Across the room she spotted a deliciously dark man standing there, amusement sparkling in his eyes, watching her. His masculine face illuminated every time the lights flashed, and Nairobia noticed how breathtaking he was.
He licked his lips. Nairobia wasn’t sure if the sensual gesture was directed at her or not, but she battered her thick lashes over her hypnotizing gray eyes and gave him a mischievous smile—anyway, before slowly pivoting on her “fuck-me” heels, giving him her ass to stare at.
Two hours into the festivities—after all the kisses and good wishes, Nairobia stood by the chocolate penis sliding a finger into the basin, then sucking her chocolate-coated finger into her mouth. Her nipples peaked. She felt eyes on her, so she knelt and licked on one of the gigantic balls, giving onlookers something to fantasize about, before sinking her teeth in and biting out a chunk of chocolate.
Cameras flashed at the erotic sight.
Seconds later, Kelly Rowland’s “Motivation” started playing. Nairobia stood and noticed the same man from across the room walking through the crowd toward her, carrying a magnum of Dom Pérignon in his hand. He was the color of rich, black silt. Donned in all white, around his thick neck hung a diamond cross on a thick platinum chain. He was six feet two inches of chiseled magnificence and Nairobia’s gaze stayed fixed on him as he approached her.
Her pussy clenched, and she wondered what’d taken him so long to come to her.
She eyed him sexily as he leaned in her ear and said over the music, “Dance with me, beautiful.” It wasn’t a question, but a command that blanketed over her senses. And she felt a rush of desire flow through her veins as his deep sexy voice brushed her skin. Oh yes. He had a scrumptious bedroom voice and was definitely motivation to get slutty.
She looked up into his big dark eyes and smiled. His eyes sparkled like two black diamonds. Nairobia immediately noticed he had beautiful smooth skin and long, thick lashes. She took in the rest of his face. He had an immaculate goatee framed around a set of full chocolate lips and a head full of thick curly hair.
And then…
He smiled, a crooked but sexy one. And Nairobia felt herself swoon—just a little, when he flashed her a set of perfectly straight, white teeth and deep dimples. Big hands, big feet, a nice smile, a nice ass, and dimples were a few of her weaknesses when it came to men. And this intoxicating mystery man managed to have it all.
His eyes scanned hers curiously, waiting. “Well. You game?”
He grabbed her hand, and he led her to the dance floor, not waiting for an answer. Nairobia smiled as he slid his hand down her lower back and pulled her into him. “Nice party.”
Nairobia smiled. “Thank you.” She worked her arms up in the air over her head and pulled the diamond pins from her hair, undoing her French twist. Her hair toppled down past her shoulders as she seductively twirled her body. She dipped low, then worked her way back up.
A thick arm went around her waist and Nairobia felt the Mystery Man press himself into her ass. He leaned into her ear, and said, “I know your perfume is sweet, but what about you, baby? How sweet are you?”
His warm breath made her shiver. She could smell the liquor on his breath, and felt herself getting lightheaded. Maybe it was from his cologne, or the three cocktails she’d sipped on, or the fact that he had her pressed into his hard-body, but Nairobia felt suddenly drunk.
She spun free of his grasp and faced him, shimmying up close. “Only one way to know, my love.”
A slow grin curved his lips. “You’re sexy as hell, beautiful,” he said softly, pulling her in closer. “Where you rest at?”
Ciara’s “Dance Like We’re Making Love” played and Nairobia felt herself melting against him as she worked her body against his. She gave into his body heat, and felt his cock grow against her pelvis. It didn’t feel long, but it felt deliciously thick…and heavy. And she wanted nothing more than to unzip his white dress pants and drag his cock out of his underwear to stroke it in her delicate hands.
“Right now, my darling, I’m resting in your arms,” she teased. “Or would you prefer to have me resting somewhere else?”
He smiled, and cupped her ass as he bumped his pelvis into her. “Yeah, Ma. In my bed.” He pulled her in tighter, his lips at her temple. “But, nah, I’m sayin’. Where you live?”
“California and New York. And you?”
“Oh, aiight. Cool. I rest in Brooklyn, baby.”
She looked at him and matched his smile, then tried to dance her way out of his arms, but he refused to let her go, or relinquish her to the three other men who tried to cut in.