by Kiru Taye
He chuckled as he nuzzled her neck. "I aim to please. Now, let’s get to the bed and do it properly, this time without any clothes on."
She giggled as he scooped her up and she wondered how he had the energy after all that. She wouldn’t have been able to walk properly herself. She clung on to his neck, taking in the heady scent of Mark and sex.
Luckily, his bedroom wasn’t far down the hallway. The bed he laid her on was covered in chocolate silk sheets, soft to the touch and smelling of fresh laundry, and massive enough to accommodate a basketball team. The room itself looked larger than her living room, decorated in varying natural brown tones of fabric and wood.
Mark towered above her, hands on his hips. His dark eyes glimmered with such intensity, a black hole that sucked her right in, her heart thudded loudly.
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more beautiful," he said in a gruff voice.
Huh? She lifted one brow in disbelief and looked down at her body.
Dishevelled—her rumpled linen skirt rode up her bare hips, her lace knickers torn, a button missing from her silk blouse. Not to mention that her hair must probably be all over the place since he’d been running his fingers through the strands and the back had been crushed against the door. Was he pulling her leg or what?
"You must need glasses, then," she said, sure he must’ve been joking. "I’m rumpled up."
"Yes, so beautifully rumpled." He rolled off the used condom, knotted it, and tossed it into the brushed steel waste paper bin leaning against the wall by the door. "Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you this rumpled? Every time I see you, you’re always so composed, so prim and proper. I’ve wanted to see passion blaze in your eyes, wanted to see you finally let go."
Leaning over, he stroked her lips in a brief kiss. His masculine spice filled her lungs, stirring the burnt-out embers of her lust.
Chapter Six
Faith's cheeks heated and she half-laughed, half-coughed in a self-conscious manner. Her body still tingled as if it finally woke up from a long sleep. A really long sleep.
"Of course, I wasn’t expecting that finally getting you to loosen up will get me so out of control I was going to explode within seconds like a teenager."
How could he say that or even expect her to believe it? In the past year, he hadn’t exactly been lonely. Unlike her. He shouldn’t pretend this was more than it was. Sex. Lust. That’s all they had.
She rolled over, trying to cover herself up in a semblance of decency. The thought of him with other women had her heart clenching tightly.
"If I believe that, I’ll believe anything." She pulled herself up and away from him. "You forget that your pictures have been splashed over the papers with different women hanging on your arms this past year."
The mattress depressed as he sat on the edge. Tendrils of his heat curled around her. Breathing saturated her lungs with his spice. Need bubbled in her veins. She closed her eyes, hating the tightness in her chest.
Remember, this is just sex. It doesn’t matter how many women he’s been with this past year.
Bullshit. Her hands clenched into fists, tightening on the seams of her clothes.
"Yes, I’ve attended events with women all because you refuse to be seen publicly with me. I would rather have had you as my escort on those occasions."
Fingers, steel bands, wrapped around her ankles and tugged. Eyes flying open, she gulped in air and slid down the bed on her back until her legs straddled his hips. One by one, he removed her shoes and massaged her bare feet. His fingers worked blissful magic. She purred, to her dismay.
"But I haven’t had sex with another woman since I met you at that conference in Jo’burg."
Stunned by his admission, all she could say was, "Okay."
Relief washed over her body at his reassuring words and she didn’t hide the smile that tugged the corners of mouth. A man as highly sexed as Mark had stayed celibate for a year for her. Euphoria, a heady drug, surged in her veins. The constriction around her chest loosened, rage replaced by delight, empowering her.
A dimple flashed on his cheek, his lips curled in a slow, confident smile. Masculine and erotic, semen glistened on the semi-hard erection jutting out of his open fly.
God, he’s beautiful and sexy and virile. Magnificent. Between her thighs throbbed, a mixture of soreness and arousal. She wanted him again.
Her mouth watered. She’d never given head before. No time like right now to start. Pushing up on her elbows, she licked her lips and ran her sole over his erection.
His groan thrummed loud and vibrated through her, his shaft stiffening and lengthening immediately. She ran her tongue over her lips as she teased him with her foot.
"Let’s get into the shower." His voice sounded hoarse as he stood up but seemed to wobble in place.
Her grin widened that she could be making him feel unsteady on his feet.
"I want to taste you," she teased, running her feet up and down his thigh.
"You won’t taste much of me if I don’t get a shower, just latex."
"Oh."
He unbuttoned his shirt and paused, wrinkling his brows.
"You’ve never tasted a man before, have you?"
Her cheeks heated and she looked away as she shrugged. A big grin spread across his face and he leaned over and scooped her up, giving her a long, intense, breath-stealing kiss.
"You’re adorable," he said in a husky voice when he lifted his head.
"That makes me sound like a naive school girl," she said, bristling through the haze of lust spreading over her body.
"‘Naive’ and ‘school girl’ are three words I can never use to describe you. There is nothing school-girlish about these voluptuous curves of yours, and I think words like ‘incredibly beautiful’ and ‘indomitable’ describe you better."
