“Oooh!” the others exclaimed. “That’s a good one!”
Lexi leaned forward excitedly. “You’re talking about Angelique, right? The supermodel?”
“Uh-huh. That’s the one.”
“What happened?”
Samara sighed. “It was back in September. I’d just had lunch with a client and was leaving the restaurant to wait outside for Marcus. He and the kids were picking me up because we were getting our family portrait taken. My hair and nails were done, and I was wearing that black-and-white dress from Mom’s fall collection—the one you guys love so much.”
Three heads nodded vigorously. “That dress is fierce.”
“It is.” Samara’s expression was triumphant. “Anyway, as I stepped out of the restaurant that afternoon, I ran into none other than Angelique Toussaint. She looked stunned when she realized who I was. She gave me the whole fake hug and kiss, said how nice it was to see me and bragged about coming to Atlanta on some important modeling assignment, even though Mom told me she was blackballed a long time ago. Anyway, she looked good, I’ll give her that. But so did I, and she clearly thought so too.
“Then things got even more interesting when Marcus pulled up. He got out of the car to open my door for me like he always does, and he was looking so damn fine in his three-piece suit that Angelique nearly swallowed her tongue. She started batting her eyelashes, tossing her hair and talking in that annoying sex-kitten voice. But Marcus, God bless him, barely even remembered her name. And then the twins jumped out of the car to hug me, and they looked so handsome and dapper in their matching suits, like little Marcuses. Angelique literally gasped, and I swear she looked like she was going to burst into tears. Then she looked in the backseat and saw Milan sleeping like a little angel and…oh, God, y’all should have seen her face. If she hadn’t been such a despicable bitch back then, I might have actually felt sorry for her. But all I felt was satisfaction. Pure, unadulterated satisfaction.” Samara sighed contentedly. “I told her it was good to see her again and wished her well. Then I got in the car with my husband and children, and waved goodbye to her as we drove off.”
Laughing and whooping with delight, everyone leaned forward and slapped high fives with Samara.
“They say living well is the best revenge,” Reese declared. “But sometimes it feels good just to rub a bitch’s face in it.”
“Yasss, honey!” Lexi crowed.
Taylor grinned, shaking her head at Samara. “I can’t believe you never told us that story.”
“You guys know I’m not a mean girl. It felt shallow and petty to take pleasure in someone else’s misery.” Samara paused, lips twitching. “But I did tell my mom, and we had a good chuckle over it.”
Everyone laughed.
After a few more moments, three pairs of eyes turned expectantly toward Lexi. “Your turn, Mrs. Reddick. What are you grateful for?”
Lexi looked around at the beautiful faces of her friends and smiled. “I’m grateful for all of you,” she said quietly. “Before I met you, I’d always been more comfortable being one of the boys. It’s never been easy for me to make female friends, and I’ve lost touch with most of the ones I made in college. But that doesn’t matter because God brought you girls into my life, and I thank Him for that. You’re more than the wives of my husband’s closest friends. You’re my sisters, and I love each and every one of you.”
“Awww!” her friends cooed, so moved by her heartfelt words that tears misted their eyes. “We love you too, Alexis!”
She grinned, raising her glass in a toast. “To lifelong sisterhood.”
“Hear, hear!” The four women clinked their glasses and drank the rest of their champagne while beaming warmly at one another.
After several moments, Taylor raised her hand meekly. “Can I add one more answer?”
Everyone stared at her, then at one another. And for the umpteenth time that day, they all dissolved into laughter.
4
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Haley.”
“You’re very welcome,” the driver said, holding the back door open as Lexi climbed out of the limo that evening. “Have a good evening, young lady.”
“You too.” She kissed the old man’s cheek, smiling when he blushed and ducked his head. She fluttered her fingers in a wave and then headed up the walk toward her house.
When she stepped through the front door, the inviting warmth of her home was a welcome contrast to the sobering bite of the November weather.
“I’m home, baby!” she called out cheerfully.
There was no answer.
