The Marriage Pass

by Briana Cole

  He was right. Dorian didn’t bother delaying the inevitable any longer. As soon as he left Roman’s office, he was already pulling out his cell phone.

  Reagan answered on the first ring, as if she had been waiting for him. “Hey, stranger,” she greeted, a smile in her voice.

  Dorian licked his lips. There it was. That excitement he had been waiting for. “Hey, sexy,” he said. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  Chapter Nine

  Dorian couldn’t help but feel nervous as he stared at the Christmas tree dominating their formal living room. For as long as they had been together, Christmas was always Shantae’s favorite time of year, one of the reasons she had insisted on a wedding during the holiday season. It was also why she just had to have that damn tree up in the middle of November as opposed to waiting until after Thanksgiving like normal folks. The tree’s white branches were adorned in teal, gold, and bronze ornaments of varying sizes. Strands of gold beads and lights draped across the lush foliage and twinkled against the night sky’s backdrop of the bay window.

  Dorian took another deep breath as his eyes landed on the few wrapped presents stacked on the white tree skirt. He felt silly as hell being nervous like some shy teenager. He knew what he was getting himself into, and he was far too experienced in the sexual arena to have cause for concern. But this was different. And that alone was enough to cause him to harden in his crisp Polo slacks.

  Suddenly uncomfortable with the bulge, Dorian got up and crossed to the kitchen. His hands busied themselves with pouring a shot of Hennessy, even as his mind wandered to the delicious events that would take place in a few hours. She had sounded so damn sexy on the phone earlier. He figured she would be naked and ready for him when he came over. But it was her idea that they meet for dinner and drinks first. Then they could get a hotel room, and how did she describe it? Let him devour her. Dorian lifted the glass to his lips as they turned up in a pleased smirk. Yeah, he planned to devour her, all right. Every inch of her.

  Heels clicked down the hardwood stairs and Dorian turned just in time to see Shantae enter the living room. Damn, she looked good. The fire red bandage dress hugged her slim figure and dipped provocatively low to expose her cleavage. It was short as hell, nearly riding up under the bottom of her ass and showing off those honey brown legs, toned with her weekly workout regimen. Her black tresses lay feathered against her cheeks, while the back tapered against her neck. It looked like she had taken extra care with her makeup, putting it on with the precision of an artist painting a canvas. And though gorgeous, she had gone minimal to further enhance her natural beauty.

  Her doe eyes met Dorian’s and her nude-colored lips peeled back into a wicked grin. He had to admit, his wife had pulled out all the stops tonight. When was the last time she had gone to such great lengths for him? With the exception of their recent anniversary, he honestly couldn’t remember. For a brief moment, Dorian was tempted to call off their little arrangement, take her upstairs, and make her remember one reason why she had married him in the first place.

  “Look at you, handsome,” Shantae purred. The scent of her perfume was exotic and greeted him before she joined him in the kitchen.

  Dorian glanced down at his simple attire, the Polo slacks and button-up casual enough for what he had in mind. “Definitely not compared to you,” he said, with a nod toward her dress. “You look amazing.”

  He saw the hint of a blush at the compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “Pour me some of that too, please.”

  Dorian obliged, pulling down another glass and pouring her some of the brown liquor. Shantae took a seat at the island and accepted the glass he handed her. “What are we toasting to?” Dorian asked, refilling his own glass.

  “To new experiences,” she answered with a smirk.

  Dorian nodded and bumped his glass against hers before taking a deep swig.

  Shantae polished off her drink and turned on the swivel stool to stand up. Dorian watched his wife sashay toward the front door, and he groaned inwardly.

  “Damn, baby, can I at least get some before you go?”

  Shantae tossed a smile over her shoulder. “I got you tomorrow, baby,” she said, snatching her coat from the back of the couch. “All day if you want. But you know what tonight is.”

