by Cairo
And it was fucking with his head.
He took a deep breath. If Nairobia ever threw him the pussy again—all he needed was one more go at it, he knew he’d need to double-wrap and be smoked out if he really wanted to fuck her until she tapped out. But he didn’t need to worry about that now since he didn’t plan on fucking her again. He didn’t plan on having another moment of weakness. Three times was enough. So it was all good.
Now that he was single again, he’d be sure to keep his dick sucked and fucked to keep his balls on E.
Problem solved.
“But, yo, fam, I’m sayin’ though,” Mel said. “What’s good wit’ you ‘n’ shorty? Y’all still together?”
Lamar raised a brow. “Nah, son. I had to dead that.” He gave him the shortened version of why he and Lana were over, then glanced at his watch. What the fuck?! Yeah, he was getting paid well to stand outside and do nothing, but this shopping shit was getting ridiculous.
“Damn, man. Sorry to hear that.”
“Nah, man. Don’t be. I knew she wasn’t for me; I just didn’t have the heart to let her know it. Shit happens for a reason, feel me?”
“No doubt.”
Lamar swallowed as Nairobia finally walked out—her hair sliding down her back and blowing up in the wind, headed toward the car, empty-handed. Men stared at her as they walked by, their necks snapping to keep their eyes on her even as their feet moved. Women glanced her way, some amazed at her beauty; others sneering. Head up, Nairobia slung her hair unfazed by their burning gazes.
Lamar frowned, wondering where the hell her shopping bags were. But it wasn’t his concern so he returned to his call.
“Yo, I gotta bounce, fam, but I’ma hit you later.”
“Cool, cool. No doubt.”
“Bet—”
“And, yo…”
“Yeah, wasssup?” Lamar said, eyeing Nairobia as she stopped to take a photograph with a middle-aged couple.
“Try keepin’ ya dick in ya pants, muhfucka!”
The line disconnected as Nairobia reached the luxury vehicle. Lamar opened the back door for her. She smiled at him, then leaned in to him so only he would hear and said, “I’m so wet.”
She slid in, and pulled her designer shades over her eyes.
Shaking his head, his breath hissed. He felt himself growing excited at the thought of her wet pussy. Remembering oh so well how wet and juicy it could get. He shook the images, thinking of something less pleasant, like why the fuck she didn’t have shopping bags. She’d been inside for mad long, so what had she been doing all that time inside? Fucking? Was her pussy wet from being fucked in the back of the storeroom? Had she let some horny-ass salesman finger her? Was she laid out on some mink coat 69ing with some thirsty motherfucker?
With a muttered curse, Lamar closed his eyes for a split-second, and shook his head again. This shit was crazy. Try keepin’ ya dick in ya pants, muhfucka!
A moment longer, he groaned inwardly, finally easing into the car and shutting the door behind them. It was inexplicable, this burning urge that came over him every time he was near her.
Yeah, he was in way over his head, this time.
As he sat beside her he watched her from his peripheral vision. And all he could think about was the feel of her tight heat, and how her sweet pussy clutched and fluttered around him. Arousal splintered hot and fiercely through his body.
And then he felt it.
His dick swelling painfully hard.
THIRTY-EIGHT
“You still have not come to my club,” Nairobia said as she eyed Marcel. He sat across from her, cutting into his steak. They were having an early dinner. Not a date. She’d driven her own car. And he’d driven his. And now they sat, finishing up their meal, sharing a cozy table for two.
“Why? Do you not wish to see the inside of sweet decadence?”
Marcel wiped his mouth with his napkin, and regarded her with a smile. He was proud of her success with The Pleasure Zone, and had this been another time in his life, he’d been there with his libido and hard dick in hand ready to indulge in his sexual proclivities. But since Marika’s death…that part of his life had died too. He had no desire for sex parties or clubs, things he and Marika had enjoyed together. These days, he preferred the comforts of behind closed doors to pander his desires…hopefully, one day, with one special someone.