Humming softly to herself, she headed to the kitchen to put away the gourmet chocolate truffles she and the girls had received at the spa. After tucking the gold-foil box inside the refrigerator, she went to the garage door and opened it to see if Quentin was home.
Sure enough, all three vehicles were present and accounted for.
Slipping off her high heels, she left the kitchen and made her way to the basement. Her bare feet sank into plush carpeting as she went down the curved staircase.
When she and Quentin had the house built, she’d worked closely with the architect to design her dream kitchen while Quentin had laid claim to the basement. A huge space that ran the entire length of the house, it was divided into two separate areas that were walled off from each other. One half was for relaxing and entertaining, the other half for working out.
The gym was furnished with state-of-the-art exercise equipment, assorted free weights and a heavy punching bag suspended from the ceiling by a chain. A row of shelves nearby housed gloves, jump ropes and folded towels. One wall was covered with fight posters and framed photographs of boxing legends Sugar Ray Robinson, Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali and Smokin’ Joe Frazier. The long facing wall was covered with mirrored panels like one would see at their neighborhood gym.
Lexi wasn’t surprised to find Quentin in the workout room. This was his domain, the place where he often retreated after a long, stressful day. He would put on his dad’s old Motown records and go a few rounds with the punching bag to blow off steam.
His late father, Fraser Reddick, had been an amateur prizefighter who’d taught Quentin how to box. He’d proved to be a natural with impeccable footwork and a lethal left hook.
Standing in the doorway, Lexi watched as he pounded his fists into the heavy punching bag, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunching with the force of each brutal jab. Sweat dripped off his gleaming golden skin to land on the canvas covering the floor.
She loved seeing him like this, all hot and sweaty and pumped up on testosterone and adrenaline. His body was ruthlessly honed, massive shoulders and chest sculpted with hard slabs of muscle. Tribal tattoos decorated his bulging biceps, and his left arm was branded with the Omega symbol.
Lexi bit her lip, envying the beads of sweat that slid down his rippling muscles to disappear beneath the waistband of his dark shorts. She wanted to press her mouth to his chest, let her tongue chase one of those sparkling rivulets of perspiration. The thought of licking him made her nipples tighten against her lace bra. She plucked at her blouse, delicately fanning herself.
Oblivious to her presence, Quentin swung viciously at the punching bag, knocking it backward and sending it spinning from the impact of his fist.
All at once Lexi realized two things. First, he wasn’t playing any music; only the smacking thud of his fists on vinyl filled the room. Second, the display of brutal male aggression she was witnessing seemed to be about more than just blowing off steam.
Something was wrong.
“Hey, Red,” she said half teasingly, calling him by the shortened version of his last name. “What’d that poor bag ever do to you?”
Quentin stopped mid-punch, shoulder muscles tensing. He caught the bag with his gloved hands to stop it from swinging, then swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow and turned his head to look at her. She caught a flash of something in his eyes. Something dark and turbulent that sent a whisper of unease through her before h
is mouth curved into a half smile.
“Hey, you.” His voice was husky from his exertions.
“Hey, yourself.” She smiled. “Working up quite a lather, aren’t you?”
“Something like that.” He pulled off his boxing gloves, one after the other, and dropped them onto a nearby workout bench. “How was the spa?”
She sighed. “Amazing.”
“That’s good. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did. Most definitely.” She grinned. “We all did.”
Quentin smiled. “Good.”
As he came toward her slowly, she couldn’t help staring at the width and power of his torso glistening with sweat. His primal maleness heated her blood and made her legs tremble.
When he reached her, she lifted her hand and gently touched his face, her eyes searching his. “Is everything okay?”
Instead of responding, he bent his head and took her mouth. The impact of the kiss caused her to gasp. And then his arms went around her and he was engulfing her, strength and hardness everywhere, hot and intoxicating.
She moaned as he clasped her buttocks, grinding her against his heavy erection. Warm moisture dampened her panties, and the contact with his slick chest made her nipples so hard they protruded through her blouse.