  Dorian nodded and tried not to focus on Shantae’s body jiggling as she shimmied into her coat. Yeah, he knew. He would just have to take his sexual frustration out on someone else. He could hold off on lusting for his wife. Her sister was waiting for him, and dammit, thanks to his wife, he was about to take full and complete advantage of this once-in-a-while opportunity.

  But Dorian had to continually coach himself as he made the short drive to Reagan’s hotel. Never had he crossed the line to this extent. Not even when he was cheating on Shantae with every upperclassman in college. It was always classmates, coworkers, friends that he had met, a few one-night stands, even an adjunct professor one semester. But never any relation to his girl. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy at the decision, like he was slowly taking himself to the top of a roller coaster and was teetering on the edge, waiting for it to catapult him into a whirlwind of dips and twists. Or maybe he was just overreacting.

  Now here he was. Sitting in the parking lot of the premium St. Regis Hotel in Buckhead, a hard-on penetrating the crotch area of his slacks, he thought about what waited for him in the hotel. He checked the time: 8:17. They had reservations for dinner in the restaurant at eight.

  Dorian sat a moment longer, taking in the cool night breeze through his cracked window. Again, he pictured his wife in her tight dress, and his jaw clenched at the possible things she was doing. Or letting someone do to her. He had been going back and forth with these visions all afternoon, so he knew it was only a matter of time before the sordid thoughts faded and he could focus on his own impending actions.

  His phone rang and Dorian swiped the screen to answer. “Yeah?”

  “Are you coming?” Her voice was sultry with a slight slur, evidence of the alcohol in her system. “Or did you change your mind?” Her voice was nearly drowned out by the background noises of the restaurant.

  “I’m coming in now,” he said and hung up. He killed the engine and emerged from the truck, taking his time across the parking lot. As he headed toward the hotel, he knew his gait was slightly off, no thanks to the swollen meat bouncing off his thigh.

  He had made a point to get a room at the most upscale hotel in Atlanta. Yes, it could seem foul since he had brought Shantae here a few times. And yes, it was costing him a shit-ton of money for the night. But he wasn’t about to cheapen this experience. Plus, he knew even with all of Reagan’s conniving and mooching, she wasn’t used to the finer things in life. Dorian knew she would appreciate the indulgence.

  The five-star hotel had been decorated for Christmas. A huge tree dominated the lobby, nearly invisible under the numerous ornaments and garland. Lights, wreaths, and red ribbon bows hung on walls and wrapped around columns to add festive color and charm. Even the front desk attendant tipped his Santa hat in Dorian’s direction as he breezed by.

  The restaurant had an elegant yet inviting atmosphere, and Dorian felt slightly underdressed among the suited patrons dripping in jewelry and money. The ambience was candle-lit with chandeliers dimmed for intimacy and fine-dressed waitstaff carrying an array of gourmet delicacies.

  Reagan was already seated in a quaint two-seater booth by a huge glass window overlooking the cityscape. Though she didn’t stand up, she held out her arm for an embrace as he walked up.

  Obediently, Dorian obliged and leaned into her hug, inhaling that seductive scent she always carried along. And just because it felt equally appropriate, he went ahead and followed it up with a gentle kiss. The gesture seemed so natural and fluid. Someone could have easily mistaken the pair for long-lost lovers.

  “You look good,” he said as he eased into the seat across from her. Her simple black dress dipped invitingly low both in the front and the back.
Diamonds, well more than what she could afford, glittered at her ears and the slim column of her neck. She too had taken care with applying makeup, though her smoky eyes and deep purple lipstick were far more dramatic than Shantae’s. She had left her hair to do its own thing, and it draped thick and loose around her face.

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  “You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

  Shadows from the flickering candlelight played on Reagan’s face. “Yes,” she said. “But I know you’ll make the wait worth my while.”

  Dorian licked his lips. He planned to.

  A waiter brought a vintage wine to the table and poured each of them a glass.

  “This place is insane,” Reagan commented, glancing around at her surroundings. “You ever been here?”

  “Mm-hmm, a couple times. The food is great, and they have one of the best wine collections in the city. Are you a wine drinker?”

