gray eyes lit with mischief, Nairobia stands on her tiptoes and whispers, “And it would be even better to feel you deep inside me again.” Before giving Marcel a chance to respond, she presses the mounds of her breasts against him and nibbles on his earlobe, taking his hand and sliding it between the long slit in her dress, placing it between her legs. “I’ve missed the feel of you inside my pussy.”
Marcel gives her a lopsided grin. “Oh, word? You miss this long, hard dick, baby?”
She moans in response, pulling me into her, cupping her hand at the base of my neck for a tender kiss. My pussy moistens. She parts my lips with her tongue, while her other hand finds its way to my breasts. She brushes her mouth against the column of my neck, her warm breath heating my skin.
My hand slinks between her legs to join Marcel’s. Index and middle fingers brush lightly against her slippery nub while Marcel’s fingers get lost deep inside her heat. The scent of her pussy, wet and hungry, flows freely over Marcel’s hand.
My mouth waters for a taste of her sweet nectar.
In between gasps and moans, Nairobia says, “I want…mmm…both of…you…fucking …me…in my mouth…my pussy…my sweet, tight ass…”
Marcel’s thick fingers open her, wide and wanting, making room for my two slender fingers to slide in alongside his. Together we finger-fuck her. I can feel the silken swell of her cunt as she nears orgasm. She’s getting wetter with each stroke.
