“Nope.”
They stopped on the path, looking out at the Niagara River. The water rippled, hitting the rock embankment but, otherwise, the river remained a calm expanse of slowly moving blue.
“How are things going with you and her?”
“Slow.”
“It’s been… what, two months since you began dating? How fast do you want your relationship to move? And don’t tell me this is about sex.”
“It’s not about sex, although that would be nice. What? Don’t snort.”
“Of course, I’m going to snort. How fast did your other girlfriends put out?”
“I can’t believe you asked that.” Malcolm shoved his sister with his shoulder. “It’s not about sex but intimacy. We talk and laugh. She’s whip-smart, as Dad would say, but whole parts of her life are off limits. I talk about you and the kids all the time. I’ve told her about Mom and Dad, even drove her past the old neighborhood.”
“Wait, you didn’t introduce her to our parents, did you?”
“Hell, no. I don’t think I could’ve gotten Sky out of the car if I tried something like that.” Malcolm leaned against the railing, the hood on his windbreaker blowing in the breeze. “She’s private. I knew that from the beginning. I also know that I’m moving way too fast for her. You know how Dad told us the story about meeting Mom and knowing she was the one.”
“Of course, every year on their anniversary he tells the same tired but sweet story. Mom smiles and kisses him. You gag and act like you’re two, and we all laugh. What’s your point?”
“I thought Dad’s story was pure BS. That crap doesn’t happen. It didn’t work like that with you and Sean or anyone else I know.”
“Don’t tell me, Sky changed your mind. You’re such a sap, M&M.”
“I know. The first time we kissed, I knew I was done. It’s not love, not yet. But it could be, Angie. I can see myself head over heels cliché in love with Dr. Sky Ellis.”
“Yeah, you’re a big ass sap, just like Dad.” Angie lifted onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Let me see that stalker picture again that you took of Sky.”
“I told you, I’m not stalk—”
“Just show me the picture already.”
Digging his phone from his jacket pocket, Malcolm didn’t have to go to his gallery to find a picture of Sky.
“Here.”
“God, Malcolm, does she know you use her picture as your wallpaper?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s stilling dating you. Maybe you aren’t the only one who thinks they’ve found the one.”
“From your mouth to her—”
“Sky’s behind you.”
“What?”
“Jogging toward us. It’s her. Athletic and with one hell of a stride, but definitely the same woman from your stalker pic.”
Malcolm turned around, knowing his sister had to be pulling his—Sky Ellis, dressed in black running shoes, racer pink printed tights, and a matching short sleeve training top stopped a few feet from them.
Hands on her hips and breathing hard, she stared at him, as surprised to see Malcolm as he was to see her.
Sean’s words came back to him as he gaped at his girlfriend. Smokin’ hot, she damn sure was. He’d never seen her dressed down. Even when they went out to the movies, dinner, museum, Sky dressed to impress—fashionable and flawless. But not this Sky. Tendrils of hair fell from her messy ponytail, sweat glistened her face, and her tights fit every luscious curve he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing up close and personal.
“Malcolm?”
“Yeah, hey, Sky. I promise I’m not stalking you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Behind him, Angie laughed.
“I mean, I’m not following you. I didn’t know you would be here.”
“It’s a public park, and I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s my fault.” Angie stepped from around Malcolm and toward Sky. “Hi, I’m Angie, Malcolm’s sister.”
Sky reached into her black running waist bag, pulled out a small towel and wiped her hands before extending her right one to Angie and shaking.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Styles-Franklin. I heard great things about you.”
“Call me Angie. You mean great things from my brother?”
“Well, yes, from Malcolm, but I was referring to my dissertation committee chair, Dr. Leslie Gooden.”
“Leslie’s still at Princeton?”
“No, she retired two years ago. When Dr. Gooden reviewed my dissertation proposal, she suggested one of your books as a reference. I’d already read your dissertation, but I hadn’t gotten around to buying your first book.”
“Wait, you read Angie’s dissertation?”
“Read and cited in my own. Culturally responsive instruction and assessment at three Big 10 schools. Groundbreaking research for the time. Her findings helped support the rationale for my own research on cultural intelligence and presidential leadership.”
“Close your mouth, M&M. You’re embarrassing yourself in front of your very smart girlfriend.”
“Oh, so now Sky’s your best friend because she read your long-winded dissertation.”
“I do love that she has. It gives us something other than you to talk about, which should make you happy. By the way, your dissertation was thirty-two pages longer than mine, and it took me five cups of coffee to get through.”
Sky laughed.
“Journalist, activist, priest, historian, George Freeman Bragg was an important African American historical figure in the Episcopal Church in Maryland.”
“Important, maybe, but not interesting.”
Sky laughed again.
“Angie’s not funny.”
“Except she kind of is. You’re adorable, when you’re pretending to be offended. What does M&M stand for?”
“That’s my cue to leave. You’re as smart and beautiful as my brother said. It’s nice to met you. One day, when you’re ready, we’ll have lunch or dinner. Just us.” Angie dug into her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to Sky who slid the card into her waist bag. “Be good to my brother, he’s a little on the sensitive side.”
