The Pleasure Zone(38)

She needed to see him. Wanted to look him in the eyes. Wanted to look into the windows of his soul. His hand gripped her wrist when she boldly tried to remove his shades.

Nairobia’s mouth watered. She leaned in and placed her lips flush against his ear. She whispered, “The question, my love, is: are you good? Is your cock hard for me?”

He fought to not breathe her in. “Nah, my shit ain’t hard,” he lied, hoping she wouldn’t be brazen enough to reach between his legs to feel the truth, that his dick was harder than steel. “And, yeah, I’m good. I’m always good…anything else?”

Mmm. A moan caught in her throat. The innuendo wrapped around her like a silk blanket. She licked her lips. Instantly, his breath coming fast, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Nairobia flicked at his ear with her tongue, then whispered, “Als ik heb mijn weg, mijn liefde, zal ik nemen u naar mijn bed en smelten mijn kut…all over you. Now. There’s nothing else, my darling. For now.”

His dick jumped.

She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then eased back in her seat as the limousine rounded the corner onto Figueroa Street, one block from their destination.

Adjusting his shades, he eyed her out of his peripheral vision, his nostrils flaring, as she stared out the window, pretending she had not just been up in his face taunting him with her beauty, with her femininity, her sensuality. He had no fucking clue what she’d just whispered into his ear, but the shit had heat shooting through his balls and blood rushing to his dick. He cursed under his breath. He hoped like hell that by the time they climbed out of the limo, his throbbing erection would be hard to see.

His dick pulsed. Again.

He clenched his fists, and groaned inwardly.

Fat, fucking chance!

Nairobia’s lips curled into a smile as she stared out into the night. Yes. If indeed she had her way, she’d have him in her bed, melting her cunt all over him.

And if not…

She had a chest full of sex toys, and a wicked imagination.





FIFTEEN


“Yo, what’s good, Los Annnnngeles!” Carlos screamed out into the crowd an hour-and-a-half into his set, shirt unbuttoned and pulled open. An array of multicolored panties scattered at his feet. “Y’all having a good time tonight?”

“Yes!” the crowd shouted.

The twenty-thousand-seat Staples Center was filled to capacity, and the R&B crooner had the crowd melting in their seats, ready to get home and tear it up in the sheets after he and his sexy label mate, Laila Reynolds, had just delivered a seductive, heart-stopping, loin-tingling duet together from off his latest album, P.O.P., which stood for Pussy over Pennies. The sexual energy in the air was so thick you could slice it with a knife. There were lots of hard, horny dick and horny, wet pussies in the building tonight down to fuck, and Carlos knew—without a doubt—somebody was getting pregnant tonight.

He was a mixture of Prince, Maxwell, and Eric Benet all rolled into one sensually, seductive man.

“Cool, cool. Ladies, y’all ready for me to slow it down and get real nasty with it?” He held up his microphone to the crowd.

“Yes!” they screamed.

“Y’all ready to get wet tonight?”

More screams. “Yesssssss!”

More panties soared in the air and fluttered to the stage.

“I stay wet!” someone from the audience screamed.

“Yeah, baby,” Carlos moaned. “I like it wet.”

“We love you, Carrrrrlos!” a few groupies in seats a few rows back of Nairobia yelled out. They were clearly inebriated. And, more than likely, had won their tickets and backstage passes to the show from the many contests the radio station 93.3 had had leading up to tonight’s event.

Carlos flashed a smile. “Awww, damn. I love you, too, baby. Now who’s ready for me to…” The sultry intro, with the naughty beat, to his smash single, “Lick Her Slow”—from his first album, Dirty lil Secrets—started playing. Carlos licked his lips. “Yeah, I know y’all know what that is.” He pulled out a big, juicy peach and bit into it. Juices splashed out and dripped down his chin. He licked around his lips, then stuck his tongue out and slowly licked around the peach, before taking another bite.

The crowd went wild.

Bulbs flashed from everywhere.

He slowly chewed, savoring the fruit’s juices, then said, “How many of you beauties out there are real juicy?”

Hands flew up in the air. Scantily clad women shot up from their seats, professing to be the juiciest of them all. Lies! Nairobia chuckled to herself. Most of them were delusional. She looked over to the right of her and spotted the female rapper Lil’ Kim—three seats down from her, waving her hand in the air, too.