by Naomi Chase
“Besides order dessert?” Brandon teased, reaching for the small menu.
Tamia chuckled.“Yes, besides that. We should go on a trip together. Someplace romantic and tropical.”
“Mmm, that’d be nice.”
“We could go somewhere in the Caribbean,”Tamia suggested, encouraged by his response. “Maybe August or September?”
Brandon made a face. “That might be too soon. The Quasar Diagnostics trial starts in June and might go well into the fall. So I’d rather not make any vacation plans that I’d end up having to cancel. Besides, with both of us trying to land promotions, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to disappear from our jobs for an extended period of time.”
“What about a weekend getaway?”Tamia proposed, not to be deterred. “Just imagine us spending a couple of days at a cozy bed-and-breakfast. We could have romantic candlelight dinners, take walks along the beach. Make love by a crackling fire.”
Brandon grinned, a suggestive gleam filling his eyes.“Now that definitely sounds doable.”
Tamia gave him a sultry smile. “You know what else is doable? Me.”
Brandon’s grin widened, and he set aside the dessert menu. “I think I’ll just ask for the check.”
She laughed.“You do that. We’ll have each other for des—”
“Miss Luke?” interrupted a deep, accented voice.
Tamia whipped her head around. When she saw who stood at her table, the blood drained from her head.
“It’s good to see you again,” Dominic said with a warm, relaxed smile. The suave businessman was back, this time decked out in a charcoal Armani suit that made him look like a million bucks.
“Mr. Archer,” Tamia croaked, breaking out into a cold sweat.“What a … nice surprise.”
“It certainly is.” His eyes gleamed. “My companion and I were just leaving when I happened to glance over and see you. I thought I’d stop by your table and say hello.”
“Of course.” Tamia forced a smile as she turned to Brandon , who was eyeing Dominic curiously. “Baby, this is Dominic Archer, one of my newest clients. Mr. Archer, this is my boyfriend, Brandon Chambers.”
As the two men exchanged handshakes and friendly greetings, Tamia did everything in her power not to faint on the spot.
“Chambers,” Dominic repeated, pretending to mull over the name as he considered Brandon.“Any relation to our lieutenant governor and the bigwig federal judge?”
“They’re my parents,” Brandon admitted sheepishly.
“Your parents?” Dominic whistled, low and long. “Wow, man. You’re practically royalty.”
Brandon flashed a wry grin.“No pressure, right?”
Dominic laughed sympathetically.
The filet mignon Tamia had consumed over dinner curdled in her stomach. She plastered on a fake smile.“Well, it was nice seeing you, Mr. Archer. But I don’t want to keep your companion wait—”
“What kind of work do you do?”Brandon interrupted her to ask Dominic.
“I’m about to open my own restaurant,” Dominic replied. “Miss Luke’s going to help me create a memorable advertising campaign.”
Brandon nodded approvingly. “You’re in good hands. Tamia’s the absolute best at what she does.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that.” Dominic met and held Tamia’s gaze. “Although we’ve only just begun working together, I can already tell she’s a pro.”
Tamia’s face flamed at the veiled innuendo. Her heart was pounding so hard she had trouble breathing.
Brandon gave her a quizzical look.“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“Are you sure? Your face looks kinda flushed.”
She swallowed hard.“I, uh, do feel a bit queasy.” More like a lot queasy! “Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered my filet mignon medium-rare. Or maybe I had one too many glasses of Bordeaux.”
“Isn’t it sad how too much of a good thing can be bad for you?” Dominic lamented.
Tamia didn’t respond.
Mercifully, the waiter appeared at that moment to ask if they were interested in dessert. Brandon declined, requesting the check instead.
“Well, I won’t hold you two up any longer,” Dominic said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Brandon.”
“Likewise. Good luck with your restaurant.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” Dominic smiled, tipping his head to Tamia.“I’ll be in touch, Miss Luke.”
