by Naomi Chase
Wearing dark jeans and a black wifebeater, he wasn’t dressed to seduce either, though Tamia had to admit that his thick, muscled biceps looked damn good.
When their eyes met, his lips curved in a slow, lazy smile. She didn’t smile back.
Toking on his blunt, he motioned her to sit beside him on the sofa. Deliberately ignoring him, she sat down at the farthest end of the sectional.
His eyes glinted with amusement at her show of defiance.
As he returned to his phone call, she glanced around the cozy room, noting the marble fireplace, mounted plasma television, and a wet bar nestled into the corner. But her attention was on Dominic’s conversation. He’d slipped into his Crucian dialect, and though she struggled to translate his words, the lilting cadence of his voice was as irresistibly sexy as Shanell had predicted.
“Dah gyul geh you bazzidy,” he was saying. “You need to leh dah louse go, mehson.”
He listened for a few moments, then laughed. “Ayo ears long!” He glanced at Tamia, smiling lazily. “Mine? Too sharp foh TV.”
Just when Tamia began to suspect that she’d become the topic of conversation, Dominic said,“I no come back foh an-odder month. So peace out, mon, an’ stay safe.”
He ended the call and tossed his phone on the ottoman. “Sorry about that,” he told Tamia, reverting to plain English that still managed to sound sexy with his accent.“That was my baby brother, calling about his woman trouble.”
“And you advised him to break up with her,” Tamia noted dryly.
“She’s a gold digga. He’s better off without her.” Dominic glanced at his Rolex.“You’re early.”
“I didn’t want to take any chances,” she grumbled darkly.
He chuckled.“Smart woman.”
She shook her head at him.“I don’t understand you. Why would a filthy-rich, good-looking man like you have to resort to blackmailing women for sex? You can have any woman you want.”
“I know.” He took a long pull on his blunt and blew a cloud of smoke into the air.“And you’re the one I want.”
“But you don’t even know me! You got off on watching me in some porno flicks I did ages ago! But that’s not who I am. I was acting.” You crazy motherfucker, she added silently.
Dominic smiled, leaning forward to mash his blunt in an ashtray.“You’re not gonna talk me outta this, so you might as well save your breath.”
Tamia scowled, angrily folding her arms across her chest.
“Yo, you need to relax, love. This won’t be as bad as you think. In fact,” he said confidently,“you’re gonna enjoy this experience as much as I will.”
Tamia snorted.“Like hell I will.”
He smiled crookedly, then stood and sauntered over to the bar. As she watched him, she couldn’t help marveling at his transformation from a debonair, Gucci-clad businessman to this weed-smoking roughneck sporting buff, tattooed biceps.
“What can I get you? Cristal, Moët, Veuve? Vodka?”
“What? No Cruzan Rum?” Tamia asked sarcastically.
He grinned at her.“What kinda question is that? Of course I got Cruzan Rum. Is that what you want?”
“Sure. Whatever.” She figured she could use some liquid courage to get her through this evening.
Dominic fixed two drinks, then walked over and handed her a glass. When their fingers brushed, the heat from his touch sent an electric charge through her. Blaming the reaction on overwrought nerves, she took a sip of her drink.
“Good?” Dominic asked, sitting beside her.
She nodded, savoring the smooth, full-bodied flavor of the rum.
“Once you’ve had Cruzan, you’re ruined for all others.”
His wicked smile made Tamia wonder whether he was talking about rum or something else entirely. “How did you find out my real name and where I work?” she blurted.
He chuckled softly.“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“Was it someone at the studio?” she persisted.“One of the other actors? An employee? Or did Lou tell you?”
Dominic leisurely sipped his drink. “It’s not important how I found out.”
“It is to me! My job and reputation are at stake here. If anyone else finds out—”
He put his finger to her lips, silencing her.“Listen to me. As long as you keep your end of the bargain, no one ever has to know your secret.”