“I’ve already felt the inside of sweet decadence,” he murmured. “Inside you.”
Nairobia felt her cunt tingle, and herself warming from the inside out.
Damn it all to hell. And damn him. The man was unapologetic. Relentless.
She dismissed his comment. “How is my darling Carlos doing?”
Marcel raised a brow. “Would you like his number to call him?”
He smiled, but his eyes had gone dark as sin. She stared at him unsure if he was pulling her chain, or serious.
Was that jealousy she saw flash in his eyes?
She’d bet her gun’s license and second-degree black belt—something many had no knowledge she possessed—that it was.
Feigning a shrug, she said, “If you wish for me to have it, my love.”
His body stiffened. “I’ll tell him to call you,” he said blandly.
Nairobia reached over and placed a warm hand over his very large, long-fingered one. She smiled. “I don’t ever need another man to do my work, my darling. His number is at my fingertips whenever I want it.” She tilted her head. “Tonight, I dialed yours, no?”
Marcel regarded her in kind. True, tonight she’d called him, a pleasant surprise to say the least. Finally, they were turning a corner…or maybe not.
She still had up so many walls. He thought he was guarded. But, goddamn. She had the walls of Jericho erected around her. But he was more determined than ever to climb over them, one layered-brick at a time.
He nodded. “Yes, you did.”
“Then let’s not dilly-dally over nothing. Stay right here—with mij, in the moment.”
He smiled. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
She had her long hair elegantly pinned up in a French twist, and still wore the faint traces of a burgundy-wine lip gloss over her plush lips. Marcel’s gaze dropped to her cleavage, and he licked his lips.
Tonight, she’d worn something a little less…revealing. Still sexy, still seductive, yet, far from scandalous, she’d worn a black dress, with lace sleeves and lace cutouts on either sides of her. The dress hugged her in all the right places, still leaving room for one’s imagination to roam freely, filling with salacious thoughts.
She cocked her head to the side. Then a slow smile worked over her mouth. “No, mijn liefde, you have not. Not in”—she glanced at her diamond bracelet watch—“the last hour or so.”
He laughed, his brown orbs sparkling, his dimples deepening. “Then let me correct that now. Nairobia, baby, you look beautiful. Edible. And I’d love nothing more than to take you home and eat you alive.”
She felt heat brush over her skin. God how she loved his deep dimples, his infectious laugh. He was everything she should want. That she would want, if she were on the market in search of a life partner.
She slid out of her heel and extended her leg, sliding her foot over the inner part of his thigh. The left. Where his dick usually rested. Marcel smiled, and leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs wider, welcoming the press of her warm foot against him.
He felt the question simmering on his lips. He felt it burning the tip of his tongue. So he asked her—point-blank, “When are you going to stop running from me?”
Nairobia’s lashes fluttered. “What do you ever mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me, baby. You know exactly what I mean. Why are you running from me?” She felt his dick thicken and stretch the fabric of his pants against the sole of her foot. Her mouth watered at the feel of him coming alive.
She licked her lips. “I-I’m not running, my love.”
Marcel pressed his legs shut around her foot.
“You feel that, right? It’s all yours, if you want. Stop running from me, Nairobia.”
Oh yes. She felt it. The answer twinkled in her eyes, hitched in her breath. Her toes kneaded the head of his dick as her eyes swept over his face. He licked his lips, his eyes darkening. A decadent ache pulsed over her clit. Why did he have to be so damn fuckable? Why couldn’t he simply leave her be?
Why, oh, why did he have to come into her life trying to dig up feelings she never knew existed, feelings she hadn’t believed she was capable of?
Nairobia bit that lush lower lip that drove Marcel crazy with want. “Maudite, bébé,” he hissed. Goddamn, baby. “Je veux faire l’armour à la bouche.” I want to make love to your mouth.
She felt her lips curl upward, before she licked her lips. Before she felt a sweet ache building up deep inside the walls of her cunt swelling her lips and clit.
“You naughty boy.”
