by Peyton Banks
I pull away, trailing the tattoos that lace his torso, storing each one in memory, nearly salivating over his form. It’s obvious he works out and cares for his body, and God, do I appreciate it. Kade gazes at me through lust-filled eyes and reaches out to running his hands down my thighs to the hem of my pencil skirt. Without taking his eyes from me, he lifts it slowly, groaning when the tight bottom band gets stuck at my thighs. He bites his lips, giving me another sexy roar before yanking it up until it’s propped up on top of my ass.
Kade takes my wrist and turns me so my back is to him. My derriere is between his thick legs, so close I feel the shaft of his semi hard erection. A finger toys with the thin strap of my black thong then pops it against my flesh. I flinch, surprised by the jolt it sends to my pussy.
“Sweets, your ass is so beautiful.” He rubs my left cheek and smacks it softly. “Damn, look at that jiggle.” He does it again, this time with a little more pressure.
I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation and pushing myself closer to him.
“Mmm. Bend over for me, let me see it spread.” He places his grip at the base of my back, guiding me forward. “Fuck, sweets. You’re going to do me in for sure. I can smell your arousal,” he adds before kissing my rump.
He stands, pressing his pelvic to me, grinding ever so slightly, enough for me to feel his dick lengthening. Another smack to both sides pushes me closer to the edge. I want him so bad and don’t even give a shit that my assistant is on the other side of the door. Kade grabs my shoulders, lifting me until his chest is against my back, the bottom of his beard resting atop my head. His hands move down past my collarbone and over my breasts. He pinches both nipples through the silky material of my bra, sending fire to the place between my thighs.
If he doesn’t take me now, I’m sure I’m going to explode.
Kade
My God, this woman is a fucking goddess; so soft, luscious, and delectable. The way she reacts to my touch has my dick fighting to be freed. I’ve envisioned this moment for weeks, and here we are. Her tits are like clouds, and when I pinch her nipples, her body bucks, and I smile, loving that shit. Her temperature rises with every twist of my fingers. Jessica moans and arches her back, pushing her breasts further into my hands. I squeeze them softly at first, then firm and aggressively as I suckle at her neck.
Sliding my hands to her waist, I use my legs to push off the desk and turn us both around. With her back still to me, I run my hand up the back of her thick thighs, memorializing every delicious dimple and groove. I rub up one ass cheek then over to the other before continuing my way to the small of her back. It’s like Jessica knows exactly what I want, because she leans forward, pressing her butt out at me and planting herself face down on the desk. I push her blouse up so I can feel her flesh as I slide her thong off with one hand. She helps me by stepping out of it and spreading her legs wide. “Damn,” I whisper. The heels she wears aids in positioning her body just right. I grab her leg and lift it onto the desk, exposing her sweet spot to me. I step back slightly to allow myself room to lean down and kiss her there.
I spread her folds to find her pussy pink and creaming for me. “Fuck, sweets, you’re so wet,” I say, tracing her center with my middle finger. When I reach her clit, I circle it while undoing my pants with my other hand. My shaft springs free with precum oozing out of me. I haven’t been this turned on in so long it’s insane. I want to see her body release and convulse from the intense orgasm I’m about to give her. My dick-head continues to drip, soiling my pants as I stand up, positioning myself to enter her.
“We need a condom,” she says.
“Okay,” I respond through heavy breaths, grabbing my wallet from my pocket. I’m so excited to finally be with her it completely slipped my mind to grab the rubber sheath before letting my pants hit the floor.
Still perched with one leg raised, Jessica reaches under herself and pats at her pussy. Slap…slap is what I hear before she pushes a finger inside herself. The whisper of moisture pooling at her hole calls to me. Gahh. I stroke myself fast while watching her, my vision focused on only that finger and that hole. She slides it out and uses the same hand to reach for me to replace her fingers with mine. She pushes back against my wrist, her ass bouncing with each motion, and I tighten the hold I have on myself. Continuing to finger-fuck her, I one-handedly break the wrapper on the condom and slide it on. As I do this, Jessica’s pussy tightens, and she shutter. She’s about to come, and I want to be inside her when it happens. I stroke myself once more then slowly press the head in.
“Fuck,” I shout when I feel how tight she is. I shuffle a little closer and ease in deeper, nearly losing it when she gasp. That fucking gasp!
I guess I’m moving too slow for her, because she thrusts back, taking all of me inside her. We both moan, and my muscles tense. Man, she…feels…so good. My breath quickens and sweat forms over my brow.
“Fuck me, Kade,” she mutters, throwing her ass back at me.