Tamia stared at him for a long moment, then turned away and downed the rest of her rum. Setting her empty glass on the ottoman, she muttered,“Let’s get this over with.”
“We need to establish a few ground rules first,” Dominic said.
She eyed him warily.
“First and foremost, no playing possum. When we get down, I don’t want you holding anything back. I want you to sex me like you mean it, like your life depends on it. Don’t even think about being a lame fuck, hoping I’ll lose interest in you and move on. It won’t work, so don’t bother trying it, or you’ll just piss me off. And trust me, love, you don’t wanna piss me off.”
Tamia clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt.“Anything else?”
“No faking.” He smiled narrowly.“I can tell the difference between a real orgasm and a fake one. If I’m not pleasing you, just tell me and I’ll work harder to get that shit right. But don’t insult my intelligence by pretending to come just to ‘get it over with’ quickly. That’s almost as bad as playing possum.”
Torn between disbelief and outrage, Tamia stared at him. “You can’t be serious! You’re blackmailing me for sex, and you actually expect me to enjoy it and respond with genuine passion?”
He didn’t blink.“That’s exactly what I expect. And you will enjoy it, Tamia. I promise you that.”
She shook her head, convinced that the man was out of his damn mind.“Any other stipulations?” she asked caustically.
He smiled.“Just those two for now.”
“Good, ’cause I’ve got one of my own. And it’s very important, so listen up. You have to wear a condom.”
His lazy smile faded.“I don’t know about all that.”
“No condom, no deal.”
He raised a brow at her.“Have you forgotten who’s calling the shots here? Besides, none of those actors you used to fuck wore condoms.”
Tamia frowned. “That’s because I was young and stupid, and I let the director pressure me into compromising my safety. But those days are over. I’m in a monogamous relationship, and I’m not about to risk catching a disease and passing it on to Brandon. It’s bad enough that I’ll be cheating on him. I don’t want to endanger his health on top of everything else.”
Dominic gave her a long, assessing look, then nodded curtly.“Fine. I’ll use protection.”
“Good.” Inwardly Tamia breathed a sigh of relief. If he’d played hardball, she couldn’t have done a damn thing about it—and they both knew it.
Dominic set down his glass and rose from the sofa.“Come with me.”
Nervously Tamia got up and followed him. She assumed he was taking her to his bedroom, or some other area that had been tricked out to look like the set of one of her movies. So she was surprised when he escorted her to the powder room. That is, until she saw what awaited her. A black leather minidress on a hanger, thigh-high fishnet stockings, a pair of black stiletto boots, and a black leather mask—an exact replica of the costume she’d worn in her Mystique videos.
“After you get changed,” Dominic instructed her, “come back to the den.”
He left, closing the door behind him.
Tamia heaved a resigned breath, then slowly began un-dressing. As she donned each article of the leather costume, the memories returned, washing over her mind like waves crashing on a shore.
By the time she emerged from the powder room, she was Mystique again.
Or at least that’s what she told herself to distance her conscience from what she was about to do.
Dominic was waiting for her, lounging on the sectional with his feet propped up on the ottoman. Wh
en she appeared in the doorway, his eyes widened and he swore hoarsely under his breath.
“Mystique,” he whispered.
Tamia said nothing, nerves twisting her insides.
“Come closer.” He beckoned.“Let me see you.”
She advanced into the room, smiling as if she were sauntering onto the set of one of her movies. As she neared him, he held up a finger and rotated it, signaling that she should turn in a circle to give him a view from all angles.
She complied.
He drank in the sight of her voluptuous breasts pouring out of the leather dress, the abbreviated length barely covering her thick, round ass. After a few moments, he whistled softly in appreciation.
“Show me something,” he commanded.
She hesitated, then began to move sensually, undulating her torso and hips like an exotic belly dancer in slow motion.
Dominic watched her, his hot, hungry gaze burning into her. When he reached down and stroked the bulge in his jeans, she should have been repulsed. Instead she felt a small tingle of awareness … a ripple of arousal.
