by Pamela Yaye
Marshall stared back at her, a look of contentment reflected in his deep brown eyes. “What would I do without you?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”
Nibbling on his earlobe, she tugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. Weak-kneed, he sank down on the couch, pulling her on top of him. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he kissed her with such a savage intensity, she felt dizzy. He licked, sucked and rubbed her all over. His erection, long, wide and thick, pressed against her inner thigh. Had she ever wanted anyone as much as she wanted this man? No! resounded in her ears at a deafening pitch. Marshall tweaked her nipples and a delicious warmth spread from her breasts to her core. Her heart rate quickened and a sharp, tingly sensation pulsed between her legs. “We…we better stop. What if Khari—”
“Don’t worry about Khari,” he told her. Any fight in her died when he took her earlobe into his mouth. “I gave him twenty bucks and told him to get lost.”
Sage laughed. “You cheap bastard. Did you forget you were in L.A.? Twenty bucks doesn’t go far in this town.”
Marshall slapped her butt, then laughed out loud when she told him to do it again. “Hey, you can’t fault me for trying. I just wanted to make love to my woman.”
“All right then…” Grabbing his wrist, she tapped the face of his watch with her forefinger. “We only have thirty-six minutes left. So quit talking and kiss me!”
He did—slowly, tenderly, completely. Ignited by his kiss, she leaned into him, gently stroking his face. Every nerve in her body screamed out for his touch. Kissing her with more passion than any of Hollywood’s leading men, he caressed the length of her arms, the slope of her hips, and the tender spot between her thighs. Marshall touched her wetness and a moan ripped from her mouth.
A kaleidoscope of color swirled in her mind, snatching her thoughts and leaving her breathless. Pleasure cascaded down her back like a ninety-foot waterfall. Inhaling his scent, a mixture of aftershave, soap and cologne, she tried to remember a time when she was this happy. Nothing came to mind.
The backseat of her car was roomier than the couch, but Sage wouldn’t have moved if the fire alarm went off. Grinding herself against him, she leaned forward, rotating her hips as if she were spinning a hula hoop around her waist. Nothing made her feel sexier than taking control and showing Marshall how it should be done, so she whipped off her bra, and guided his hands to her breasts. He cupped them, mashed them, kneaded them, driving her over the edge with the sensuous, erotic assault.
Her brain shut down, blocking out everything but his touch, his caress, his love. Holding his gaze, she took in his shallow breathing and the ravaged look in his eyes. Anticipation was a bitch. It was killing him and Sage loved seeing Marshall come undone. Gone was the control, the take-charge attitude. Under his strong, silent exterior was a loyal, generous man who just wanted to be loved. And love him she would.
When he cupped her breasts, they swelled like balloons. Lost in the fantasy, the moment, the emotions and feelings flowing through her, Sage kissed him with everything that she had. And when he tore off her thong and rubbed his thumb across her core, devastating words slipped from her mouth. “I love you, Marshall. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“I know.” He licked the side of her neck and she struggled to remain upright. Easing off the couch, a lazy grin working its way onto her lips, she pushed his shirt over his head. Self-control took a backseat to desire and she yanked off his belt like a lion tamer cracking a whip. His erection was long, powerful, thick. Inclining her head to the right, she trailed the length of his penis with her tongue.
Eyes focused on his face, she slid him in and out of her mouth, creating a mind-numbing rhythm. Perspiration clung to his skin and every muscle in his body cried out for release. Groaning in sweet agony, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as if he were about to lose consciousness. Curses, grunts and growls ripped from Marshall’s mouth. Gripping his shaft, she swallowed him whole. He dug his hands into her hair and swept her wavy locks off of her pretty face. Sage took her time, loving him, teasing him, tasting him. And when she returned to his lap and eased down on top of his erection, he was promising her everything from a Tiffany necklace to Manolo Blahnik stilettos.