Gahhhhhh. Fuck, fuck, I say internally while sucking in deep breaths. No, no, no, don’t you dare clock out on me, I mutter telepathically to my dick. We’ve been ready for this; we’re going to fuck the shit out of her so she knows why she can’t leave us alone. I press my lips together and exhale through my nose with my eyes closed. What the fuck is happening right now? Come on, I’ve got to get myself together. This is not something I have a problem with. In fact, I pride myself in never finishing before giving a woman at least two orgasms. But Jessica is doing something to me. I don’t know if it’s the excitement, but I know we’ve got a problem.
If I could, I would stay this way to give myself time to concentrate, but I don’t want her to get suspicious. How fucking embarrassing would it be after all the shit I talked to her? I coax myself, drumming my fingers on her waist and prepare to stroke her. Her walls wrapped around me, the sound of my dick going in and out of her, and the softness of her ass against my thighs is…going…to…fucking…kill me. Shit, shit. My ass tightens, and my shoulders go stiff as my cum shoots into the condom. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and fight to contain my moan, because I cannot go down like this. Not today!
In an attempt to save myself, I pull out of her and drop to my knees, instantly taking her pussy into my mouth. My dick might have failed me this morning, but my tongue has never let me down. It doesn’t take long for Jessica to get in a groove, bucking herself against my mouth as I lick her hole and rub her clit. Placing two fingers inside, I poke her spot while using my free hand to still fondle her hood. Her body shudders again, letting me know she’s close to cumming. I pick up speed, determined to get every last drop out of her. Jessica shivers, bucks, and falls flat on the desk, unable to keep her leg in position. She tries to drop it, but I hold it in place a little longer to lick the wetness from her dripping pussy. Only when I’m sure I’ve gotten it all do I allow her to stand, feeling confident that even though I couldn’t fuck her like I wanted—stupid dick—I’ve left her satisfied.
I help to pull the skirt back down around her legs and re-tuck her blouse. Jessica’s demeanor is different, not standoffish like before, but not as open as I want. Especially after what we just did. I wander what’s going on in her mind. Did she notice I came quickly? That would probably be bad. Or is she still conflicted over us? When I try to kiss her, I get my answer. She pulls away from me, leaving me here with my pants still down around my ankles. Jessica walks over to the mirror in the left corner of her office and toys with her hair.
Pulling the condom from my soft dick, I snatch a tissue from the box on her desk and wrap it to discard in the trash. Next, I lean forward to redress myself and pick her thong up off the floor. I fumble with the thin material and watch her closely, trying to gauge what the outcome will be. She looks beautiful over there, and I know in this moment, I could watch her like this all the time. I already want to see her again and I haven’t even left yet. She feels right to me, and I’m not down to lose the chance to show her how great we can be together. St
uffing her panties into my pocket, I stroll over to where she stands and touch her shoulders. She doesn’t reject me this time but instead closes her eyes through several breaths.
“I can see you’re still unsure about us.”
She slouches and drops her head.
I grip her shoulders lovingly. “This isn’t our ending, sweets. I know what I want, and that’s you. But I also know you’re a woman who likes to move on her own terms. So I’ll be patient. I just request one thing. Take it slow with me, as slow as you need this to be. See for yourself that we can have something real.”
I don’t wait for her to respond and honestly don’t expect her to. If this whole ordeal has taught me anything, it’s to give her a little time to think it through. She’s hard on herself, and I get it, but I need her to know I’m the one person she can let go with. Whatever it takes for her to be free of those inhibitions, I’m willing, because this is definitely not the last time she’ll hear from me. Planting a kiss to the top of her head, I whisper goodbye, snag my jacket from the sofa, and head out, closing the door behind me.
Those dirty little calls turned out to be a lot more than what either of us bargained for, but I’m so fucking glad she didn’t hang up that night.
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To Be Continued...
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About the Author
Sade Rena - Writes Multi-Cultural (Urban, Contemporary, Interracial) Romances and dabbles in the realm of Fantasy and Paranormal. Writing is her first love, but as a creative entrepreneur, she enjoys creating products and content that encourages and support other creatives. When she is not writing or creating, she’s busy organizing All About The Indies, a multi-author signing.
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She is also the CEO of Minx Lit- a brand that brings forth empowerment and encouragement for Female Creatives.
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Synonym for Obsession
Kiarra M. Taylor
Obsession…
* * *
A word with many meanings and connotations. In my case, it was the most accurate—but certainly not the best—way to describe my…attraction to a woman I hadn’t technically met. True, I’d yet to speak a word to Kerenza Towers, but I already knew I wanted her. In every. Fucking. Way. Possible.
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Luck was on my side, because three weeks ago, I’d gotten a call from a lingerie company in need of an experienced marketing/campaign director. They could in no way shape or form afford to pay me even half of my standard fee, but they had something better than money. They had her.