She stared into his eyes as he produced another blunt, lit up, and took a deep pull before slowly exhaling. The smoke curled through the air, floating sinuously toward her like that of a sorcerer’s flame.
Hypnotized, she moved toward him, her eyes locked onto his.
When she stopped before him, her legs provocatively splayed, he held out the blunt to her. She accepted it from his fingers, took a slow drag, and blew out a smooth stream of smoke. His eyes glinted approvingly as she passed the blunt back to him.
“Take off the mask,” he whispered.
She’d almost forgotten she was wearing one. She reached up and removed it, tossing it onto the sofa beside him.
“Now touch yourself.”
She smiled at him, her head buzzing pleasantly from the weed. Propping one booted foot on the ottoman, she reached under her short dress and stroked her clit, surprised to find herself wet.
The knowing gleam in Dominic’s eyes let her know that he wasn’t surprised.
Without being prompted, she slid her finger inside the hot, moist cavern of her pussy. An audible gasp escaped her.
Dominic groaned softly.
Staring into his intense eyes, watching him watch her, she pushed her finger deeper, impaling herself with a soft moan.
Dominic swung his feet down from the ottoman and leaned back against the sofa cushions, spreading his legs apart. As she began masturbating he stared at her thrusting finger, sliding in and out of her glistening pussy. He stroked himself with his free hand, his rhythm matching hers as his breathing grew shallow.
As Tamia’s legs began to tremble, she closed her eyes, stunned to realize that she was coming—and coming hard.
She cried out, her body convulsing with tremors.
“Fuck,” Dominic groaned thickly.
She opened her eyes, watching his face contort as he came with a shudder, the forgotten blunt dangling from his fingers.
They stared at each other, powerfully connected without even touching.
After a prolonged silence, Dominic murmured, “You can change back into your clothes now.”
Bewildered, Tamia stared at him. “That’s it? You’re not going to—”
“Naw.” He shook his head slowly.“Not this time.”
She faltered, caught off-guard by this unexpected outcome.
He arched a brow at her.“Unless you want—”
“No!” she exclaimed, then beat a hasty retreat from the room.
Ten minutes later, she rode the elevator down to the lobby, her heart pounding like she’d just escaped the clutches of a savage predator.
So why, then, did she want to go back and be devoured?
Chapter 7
Tamia dreaded her biweekly visits to the Joe Corley Detention Facility.
Everything about the experience put her in a foul mood. The long wait. The noisy visiting room crammed with screaming babies, distressed mothers, and grim-faced boyfriends. The air that reeked from the competing smells of dirty diapers, cheap perfume, and body odor so rank it gave Tamia a headache.
But the worst part, by far, was the actual visit with her sister. Even after nearly two years, Tamia hadn’t gotten used to seeing Fiona as a convicted felon. From the moment she was led out to the visiting area in her prison-issue uniform, Tamia wanted to shout at the guards,“This is a damn mistake! My sister doesn’t belong here!”
But she always kept her composure for Fiona’s sake. Being locked up was hard enough for her sister. The last thing she needed was Tamia falling apart on her.
That Sunday afternoon, Tamia watched as her sister shuffled into the room and sat in a chair on the other side of the thick glass partition. With her rich mocha complexion, doe eyes, high cheekbones, and pouty lips, Fiona was way too pretty to be incarcerated. When she first got sent to prison, Tamia had worried that she’d get turned out by some butch bitch with thick sideburns, a deep voice, and a hard swagger. But her fears had been unfounded, and Fiona remained—as she often liked to say—“strictly dickly.”
As she picked up the phone on her side, Tamia smiled at her.“Hey, Fee. How you doing?”
Fiona sighed.“Just counting down the days.”
She was scheduled to be released next month. To celebrate the occasion, Tamia planned to throw her a surprise homecoming party at their favorite downtown nightclub.
