Black Butterfly, Book 3 of the Black Burlesque Series_an Alpha male, BWWM romance

by Tiffany Patterson

  Stacey enjoyed herself after a few minutes of instruction from Damon. She wasn’t as well versed in salsa as in other dances, but nevertheless she was a quick study. Even though the steps were new to her, her body reveled in the rhythm of the music, and she was able to let go. After Damon showed her the basic steps to dancing salsa in the two, she was taking his lead as he spun her around the dance floor. Five songs in, she’d worked up a bit of a sweat, but still wasn’t ready to sit down even though Damon was.

  “Mind if I cut in?” That familiar deep timbre sent shivers down her spine as his warm breath skirted over her shoulder from behind.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” she purred.

  “Oh baby, I know exactly what I’m doing. Let me show you,” he said, taking her hand as Damon passed it to him. With a flick of his wrist and extension of his arm, Andre had Stacey spinning around the dance floor yet again.

  Stacey was stunned when Andre performed the salsa steps to perfection. His steps were perfectly in time with the music, and his hips had a natural cadence that she knew was useful for more than just dancing. When a reggaeton song came on, she sidled up to Andre, turned so her back was to his front, and began a grind with her hips that she knew would get a rise out of him. Within seconds, she felt strong hands grip her around the hips as he pulled her hips to meet his.

  “Mmm,” Stacey purred, as she felt his growing hardness rub against her buttocks.

  “You know what that sound does to me,” Andre growled low in her ear.

  “Show me,” she challenged, turning and rubbing her breasts into the expanse of his chest. Stacey’s stomach fluttered when a wicked smile spread across Andre’s handsome face. His arms tightened around her waist just before he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “Challenge accepted.” He pulled her off the dance floor to their table, quickly retrieving her purse and making their goodbyes.

  Stacey had to practically run in her five inch heels as Andre’s tight grasp on her hand pulled her behind him. With lightning speed, Andre placed Stacey in his passenger seat before moving around to the driver’s side. Stacey was in a teasing mood and decided to push Andre’s buttons a little more.

  “Is it hot in here?” she asked innocently.

  “Huh?” Andre questioned distractedly as he pressed down harder on the gas, rushing to get his woman behind closed doors.

  “I asked is it hot in here?”

  “I don’t th—” Andre’s words caught in his throat when he glanced over at Stacey. He nearly swerved off the road when he saw her hike up the edges of her dress, exposing more of her creamy brown thighs.

  “Are you sure?” she seductively intoned as she watched Andre snap his head back to the road, knuckles growing white as he gripped the steering wheel.

  “Goddammit, baby.” Andre’s voice was thick with his growing arousal.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, reaching over to massage his hand on the steering wheel, loosening his grip. She pulled his hand to her thigh, and slowly pulled it up her thigh, under her dress, to rest at her very warm center. “See, I told you it was hot,” she teased, spreading her legs wider to make room for his big hand.

  “You were right,” Andre agreed as he let his fingers ease the edges of her lace panties to the side, and began massaging her heated labia. She was already wet. He inched lower and deftly inserted one finger into her tightness.

  “Ooo,” Stacey sighed as her head fell back against the headrest.

  Andre slowly pulled his finger out and brought it to Stacey’s lips. “Open,” he commanded, briefly looking over at her.

  Without hesitation, Stacey’s lips parted, granting his finger access, and Andre wasted no time plunging his finger into the warm cavern of her mouth.

  Stacey’s lips encircled Andre’s finger, sucking and licking her own juices. Stacey pulled a second finger into her mouth, sucking as if her life depended on it.

  “Shit, baby,” Andre cursed, pulling his fingers from her mouth and returning to her nether lips. He made quick work of shoving her underwear to the side before swiftly entering her with the same two fingers. As they pulled into the private garage of his building, with one hand on the steering wheel, Andre pulled into a parking space while pumping into and out of Stacey’s wet core with his other hand.

  “Andre,” Stacey panted his name just above a whisper.

