Dirty Heat

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Dirty Heat Page 14

by Cairo


  I toss my head back. Throw my arms up in the air. Glance up at the twinkling stars. Close my eyes. Then slowly open them again, gazing out into the growing crowd.

  All eyes are on me as I dish up a full-view of ass, hips, and tits.

  A few men whistle and catcall.

  Tonight, even if I’m not fucking—yet, I am giving them the illusion that I am.

  That I am the island whore.

  The harlot.

  The jezebel.

  The dancing thot.

  In my mind’s eye, all I see are a bunch of naked, hard-bodied men, a slew of hard horny dick.

  All for the taking.

  Fingers popping, pussy on fire, I’m dancing as if I am a woman with a purpose, to have a good goddamn time. I shake my ass as if I’m a single woman, as if I hadn’t been fucked by my man just hours before my flight departed.

  I wind down to the floor, then pop my ass cheeks. Bitches had better grab ahold of their men and hold ’em tight. There’s a weekend slut on the loose.

  “YE-EHHHH!”

  “Yehhhhhh-Ey!”

  I sway back and forth, lunge forward, shake and roll my hips. Not caring if my breasts spill out. Then I quickly get swept up in the fast, rhythmic beat of “Flatten Riddim” as it vibrates through my body.

  I start high-kicking and spinning.

  By the time the deejay eases into “Your Loss,” a song by a reggae artist I’ve never heard of, Figaro, the dance floor is crowded, and I’ve worked up a sweat and a deep thirst for something wet…and refreshing.

  “Damn, baby, I love the way you move,” a baritone voice floats over the music in back of me. I turn to see who its owner is, looking up and gazing into the eyes of the closet thing to perfection I’ve seen in a long time.

  Lord, God, he’s fine.

  He’s holding a bottle of Piton in his hand.

  For a second, I stand here mesmerized, taking in his smooth milk chocolate skin and his Trevor eyes that look like two black onyx stones delicately set in big round orbs, before finally opening my mouth to speak.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” I say sassily. It’s a loaded statement, one he quickly picks up on.

  He takes a swig of his beer, then licks a set of full lips that causes my clit to pulse.

  “Is that so?” he says, waves of desire sizzling off him as his seductive gaze wanders over my body. “Well, I can’t wait to see what else that body can do.”

  A loaded statement filled with invitation.

  “If only you knew, boo.” I giggle to myself. He follows me back to the bar, telling the bartender to get me whatever I want. I ease up on a barstool and order a rum punch.

  Grabbing a few napkins from off the bar, I dab my forehead, then along the back of my neck.

  “Looks like you were out there having a real good time.”

  I smile. “Life’s too short not to.”

  He smiles. “It was fun watching you. You kinda had us all in a trance.”

  I swivel my chair in his direction, crossing my legs. “Then I’ve done what I came to do.”

  He furrows his brow. “Oh, yeah? What was that?”

  The bartender slides me my drink. I take a quick sip of the refreshing drink, then set it up on the bar. “To give people something to think about.”

  He laughs. “Oh, trust me, love. You definitely gave us fellas more than enough to think about. And fantasize about. You definitely knew what you were doing to us.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh.

  The music abruptly stops. A speaker blows out. And the crowd groans in agitation. The deejay in his thick West Indian accent apologizes. Tells everyone to bear with him. People are milling around the deck, talking and laughing and eyeing their prey for the night, while waiting for the music to start again.

  Mister Milk Chocolate.

  A light breeze rolls off the ocean and blows in, cooling me.

  Two drinks later, and it no longer matters that the music is still not back on. I’ve learned that Mister Milk Chocolate’s real name is Evan. He’s thirty-eight. A Scorpio. Originally from Brooklyn, New York, but—for the last ten years—has lived in New Haven, Connecticut.

  He and some of his frat brothers are here visiting St. Lucia for another one of his frat brother’s wedding. He ties the knot tomorrow afternoon. Then he flies back to the States on Sunday. The same day as I am.

  I glance at his left hand, ring finger. There is no sign of a ring, or tan line. Not that it matters, or means anything.