* * *
Kerenza is one of the company’s on-staff lingerie models. And I am now her new boss. I would get to meet my obsession very soon.
* * *
Actually, come to think of it, the word ‘obsession’ didn’t properly describe Kerenza. She was…the synonym for obsession—and I would do whatever it took to make her body and her heart mine.
1
Oden
Obsession.
A word with many meanings and connotations. In my case, it was the most accurate word choice when it came to describing my attraction to a woman I’d never even met.
True, I hadn’t officially met her, but I knew I wanted her. In every. Way. Possible.
At the mere age of thirty-six, I’d already made a name for myself in my chosen field: marketing. I worked as a freelance campaign director for some of the hottest and most luxurious brands in the world. And I didn’t box myself into just one aspect of marketing. No, that would be an outrageously boring career, and if there was something I despised almost as much as not getting my way, it was being bored.
Having worked with commercial real estate brands, automobile companies, and my personal favorite, women’s clothing companies—specifically the lingerie divisions—I had a diverse résumé. As a single man, working on various Victoria’s Secret campaigns (and most recently, a campaign for Rihanna’s lingerie line) had been the highlight of my life. For obvious reasons.
My work on these types of campaigns was how I’d first come across Kerenza Monae Towers. I’d been in L.A., meeting with some department head whose name I could no longer remember, because the moment I’d walked by a photo shoot-in-progress and saw Kerenza, she’d been all I could think about for weeks—weeks.
I remember that moment vividly, even now, almost eight months later.
Me stopping in my tracks.
The way my mouth suddenly went dry.
My heart beating like I was high on speed.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t the sexy silk Teddie she’d been wearing that had elicited such a visceral reaction from me. It was, well, actually, I didn’t know what it was. Something about her had just…called to me. When I’d looked at her, it was like looking at the person I’d been waiting my whole life to meet.
Well, I was done waiting.
Luck was on my side, because three weeks ago, I’d gotten a call from a lingerie company in need of an experienced campaign director. They could in no way shape or form afford to pay me even half of my standard fee, but that was fine, because they had something better than money. They had her.
Kerenza Towers was one of the company's on-staff models. And I was now her boss.
I would get to meet my obsession very soon.
Come to think of it, obsession didn’t properly describe how and what I felt about her. She was…the synonym for obsession—and I would do whatever it took to make her mine.
2
Kerenza
It never failed. Whenever someone asked me what I did for a living, and I told them, they get this…this barely contained judgmental look in their eyes. As if there aren’t worse things a girl could do for money. I could think of quite a few, as a matter of fucking fact.
I could be a contract killer.
Or an escort.
Or a drug mule.
My nine-to-five errs on the legal, albeit racy side; I’m a pussy model.
Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating. I’m a lingerie model, specializing in underwear that barely qualify as underwear because of the lack of coverage down there. Basically, I spend my time on hours-long shoots with my pussy lips on display for the camera.
Hey, at least the pay is good and no one tries to kill me.
Underthingz Lingerie Co. has been my employer for the last eighteen months, and I was praying it stayed that way. But going by the declining sales as of late, I wasn’t sure how much longer I would have a job. Maybe I would have to follow in my cousin Kelendria’s footsteps and make the jump into the world of book cover modelling.
Maybe.
I parked in the lot behind my for-now job and speed-walked around to the front door. The mandatory Monday morning staff meeting for all Underthingz employees started five minutes ago, which meant I was late.
After running up three flights of stairs—because the elevator was still out—I was sweating profusely.
Great. Just great.
Being a natural-haired black woman—meaning I didn’t put perms or other harmful chemicals in my hair—I only wore my hair straight two times a year: in the spring and in the fall. While straight, if it got wet or if I started sweating…bye-bye eighty-five dollar blow out, hello puffy roots and curly hair.
Finally, I made it to the third-floor confer
ence room. I stood outside the door for a brief second to catch my breath, and swiped at the dampness that had gathered on my forehead. Then, gently opened the door, hoping I could sneak into the room without drawing too much attention. No sooner than I put one foot inside the room, did every single head swivel in my direction. My face burned with embarrassment.
“My bad,” I muttered, then scurried to an empty table at the back of the room.
Gayle, our district Vice President, stood at the front of the conference room.
“As I was saying, the reports are in from our last fiscal year, which you all received via email, and they look good—good, but not great.” She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “The company is not yet at the point where we need to worry, but we are going to be looking into some cost-saving initiatives.”
A hand shot up in the air, its stubby fingers waggling impatiently. Irritation flitted across Gayle’s face before she masked it with an accommodating smile.
“What is it, Wendell?”
Wendell Peters was the acting campaign director while our real director was out on paternity leave. Fun fact: no one likes Wendell. He’s a control freak on a major power trip.