Angie walked away, back down the pier, as if she wasn’t his ride home.
“Your sister seems nice. I didn’t make the connection with the last name Styles until I saw her. She doesn’t look that much different in person than on the back cover of her books. Small world. You really did your dissertation on Bragg?”
“Why, do you think he’s boring too?”
“Not really. You’re from New York, why would you select an historical figure from him?”
“Because practically every other doctoral student from New York, in my program, chose a native New Yorker or someone who made this state their home. I didn’t want to go the homegrown hero route.”
“That makes sense, I guess. May I read your dissertation?”
“It’s at my house. Angie picked me up and drove us here, so I don’t have a way of getting home.”
“Did you leave your wallet there?”
“No.”
“Do you not have cash or your ATM card on you?”
“Of course, I do. I should have about thirty bucks in my wallet.”
“Good, that’s enough to have a taxi or Uber driver take you home.”
“That’s cold. You can’t give a brotha a ride home? Where did you park? Ferry Street Bridge? Unity Island Park?”
“Neither. I live four blocks from here.”
“This is your neighborhood. Kind of pricey this close to Niagara River. Being director must pay well. Come here.”
“No, I’m stinky and sweaty.”
“I don’t care. Come here.” Sky took three steps forward, and Malcolm pulled her the rest of the way. “I like you like this.”
“A sweaty mess?”
“No. I mean without makeup, heels, and dress clothes. You wear them like armor.”
He knew S
ky didn’t like when Malcolm spoke like this, seeing sides of her she preferred to keep hidden. Sky stepped out of his embrace, saying nothing but taking his hand in hers. In silence, they walked down the pier, onto Niagara Street, and to Sky’s apartment building.
“Damn, I can see Niagara River and Peace Bridge from here. I bet you pay a mortgage payment in rent.”
“You sound like my father. By the way, you never told me why Angie calls you M&M.”
Back to her, Malcolm stared out Sky’s living room windows.
“Malcolm Marcus Styles.”
“As in Malcolm X and Marcus Garvey?”
“That’s right.”
“I get it. Your sister is Angela.”
“After Angela Davis. I guess you can figure out what life was like in the Styles household.”
“A lot different from mine.”
“Tell me about it?”
“Later.”
Of course, Sky’s favorite word when he asked anything about her family. Malcolm shifted from the windows and turned to Sky. It was time they had a little talk about trust.
He opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. Good lord, the woman was stunning and smelled of strawberries. Damp hair clung to her scalp and shoulders, brown-green eyes watched him with the same lust flooding him, and the white, silk robe Sky wore fell to tanned thighs.
Long legs had him striding toward her, thoughts of her emotional barriers forgotten.
“You’re not wearing a damn thing under that robe, are you?”
“You’re a respected researcher, Dr. Styles. I’m sure you can discover the answer to your question.”
Malcolm licked lips that would soon taste every inch of the teasing, sexy siren in front of him.
Grabbing Sky’s waist, he pulled her against him and kissed her the way he wanted to since seeing her at Bird Island Pier. She’d hopped in the shower as soon as she got home, telling him, “Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long.”
She hadn’t been. Fifteen minutes. Tops. Enough time for Malcolm to remove his shoes and jacket and take a look around her spotless loft. He hadn’t even found a cup or a plate in her sink. He’d known from her office that Sky was a neat and organized person. He should’ve assumed she was even more so in her personal space.
Hands fell to ass. Hers to his, and squeezed.
He kissed her deeper, eating at her mouth and reveling in the feel of her demanding tongue. Mouth slid to neck and hands to the tie of her robe. Licks and kisses and just the gentlest of bites. The primal man that lived inside every male growled at Malcolm to mark his woman with greedy bites of possession.
Malcolm did, sucking hard and ripping a moan from Sky.
“That’s going to leave a bruise.”
“I know, baby, I couldn’t help myself.” He did it again, biting and sucking, then laving her skin with swipes of his hot, hungry tongue. “You taste so good. Let me sample more of you.”
“I wish you would.”
The silk belt came loose in his hands, leaving Sky’s robe open. Malcolm stepped back. He had to see her. For two months, they’d kept up appearances at work. Malcolm didn’t make it a habit of stopping by Sky’s office, and she’d never visited him at Susan B. Anthony Hall. He did, however, think Kelly had scoped their game. It wasn’t so much what she said, but the way she smiled at him whenever he did spend time with Sky in her office.
The door stayed closed when he dropped by, which probably had a lot to do with her speculation of their involvement.
With the same confidence she displayed at work, Sky removed her robe. Flat stomach, round hips, high, full breasts, toned legs, and red painted toenails. Her splash of color against her warm beige skin with cool, red undertones.
“You’re gorgeous. So damn hot I’m burning up over here.”
“That’s because you have too many clothes on. Take them off for me.”
Malcolm watched as Sky sashayed that fine ass of hers past him and to her white couch, where she sat, legs crossed and an arm reclined on the back of the couch. So, the woman wanted a show. Malcolm could give her that.
He found his jacket where he’d left his cell phone. Tapping the YouTube icon, Malcolm went to the site and entered his search. After the annoying ad, the song began.