  Hell, I’m involved. But tonight, I’m out shaking my ass, moving like I’m happily single.

  “So what fraternity do you belong to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He flashes a lazy grin. Tells me it’s all about that Crimson and Cream.

  I laugh. “I should have known. You’re too damn fine to be anything else.”

  He laughs with me. “Many are called…”

  “I know, I know,” I say, cutting him off. “Few are chosen.”

  “You got it, love. What you know about that?”

  “Oh, I know all about them canes,” I say flirtatiously.

  “Yeah, but I bet you don’t know about the one I’m holding,” he says back.

  Ping. Incoming text.

  I purse my lips. “Uh-huh. Hold that thought.” I fish through my clutch for my phone, pulling it out.

  When I see Miss you baby. Hope ur having a good time from Roosevelt, I almost feel guilty for sitting here with this chocolate Adonis, toying with fantasies of having—what I imagine to be big and thick, judging by the bulge in his white linen shorts—his jumbo-size dick in my wet mouth.

  I gaze up at my bar companion. “Excuse me for one sec,” I say just as the music starts to play again. I don’t give a damn where I’m at, what I’m doing, or who I am doing it with, the one thing I make sure I always do is answer my man’s texts and his calls. I don’t care if I have a mouthful of dick. I stop mid-suck and respond to my man.

  And that’s how you keep his mind from wandering, conjuring up crazy shit, like you’re probably out cheating on him, even if you are.

  The one thing I will never do is, fuck up my home life. Oh, no, boo-boo.

  I hold my Samsung up and angle it just so, taking a selfie, then quickly text, Miss you too, boo. Yes. I’m having a fab time! Wish u were here. Jessica and the girls say hi. Lies. But I know it’s the right thing to say. That I wish he were here.

  I chuckle to myself, making a mental note to give my soror Jessica a heads-up when I get back to the States, just in case Roosevelt decides to let curiosity get the best of him and asks her how our little retreat was.

  The last thing I need is for her looking like a deer caught in headlights, and me scrambling not to get caught in a lie. I haven’t told many. But I’ve dished out my share. Fortunately, I’ve kept my tracks covered and my lies straight, thus far.

  No time for getting sloppy now.

  I attach the picture of myself, head tilted, smiling.

  Then hit send.

  Mr. Milk Chocolate grins.

  “So, who’s that? Your lover?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “I should have known a beautiful woman like you would have a man. Where is he? Back at your hotel?”

  “No. Atlanta. I traveled light, this time.”

  He gives me a quizzical look. “And he trusts you on a beautiful tropical island, alone?”

  Feeling the heat from my drink kicking in, I slowly run the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip. “Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he? I’ve never given him any reason not to trust me.” Yeah, bitch, because your slick-ass hasn’t gotten caught yet. “Besides, he doesn’t know I’ve traveled alone.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Wait. Let me get this straight. You’re here in all of your sexiness, and your man doesn’t even know that you’re here?”

  I toss my hair. “Oh, he knows I’m here. He just doesn’t know I’m here by myself.” I take a sip of my drink. “And what he doesn’
t know won’t hurt him.”

  He grins, flashing a dimpled cheek, left side. Mischief flashes in his eyes. “You don’t say?”

  I’ll admit, as I’m looking at him, my pussy pulses. Heat slowly throbs through my whole body. If opportunity presents itself, I will fuck him. I am sure of it. The moistness gathering in the pit of my cunt assures me of this.

  I glance down at the bulge in his shorts again, and imagine myself down on my knees; looking up at him slantways, sucking his dick down into my throat, feeling the tingle of its tip every time my throat muscles contract around it.

  I see him coming hard, his dick melting in my mouth, and me sucking him greedily. His dick sucked clean as a fucking whistle.

  I swallow.

  “So who does your man think you’re traveling with?”

  I take another slow sip of my drink, rinsing down my sordid thoughts. Then run my fingers through my hair. “He thinks I’m on an all-girls’ retreat.”

  I smile coyly.

  “Damn, sounds like somebody needs a spanking for being real naughty,” he says, a dark smile crossing his lips.