As he deepened the kiss, her senses reeled from the taste of him on her tongue, the mouthwatering scent of his skin in her nostrils. She could feel him as acutely as if the cells in their bodies had been merged, and it was so electrifying, so shockingly intense, that her heart kicked into a frenetic rhythm that had her gasping for breath.
When he lifted her off her feet, she wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their fevered kiss, he carried her back across the room and lowered her to the padded canvas floor.
He undressed her with rough hands, pulling off her blouse and shoving her pants and underwear off her legs. She’d barely unclasped her lace bra before he was bending to suck her breasts, pressing her nipples to the hot roof of his mouth as she moaned with pleasure.
In the back of her mind, she knew she should push him away and make him tell her what was wrong. But the feel of him, all searing heat and raw hunger, made it impossible to think of anything other than getting him inside her, slamming deep.
He ran his hands over her breasts and hips, then spread her thighs wide and jacked her up off the floor. When she threw her legs over his shoulders, he lowered his mouth to her slit. She felt the damp heat of his breath, then his slick tongue was sliding over and between the folds of her swollen flesh.
She cried out and flung back her head.
“Mmm.” His deep, rough voice vibrated against her. “You smell like orange blossoms.”
“It’s neroli,” she managed to gasp. “We bathed in it at the spa.”
“Delicious.”
When he licked her cleft, her hips bucked and she made a mewling sound in her throat. Using only the tip of his tongue, he circled her clit, flicking and teasing. Hot, stabbing waves of pleasure shot through her womb. When he pulled her clit between his lips and gave the nub a hard suck, she cried out and gushed, wetting his tongue.
“Please, baby,” she whimpered, grabbing at the waistband of his shorts. “I need you inside me right now.”
His eyes glittered as he lowered her to the floor. She yanked his shorts down, dragging them over the round curve of his ass. When his huge cock bounced free, she took hold of it, squeezing the thick base and cupping his heavy balls.
He swore hoarsely, enduring her touch for only a moment before he shoved her thighs apart and thrust into her, filling her in one smooth, powerful stroke.
She screamed his name.
He growled hers, shuddering deeply as she wrapped her legs around him. Before she’d crossed her ankles, he withdrew and thrust forward again, jolting her body and making her arch with the force of his reentry. He slid his hands beneath her ass, lifting her so their bodies were clamped tight from chest to pelvis, sealed together with his hot sweat.
“Oh, my God,” she wailed as he began slamming into her, his hips grinding against hers with every thrust. He was deep inside her. So deep she could feel nothing but his throbbing hardness as it drove through her tender muscles.
“Lex…” He groaned her name, his voice rough and raw against her mouth.
Soon the air was filled with the scent and sounds of their explosive fucking, the slap of wet skin on skin mingled with her sobs and his harsh, panting breaths.
She couldn’t look away from him, riveted by the searing intensity of his gaze. When sweat beaded his forehead and streaked down the side of his face, she flicked her tongue out and licked him, savoring the salty tang of his skin. Shivering, he palmed her face, holding her in place as their mouths fused in a kiss that was as primal and urgent as their animalistic lovemaking.
Lexi could feel every nerve pulsing and tingling, her arousal at fever pitch as Quentin powered into her with a desperate fervency that had her gripping his back and clawing at the flexing muscles of his ass.
As her orgasm rushed through her body, she threw back her head and screamed his name.
She was still trembling from the aftereffects of her explosive orgasm when he pulled out and moved her from the floor to the workout bench. He made her kneel on the soft canvas, pushing her legs apart as his big body anchored her from behind.
She curved her arm around the back of his neck when he splayed his large hand over her stomach, the gesture as possessive as the hungry kiss he gave her. She moaned into his mouth as their breath mingled hotly, tongues tangling erotically.
Breaking the seal of their lips, he bent her over the bench. His hands moved over her ass cheeks, cupping the full curves and spreading them apart as his cock slid between her pulsing folds. With a powerful flex of his hips, he shoved into her.