  “I fucking love it when you say my name right before you come, baby. Do you know how hard that makes me?” he questioned, voice thick with arousal and wonder. “Look at me. I want to see you when you come. I want to look into your eyes when you come from just my fingers inside you, knowing when I take you upstairs I’m going to shove my cock so deep inside you, you won’t remember where I end and you begin. Do you want that, baby?” He probed her at the same time he curled his fingers inside her, reaching for the sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “Mmm, yeeeess,” Stacey hissed at the exact moment his fingers hit her g-spot. Squirming in her seat, she used one hand to brace the door handle, and the other to brace Andre’s strong bicep.

  “Then come for me. Now!” he growled, pumping his fingers with vigor.

  “I-Ahhhhh,” Stacey groaned when her orgasm exploded inside her.

  “Damn,” Andre said in awe, staring at her.

  Still panting, Stacey’s eyes widened when Andre pulled his fingers from her and inserted them into his own mouth. The wanton move caused another wave of moisture to dampen her already soaked panties.

  “So fucking delicious,” Andre groaned, swallowing and closing his eyes as if he’d just had his favorite meal of all time. He quickly moved from the driver’s seat, helped Stacey out of the car, and they made their way to his private elevator. Less than two seconds after the elevator doors closed, Andre had Stacey pinned against the wall, making good on his promise to imbed himself so deep inside her she didn’t know whether she was coming or going.

  When the elevator doors opened, both stumbled out of the elevator. They didn’t even make it to Andre’s bedroom. He laid her down on his plush carpet, pulled off her dress, removed his own clothing, and took his woman over and over.

  Chapter 16

  “Andre what’s all this?” Stacey asked, walking into his kitchen and seeing a whole spread of breakfast foods. The last three weeks flew by for Stacey and Andre as she’d been consumed with finishing up projects for her classes and her internship. They’d also spent the Thanksgiving holiday and weekend together. Instead of hosting the holiday at Devyn and Nikola’s as was the usual case, Iris hosted Thanksgiving dinner. Nikola, Devyn, the couple’s three children along with Raul, Mercedes, Andre and Stacey were all in attendance. The women helped Iris cook while the men watched football. Stacey felt as if she was a regular part of the family. Of course, being close friends with Devyn and Mercedes already helped, but feeling as if Andre tried hard to ensure she felt included made it special too. He made sure to tell his mother Stacey’s favorite dessert was butter pecan ice cream, and she’d had a fresh homemade batch for Stacey to enjoy. Now, it was the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, and Stacey had her big interview to work as a full-time counselor for the same facility she currently interned at.

  “This, is for you. Come sit,” he said motioning for her to sit in the chair he’d pulled out for her at his glass dining table.

  “Andre this is a lot of food,” she said looking over the array of assorted fruits, croissants, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon and sausage. “Did you prepare all of this?”

  “Most. The croissants are from the bakery downstairs. They’re fresh. I figured you needed a hearty breakfast today. We don’t want your stomach growling in the middle of your big interview.” He tossed her a wink over his shoulder as he strolled to his kitchen. He returned with a pitcher of fresh orange juice in one hand and a pot of fresh brewed coffee in the other. “This,” he gestured holding up the pitcher of orange juice, “I didn’t squeeze it myself, but it is fresh squeezed from downstairs. I’m assured it’s made with
plenty of TLC,” he finished, placing the pitcher and coffee on their holders, and placing a brief kiss to Stacey’s cheek.

  “Eat up,” he encouraged as he took his own seat.

  Stacey’s chest expanded with a feeling of warmth as she realized Andre had woken up at least an hour early to prepare this big meal for her. It was evident he cared deeply about her and was supportive of her goals. The day before, he’d gone over interview questions with her, and had helped her to feel more relaxed in an interview setting. Knowing that he cared deeply enough to go out of his way to aid in her success warmed her.

  “All right Ms. Coleman, why do you want this position?”