“Great,” she said brightly.
After he’d sauntered away, Brandon remarked, “He seems like a cool brotha. I’m trying to place his accent. I know it’s not from Trinidad or Jamaica.”
“St. Croix,” Tamia supplied weakly.
“St. Croix? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Brandon smiled, pulling out his platinum card. “Maybe that’s where we should go on our vacation later this year. It’s one of the few Caribbean islands I haven’t visited, and you can ask dude to give us the scoop on the best hotels, restaurants, et cetera.”
“Sure,” Tamia agreed with a distracted nod. She was so out of it that it didn’t even register that Brandon was making long-term plans with her.“I need to use the ladies’ room before we leave.” She excused herself, abruptly rising from the table.
Just as she reached the hallway that led to the restrooms, someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her into a dark, narrow corner. Although she was startled, she didn’t make a sound. Somehow she’d known that he would be waiting for her.
“Did you enjoy your romantic dinner?” Dominic whispered in her ear.
She nodded jerkily, shivering from the heat of his body pressed against her backside.
“Good. Consider the date over.”
Dread swept through her.“W-what do you mean?”
“Loverboy had his turn. Now it’s mine.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
“But I have plans with Brandon!” she protested, panicking. “I’m supposed to go back to his place. He might get suspicious if I suddenly change my mind.”
“Then I guess you’d better make your excuse sound damn convincing.” Dominic rolled his hips, grinding the hard bulge of his dick against her butt. She hated the way her nipples tightened and her pussy throbbed in response.
“I can’t, Dominic,” she whispered pleadingly.“Not tonight.”
“Then you must want me to walk back to your table and tell Brandon the truth about everything,” Dominic threatened in a low voice.
“No!”
“I didn’t think so.” He suckled her earlobe while his hand stroked her ass. “One hour, Tamia. You have one hour to say good night to Loverboy and get your fine self over to my place. Don’t keep me waiting.”
And then he was gone, disappearing as stealthily as he’d materialized.
Chapter 9
Tamia hated lying to Brandon. Hated having to bail on him for the second time in less than a week. But she had no other choice. If Dominic was bold enough to approach her while she was dining with her boyfriend, there was no doubt in her mind now that he’d make good on his threat to expose her secret.
When she returned to the table, Brandon was conversing with the waiter, whose roommate had apparently run into trouble with the law. As Brandon graciously dispensed legal advice, Tamia fidgeted in her chair, nursed the dregs of wine in her glass, and nervously checked her watch.
By the time she and Brandon finally left the restaurant, twenty minutes had passed. On the ride to his Uptown condo, she complained about not feeling well and speculated whether she really did have food poisoning. Brandon was so concerned that he offered to drive her to the emergency room—an idea she quickly shot down, telling him she’d rather just go home and crawl into bed.
After what seemed an eternity they reached his building, where she’d parked her car earlier so they could ride to the restaurant together. She gave Brandon a quick kiss on the lips, apologized profusely for ruining their evening, then hopped into her Accord
and took off.
She arrived at Dominic’s penthouse with only five minutes to spare.
This time he met her at the front door and pulled her inside. Without a word he grabbed her face between his hands and crushed his mouth to hers. His lips were soft and warm, and so damn juicy she had to suck them. His hands slid down her back and palmed her butt cheeks, holding her tightly against his thick erection. She moaned and gyrated her hips, trying to press even closer to him.
He reached under her silk sheath dress, grasped the waistband of her panties, and ripped them off her legs. She cried out as he fingered her clit, then plunged into her hungry pussy. Her thighs shook uncontrollably as he stroked her, working his fingers in and out of her dripping wetness. Her knees were about to buckle when suddenly he hoisted her off the floor and set her down firmly on the console table. Her strappy high heels dangled off her feet.
He pushed her legs apart, spreading them wide as he knelt between them. And then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, devouring her pussy like it was coated with honey and myrrh. She screamed with pleasure and he groaned, the first sound he’d made since she arrived.