Marcel’s eyes glistened. “All for you, baby. How about we head back to my place for dessert?”
“And what exactly, my darling, Marcel, will dessert be?”
Hunger flashed in his eyes. “You.”
THIRTY-NINE
“Yo, we good?” Lamar asked walking into Nairobia’s office, shutting the door behind him. She’d been acting shady toward him over the last two weeks and he wasn’t feeling the energy between them. He’d felt the change over a week ago, but planned on letting it slide. After all, he wasn’t there to be friends, or her fuck buddy.
Still, he had to work with her. And he wanted to keep things running smoothly between them. Not that he needed the paper. He’d been sitting on stacks long before he’d started his security firm. But when she’d dismissed him from her office yesterday without so much as a glance, that didn’t sit well with him.
“Hmm.” Her warm gaze sizzled over his body. He wore a pair of loose-fitting black jeans, boots, and his muscle-molding black tee. His locks were down, and he looked scrumptious. “Let’s see, my darling. We fucked. We came. And we’ve moved along. Why wouldn’t we be, good?”
Lifting his hands, he said, “I don’t know. You tell me. You seem kinda—I don’t know…distant ever since…you know…”
“Ever since your cock melted inside me?” she finished for him.
He bit out something under his breath. “I shoulda pulled out.” He took a seat in front of her desk. “My bad.”
Nairobia leaned back, twisting her chair from side to side as she seductively licked her lips. “You couldn’t help yourself, my darling.”
Lamar bristled. This fuckin’ broad, yo. She was being smug. He wasn’t feeling that shit. But she was right. He couldn’t. And he still felt like shit for not being able to beat down her guts right. He hadn’t delivered his best performance. And now that’s all she would remember, him busting a fast nut.
Giving into the temptation had been a blessing and curse for him. It had opened his eyes to the fact that Lana wasn’t the one for him. And he’d gone to her a few days later and ended it with her. Sure, it hadn’t gone well. But he’d tried his damnedest to hold on to all the things that were right about her to stay with her.
Sadly, it hadn’t been enough.
He just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life laid up with a broad with subpar pussy. Of course he hadn’t told her that. He wasn’t callous. He’d simply told her, “It’s not you, ma. It’s me. I’m not built for a relationship right now. You deserve better than I can give you.”
She’d cried and screamed. And demanded to know, “Who’s the bitch you screwing?”
“There’s no one else,” he’d told her. That was partly true. There wasn’t. But there was Nairobia who had confirmed what he’d already known. He needed someone who had the same hungry sex drive as him, someone who loved to suck and fuck as much as he loved fucking and getting sucked. Lana wasn’t it. So she had to get chopped.
And he had Nairobia to thank for it.
“I’ma keep it gee wit’ you, ma. I hadn’t had pussy in over a week. My stamina is usually through the roof.”
Nairobia’s mouth curved. “Okay, if you say so, Lamar, darling,” she said nonchalantly. “No explanation needed. Most men can rarely control their desires before spilling their loins in less than ten minutes. You, my love, lasted almost nine minutes longer the second time.”
Lamar cringed inwardly. So basically he’d only dicked her down for eighteen-minutes-and-some-odd-seconds before he’d popped his cork inside her.
What the fuck?
She’d timed him.
He guessed he should have considered that an improvement—eighteen minutes of fucking, considering that the night he went in raw he’d come in a little under fifteen minutes. Three extra minutes, whoopty-fuckin’-doo! He still hadn’t delivered.
His scowl deepened. “I didn’t know you had me on a time clock.”
“I didn’t. Is it my fault my kut is platinum? Did you not know I was good pussy, my love?”
Lamar’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like how she was making him feel, like a pathetic chump.
She smiled at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “If it’s any consolation, a hundred-and-fifty strokes of hard-pounding cock was able to give me multiple orgasms. That’s more than others.” On their second night together, he’d given her an extra twenty strokes, fast and hard.
She’d fucked up his stamina.