Somehow, her brain skipped over all the other words and focused on the one that had her feeling self-conscious again. At five-foot–four-inches, she was hardly stick-thin. Her big breasts and behind had gotten her into trouble before, the reason why she hid them inside conservative clothing.
"Are you saying I’m fat?" She cocked her eyebrow.
He chuckled as he carried her into the bathroom.
"Fat? No. Curvy, shapely, luscious, buxom, and sexy? Hell, yes!"
Her smile widened. "Oh, you’re good for a girl’s ego." She giggled. She understood why so many women flocked to him. Mark was a charmer and like chocolate—an addiction she couldn’t get rid of.
She’d been so distracted by him, she didn’t realise what he was doing until he walked into the massive shower enclosure with wall-to-ceiling grey limestone tiles and overhead spotlights. The huge showerhead descended directly from the ceiling, water cascading down and splashing over both of them.
"Wh— what are you doing?" she spluttered, drenched in warm water. "We’ve still got our clothes on."
"I’m making sure you don’t run tonight," he said as he let her body gently slide down until she stood in front of him.
Stunned, she remained there staring at him mouth agape, not sure whether to be angry or not. His shirt plastered against his chest, his trousers clung to his sturdy thighs, just as she was sure her own clothes now stuck wetly to her skin. She was learning so much about this man standing before her.
Lesson number one—Mark was a doer, in business and obviously, in his personal life. The gentle throbbing between her legs would be enough proof.
Lesson number two—he learned too quickly. After the incident in her kitchen the last time, he was unwilling to take the risk that she would want to end the night quicker than he wanted.
Lesson number three—he could read her too easily. She’d been hoping to get back home early and prepare for the new work week. Now, she didn’t have the option. Mark had read her intentions even before they’d manifested, and he’d read her correctly. Never a good thing. When the time came, she wouldn’t be able to outmanoeuvre him in negotiations if they ever faced off.
"T
hat’s no reason to ruin perfectly good clothes," she huffed, more annoyed with herself for being so easy to read than with him.
"It’ll be taken care of by the laundry service and ready for you to wear in the morning," he said as he slipped his shirt off his arms and tossed it onto the stone-tiled floor.
"That means I have to stay here until the morning."
She said it more as a statement than a question. Not like she still had the choice, unless she wanted to go home wearing wet clothes.
"My point exactly. I’m sure I can find ways to keep you entertained until then."
He pulled his trousers all the way down and stepped out of them, repeating the same action with the shirt. He straightened and her jaw dropped.
She’d had an inkling he must be built well, but she still wasn’t prepared for the specimen of caramel-skinned masculinity standing before her. She forgot to remove her own clothes as she gaped at his broad chest, muscular arms, and powerful, thick thighs as glistening water ran down his skin in rivulets. The result of all his hours in the gym showed. She practically salivated.
OMG! She hadn’t had sex in close to five years and had lived without it. And yet, a few minutes with Mark and she had turned into a nymphomaniac.
"You keep looking at me that way and we’ll be attempting a world record on shower sex." He growled the words out.
Picking her chin off the floor, she shut her mouth and pulled the rest of the buttons of her blouse through the holes.
Mark reached for her shoulders and peeled her blouse off her. His hand on her skin sparked her arousal. Her nipples puckered against the wet bra, poking above the crescent cup. She reached behind to take the bra off. Mark stopped her with his hand on her arm.
"Let me." The boyish dimple came back.
He unhooked the clasp and pivoted, chucking her top and bra to join his clothes on the floor. In the meantime, she tugged at the zipper of her skirt and yanked it down, pulling what remained of her ripped knickers, too, before stepping out of them.
Mark’s low whistle bounced off the tiles as he sized her up, his heated gaze sliding over her skin like a caress, adding to the feel of warm water washing over her.
"Now, here’s a woman designed to be adored."
Awe and heat battled in his gaze before he leaned forward and pumped some shower gel from the dispenser into his palm. He rubbed his hands together as if in glee and started massaging the foam onto her shoulders. The aromas of bergamot and sandalwood filled the enclosure, spicy and sexy, the scent she always associated with Mark. His shower gel, not cologne as she’d originally assumed.
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into his touch as he continued rubbing her skin, moving around her breasts in a circular motion, down her belly. He squatted, soaping her legs in an up and down motion. He didn’t linger between her legs and she was grateful.
"Turn around."
He stood and waited for her to move into place. He squirted more gel into his hand and focused on washing her back. Bracing her palms on the cool wall tiles, she closed her eyes and indulged in the luxury of having someone pamper her this way. Certainly another first.
"Can I wash your hair?" he asked.
She glanced behind her. He stood there, smiling and waiting for her confirmation. She nodded. Her hair was already wet.
"Although, it’s going to look messy without a blow dryer," she added.
"I think I have a solution to that." He raked his fingers on her scalp and massaged it with both hands.
She exhaled and melted against the wall.
"Wow. You have magic fingers." She tilted her head into his touch. "This feels so good."
He finished off and tilted the showerhead to focus on her, rinsing the soap off her body. Facing him, she wanted to return the favour. She needed to get her hands on him.
"Now, it’s my turn."
"You’re welcome to have your wicked way with me." He grinned.
