The Pleasure Zone

by Cairo

  When he pulled away, she was breathless, and feeling helpless to resist him. But she had to. She would never be the woman he needed, the woman he deserved. Devoted to only him.

  “You can trust me with your heart, baby,” he said, his voice cracking as if he’d been reading her thoughts.

  She swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me. I can’t do this with you, MarSell. I wish I could, my darling. But…” She shook her head. “You overwhelm me. You complicate my life.”

  “That’s the last thing I’m trying to do, Nairobia. I want you. You. But I’m not going to throw myself on you. I think I’ve done enough begging. If you’re not ready for love, then I can’t force it on you.” He sighed, his heart aching. “God, I want you. But I’m not going to pressure you. I want you, when you are ready to be wanted. When you’re ready for me, baby. I’ll be here. When you’re ready for a good man, a real man, to love you, baby, you’ll know where to find me.”

  She leaned up and pressed her lips against his, grabbing him by the back of the neck and kissing him in a way she’d never kissed a man. Any man. Suddenly, she was kissing him with her heart, her whole mouth over his, devouring him, tasting him, savoring him, as if this would be their very last kiss—with a passion she hadn’t wanted to admit she had for him.

  He did this to her.

  Made her feel weak with want, with desire.

  She didn’t like this feeling of feeling open and vulnerable.

  But he had her becoming undone.

  One last sweep of her tongue against his, Nairobia pulled away, and Marcel groaned out his disappointment. He’d felt it too. The finality.

  She was leaving him no other choice. He’d have to let her go.

  They both stared at one another.

  He leaned in and pressed his forehead against her, one last time. Then pulled back. “Go do you, baby,” is all he could say. Nothing else would matter. Her mind was made up. And he wasn’t about to stand in her way. If she wanted him, she’d have to find her way back to him.

  End of story.

  Nairobia stared at him, blinking, as he let go of her. She stood there and eyed him as he turned from her and walked out the sliding doors. It was in that moment she felt herself blinking back tears. Maybe in another life, she could be the kind of woman he deserved. The kind of woman he needed. Maybe in another life, in another place, she could allow her heart to open to him.

  But for now, she loved being her own woman. Loved endless pleasure. Loved the freedom of doing whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted, wherever she wanted—answering to no one.

  Maybe, in another life, she could fall in love.

  Be in love.

  With him.

  Maybe.

  IF YOU ENJOYED “THE PLEASURE ZONE,” BE SURE TO CHECK OUT MARCEL, MARIKA AND NAIROBIA’S FREAKY PAST IN

  BY CAIRO

  AVAILABLE FROM STREBOR BOOKS

  TEN

  Marika

  The black-suited driver rolls the stretch Bentley with its tinted windows through the ornate iron gates of the Beverly Hills mansion where tonight’s extravaganza will take place. He slowly pulls in front of its circular driveway, then stops the car and slides out of the driver’s seat, walking around to open the door for Marcel and me.

  Marcel leans over and kisses me lightly on the cheek. He takes in my white draped, sleeveless Azzaro Capricieuse jewel dress with its plunging V-neckline and long slit in the middle, revealing my inner thigh. I’m wearing the six thousand-dollar dress—that is sure to catch the eye of many of tonight’s elite guests, shakers and movers in the movie and music industry as well as some well-known sports figures—with a pair of white Valentino Garavani six-inch, rock-stud sandals.

  His gaze drops down to my perky nipples peeking from underneath the thin fabric of my dress, then onto my smooth, shimmering thighs.

  He licks his lips. “Damn. You look sexy as fuck, baby.”

  I smile, breathing in the scrumptious scent of his cologne, Creed Royal Oud. Every time he wear this, it drives me wild. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” The glint in the diamond studs in his earlobes is blinding. He’s donned in an elegant, black-fitted Valentino suit with a matching pair of loafers. “And you smell delicious, I might add.” My hand slides between his legs, finding his meaty dick. I gently massage it until it starts to thicken.

  “Yo, c’mon, baby,” he says, grinning while trying to pull away. “You better stop before shit gets serious back here ‘n’ I end up ripping that dress off you ‘n’ beatin’ that fat pussy up in this backseat.”