Marshall stirred himself inside her and she answered the call by moving her butt in slow, tight circles. Her breasts jiggled in perfect rhythm with the thunderous beat of his heart. Feeling restricted and eager to love her without restraints, he lifted her up off the couch. He stumbled on one of her sandals, but didn’t fall. “Carefully, Marshall,” she cautioned, her eyes alight with laughter. “I’m too young to die!”
Legs entwined around his waist, hands linked around his neck, she kissed him. They staggered through the open partition and tumbled onto the bed. She climbed on top of him like she was scaling a tree. Leaning over him, a smile at her lips, she placed her hands on the wall. Her breasts hung over his face like melons on a vine and he plopped a nipple into his mouth.
Wanting to see every inch of her, he moved over to the middle of the bed and positioned her in front of the mirror. Then he spooned her onto her back, plunging into her—far, deep and wide. He felt every contour, every slope, every curve. Her ultra-tight viselike grip increased his pleasure and he released a deep, savage groan. When she cupped his butt, driving him deeper inside, he cooed like a pigeon. Sage knew what to say and do to make him feel like a stud, and her no-holds-barred loving drove him to delirium every time.
Four-letter words shot out of her mouth.
“Now, is that any way for a lady to talk?”
“Who said I was a lady?” She circled her tongue around his left nipple. “I’m a bad girl and you love it!”
Nothing about their lovemaking was soft or sweet, but he couldn’t resist reaching and stroking the apples of her cheeks. Sunlight crashed through the window, filling the room with its splendor and illuminating the sparkle in her eye. Staring down at her, transfixed by her beauty, Marshall decided she’d never looked more gorgeous.
“That’s it baby,” she purred, planting her feet on the bed and thrusting her hips forward. “Don’t stop…please, don’t stop!”
Aroused by her pleas, he hiked her legs up in the air and plunged into her with renewed energy. Marshall felt like a swimmer catapulting off a diving board. The missionary position had never felt so good. His head was spinning faster than a propeller, but he couldn’t let the moment pass without telling her what was in his heart. Through meeting Sage, he’d discovered a renewed sense of love. She’d opened his eyes to true love and proved to him there was such a thing as soul mates. “You’re the only woman I want. The only woman I’ll ever want. We…” His orgasm stole his words. Floods of passion erupted. Unforgettable pleasure coursed down his back like molten-hot lava. Head back, shoulders arched, he pressed his eyes shut and rode out the wave.
Sage sucked air into her lungs. Filled with an amazing sense of completeness, she snuggled close to him and laid her head on his chest. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the warm afterglow of exquisite lovemaking made her eyes heavy with sleep. Several deep breaths later, her mind cleared and she regained use of her tongue. “Wow!”
“You could say that again.” Kissing her softly, he brushed delicate wisps of hair out of her face. “That was incredible, Munch.”
“And the award for the Best Lover goes to…”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said with a laugh. “One of these days…” He stopped midword. Bolting upright, he peered down the narrow hall. He couldn’t see Khari, but he could hear him. He must have been on his cell phone, because he was telling someone about his infamous meeting with Renegade.
“Shit!” Marshall sprang from the bed. How the hell was he going to explain this? He’d carelessly tossed the condom wrapper on the living-room floor, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the heady, unmistakable scent of sex suffused the air.
“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asked, tugging on his jeans
. Sprawled out on the bed, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes glistening brighter than hubcaps, Sage looked like she was ready for her close-up.
“I would,” she began, a laugh tickling the back of her throat, “but my clothes are in the living room.”
Marshall cursed again. He watched the bedroom door, half-expecting his son to burst in quoting the Ten Commandments. “What are we going to do now?”
“That’s what you get for being cheap,” she scoffed, reaching over and smacking him playfully on the butt. “The next time you want to get some, give the kid a hundred bucks!”
Chapter 23
Renegade swaggered into the living room of his beachfront home flanked by two Maxim magazine cover models in yellow bikinis. The theme music of Shaft blared from waist-high speakers and a spotlight trailed him to a gold, thronelike chair. He sat down with the flourish of a king, a trophy girl on each side, a smug, arrogant grin on his lips. And when he blew out the candles on the enormous cake, bearing the word PIMP, guests broke out in wild, hysterical cheers.