Like a man possessed, he feasted on her, sucking the swollen folds of her sex … licking her clit and pulling it between his teeth … dipping his tongue into her hot, fleshy canal. Her juices flowed like rain and he swallowed every last drop.
Panting, moaning, she threw back her head and closed her eyes, shaking from the top of her head down to her curling toes. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this, had sworn on her mother’s grave that she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t control the primal lust that had over- taken her body, enslaving her. No man had ever eaten her out this way, and she’d been with bona fide porn stars. Brandon gave excellent head, but what Dominic was doing to her could quickly become an addiction.
When his lapping tongue went from her pussy to her asshole, her hips bucked off the table and her legs locked around his head. Seconds later she came with a hoarse scream.
Gasping, trembling, her eyes locked onto Dominic’s for several stunned moments. His lips glistened from her nectar and he licked them slowly, savoring her taste.
“Mmmm.” His voice was a husky rumble in his throat as he glided to his feet.“Damn, just as I always thought. Your pussy is sublime.”
Tamia couldn’t even speak. She felt like a dope fiend coming off a high and already craving another. Dominic lifted her from the table and set her down on the floor. When her knees wobbled, he caught her around the waist, steadying her.
His mouth twitched.“You good?”
She nodded, then watched as he knelt and slid her panties back on for her, as if she were a helpless child. As his hands ran up her legs, the heat of his skin penetrated her silk thigh-high stockings and made her shiver.
After straightening her dress, he stood again.“I’ll call down to the valet and have your car brought around for you.”
Dazed and confused, Tamia stared at him.“But aren’t you … aren’t we going to …?”
He smiled slowly.“Not this time.”
She frowned at him, wondering if she’d missed something. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand, love?”
Her confusion quickly gave way to anger.“You roll up on me and my boyfriend at the restaurant, you force me to cancel my plans with him to rush over here, you give me some head—and now you’re sending me home?”
Dominic cocked his head to one side, eyes glinting with amusement.“Are you asking me to fuck you, Tamia?”
Hell, yeah! she wanted to shout. And it was true. Though she knew it was wrong, she wanted him to finish what he’d started. She wanted to know if he could work his dick as well as he worked his tongue. She wanted him to fuck her frontward, backward, sideways, and every other way imaginable. Wasn’t that why she was here?
When she said nothing, Dominic smiled and gently caressed her cheek. “I hope Brandon knows what a lucky man he is.”
She glowered at him.
Chuckling softly, he walked her to the door.“I’ll call you. Soon.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Tamia strode from the penthouse without a backward glance, shoulders squared and head held high to disguise how appallingly close she’d come to begging her blackmailer to make love to her.
Chapter 10
“Wassup, Counselor.”
Deondre Portis opened the front door for Brandon, then turned and shuffled away, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
Brandon stepped inside the apartment and glanced around at the cardboard boxes piled on every available surface. “So you’re really going through with this, huh?”
Dre threw a dark glance over his shoulder. “Damn, don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve just agreed to climb Mount Everest butt naked in the dead of winter.”
Brandon laughed, closing the door and following his best friend into the large, cluttered living room.
After three years of dating, Dre and his girlfriend had decided to move in together. Since Leah owned a big house in The Woodlands, while Dre was only leasing his condo, they’d agreed that it made more sense for him to move into her place. But Dre had been dragging his feet for weeks, putting off the task of packing until the last possible minute.
“Is it just me,” he asked, reaching for a bottled water,“or is it hot as hell up in here?”
Brandon chuckled.“It’s just you, man.”
Dre grimaced.“I’ve got the thermostat on sixty, and it still feels like the fucking Sahara.” He took a long swig of water, his smooth bald head gleaming with perspiration. He was dark-skinned, medium height, and had the solid, muscular build of a running back. Which was fitting, since he worked as an athletic trainer for the Houston Texans. His PhD in sports medicine had earned him the nickname “Dr. Dre.”
