Pleasure in His Kiss

by Pamela Yaye

  “I can’t dance with you. You’re way out of my league,” she teased him. “You’re wasting your talents behind the bench, Mr. Drake. You’re such a talented dancer, you should be a Jabbawockeez!”

  Morrison chuckled, and his hearty belly laugh made Karma giggle.

  “I wish I could stay, but my best friend should be here any minute and I want to freshen up before we head out for some late-night fun in the city.”

  “I understand. Just let me grab my jacket, and I’ll walk you to your suite.”

  Before Karma could protest, Morrison jogged back down the hall and into the grand ballroom to retrieve his things. To kill time, Karma, took her cell out of her purse and accessed her email. She had several messages from her attorney regarding the business expansion project, and reading them made her smile. If everything went according to plan, she’d have three more locations for her salon next year, and with the help of her team, shops worldwide.

  “Ready to shake a leg?” Morrison asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  Walking through the lobby, everyone they passed smiled and waved at Morrison, shaking his hand with gusto. He was the kind of man every woman wanted to bring home to their parents, but when Karma teased him about being popular he played it off.

  “Not me, per se, but my dad. He has lots of friends and business associates in the city, and they just want to extend their well wishes to my father.”

  “Is he ill?”

  “No. He had hip surgery three months ago, and his recovery has been a long, slow process.”

  “It’s hard seeing the people you love suffer with health issues,” Karma said with a sympathetic smile. “My grandparents are in their eighties, and struggling as they age, as well. Thankfully, I found a retired nurse to provide live-in care at their home, and now they’re doing much better. Hopefully, it stays that way.”

  Morrison whistled. “Twenty-four-hour care? Wow, that must be expensive.”

  “It is, but nothing matters more to me than taking care of my grandparents. They’ve been my rock since my parents died, and I cherish our weekly visits. They’re a riot!”

  Boarding the elevator, Karma heard her Lady Gaga ring tone, and broke into a smile. She couldn’t wait to see Jazz, was anxious to tell her about the Tolbert-Lefevre wedding, her conversations with Morrison at the reception, and all the flirting and touching they’d done.

  “Hey, Jazz, what’s up?” she greeted, leaning against the wall. Karma wanted to kick off her shoes, and rub her aching feet, but since she didn’t want Morrison to think she was ghetto, she ignored the searing pain in her toes and spoke to Jazz. “Where are you? Almost here?”

  “Karma, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

  Excitement and dread flooded her stomach in equal measurers. “The good news.”

  “Platinum Dolls booked us to do their hair and makeup for their music video in Barbados on Friday, and yours truly got us parts. We’re going to be extras! ”

  “Wow, Jazz, that’s great! Way to go!” Karma laughed. “Hollywood, here we come!”

  “I know, right? I’m so hyped I feel like shouting from the rooftops.”

  “Me too, so wait until you get here, and we’ll do it together—”

  “About that,” Jazz said quietly, her voice tinged with apprehension. “Lorenzo surprised me with a romantic weekend on his yacht, so I won’t be coming to the city.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. Quit playing.”

  “We’ll celebrate when I get back. I promise.”

  The elevator doors slid open, and Karma forced her legs to move. Noticing the worried expression on Morrison’s face, she wore a weak smile and searched the hall for her suite. “But tomorrow’s my birthday, and you promised we’d celebrate big.”

  “And we will. We’ll throw a party at the salon on Monday, and—”

  “Monday?” Karma repeated, rolling her eyes. “Why bother? Jazz, just forget it.”

  “Don’t be like that. You know I’d come to the city if I could.”

  Karma opened her mouth, realized she was at a loss for words, and closed it. She couldn’t believe what Jazz had said, couldn’t believe her bestie was dissing her to hook up with a wealthy Spaniard she’d met a week earlier at the gym. A month ago, she’d taken three days off work to celebrate Jazz’s twenty-eighth birthday in Las Vegas, and had spared no expense. While being pampered at the resort spa, Jazz had admitted it was the best birthday she’d ever had, and promised to make Karma’s thirtieth birthday memorable. What am I going to do now? Karma couldn’t think of anything more depressing than spending her thirtieth birthday alone, but she gathered herself, and said, “Whatever, Jazz. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Have fun with your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Jazz snapped back. “You canceled on me first.”