  “Ooh, yes, daddy,” I coo into his ear. “Beat this pussy up. Fuck it until it stretches and burns. I want to feel you still inside of me throbbing and pulsing long after you’ve pulled out.”

  Marcel leans in, and whispers, “Hold tight, baby. By the end of the night, I promise. I’ma be doin’ just that. Putain la gueule d’ya cul sexy.” Fucking the shit out of ya sexy ass. “But, for now, let’s save the foreplay for inside.”

  I press my thighs together, reluctantly retrieving my hand from his hard dick.

  The back passenger door swings open.

  Marcel winks at me, grinning. “You ready?”

  I lick my lips as sordid scenarios of lewd sexapades flash through my freaky mind, causing heat to creep inbetween my thighs. My clit tingles, causing my pussy to instantly moisten.

  “I’m always ready.”

  • • •

  “So, what…or should I say who…are you in the mood for tonight, baby?” Marcel asks as we maneuver our way through the maze of designer-clad and diamond-studded guests, giving customary smiles and head nods, along with generous hugs and handshakes.

  “I’ll know when….”

  There are several VPs and A&R executives from various record labels and numerous A-list celebrities and athletes milling around the room, drinking flutes of some of the finest champagnes while mingling, flirting, groping, and sidling up to their objects of desire as bare-chested waiters wearing black bowties and tuxedo pants circle with champagne on silver trays.

  “Ooh, the two of you are simply delicious together,” says a sultry voice in back of Marcel and me. We both look over our shoulder and our eyes flicker into the face of Nairobia Jansen—the half-Dutch, half-Nigerian author, model, and sex goddess who has graced the covers of both Penthouse and Playboy and has built a multimillion-dollar empire with her adult toy line.

  “Mmm,” she purrs, running a finger lightly down my spine, causing a burst of sensations to erupt inside of me. She’s dressed in a scandalous white sheer dress sans bra and panties, brazenly revealing the assets she’s most famous for—her voluptuous breasts, curvaceous hips, and beautiful round ass. “I’d love to have the two of you in my chambers tonight doing all sorts of naughty things.”

  “Nairobia, my darling,” I say saucily, casting my gaze to the swell of her breasts, “you’re looking irresistibly scrumptious as always.” I lick my lips at the outline of her dark areolas and thick chocolate-tipped nipples.

  She air-kisses both my cheeks, then hungrily eyes Marcel as he leans in and kisses her lightly on the lips, cupping her delightful ass.

  He licks his lips, then says, “Good to see you, baby.”

  Gray eyes lit with mischief, Nairobia stands on her tiptoes and whispers, “And it would be even better to feel you deep inside me again.” Before giving Marcel a chance to respond, she presses the mounds of her breasts against him and nibbles on his earlobe, taking his hand and sliding it between the long slit in her dress, placing it between her legs. “I’ve missed the feel of you inside my pussy.”

  Marcel gives her a lopsided grin. “Oh, word? You miss this long, hard dick, baby?”

  She moans in response, pulling me into her, cupping her hand at the base of my neck for a tender kiss. My pussy moistens. She parts my lips with her tongue, while her other hand finds its way to my breasts. She brushes her mouth against the column of my nec
k, her warm breath heating my skin.

  My hand slinks between her legs to join Marcel’s. Index and middle fingers brush lightly against her slippery nub while Marcel’s fingers get lost deep inside her heat. The scent of her pussy, wet and hungry, flows freely over Marcel’s hand.

  My mouth waters for a taste of her sweet nectar.

  In between gasps and moans, Nairobia says, “I want…mmm…both of…you…fucking …me…in my mouth…my pussy…my sweet, tight ass…”

  Marcel’s thick fingers open her, wide and wanting, making room for my two slender fingers to slide in alongside his. Together we finger-fuck her. I can feel the silken swell of her cunt as she nears orgasm. She’s getting wetter with each stroke.

  Marcel leans in, kisses me, tongues me, then does the same to Nairobia. She hums deep in her throat, her cunt contracting around our probing digits, causing my own pussy to pulse. And thicken with desire.