  Stacey’s forkful of scrambled eggs paused midway to her mouth. Her eyes shot over to Andre who wore an expectant expression. This is the one interview question she’d had trouble with the day before. She felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter as she placed her fork down on the porcelain plate, and wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. She reached for her glass of orange juice, both to stall for time to ruminate over her answer and to cleanse her palate before speaking.

  Stacey swallowed as she pondered the answer. Truth was, there was an answer on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t know if she was up for sharing it. How did one confess one of the darkest parts of their lives in an interview as proof of their abilities?

  “You’re rubbing that spot on your hand,” Andre observed. He reached across the table, took her hand in his, and rubbed his thumb over the tiny scar that resided between her knuckles. “One day you’ll tell me about it,” he stated pointedly. “How about you talk about why working with this group of women is so necessary,” he encouraged, sensing her discomfort.

  Stacey nodded, spotting her reprieve and grasping on to it. “Unfortunately, in the mental health and eating disorder community, a large segment of women and under class have been excluded. Many, even in the medical field, see eating disorders as a middle class white woman’s problem, but that’s not the case. Women of color, poor women, and men suffer from eating disorders. Eating disorders, disordered eating, and mental health needs are not limited to a specific demographic. I come from this outsider demographic and have seen signs of the need for these services in those communities. I—” she paused, catching herself still not wanting to give too much away, “there will be no other candidate more dedicated to delivering the message of this institution, and helping in spreading relief to many who suffer from the ills of an eating disorder and disordered eating.”

  Stacey inhaled deeply, feeling satisfied with her answer. The edges of her eyes wrinkled as her lips spread into a prideful smile when she saw the gleam in Andre’s eyes. She felt his pride. She was grateful he hadn’t tried to force her into giving an answer she wasn’t comfortable sharing just yet. While her response wasn’t the entire reason she was drawn to this particular profession, it was sufficient. Now, she felt ready for her interview.

  They both finished their breakfast, and made plans to go out to dinner to celebrate her successful interview. Andre was already convinced she’d ace it and they’d be celebrating. His confidence inflated Stacey’s own assurance.

  Later that morning, as Stacey strolled into the interview room, seeing the director of the facility, she felt the same anticipation she felt before getting on stage for a big show. Head held high, shoulders squared, she took her seat and proceeded easily.

  ****

  Meanwhile, in Boston, Jennings stumbled through the rows of headstones in the Evergreen Cemetery. Pausing, he clutched his leather jacket to his chest. The wind foretold of another chilly evening as the temperatures had dipped well below the forties already in the late Bostonian fall. He tilted his head back, taking a long swallow of the Absolute Crystal encompassed in a bottle with the other hand. He swallowed, coughing as the liquid burned its way down his esophagus. Continuing to stumble in his brown Ferragamos, he finally found the headstone he was looking for—no easy feat in his intoxicated state.

  “Christopher A. Jennings. Loving husband and father. Forever in our hearts,” the younger Jennings read the inscription on his father’s headstone. Jennings grunted, taking another swig from his bottle. He swiped at the drops of vodka that landed on his chin.

  “Whatever,” he mumbled. “I bet you’re having your last laugh at me, huh, old man?” Jennings spat at the headstone, bitterness etched in his voice. “You were right. I wasn’t man enough to run your company, but I’m going to make this right. I was right to take what was mine. What you refused to leave me. I took it, and because of a few bad years, the losers you hired convinced me it was best to sell to Collins. This is your fault.” He angrily sneered at the grave and pointed his hand wildly, spilling a few drops of vodka onto the headstone. “You never trusted me. I could’ve been better. But I’m going to get it back. I’m getting the business back to have a legacy to pass on to my own children. I’ll prove you wrong, and when I do, I’ll come back and piss on your grave,” Jennings promised, swigging back the remaining contents of the bottle before throwing the glass against the headstone, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

  Jennings turned and tripped on a shard of broken glass, falling into a neighboring headstone. Righting himself, he scowled at his father’s headstone one last time before straightening the collar of his jacket, attempting to straighten his stance, he headed towards the exit. As he ambled towards the exit gate, he decided to move forward with the idea he’d finally conjured up to get his company back and on the right track. Pulling out his phone, he made a phone call to a local newspaper, leaving an anonymous tip with one of the finance journalists. Hanging up, a perilous smile emerged on the younger Jennings’ face as he set his plan in motion.