She cried out wildly and arched against him, taking him deep into her body. He shuddered and groaned her name, his fingers tightening on her flesh.
She bit down hard on her lip as he pushed the thick column of his erection all the way, completely sandwiching himself between her buttocks.
“Quentin…” she mewled as he started moving inside her with long, heavy, forceful thrusts. He felt so good she wanted to cry.
Heart pounding in her chest, she gripped the edge of the bench and pushed back toward him. The wet slap of her ass against his stomach made them both groan loudly.
Leaning down, he licked the damp skin between her shoulder blades. As a violent shiver of arousal swept through her, he reached around and cupped her bouncing breasts. They swelled in his palms, her nipples tightening painfully.
He slid one hand between her shaking thighs and rubbed her hypersensitive clit, making her moan as her toes curled on the canvas floor. Her hair, dripping with sweat, hung down on either side of her face.
She lowered her head, her eyes closing as she whimpered, “Oh, God, baby…you feel so good.”
“So do you.” He gripped her hips, holding her steady as he dragged his hard cock back and forth between the crack of her ass, pounding the swollen flesh of her pussy. Tears stung her eyes and coursed down her face.
He pumped faster, growling at the feel of her muscles clenching fiercely around his cock. She was high on him, his passion and intensity invading her blood like the most potent drug.
“Ah, fuck, baby,” he groaned harshly.
She sobbed in ecstasy, pounding her fist on the bench as he hammered into her, his pelvis slapping loudly against her ass.
A few thrusts later, he tensed and then exploded with a guttural shout. She came at the same time, crying out as he ejaculated inside her with such force her entire body vibrated. He held himself against her, wedged high and deep, hot cum gushing from his cock into her womb.
It was some time before he slumped over her back, breathing heavily in her ear.
She was boneless, deliciously exhausted. She felt like she’d just been fucked to within an inch of her life.
Quentin stroked her wet hair o
ff her face and kissed her damp cheek and temple. As he slowly pulled out of her, a rush of warm semen slid down the inside of her thigh and puddled on the floor.
“Mmm,” she breathed, looking over her shoulder at him. “That was so hot.”
Grinning with satisfaction, he grabbed the towel off the bench and gently wiped between her thighs, removing the sticky wetness. Then he tossed the towel aside and drew her down to the padded floor with him, wrapping his arms protectively around her.
Long afterward they lay there together with her head resting on his chest and her leg nestled between his. His eyes were closed as he held her close, stroking lazy circles up and down her spine.
Languidly she slid her leg along his thighs, savoring the feel of hard muscles covered by hair-roughened skin. He was so completely different in texture and tone from her, his golden complexion contrasting with her deeper brown hue. It was beautiful, a marvel to behold.
She stroked his flat stomach and circled the indentation of his navel, causing him to suck in a breath and groan softly.
“Does that tickle?” she asked with an impish grin.
He laughed. “You know damn well what it does to me.” He caught her roaming hand and brought it to his mouth, making her shiver as he kissed her fingertips one by one.
She sighed, snuggling closer to him. “How was your meeting?”
“It went well,” he murmured.
“Yeah? Does that mean you guys have a strong enough case to move forward with the class action lawsuit?”
He kissed her temple. “I think we do.”
When he offered no more, she took it as a sign that he didn’t want to talk shop. Which was fine with her. After the mind-blowing sex they’d just had, she was perfectly content to just lay there and bask in their postcoital glow.
Tracing a lazy pattern on Quentin’s chest, she angled her head back to observe him. He was staring up at a framed poster on the wall above them. In the picture, Muhammad Ali snarled down at Sonny Liston with an expression of macho fury and triumph. The poster had been autographed by Ali many years ago when he visited the boxing gym Quentin and his father went to. Meeting the famous heavyweight champ had been one of the most exciting moments in Quentin’s life, the last memorable experience he’d shared with his father before he was killed.
This I Promise You Page 4
