The Pleasure Zone(45)

“Look, baby,” Marcel said, deciding he’d had enough idle back and forth. He wasn’t for a lot of chitchat when it came to wanting to get his dick wet. He wanted to fuck her senseless, but—

“Come lécher mon minou doux,” she murmured seductively into the phone, her voice sweet and husky.

True she didn’t want him fucking her. But it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind as often as she wanted. And Nairobia had quickly changed hers; just like that. Marcel desired her. So why should she not allow him to pleasure her? Why should she deny herself his touch? His lips? His tongue?

He could massage her walls with his long, thick fingers. Caress her clit with his wet tongue. But he could not have her kut stretched over his cock…not tonight.

But he could come lick her sweet cunt until the sun rose.





EIGHTEEN


Marcel arrived at Nairobia’s building in record time, his dick throbbing the whole drive over. A doorman and security guard, along with surveillance cameras, manned the luxury high-rise 24/7. The minute he stepped through the sliding glass doors, the freckle-faced doorman recognized him and let him in. He smiled at Marcel, his glimmering white teeth sparkling under the bright halogen lights of the lobby.

“Ms. Jansen is expecting you,” the doorman said, accompanying him to the elevator. Marcel wondered how he knew whom he was there to see since he’d never visited her there. He first thought it was that the doorman had assumed he was there for Nairobia because she was the only woman of color in the building. But he quickly learned she had texted the doorman a photo of him. In case he turned out to be a psycho. Marcel shook his head, smiling.

He couldn’t wait to get upstairs. Nairobia’s voice had been unimaginably sexy on the phone, stoking the fires in his loins higher. Until it was an inferno, boiling in his balls. He’d respect her boundaries and not force his dick on her, in her. But by the time he finished fucking her with his tongue and fingers, she’d wish he had stretched her around his wide, long dick.

He planned to have her body begging for him. And he’d gladly reward her with every inch of his cock. Punishing and pleasuring her for making him beg for her, for making him crave her.

Ever since his wife’s murder, he’d been extremely cautious about fucking random women. So no. Stray pussy was out. Random pieces of ass were troublesome. Period. The last random fuck had proven fatal. And had cost him his wife’s life.

And dating had been a challenge since he’d always find himself comparing them to his wife, dissecting them, pulling them apart, then trying to put them back together again in her likeness. It’d made him crazy. It was too much for him, and for them because he wasn’t able to give them what they wanted. Him.

Truth be told, Marcel wasn’t sure he was even ready for anything serious with anyone. His balls were full, but his heart was empty. He simply needed a sexual outlet, a fuck hole to lose himself in—and not through some random hookup site, or at some nightclub. He’d even given up jet-setting across the globe to the swanky, invite-only sex parties he and Marika attended religiously over the years. Going would’ve only reminded him of what he now no longer had. His wife.

When Marika were alive, he’d always seduced her in a way that made it easy for her to toss caution to the wind and freely give herself to him. No matter where they were. He’d known how to keep her aroused, on fire, burning. Just for him.

And she’d done the same.

Giving him unrelenting pleasure.

During their sixteen-year marriage, he’d belonged to Marika. Only her. She’d been everything he’d ever needed. They’d been equally yoked in mind, body and soul. She’d welcomed his sexual yearnings. And he’d openly embraced hers. His wants and desires had been hers as well; each always focused on the other’s desires. Together they’d had some of the most explosive sexual encounters during their marriage.

Sometimes, when he inhaled deeply, Marcel could still smell her sweet musky scent; it clung thickly in the air around him, intoxicating him, driving him crazy. He’d loved the smell of her wet pussy. And he missed it immensely with each passing day.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

Now…here he was.

Needing Nairobia.

Wanting Nairobia.

Yearning for release. In her mouth, her pussy, her ass. He wanted all three holes, but was willing to accept whichever hole she was willing to give him. Tonight, her warm, wet mouth would be his receptacle. His cum dump.

If she were willing.

Otherwise, he was fine with the scent of her on his lips, stained on his tongue. He would feast on her, releasing blissful moans from her, wringing out one orgasm after another until she came in his mouth, until she melted all over his tongue, until he was full from her juices.