  Lord, God…

  “There’s nothing naughty about sneaking off for the weekend, alone.”

  He grins. “And your man allows you these so-called”—he makes quotation marks with his fingers—“all-girls’ retreats without question?”

  “Yes. Without question.” I boldly toss my hair. Then glide my tongue over my lips again. “He knows I’m always coming home to him.”

  His smoldering eyes skim over my body. He gulps down his drink, then leans in, moves his mouth to my ear. “Then forgive me for saying, baby, he’s a damn fool. There’s no way I’d let all this sweet ass travel anywhere without me.”

  All this sweet ass?

  Jesus, take the wheel!

  A blush warms my face as I inhale, and catch a hint of musk off his skin, a mixture of woodsy masculinity and something splashed out of an expensive bottle. But that’s nothing compared to the heat suddenly flaring between my thighs.

  His boldness is intoxicating. And there’s something about it that is pulling me in, has me feeling something new, something exciting and fierce.

  My pussy clenches.

  He glides a finger up and down my thigh as he speaks. “You’re a sexy, beautiful woman, baby. Thick all over.” He pulls in his bottom lip. “I bet you’re real juicy, too.”

  Feeling empowered, I toss my hair, and say, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He grins. “Yeah, I would.” His large hand rests on the small of my back. “I can tell that thing is good. Real good. I want a taste.”

  Shivers dart through me.

  I can feel my cunt juice slowly seeping into the seam of my jumper.

  Lord, God…goddamn him!

  “I bet you’re already hot and wet and ready for me. Aren’t you?”

  He’s right. I am. I am so hot, so goddamn ready.

  I swallow.

  If this fine motherfucker doesn’t get away from me before my pussy explodes, I’m likely to fuck him right here for all to see.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I swallow. “Uh, sure,” I stammer.

  He licks his lips. “Are you wearing panties?”

  “A thong.”

  He smiles. “Nice. What color?”

  “White.”

  Lord, God, there goes that tongue, again, licking over those succulent lips. He leans in, moves his mouth closer to my ear. “And what if I told you I wanted you to stuff it in my mouth, while I fucked you senseless?”

  Those words send swirls of heat reeling through me.

  I inhale. Catch the scent of him again, and my mouth waters. His fading cologne is overpowered by a sensual musk that suddenly makes me dangerously lightheaded at the thought of tasting him.

  Licking him.

  My tongue dancing up and down his skin.

  Feeling every inch of him pressed into my mouth.

  My heartbeat quickens.

  I am melting inside.

  The sight and smell of this man renders me speechless.

  His gaze on me has my body on fire, but my mouth suddenly goes dry.

  Goddamn him!

  Thoughts of Roosevelt invade my conscience, and guilt gnaws at me. But then I look at the fine motherfucker standing in front of me and think of the endless possibilities the night might offer.

  One being a well-fucked, well-pounded, very pleased pussy.

  I reach for my drink. Toss it back. Allow the heat to swirl in my belly. Lips wet, throat moistened, finally regaining my composure, slowly I say, “Then I’d say, let’s go fuck, daddy.”

  FIVE

  As soon as the elevator doors shut, he has me pressed hard against the polished wall, his mouth covering mine. I gasp, breathless from his long, deep kiss.

  “We were watching you all night, shaking that ass.”

  I pant. Catch my breath. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Fuck yeah. Had my dick hard all night.” With his lips to my throat, and his hands squeezing my voluptuous ass, he whispers, “Damn you thick as hell.”

  I moan. “Mmm. You like all that?”

  “Hell yeah. Love it. I don’t usually kiss random women. But you sexy as fuck.”

  I press my pussy into his thigh. “Well, I don’t typically fuck random men on the first night. I usually spread my legs on the second, or third night.”

  He grins. Grinds himself into me. “Lucky me. You feel that?”

  I reach between us. Feel his dick. Grab it. It’s everything I thought it would be, thick and long. “Yes. Mmm. I hope you can handle me,” I say breathlessly as he shoves a hand between my legs and cups my pussy.

  “Oh, I can handle you,” he murmurs. “There’s enough dick to handle you all night.”