“Thanks for putting more money into my account,” Fiona said.
“Don’t worry about it. I know how expensive the commissary is.” Tamia admired her sister’s freshly braided corn-rows, which hung halfway down her back.“Your hair’s getting so long, Fee.”
“I know. I can’t wait to get a relaxer, not to mention a mani-pedi.” Fiona grinned. “After that I’ma hit the club, find the flyest dude up in that joint, and let him take me home. I’m long overdue for a proper dickin’ down.”
Tamia shook her head at her. “Good to know you’ve got your priorities straight,” she said dryly.
Fiona laughed. “My pussy’s been on lock for two years. You’re damn right getting laid is a priority!”
“Shh!” Tamia shot an embarrassed glance at the nearest guard, who was smirking.“Damn, Fee. Must you be so loud?”
Fiona grinned at her. “Oh, stop being so uptight. Besides, it’s easy for you to sit there and talk about so-called priorities. You can get laid whenever you want. By the way, how is Brandon?”
“He’s good.” But it was an image of Dominic that drifted through Tamia’s mind. Four days later, she still couldn’t believe the way their encounter had ended. He’d let her go without laying a finger on her. She didn’t know what to make of his odd behavior. Didn’t know whether to be relieved or more apprehensive than ever.
What kind of game is he playing? She’d speculated a thousand times since that night. But the answer eluded her.
“Has he made partner yet?” Fiona asked, breaking into Tamia’s thoughts.
It took a moment for her to remember who they were dis-cussing.“Not yet. But he’s working on it.”
Fiona smiled broadly.“I can’t wait to meet Brandon. You’ve told me so much about him, I feel like I already know him.”
“I’m sure.” Guilt gnawed at Tamia’s conscience. She’d never told Brandon that her sister was incarcerated. Even if he’d accepted the truth without passing judgment, she knew his parents never would. So she’d told him that Fiona was away at college. Fiona’s release from prison at the end of May coincided perfectly with the time most college students returned home for summer break.
Fiona gave her a knowing look.“Are you any closer to getting some bling on your finger?”
“I sure hope so.” Tamia hesitated.“But Brandon and I have been going out for seven months, and he still hasn’t mentioned introducing me to his parents.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”
Tamia frowned. “I might have agreed with you if he and his parents weren’t
so close. But they are. He confides in them and really values their opinion. If he’s reluctant to let me meet them, there must be a reason.”
“Maybe he just wants to take his time to make sure you’re the one,” Fiona suggested.“Nothing wrong with that.”
Tamia sighed. “You’re right. I need to stop worrying so much.”
“It’s understandable. Brandon sounds like a good catch. You want to stake your claim before anyone else does.”
“Damn straight.”
The two sisters traded conspiratorial grins.
Tamia enjoyed being able to confide in Fiona. Their mother’s untimely death had brought them even closer together, forging a bond between them that could withstand any adversity. Tamia knew she could trust Fiona with her deepest secrets. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to talk about Dominic and the scandalous pact she’d made with him.
Some secrets were too shameful to share.
Chapter 8
That evening, Tamia and Brandon shared a cozy table for two at Vic and Anthony’s. The upscale steak house was luxuriously appointed with exotic woods, polished stone, and crystal chandeliers built into the high ceilings. The walls were adorned with old black-and-white photos that documented the history of downtown Houston, and Sinatra crooned softly in the background.
Basking in the romantic ambience, Tamia reached across the table and laced her fingers through Brandon’s.“I’m so glad you didn’t have to go out of town this weekend,” she said.
“Me, too.” He smiled, gently rubbing his thumb across her knuckle.“Although it wouldn’t have hurt to get some personal face time with one of the partners, I’d much rather spend an evening with you than stodgy old Peter.”
Tamia smiled with pleasure. It was the closest he’d ever come to telling her that she meant more to him than his precious partnership, and she seized it with both hands. “You know what we should do?”