Sage took a swig of her wine to keep from laughing out loud. Renegade was thirty-three. And he looked like a pimp in that ridiculous getup. Loud, flashy suit. Flowing silk cape. White top hat. Sage had tried to talk Renegade out of having a seventies-theme birthday party, but backed off when he got upset. What the client wants, the client gets. No matter how tacky it was. Everything, from the disco ball to the patchouli incense and multihued decorations, was a throwback to the year Renegade was born. Sage stood beside the punch bowl, bored out of her mind, but if the celebrity guests, empty Cristal champagne bottles and packed dance floor was any indication, the party was a hit.
Growing tired of KC & The Sunshine Band, the giggly, half-naked women bopping around the room and the hopeless fools who kept hitting on her, Sage searched the room for Khari. He’d been standing beside her a minute ago, then promptly pulled a David Blaine.
Convinced Khari was outside, she refilled her wineglass and sailed through the French doors. Spotting Khari near the hot tub, she weaved her way around the roller rink, narrowly avoiding a drunk female guest. Donning a pissed off, don’t-mess-with-me look, she ignored the posse of black men beside the gazebo, shot past a former client doing tequila shots, and flew across the lawn without being accosted by any pimp wannabes.
“Where have you been?” she asked, tapping Khari on the shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Khari turned and the grin on his face slipped. “Ah, hey, Sage.”
Noticing the curvy teenage girl behind him, she drew back her hand and apologized for interrupting. “Do you mind if I steal my little brother away for a minute?”
Linking arms with Khari, Sage led him over to one of the food tables. Bay oysters. Crab cakes. Smoked salmon. For a kid who grew up in Harlem, Renegade sure has expensive tastes, she thought, admiring the lavish spread. “I’m ready to go. Let’s leave now before Renegade notices that we’re gone.”
“Why don’t you go on?” he suggested, plucking a shrimp off one of the silver trays. “I’m not ready to bounce just yet. I’ll catch a cab back to the hotel later.”
“No way. We came together, we leave together. Sorry, it’s a party rule.”
“I’m a big boy. I don’t need you babysitting me.”
“And what do I tell your father?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “As far as he knows, I’m in my room sleeping, right?”
“Khari, I don’t know,” she began, her eyes circling the backyard and resting on a well-known TV actor squirting whip cream on a redhead’s cleavage and licking it off with his ruler-long tongue. “This isn’t Indianapolis, Khari. It’s Hollywood. Crazy things happen at celebrity parties.”
“I can handle it,” he assured her, draping an arm around her shoulders. “You and Dad can kick it without me getting in the way. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
It did. Three days had passed since Khari had busted them making love, and Marshall had been acting like a Boy Scout ever since. Aside from a few chaste kisses, he didn’t touch her, and it was driving Sage crazy. She loved Khari and enjoyed having him around, but she wanted to spend some quiet time alone with Marshall too. “All right, we’ll stay. One more hour and then we’re—”
Khari cut in. “What happened to my cool, easygoing friend who encouraged me to assert my independence?” He wagged a finger in her face. “See, you’ve been hanging out with Dad too much. His controlling ways are starting to rub off on you.”
Sage laughed. She didn’t know all about that, but there was no harm in letting Khari stay. This wasn’t a beer and weed party at a Newark housing project. Bodyguards built like WWE wrestlers kept watch, poised to pounce at the first whiff of trouble.
“Go,” he ordered, gripping her shoulders and steering her in the direction of the house. “I’ll be back in a few hours and Pops’ll never know.”
“I’ll arrange with Renegade to have his driver drop you back at the hotel.”
“Thanks, Sage.” He pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marshall banged on Sage’s hotel room door. He thought of going back to his room, but decided against it. They had agreed to meet at midnight, and though he was late, he had a feeling she was nearby.