  “That’s what they all I say,” I tease boldly. “I don’t want no minute-man, baby. Not tonight. My pussy needs to be fucked right, long and hard and deep. Can you handle that? If not, find me someone who can.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You talk a good one, love. But you ain’t no real freak.”

  “Ooh, that sounds like a dare.”

  “Nah. It’s an assessment.”

  “Then you had better reassess. I’m more freak than you’ll know.”

  He smirks. “You ain’t ready, love. But, soon as I get ya ass to the room, we about to find out.”

  “I don’t want me no minute-man,” I repeat in a singsong voice.

  “Trust me. You about to find out I ain’t no minute-man.”

  His gaze meets mine as he cups my cheek and eases my head back so that there is no mistaking the heat in his eyes.

  “I like it nasty,” I say, squeezing his dick. It feels long and thick. How I love ’em.

  “Yeah, okay. That’s what your mouth says.”

  “I can show you, better than I can tell you,” I mutter as he smiles down at me. His smile is painfully sexy.

  “We’ll see,” is all he says before he slides a hand into my halter-top and eases down and takes one of my breasts in his hot mouth, suckling my nipple until I feel wild with want.

  He tells me tonight he’s going to be my deepest, darkest fantasy. That he’s going to give me what my body needs. Everything it craves. Everything my man doesn’t give me at home. Lots of tongue, lots of dick…and a hard, deep fuck.

  The minute he has me inside his hotel room and the door closes behind us, he is all over me again. And I am clawing at his shirt, buttons flying off as I rip it open, exposing his smooth chest.

  He groans. “Shit. I can’t wait to taste you. I want my tongue shoved so far up in your sweet cunt that you can feel it licking your cervix.”

  A shiver races up my spine. “Mmm,” I purr. “Lick all in my wet pussy.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  Baby.

  The way it rolls off his tongue, slow and easy and sweet like melted chocolate, makes we want to suck him into my mouth.

  Evan’s gaze flickers over
my face, causing the heat between my thighs to spread over my cunt, settling on my clit. My heartbeat throbs. Aches. Pulses right smack in the center of my legs. It takes everything in me to not push the emergency stop button, drop to my knees, and suck his dick, right here, right now.

  One corner of his sexy lips curls as if he knows what he’s doing to me.

  Seducing me. Luring me.

  I’m trolling for trouble.

  He knows it.

  I know it.

  But, at this very moment, I don’t give a damn.

  Lucky for him, or maybe me…the elevator stops.

  And the doors slide open.

  • • •

  “Ooooh, yes, baby, yessss! Right there…!”

  Evan’s tongue trails slow, wet circles in the center of my thigh, then a fingertip trails up my other leg, up along my shin, up over my knee and around to my inner thigh, slowly inching its way closer to my slick cunt.

  Any thoughts of my man back home, any lingering guilt I might have felt, have long gone. At this moment, Roosevelt doesn’t exist. And there’s no room for guilt.

  Only pleasure. Only heat. Only lust.

  Repentance can come in the morning.

  Right now the only thing that matters is this orgasm that’s boiling up inside of me. He hasn’t even touched my pussy yet, and I am already on edge of a climax.

  Lord, God…

  This is sinful.

  By the time Evan reaches the sodden spot in the center of my panties, I am breathing hard, panting. Almost gasping.

  “I can smell your pussy,” he murmurs. “Soaked in your juices. Spread your legs wider. Let me breathe you in.”

  “Let me breathe you in.”

  Oh, how I want him to. Breathe me in. Sniff out my soul. Then lick away my transgressions.

  Yes, yes, yes, breathe me in.

  The sensuality in those three words, breathe you in, has my body fluttering like a moth to a flame. Attracted to the heat. Tempted by desire.

  Lord, God…

  His touch, his tongue, will lead to my downfall.

  A wave of heat crashes through me as I spread my legs wider and he presses his nose into my center, then inhales. Deeply. Intently.

  “Mmm, so sweet, so musky,” he says, his words muffled wetly. He rubs his nose up and down along the center, smearing his nose in my cum-soaked, cum-scented panties.

 

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