  “I didn’t cancel on you. I adjusted my schedule because I had to work, not because I took off with some dude I barely know for the weekend.”

  Silence infected the line, and when the dial tone buzzed in her ear Karma knew she’d gone too far. The right thing to do was to call Jazz back and apologize, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Hurt and upset, Karma wanted to go to her room and raid the minibar, not argue with her bestie about her misplaced loyalty.

  “We’ve been hanging out for hours, but you never mentioned your birthday was tomorrow,” Morrison said, giving her a one-arm hug. “What are your plans?”

  “I don’t have any. My best friend was supposed to meet me here, so we could spend tomorrow in the city, but she got a better offer so I’m on my own.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ll spend the day with you.”

  Giving him a funny look, Karma stopped in front of her suite door. “Sure you will.”

  “I’m serious. Reagan’s with my parents, and my brothers are busy with their families this weekend so there’s no reason to rush home,” he said, sliding a hand into his pants pocket. “So, what’s on the itinerary, Birthday Girl? Shopping, fine dining, a stage play or dancing?”

  “All of the above!”

  Morrison laughed, and a smile overwhelmed Karma’s lips. She never would have guessed, not in a million years, that she’d be spending her thirtieth birthday with Morrison Drake. Karma didn’t think they’d have anything in common, but during the reception she discovered they both loved board games, reggae music and horror movies. To her relief, Morrison wasn’t a stick-in-the-mud. A New Yorker through and through, he was sociable and sarcastic, and joked good-naturedly about his brothers, his colleagues at the courthouse and his ever-growing bucket list. “I’m going to sleep in tomorrow, so let’s meet in the lobby at ten o’clock.”

  “Thankfully, I’m just down the hall, so I’ll come get you in the morning.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Karma said brightly, digging around in her purse for her key card. Unable to find it, she took everything out of the pocket, but still came up empty. Shaking her head in frustration, her shoulders drooped. “Oh great, I lost my room key.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You can call the front desk from my suite and request another one.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a sheepish smile, hoping he didn’t think she was a ditz. “That would be great. I’m beat, and I don’t feel like going all the way back downstairs.”

  Morrison led the way, and she followed him to the room at the end of the hall. Entering the spacious suite filled with attractive furnishings, pendant lamps and plush, cream-colored carpet, Karma noticed the space was spotless and suspected Judge Hottie was a neat freak.

  Examining his profile in detail, her mouth dried and her heart fluttered. With his low-cut hair, studious demeanour and chiseled body, Morrison could be the poster boy for the US Marines. Remembering she was there to use the phone, not lust after him, Karma broke free of her thoughts and approached the Brazilian
walnut desk. Polite and sympathetic, the front-desk clerk promised to send the concierge up with another key, and Karma ended the call.

  “Do you want me to fix you a drink while you wait?”

  I’m thirsty, but not for champagne.

  Morrison gestured to the stainless steel fridge in the gourmet kitchen. “I can’t make a margarita, but I make a mean rum and Coke if you’re interested.”

  “No, thanks. The concierge will be here shortly.”

  Reaching out, he coiled his index finger around the stray twist that had escaped her bun. “I like your hair in braids. It makes you look regal, like African royalty.”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Drake.”

  His eyes dimmed. “I like it better when you call me Morrison.”

  “What else do you like?”

  Bracing his hands against the door, fencing her in, Morrison stared intently at her, his gaze smouldering with desire. Inwardly chastising herself for her salacious quip, Karma sucked in a breath. Why did I say that? Why am I flirting with a man who is totally out of my league? Her loose lips had gotten her into trouble, and the longer he stared at her the harder her limbs shook. Her head was spinning, but she projected confidence, not fear, and said, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Morrison. Good night.”