  ****

  “We’ve got a problem.” Nikola burst through Andre’s door, not even bothering to knock.

  Andre looked up at the taut expression on his brother’s face and knew it was serious. Nikola wasn’t one for dramatics. If he said there was a problem, it was a big deal.

  “What’s going on?”

  Nikola turned, shutting the door before he strutted over to the chair in front of Andre’s desk and lowered himself to sit. “Some shit’s going on with Boston,” he stated seriously.

  Andre’s eyebrow hiked up inquisitively. By all accounts, Boston was Andre’s pet project. All the signings, paperwork, and contracts had gone through him. He’d labored for months to get the deal done, and he wasn’t about to see it fall apart after they’d already spent a large sum of money on this acquisition. A loss of the business wouldn’t bankrupt Excel by any means, but it could mean time, money, and human resources devoted to the project would have been wasted.

  “I got a call from a reporter from The Boston Globe. Says he got a tip one of our new employees was involved in insider trading,” Nikola stated.

  “Bullshit.” Andre shot up in his seat. “I checked every employee we have. Especially all the brokers we decided to keep on. If there was insider trading, I would fucking know.”

  “You sure?” Nikola asked raising an eyebrow.

  “Fuck yeah, I’m sure. You know I don’t play that shit. I not only had our team thoroughly go over their records, I met, interviewed, and reviewed the records of all of the brokers. If something was amiss I would have caught it,” Andre defended himself, sitting back in his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. He mentally recalled each and every one of the brokers he’d spoken with and none of them rang any bells.

  “Did this reporter name anyone or give descriptions?” he asked his brother, a spark of awareness rising in his gut.

  “No names. Just said there was a deal that went down last year for $125,000 that looked ‘suspicious’,” Nikola threw air quotes around the word.

  “One-hundred twenty five thou- are you serious?” Andre sat up in his chair, gripping the edges of the armrests. “You know how fucking ridiculous that is?” he asked, incredulous. In their world, a $125,000 trade was hardly anything to risk insider trading for. Most of their finance clients only m
ade deals in the million dollar and up range. Going to jail over less than a quarter of a million dollars was hardly worth the risk.

  “I know, I know,” Nikola stated holding up his hand. “But, if it gets out that there’s insider trading going on, we’re gonna be on the bad end of this. No matter how little the amount is.”

  Andre nodded in agreement. To the average person, $125,000 was nothing to sneeze at and the SEC had sent people to jail for less. Rumors of this type of trade could spark a formal investigation, and lead to negative headlines and all around bad publicity for Excel. Though The Jennings Corp. had retained its name after the acquisition, Excel was still the parent company and would be linked to this in the press. If it got that far. Andre stroked his cream colored silk tie, staring at the wall above Nikola’s head as he began strategizing how to combat this.

  “What are you thinking so far?” Nikola asked, knowing that look on his brother’s face.

  “I’m thinking, tomorrow morning, I’m making a trip to Boston,” he told his brother. For the next hour, Andre and Nikola made a few calls and requests of forensic accountants they did business with. Andre had his assistant plan his trip to Boston using Excel’s private plane. Once Nikola left his office and the details of this unexpected excursion were planned, he lifted his office phone to make one final call.

  Andre rubbed his hand across his forehead as the phone rang, dreading to have to tell Stacey he’d be gone for another week. She had just had her interview a few days ago, and although she said it went great, she was still waiting for a response. Andre was confident she’d get the position. She was smart, determined, and a fighter, exactly what those clients needed. He just hated to think he wouldn’t be there for her during her final week of school, or be there to take her out to celebrate when she got the good news.