  “Spread your legs wider,” I urge. She is close to coming. I can smell it, feel it, around our fingers as she thrusts her hips; four fingers fucking into her juicy cunt. The sound of wet pussy swallowing our fingers causes a deep throb to take root inside of me.

  “Yeah, baby, nut on these fingers,” Marcel murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “Bust that pussy for me, baby…”

  And she does.

  Like a tidal wave, warm juices erupt, washing over our fingers, soaking our hands. Nairobia squirts and shudders and gasps. Her skin flushes hot. And then she comes again.

  A few seconds later, when her body is no longer trembling, when her cunt is vacant from our prodding fingers, Nairobia kisses us both, whispering promises of sweet, nasty things to come, then floats away.

  “Damn, I love how wet her pussy gets,” Marcel says, kissing me, then pressing his cum-slick fingers to my lips, offering me Nairobia’s cunt juice. I suck his fingers into my mouth, sweeping my tongue around his fingers.

  He smiles, and I moan as he pulls his wet fingers from my mouth. “Mmm, and she tastes so good.”

  Across the room, there’s a set of eyes watching us. I’m not sure who spots him across the room first—me or Marcel, but when my eyes land on him I know he’s the one I want eating my pussy alongside my husband.

  He’s gorgeous. And tall, at least six feet five, with a shock of dark, wavy hair and dark, piercing eyes. From where I’m standing, he looks as if he’s been sculpted from a delicious batch of caramel, then drizzled with hot fudge.

  “Him,” I say, sliding my sticky fingers into my mouth, then licking them as I would a hard dick. “He’s who I want for us tonight.”

  “Yeah, that muhfucka’s real sexy, baby. Good choice.”

  He doesn’t shift his gaze when he sees us looking back at him. He smiles. I smile back. Marcel acknowledges him with a head nod. “Yo, I think he likes what he sees.”

  “And so he should,” I say, feeling my skin heat at the thought of sucking his dick and licking his balls while Marcel fucks me. I pick up a crystal flute off one of the trays. I hand it to Marcel, then grab a flute for myself.

  Marcel smirks. “Let’s hope the muhfucka doesn’t have a lil’-ass, infant-size dick. I’m not tryna see them pretty lips wrapped around no tiny-ass dick, baby.”

  I clink my glass with his. We both take slow sips. The fact that Marcel enjoys seeing my mouth wrapped around another man’s dick, the fact that he revels in the sight of seeing my lips painted with another man’s semen, is what makes me desire him even more. Not many men could or would handle having their women—let alone giving her permission—to suck another man’s dick. And he damn sure wouldn’t be willing to kiss her with another man’s cum on her tongue. But Marcel…he’s uninhibited. Freaky. And secure enough in his manhood to enjoy it. Encourage it. And indulge in it.

  “Oh, no,” I say, eyeing Mr. Sexy across the room. “The way he’s standing, all wide-legged and confident, tells me that whatever is hanging between those long legs of his is quite substantial.”

  “Yeah, well. It’d better be.”

  I grab his dick. Squeeze the head a few times. Then tell him I’ll be right back. He kisses me on the cheek, his hand gliding over the globes of my ass. “Go get ’im, baby.”

  “I plan to,” I say, gulping down the rest of my drink, then pulling Marcel into me. “For the both of us.” I reach up and press my lips against his, parting them easily, my warm tongue prodding around his mouth before breaking free and prowling in the direction of the mystery man.

  The smell of wet pussy and freshly fucked ass wafting around the room is intoxicating.

  The thing I love most about sex clubs and private parties, there are no pretenses. No judgments. No limits. No shame. No room for games. No space for confusion. Everyone is always here for the same reasons, to fuck and be fucked shamelessly. To explore rapturous fantasies with whomever they choose. To be sexually fulfilled.

  “You are one fine man,” I say, walking up to him. I am already wet, but now I’ve become wetter with eager anticipation. I set my empty glass on a nearby table.

  He flashes a megawatt smile, revealing straight, white teeth. “And so are you, beautiful. I enjoyed the show.”