  Reagan’s scrunched up her nose. “Not really. I need something stronger to give me a buzz.”

  Dorian laughed. “Well, we know what happened the last time you got a buzz.”

  The flashback to the club had Reagan rolling her eyes.

  “Whatever,” she said, dismissing his joke with a wave of her hand. “I’m just saying. I like what I like and if it works, why change it? But,” she added, lifting her glass in the air, “I am always open to trying something new.”

  Dorian raised his glass as well. “To something new, then,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. How ironic that he and his wife had just toasted to the same thing. He watched her take a ginger sip and smack her lips together as if trying to assess the taste.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “About the wine?” she asked. “Or the company?”

  “Both.”

  Reagan pursed her lips, running a finger up and down the stem of her glass as she pretended to give the question some serious consideration. “Not as bad as I thought,” she admitted. “It’s making an impression. Enough to leave me wanting more.”

  Her grin spread with the eloquent play on words.

  The waiter returned to take their orders and left them alone once more. Reagan took another sip and cleared her throat. “So, Dr. Graham, what made you finally take me up on my offer?”

  Dorian didn’t know why, but at that moment, he felt compelled to be honest. He owed her that much. “Shantae gave me a hall pass,” he admitted. “A little experiment, you could say.”

  Reagan sat forward, her face resting on her hands. “Is that so? I’m intrigued. Do tell.”

  “Basically, we have a night to be free from marriage.”

  Reagan chuckled. “And you chose to spend it with me. Why is that?”

  Dorian continued to keep it completely real with her. “Because I want you,” he said simply.

  “Fair enough. But does it bother you I’m Myles’s girlfriend?”

  “It should,” Dorian admitted on a shrug. “But no. You have however long you want with Myles. I just have you for tonight.”

  “Well then. I guess I better make this a night you will always remember.”

  Dorian hadn’t meant for them to stay down in the restaurant so long. He had expected to be lapping on to round three by now. But the drinks and conversation were flowing, and they were both having a great time. Reagan’s personality was infectious. Of course, she was brazen and said exactly what was on her mind, and he sure as hell didn’t mind her constant flirting. But she was also inquisitive and attentive, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

  He had asked about her passion for styling hair. It seemed like he had dampened her mood a little with the question before she had rambled on about not having the time or the money to pursue that since it wasn’t making any real money. But she had commented she had never had anyone take such an interest in her passion and it was wildly turning her on. That was when he had called for the check and instructed her to go on up to the room and wait for him.

  An instrumental version of “Jingle Bells” wafted through the elevator speakers as the he rode it up to the grand deluxe suite. She had pulled the flip lock between the door and the wall so he could just push it open.

  The room was spacious, embraced in hues of cream with jewel tone accents. The five-star hotel’s luxury was evident in the custom furnished interiors and artistic decorations. Dorian had called in his requests ahead of time and the staff had not disappointed. Rose petals trailed from the door and were sprinkled on the plush comforter. The curtains had been drawn on the French doors to reveal a panoramic view of the city skyline.

  He heard the water running and what sounded like jazz and humming coming from the bathroom. The succulent smell of vanilla grew stronger the closer he got. Dorian pushed the door open and smiled at the provocative sight.

  Reagan was soaking neck-deep in the jetted tub. Her body was completely hidden under bubbles, and lit candles surrounded the lip of the tub, causing flicks of light to bounce off the water. Her hair was now piled high into a messy bun on top of her head, and either beads of water or sweat glistened off her rich chocolate complexion.

  When she turned to eye him, a mischievous smile spread on her lips. For a split second, an eerie feeling sent a shudder down Dorian’s spine. Damn, she looked just like Shantae. Same complexion, same eyes, same dimple winking at the left cheek. Not twins by any means, but the sibling resemblance couldn’t be mistaken.

  He struggled to shake away the thoughts of his wife. The moment was here, and this was most certainly not Shantae.

  “So, you just gon’ stand there?” Reagan said, her voice low in seduction. “Or are you going to join me, Dr. Graham?”