"I will."
She pumped gel into her hands like he’d done and started on his chest. He stood there confidently, hands down by his side, looking blatantly masculine and sexy while she massaged soap all over his body. His body felt hard, the light spread of short dark hairs on his chest giving his skin a rough, very male feel. She took her time, taking all of him in, learning all the contours and ridges of his muscles.
As she scrubbed his back, he leaned his head against the wall tiles, his hands also braced against it. His muscles relaxed beneath her fingers as she worked a massage over his back down to this firm butt cheeks. She couldn’t resist grabbing on to them and squeezing. Mark groaned out loud.
Between her legs, her desire awakened and she throbbed for him. She wanted his hardness all over her as well as inside her again.
But she concentrated on giving his body the attention he’d given hers. After he was covered, she turned the showerhead on his back and rinsed him off. He straightened up and turned around.
She gasped at the sight of his raging hard-on, jutting upward towards his belly button.
"Oh, my," she said.
"You seem to have magic fingers yourself," he said.
"Oh, I better make good use of them, then." She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his girth of muscles and veins. He pulsed in her hand, swelling and lengthening.
Mark inhaled sharply. She glanced up at him. His black eyes sparkled with heated intensity as if he couldn’t keep his eyes off her and he waited to see what she would do next.
She pumped him a couple of times and leaned forward, flicking her tongue around the bulbous head. His groan deepened, encouraging her. Opening her lips, she swallowed the tip into her mouth, sucking as deeply as she could, her hand wrapped around the base.
She’d never done this before but she’d read enough books to know the basics. Was she doing it right? Flicking her eyes upward, the image Mark projected locked her breath in her lungs.
His head tilted back onto the tiled wall, his eyes closed, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, as if he stood at the ledge of his control and fought to not tumble over.
Powerful pleasure rocked her body, turning it to jelly and making her glad she was already on her knees. She carried on taking it as sign he was getting pleasure. Alternating between licking his length and sucking him into her mouth, she worked him.
His fingers tangled in her hair and slowly, he bopped her head up and down, controlling her movements, letting her know what pace he preferred. She’d always been a fast learner. Soon, she worked at his pace. His grunts got louder and quicker. She tried to increase the rhythm. But he pulled her off him and up.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, not hiding the disappointment in her voice.
"No, you didn’t. You are wonderful."
He tugged her in and gave her a hot, hard kiss.
"But when I come, I want to feel your walls contracting all around me as you scream my name."
Body clenching at the imagery, she smiled. He shut off the faucet and reached for the large white bath towels hanging on the railing. He fluffed one over her body before wrapping her up in it. Then he flung one around his waist and pulled a canvas bag from the closet which he stuffed the wet clothes into it.
"I’m going to call the concierge to pick this up," he said. "Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long."
He slipped on a pair of shorts and disappeared out of the room. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her stomach rumbled in hunger pangs. She hadn’t really eaten much at Ebony’s house. And it seemed having sex made her hungry. She needed to find some food.
Since her own clothes were out of commission for the time being, she walked into Mark’s closet in search of something to wear. She took a white shirt from his wardrobe and slipped it on. It turned out long enough to cover her bum and stopped mid-thigh.
With a quick glance in the mirror to fluff her hair, she headed out in search of the kitchen. The lights had come on in the hallway and she noticed the kitchen at the end of the hal
l opposite to the living room. She found the switch on the wall and turned on the light.
The kitchen looked sleek and modern, aluminium and white surfaces. In the middle of the room stood a centre-unit with five cooking hobs as well as a breakfast table with two stools. A huge, double-door, walk-in fridge-freezer stood at the end.
She opened it, surprised to find the fridge section stocked with fresh vegetables and fruits. A few items in plastic containers looked like tomato sauce or soup. She pulled out the carton of mango juice and went in search of a drinking glass in the cupboard closest to her. In it, she found spices and seasonings.
She carried on searching until she found the unit with the cups and plates. She took a glass out and poured a drink. While she was taking a sip, she heard a door closing. A few seconds later, Mark appeared at the kitchen door.
He whistled as he stared out her. "You look edible in my shirt. I like it."
"Look who’s talking, walking around in nothing but a pair of shorts. A girl could get used to seeing all that masculinity on display."
He chuckled as he strode towards her with a predatory glint in his eyes. "I think we have some things to finish up."
"Yeah, about that. I need some food first. I’m hungry."
"Of course. Food. I can do that." He strode over to the fridge.
"You don’t have to worry about cooking," she said, remembering that he didn’t cook. "I saw some yoghurt in the fridge. I can have some of that."
"How about I make you an omelette?" He started taking items out of the fridge—eggs, cheese, and ham.
"Are you sure?" She frowned. "There’s some tomato sauce in there. I can boil some rice."
"No. I want to make something fresh for you."
"Why?" She was even more baffled because he told her previously he never cooked himself and had a cook. She assumed the cook had gone home for the day.
"Because I want to cook for you, sweetheart." He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "I want to pamper you."
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her heart tightened and tears stung the back of her eyes. How could she not fall in love with him if he did things like that? Something she couldn’t afford.