  “It’s midnight,” he announced, lowering his mouth to her face. “Happy Birthday, beautiful. I hope this year brings prosperity, excitement and adventure. They don’t call it the Dirty Thirties for nothing, so throw caution to the wind and own every moment.”

  Shivering as his lips moved gently against hers, she willed her legs not to buckle. Deep down, she craved his touch, his kiss, but she wasn’t brave enough to make the first move.

  “Life is not remembered in days, Karma. It is remembered in moments, and this moment will remain with me forever.”

  Catching her off guard, Morrison pulled her to his chest with one hand, cupped her cheek with the other, and kissed her with such passion and desperation, Karma gasped. She moaned inside his mouth, over and over again, couldn’t stop from voicing her pleasure. It was one kiss. No big deal. Nothing to feel guilty about, she told herself, feasting on his juicy lips. It was her thirtieth birthday, and since Karma couldn’t think of anything better than making out for a few minutes with a dashing, debonair man, she draped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Wanted to show Morrison just how much she desired him.

  His mouth was relentless in its pursuit, sucking, teasing, licking, taking everything she had to give and more. Lost in the moment, Karma didn’t have the strength to break free, couldn’t end the kiss if her life depended on it. Karma struggled to breathe, couldn’t catch her breath. Goose bumps flooded her skin, and butterflies danced in her stomach. She wanted to tell Morrison to stop, knew she should leave his suite before they crossed the line, but the words didn’t come. Got stuck in her throat. Moans fell from her lips instead. And, when Morrison sprayed soft kisses against her neck, and slid a hand under her dress, Karma knew they’d reached the point of no return.

  Chapter 7

  A sensation came over Morrison—strong, powerful urges he’d never experienced before. Desires he couldn’t ignore or control. In that moment, nothing mattered more to him than kissing Karma, so he did. Took her arms, pinned them above her head and devoured her moist, plump lips. He expected her to pull away, but she surprised him by inclining her head. Karma moaned inside his mouth, licked and teased his tongue, boldly stroked his chest through his clothes, and Morrison loved every minute of it.

  The kiss exceeded his expectations, and Morrison wanted more. Sliding his tongue past her teeth, he probed her warm mouth, reveled in their closeness, their first kiss. Unlike his friends, and brothers, he’d never had a one-night stand or a friend with benefits, but Karma made him act out of character and thoughts of making love to her dominated his mind. Hanging out with her at the reception, it was easy to see why everyone adored her. Karma had moxie, an infectious laugh and personality, and her tell-it-like-it-is outlook on life was refreshing. She enjoyed flirting and cracking jokes, and even though every time he turned around someone was putting the moves on her—a city councilman, an NBA superstar, a Latin actor oozing with charm—he’d kept his head, didn’t trip when other men made a play for her.

  “Damn, you taste good. Like champagne. My favorite.”

  “I can’t believe we’re making out in your suite,” she confessed. “I thought you were a serious, no-nonsense judge who didn’t know how to have fun.”

  “Spend the night, and I’ll show you just how fun I can be.”

  He kissed her hard on the mouth, allowed his lips to linger against hers, tenderly stroked her shoulders and hips. Karma guided his hands to her breasts, and rubbed her hips against his crotch. All night the excitement had been building, and now the scent of their desire consumed his suite. Karma had the sexual confidence of a nude model, moved her body in such an erotic way his mouth dried, and his erection strained against the zipper of his tailored, suit pants. His patience had paid off, and now he was kissing the most desirable woman he’d ever met. He was losing it, grunting and groaning, and Karma was the reason why. Her dress was in his way. Annoying him. Morrison wanted to rip it from her body, bend her over the chocolate-brown couch and thrust inside her, but exercised self-control.