His stare hardened. “I’m not like other muhfukas, yo. So don’t compare me to none’a them. I don’t bust quick…”
“But you had, my darling. Twice,” Nairobia heard the voice in her head say. She wouldn’t remind him of it, though. She wasn’t a callous lover.
“Not until you,” Lamar continued. He inhaled deeply. All of a sudden, all he could smell was her. Her hair, her breath, her skin; the wild needy scent of her wet pussy all somehow flooding his lungs.
He needed to fuck her again, and just get it all out of his system.
Nairobia smiled again, slowly taking him in. She sensed his still bruised ego and decided to stroke it. Just a bit. “You have a thick, curved cock that felt delicious inside me, so hard, so deep. It throbbed inside me both times you wedged yourself inside me. You kept me hot and wanting, melting all over you. So do not fret that your performance had not been longer. It was the best it could have been in those very short moments. Know my pussy is still wet for you. So if you wish to indulge yourself, if you wish to slide your cock back in me to redeem yourself…say so.”
He groaned, the memory of dumping his nut inside her, then not being able to feel his legs afterward still fresh in his mind.
And she smirked.
“Oh, you think that shit’s funny, huh? I ain’t no minuteman, yo.”
She shrugged. “I never said you were. You are only what you believe you are.”
“Yeah, aiight. But you tryna imply it.”
She leaned forward in her chair, and eyed him thoughtfully. “Remove your shades so I can see your eyes.”
Hesitantly, Lamar removed his sunglasses, and held them in his hand. “Okay, now what?” he asked, his voice husky.
“I find you adorable, my darling.”
He scowled. “Adorable? Gee, thanks.”
“Yes. I find you adorable enough to want to give you the pleasure of my mouth, to allow your cock to feel the velvet lash of my tongue…”
Lamar fanned his legs open and shut, feeling his blood quickly rushing to the head of his cock. He’d been in need of some head—some super soaker-making-his-toes-curl type of head. He needed to feel his dick down in a throat.
He’d already predicted she’d be a problem. Now he saw her more of a challenge. And that was a turn-on to him. Fuck staying away. He’d already fucked that up the first time he’d slid his dick in her. He wanted like hell to say it’d been a mistake. But it hadn’t been. For him, there was no turning back. Not now. The pussy was too fucking good. So if she wanted to offer up some head, he would damn sure slide into her mouth and rock her neck back.
He licked his lips. “Oh word? So when we doin’ this? I wanna see what that mouth do. I need that in my life, for real for real.”
Nairobia’s eyes took on a wicked gleam that made Lamar’s dick twitch, throbbing in demand to unload. She hadn’t even touched him and his dick was already aching. She had his balls ablaze. Everything inside of him boiled. He was so ready to bust.
What the fuck is wrong wit’ me?
His gaze locked on her rising chest, the swell of her breasts, Nairobia’s nipples tightened and stretched toward him. He licked his lips and groaned, dragging his hands over his face. The tension between them was so thick that Lamar found it almost too hard to breathe. His hunger for her had his dick straining against the button-fly of his jeans.
“Is your cock hard for me?”
“What you think,” was his only reply.
“Stand up,” Nairobia challenged.
He stood, and her breath caught at the sight of his bulge. She licked her lips.
“Lock the door. Then remove your clothes.”
“Nah, yo. That ain’t how this goes.” He frowned as her phone rang. She stared at the caller ID. Marcel. “You want this dick. You come get it.” He sat back down.
Amusement curled her lips. She could see the burning desire he had for her roiling in his eyes as she untied the strings to her wrap dress. Lamar watched as her dress opened. His hooded gaze fixated on her breasts, her nipples. They looked succulent. Edible. Not just her breasts, her nipples, every goddamn part of her.
His gaze dropped to a thin strip of lacy red silk covering her pussy. She spread her legs. The damp spot at the center of her thong made his mouth go dry. The sight slammed scorching heat into his chest, making it hard to breathe.
“Do you think about me, Lamar…?”