  Pushing all doubts out of his mind, Dorian came out of his clothes. He crossed the bathroom and dipped his foot in the water. He cursed as the liquid scorched his skin. Reagan chuckled.

  “Be careful,” she teased. “You might get burned.” The candlelight cast a slight shadow across the smile planted on her face.

  “You think you funny, little girl.” Dorian hissed as he submerged the rest of his body in the tub. He leaned back against the side as Reagan quickly got to her knees and positioned herself between his legs. Suds trailed down the shape of her breasts.

  “Oh, trust me,” she said, massaging his thighs. “I’m not little by any means anymore.” She laughed when Dorian continued to stare. She lifted one breast to her lips and flicked her tongue across her erect nipple. “Touch them,” she demanded, arching her back so her titties stood high and proud in his face.

  Dorian had to admit, being dominated was erotic. Shantae never took command in the bedroom. That was one thing he had requested on numerous occasions, but she had yet to oblige. Sometimes, it did feel humiliating to have to ask for sexual favors.

  He lifted his hands and cupped her breasts, surprised at how soft her flesh felt between his fingers.

  “That feels so good,” Reagan moaned.

  Anxious to feel them in his mouth, Dorian leaned forward and took one nipple between his lips. Reagan wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him to continue. He twirled the delicate pearl around in his mouth and sucked on it.

  Dorian had moved on to the other one when Reagan pulled back and rose to her feet. Water continued to trickle down her body.

  “I promise you, it’s like nothing you ever tasted,” she hinted, twirling her hips in his face. “Not even my sister’s.” She smelled of strawberries. Dorian licked his lips and groaned at the flavor. Forbidden fruit. As much as he wanted, in all his cheating ways, he had never indulged in oral after he and Shantae were married. That was something reserved exclusively for his wife.

  But the temptation was overpowering—or maybe it was just because it was Reagan—and Dorian closed the distance between them, his tongue immediately darting out to lick the remaining flavor off her juicy fruit. She was right. She tasted nothing like Shantae.

  “Damn,” she whispered, bracing herself on the marble wall. The insinuation was clear, and th
at turned him on even more. Oh, how the tables kept seeming to turn between them, as if each was vying for control of the other but kept losing the battle. The mounting pressure was leaving them both weak.

  Dorian grinned. He could still feel her wetness soaking his beard and mustache. “You liked that?” he asked.

  “Hell yeah,” she said. “You’re going to have to do that more often. I’m spoiled now.”

  Dorian frowned. Reagan knew this was a one-time thing. He had made that clear on the phone. But thankfully he didn’t have to ruin the mood with clarification of their arrangement. She was already kneeling in front of him to return the favor.

  Dorian’s head fell back, and the way she was working her mouth and hands on him, he thought his knees were going to give out. Again, his mind wandered to his wife. Shantae had age to her advantage when it came to her sexual experience, but baby sis had damn sure sharpened her skills. Of that, he was certain.

  Dorian couldn’t take it, and in an instant, he snatched himself from her lips, pulled her up, and hoisted her in the air, her legs instinctively locking around his sweaty waist. She had already assured him she was on birth control, and stopping now to fumble for a condom was out of the question. He couldn’t even think about the consequences of breaking yet another unspoken rule.

  “Tell me you love me, Dorian,” Reagan was panting, and her voice came out in a breathless whisper.

  Dorian felt himself swell with the impending euphoria and he concentrated on quickening his pace. Not on Reagan’s ridiculous words.

  “Please,” she murmured at his silence. “You don’t have to mean it. Just tell me.” Dorian felt her legs begin to tremble, prompting him to penetrate deeper and harder. His breathing was labored as he stroked her walls already slick with the prior orgasm she had barely gotten over. Her nails dug into the muscles bunched in his shoulders and her own ragged breaths roared in his ears. “It’s yours,” she whispered, her voice like silk, and that was all it took. He cursed, pulling out just in time to empty his load on her back. Weak, he leaned on her, trapping her body against the wall.