He was Brandon’s most down-to-earth friend, probably because he hadn’t been born into wealth and privilege. He’d been raised by a hardworking single mother who’d scraped together enough money to send him to a prestigious summer program at Johnson Space Center when he was eleven. That was where he’d met Brandon, the rich black kid from River Oaks. They’d hit it off right away and had been best friends ever since.
“If you’re thirsty, I’ve got some cold beers in the fridge,” Dre offered, sealing a large box with tape.
“Naw, I’m good,” Brandon drawled. “I just thought I’d drop by to see how the packing was going.”
Dre grunted.“It’s going.”
“Where’s Leah? I thought she was coming over to help you.”
Dre made a face.“She’s still tied up at the hospital. Said she was on her way out the door when she got paged to scrub in for an emergency triple bypass.”
“Uh-huh,” Brandon teased.“Likely story.”
“I know.” Dre looked disgruntled.“I can’t shake the feeling that she and her girlfriends are chillin’ at some bar, sipping margaritas and laughing about how she stuck me with doing all the packing.”
“Always trust your gut instincts,” Brandon advised.
“Word? You think she’s playing me?”
“Like a damn fiddle.” Brandon paused, then broke into a wide grin. “Relax, man. I’m just kidding. You know Leah doesn’t have a shady bone in her beautiful body. If she says she’s still at the hospital, that’s where she is.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Dre chuckled, surveying the mountain of boxes scattered around the room. “For real, though? I wouldn’t blame her for bailing on me. I didn’t realize how much stuff I had until I started packing. How can one person accumulate so much shit?”
“Hmm. You’re the doctor—you tell me.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Was to me.” Grinning, Brandon negotiated his way through the clutter to reach an open box labeled “DVDs” in black marker. Absently he began rummaging through the movie titles, which ran the gamut from horror t
o blaxploita-tion films.
“Leah was right. I should have started packing weeks ago,” Dre grimly admitted, taping up another box.“The movers will be here in two days, and with Leah’s crazy work schedule, I honestly don’t know how much help she’s gonna be.” He paused.“I could probably make more progress tonight if you—”
Brandon cut him off with a laugh.“Aw, hell naw! I didn’t come over here to be put to work. I just left the j-o-b. Besides, I’ve already fulfilled my annual quota of helping friends move. Remember?”
“Yeah,” Dre said, “and as I recall, helping Justin move is how you met your wifey. So I’d say things worked out pretty well for you, bruh.”
Brandon smiled, instantly transported back to the day he’d laid eyes on Tamia for the very first time.
It was seven months before, late on a Saturday afternoon. He and his friends had pulled into a Valero gas station to refuel the moving truck before returning it to the rental facility. Brandon volunteered to run inside the store and buy bottled water and Gatorade for everyone.
After several hours of hauling boxes and carrying heavy furniture, he was funky, his armpits ringed with sweat and his face streaked with dirt.
As he approached the cash register with an armload of bottled beverages, he saw her waiting in line. Rich caramel skin, thick thighs, ass for days.
Day-uuum! he thought as drool collected in the corners of his mouth.
He quickened his stride to get in line behind her before someone else beat him to it. And then he stood there inhaling her sweet perfume. Admiring the silky smoothness of her short black hair, the sleek curve of her neck, her narrow waist that swelled into a round, heart-shaped ass sheathed in designer denim. The kind of ass that would swallow a G-string, to quote Jay-Z.
She stepped to the counter to pay for her purchases. And with every ounce of swagger he possessed, Brandon said to her,“Allow me.”
She turned, her eyes concealed behind Dior sunglasses that rested on high cheekbones. She gave him a deliberate once-over, taking in the dusty baseball cap pulled low over his face, his sweat-stained T-shirt and shorts, and the old, beat-up Timbs he reserved for doing grungy jobs.