  I smile, reaching for another flute of champagne as a bare-chested waiter in black tuxedo pants saunters by with a full tray. “Oh, there’s a whole lot more to see,” I assure him, my tone full of seduction and promise.

  “Hmm. I love the sound of that.” He places his empty glass on the tray, taking another one full of bubbly. “So who’s the man I’ve watched you work the party with?” I tell him it’s my husband. He grins and nods his head in approval. “Aah. And he doesn’t want to join us?”

  “Not at the moment.” My gaze, full of fire and hot desire, skims his body, pausing over what looks like a growing bulge, thick and heavy. “But he will, trust.”

  He grins. “I look forward to it. The more the merrier.” He pulls in his bottom lip, slow and seductively.

  I give him a knowing smile. “So, what shall we drink to?” I ask, reaching up and pulling the diamond hairclip from my hair, letting my hair cascade over my shoulders.

  “Why not to a night full of endless possibilities,” he says with a wink.

  I toss my hair, shamelessly flirting with this fine hunk of man. “Well, my husband and I”—I nod my head over in Marcel’s direction—“would love to end the night with you in our bed.”

  He waits a beat, then glances over in Marcel’s direction, lifting his flute. Marcel returns the gesture, along with a head nod. He smiles, returning his attention to me.

  “Oh, and what an endless night of possibilities it shall be.” His eyes scan my entire body, from head to toe. “I have a thing for pretty feet,” he says, licking his lips. “And beautiful, open-minded women.”

  I grin, holding his gaze. “And I have a thing for fine men who aren’t afraid to indulge their desires. That’s a real turn-on. What are your desires, uh…I didn’t get your name.”

  He grins back. “I didn’t give it. Names aren’t necessary. Just know I’m a freak, here looking for a good time. And I have a whole lot of energy for more than one round.”

  “Okay, Mister-No-Name-Freak-Looking-For-A-Good-Time, what do you desire tonight?”

  He glances back over at Marcel, who is being entertained by two buxom vixens wearing nothing but glitter and gold body paint over their gym-Pilates-toned bodies.

  A sly smile eases over my moist lips as I eye Marcel slide both his hands in between each of their legs. The two sex kittens lean in and kiss. And I swallow, imagining the feel of their warm flesh against his fingers, imagining the taste of their wetness on my own fingers, on my tongue.

  A vision of sharing the two vixens with Marcel causes my pussy to spasm and my nipples to peak hard.

  “For starters,” Caramel says, bringing my attention back to him, “to answer your question. I desire a night with you.” He tears his stare from mine, glancing over at Marcel. “And him. But for now…” He eyes my feet again. “I’d like to taste them pretty toes
.” He slides his lusty gaze back up to meet mine. “Then lick you to climax.”

  My breath catches.

  Then, without another word, he’s whisking me off outside toward a row of cushion-padded benches. The backyard is dimly lit with gaslight sconces and tiki torches.

  The walls of my pussy literally tremble as I watch this tall, sculpted hunk of a caramel-coated man gulp down the rest of his drink, then drop on one knee, unfasten the straps of my heels, remove them, then gently fold his large hands around my ankles, lift a foot to his face. He kisses my feet with warm lips. Then runs his tongue along my arch, kissing the tips of my toes, then putting them into his mouth. I can’t help but moan as his tongue slides around, and in between, each toe as his hands slip up the back of my calves, my thighs, then back down. He sinks all five of my toes inside his mouth. And I feel myself melting into the sensation. Erotic and sensual, my clit tingles.

  I arch forward, aching for him, devouring him with my eyes. He sucks and licks my toes as if he’s sucking and licking on my clit, sucking and licking on my cunt, sucking and licking on my swollen lips, sucking and licking as if each toe were a tiny, hard dick. Heat dances over my body. Spreads out over my skin. And stirs my simmering lust.

  “Do you want to taste my pussy, too?”

  Cairo is the author of Dirty Heat, Ruthless, Retribution, Between the Sheets, Slippery When Wet, The Stud Palace (original ebook), Big Booty, Man Swappers, Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang, Deep Throat Diva, Daddy Long Stroke, The Man Handler, and The Kat Trap. His travels to Egypt inspired his pen name.

  MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

  SimonandSchuster.com