Sky grinned. “Pony by Ginuwine. Good choice.”
“Yeah, I knew you’d like it.”
Malcolm began to dance, removing his clothing as Ginuwine sang about finding the right partner to take him to the limit. A partner who could jump into the saddle and ride him the way he wanted and needed to be ridden.
He sang along, stripping off shirt, pants, and boxers. Gyrating hips, flexing muscles, even doing the penis shake, which was damn hard to do when fully erect. Each lyric of the song put him closer to a riveted Sky. Malcolm loved the way she watched him, not just with lust but with unconcealed affection and undeniable heat.
“Take your hair down, please.”
As he suspected, his lady had a thing for his locks. Sky was forever trying to coax him into undoing them for her. He’d considered cutting them, many times, which was why he liked to keep his hair up and back.
With deft fingers, he uncoiled his hair, letting it tumble over his shoulders and down his back.
Sky’s breath hitched and fingers flexed.
He moved closer, still dancing to the music.
Her heated gaze had him straddling her waist and taking Sky’s mouth with his. They kissed, Malcolm’s hips swaying to the outro of the song. When the song ended, their kiss didn’t.
It went on and on. Sky’s hands came to his hair, threading through with exploring fingers and tugging him even closer.
His penis rubbed against and between her heavenly breasts, Malcolm hard and eager to be inside of her, but not yet ready to take her with his length.
He hadn’t tasted his Sky yet.
Sliding down her body and onto the floor, Malcolm licked his lips again. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?”
Sky nodded, her eyes so very green with desire.
“Have you daydreamed about my mouth on you, my tongue inside of you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good, so have I. In your dreams, did I make you come, make you scream my name?”
Sky closed her eyes and dropped her head against the couch cushions. “You’re driving me crazy, Malcolm. I want your lips on me, filthy the way I know you want to have me. And your tongue. As deep as it can go.”
“That’s all you had to say, my celestial sphere.”
Hooking Sky’s long legs over his shoulders, he pulled her to the edge of the sofa and kissed her. With lips and tongue.
He began at the opening to her sex, licking up and down but not entering. Up and down and pressing his tongue against the entrance, teasing and arousing but also learning her body.
Sky’s moans rippled through the cool loft on currents of need and want.
Malcolm wasn’t surprised when he felt two hands in his hair. She didn’t pull him forward or try to dictate how he pleasured her. No, Sky’s hands caressed, twirled and fisted his hair.
He dug in, slipping his tongue inside and licking. Over and over, he tasted her, his mouth wet with saliva and her fruity juices. We wanted her to know how delicious she tasted, so Malcolm told her, which did have Sky tugging his hair.
He didn’t mind, not when the woman made the most erotic, pleased noises he’d ever heard. Not when she moaned his name between curses. Not when she came with his tongue on her clit and his fingers in her sex. Not when she initiated the kiss that had them sharing her seductive flavoring.
Sky could pull his hair all she liked if it meant she found pleasure in his arms.
“Protection,” he whispered against her mouth. “Please, baby, tell me you’re on the pill.”
“I’m not, but I have condoms in my bedroom nightstand drawer.”
He scooped her up and walked the short distance down the hall and into her bedroom. Like the rest of the loft, the r
oom was airy, neat and feminine. A queen-sized bed with white comforter and brown-and-white pillows decorated her bed, which he set her down upon.
He opened the top drawer of her white, wooden nightstand and, sure enough, he spotted a purple box of ultrasmooth lubricated condoms.
“Should I be concerned that you have a ten-count box of condoms and this will be the first time we’ve had sex?”
“They’re unopened if you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed. Girl Scout?”
“No, but I assumed we’d get to this point, eventually, and I wanted to be prepared. Do you really think I’d cheat on you?”
She sounded more hurt than offended.
“No. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Angie and Sean’s shit was messing with his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Can we go back to two minutes ago before I messed everything up?”
“It’s fine. I get it. People cheat.”
Sky didn’t seem fine, and Malcolm knew he’d stepped in something with his stupid question.
He kissed her, not knowing what else in the hell to do to recapture the good time they were having. Thankfully, Sky returned his kiss, tugging him onto the bed with her.
“No more talking.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Malcolm made quick work of the condom wrapper, tossing it on the nightstand before rolling the condom on. Like the song, chills went up and down his spine when Sky finally mounted him.
If he’d doubted Sky’s word about not cheating, he wouldn’t have after she settled on him. The woman was tight. Not virgin tight but tight in a way that women get when they haven’t had sex with a man in a while.
A good kind of tight that had Malcolm grunting and thrusting. The kind of tight that pulsed liquid heat around his dick and held him deep inside of her. The kind of tight that made a man want to propose because the sex and woman were so good that he would be a fool to let her go.
Sky rode him. Not a pony but an exquisite mare of the finest breeding. Breasts swayed, hips gyrated, and Malcolm was lost.
She kissed him, erect nipples pressed to hard chest.
“I knew you had a swimmer’s body. Long and lean with a tight ass and thick…”
Sky’s wicked grin had Malcolm rolling them over and trapping her under him. “Say the rest.”
Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection Page 45