  Morrison gazed down at her. He saw apprehension in her eyes and wondered if Karma was having second thoughts about spending the night with him. Sometimes doing the right thing sucked, so instead of kissing her again, he said, “We should stop before we cross the line.”

  “We already did.” Karma trailed her tongue along his lips, flicked it against his teeth. “You’re not trying to talk me out of making love after you made me wet, are you? I hope not, because it’s my birthday, and you should be spoiling me, not rejecting me.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “This is crazy. You hate me, and think I’m a bad influence on your niece—”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t hate you. I think you erred in judgment hiring Reagan to work at your salon, but it’s obvious you care about her, and I’m glad she feels comfortable talking to you about her problems.”

  “Morrison, stop, I own a beauty salon, not a strip club,” she snapped back. “There’s nothing nefarious happening at Beauty by Karma and we don’t talk about anything Reagan hasn’t already heard on MTV or social media. In fact, she’s the one schooling us!”

  Morrison didn’t like the sound of that, wanted to know exactly what his teenage niece was up to, but when he pressed her for details she fervently shook her head. “Sorry, Morrison, no can do. What happens at Beauty by Karma, stays at Beauty by Karma.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he murmured against her mouth in a husky tone of voice, nibbling on the corner of her lips. “I’m sure there’s something I can do to change your mind.”

  “Or not,” she quipped. “I have nerves of steel.”

  Morrison unzipped her dress, then helped her out of it. He slid his hands along her hips, caressing her warm flesh. Sexy in a black lace bra and thong panties, he marveled at her curvy shape. He pressed his mouth against her ears, her neck and shoulders, licked and tasted her skin with his tongue.

  Morrison heard a loud knock on the suite door, knew the concierge had arrived with a spare room key, but decided it would have to wait. Nothing mattered more to him than pleasing Karma, and he didn’t want anything to ruin the moment.

  Facing him, Karma unhooked her bra, tossed it onto the couch and cupped her breasts in her hands. Morrison felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop. The silver chain around her neck was attached to a nipple ring, and watching Karma play with her nipples was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to touch her, to replace her hands with his own, but wanted the green light first. “Does it hurt?” he asked, gesturing to the metal nipple ring.

  “It did when I fir
st got it done, but not anymore. My girlfriends suggested we get piercings during our last girls’ trip to Vegas, and I’m glad I did. My nipples are more sensitive now, and I instantly get aroused when I touch them.”

  Morrison moved closer to her. “Do you like it being tugged on? Can I suck it?”

  “You’re the first one trying it out, so to speak, but that sounds hot.”

  “Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

  Taking her hand, he led her into the bedroom, and sat down on the king-size bed. Karma climbed onto his lap, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth, couldn’t wait to explore her body. He took the ruffled elastic band out of her hair, and her braids fell around her shoulders and down her back. Using his tongue, he gently tugged on the ring, licked it, sucked it, pressed soft kisses around her breasts. Karma tossed her head back, rocked against him as his fingers caressed her hips and thighs, slowly circled and rubbed her navel.

  Kissing him hard on the mouth, Karma ripped the designer shirt from his body, took off his pants and tossed them over her shoulder as if they were rags. She stroked his erection through his boxer briefs, and Morrison feared he was going to explode in her soft, delicate hands. Karma took the reins in the bedroom, and it was damn hot. She wasn’t afraid to tell him what she wanted, what she needed, and it was a turn-on. Her compliments and praise made him feel as virile as a Roman gladiator, caused delicious shudders to rock his body.

  “You make me feel sooo good,” she purred. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me...”

  Hearing her talk dirty in bed excited him, and her words tipped him over the edge. Made him lose it. Forget the cardinal rule of dating. Morrison flipped Karma onto her back, hiked her legs in the air and entered her in one fluid motion. Grabbing her ankles, he deepened his thrusts, pumped and moved his hips in a circle. To please her, he cupped and squeezed her big, perky breasts. Her hands caressed his face, played in his hair, roughly tweaked his nipples and kneaded his biceps.