Flipping open his cell phone, he scrolled through his missed calls and listened to her message again. His face broke out into a grin. The sound of her light, breezy voice brought him back to Wednesday afternoon. They’d gone at it full-throttle, and when he woke up the next morning, he’d felt the aftereffects in his bones. Nothing like good loving to make a man feel alive.
After Roxanne had left, he’d drifted from one meaningless relationship to the next, hoping sex would heal the emptiness in his heart. It wasn’t until meeting Sage that Marshall realized what had been missing. Fun, passion, joy. Raising Khari, working sixteen-hour days and volunteering in the community had consumed his life for years and he’d forgotten how good it felt to have a woman in his life.
Shaking his head ruefully, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He’d forgotten that Sage had given him the extra key card earlier in the day. Marshall slid the card into the lock and pushed open the door. “What the…” His words died on his lips, as he entered the suite. Dozens of candles made a vertical path through the living room, their light giving off a soft, romantic glow. Will Downing purred with seductive soulfulness and the room smelled like a florist shop.
Marshall followed the candle trail down the short hall to the bathroom. The tub was overrun with bubbles, and hundreds of rose petals were sprinkled on top. Plump, juicy strawberries floated in flutes filled with champagne, and a bowl topped with chocolate syrup sat on a gold tray.
“Welcome home,” Sage greeted, sneaking up behind him. “I’ve been waiting.”
Marshall glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, hon. What’s with all the candles?”
“Just trying to set the mood.”
“I told you before, I’m easy. Real easy. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” Pressing kisses along the side of his neck, she tugged off his sports jacket. “You take such good care of me. It’s time I pamper you.”
“How was the party?”
“Boring as hell, but Khari had a good time.”
Marshall chuckled. “I bet, he’s probably calling everyone he knows to brag about all the celebrities he met.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“The hotel’s expensive enough with Khari running up our bill. I have half a mind to go over there and—”
She put a finger to his lips. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine tonight. Now kick off your shoes and get in the tub.”
“I don’t take baths.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not a bath and bubbles kind of guy.”
“That’s too bad, ’cause I’m a bath and bubbles kind of girl,” she joked, undoing the top button of his shirt. Not a woman to give
up easily, she rubbed her chest against him, purring softly in his ear. “Honey, relax and let me take care of you.”
“I’ve never done this kind of thing before. It feels…weird, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised. “Now, strip!”
As she crossed her legs, her robe fell open, revealing a snatch of her lacy, low-cut panties. Perspiration clinging to his skin, Marshall rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Her hot little number was making him hot under the collar. The sight of her sleek, brown flesh made every nerve in his body stand at attention. Her hair, a thick bundle of curls, tumbled around her face, softening her sexy, drool-worthy look. A red, high-heeled shoe dangled from her foot and her legs seemed to go on for miles. She dipped a finger into the bowl and licked the chocolate clean off of her fingers. He imagined how her tongue, so wet and moist, would feel around his shaft. The thought made his heart gallop and his mouth dry. Like a motorist who’d slowed down to catch a glimpse of the scene of a head-on collision, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was hard not to stare at her. She was a centerfold. Tall, sleek and ridiculously sexy.
Her robe shifted. A diamond belly ring peeked out of the opening and drew his gaze south. Marshall felt like he was sneaking a forbidden peak, and enjoyed the unexpected thrill. Like a tidal wave engulfing a helpless surfer, the rush of making love overcame him. His body was on fire. Scalding hot. He had a deep emotional craving for her, and the more time they spent together, the stronger his need. Flowers, lingerie and music didn’t mean anything to him, but that didn’t give him license to criticize. “You’re beautiful, Sage. And this is perfect. You’re perfect.”
“I am, aren’t I?” she said, flashing him a cheeky smile. A perfect blend of beauty and brains, she teased him mercilessly, laughed her ass off at his corny jokes and inspired him to be a better man. And the sex was amazing. He’d never had such a powerful, immediate connection with someone, and when she touched him, his body became a raging inferno.
