The Pleasure Zone(68)

She spread open her thighs, slid her hands over her shimmering body, then down between her smooth thighs. She pulled open her glistening folds, giving them a glimpse of her beautiful pink cunt.

She knew all they really wanted was a wet pussy and a good fuck. The sight of her pretty pussy made their dicks harden. She slid a lusty glance over at a tall, muscular and very handsome hunk of white chocolate who stood naked, his thick, seven-inch erection in his hand, stroking himself as he watched her. Nairobia could tell by the look in his blazing blue eyes that he hungered for her.

Look my hung darling, but do not touch…

Her seductive moves were making the men standing around her hornier and hornier by the second. And she found herself becoming equally aroused and caught up in the moment.

She closed her eyes getting lost in the music, then slowly opened them. Her long-lashed eyes fluttered as her bodyguard came into view. He was oh so thuggish. Rugged. Tatted. She bet he liked it hard, rough and to be in total control, fucking down and dirty, balls deep. And Nairobia longed to get a sampling of his hood dick.

He wore a black short-sleeved tee that clung to his defined chest, a pair of black baggy jeans that hung just so—hiding what she still believed to be a big cock.

Nairobia felt herself grow hotter as he eyed her from behind his dark shades. He was making his rounds through the club when he came up to the third floor and stumbled on her. He knew he should have kept walking, but curiosity and his own secret desires that he wasn’t prepared to deal with kept him there.

Goddammit. This was just what he didn’t need. To see his client naked and seducing a bunch of horny motherfuckers—including himself. Fuck. She had them all entranced by her seductive wiles. It was bad enough he’d been working for her close to two weeks now and struggled to keep her out of his own head. She was mesmerizing. But she was fucking forbidden fruit.

And he knew it.

Nairobia licked her lips. And he swore she was licking them at him. And damn if he didn’t find himself, in that moment, wishing like hell that same tongue was licking around the head of his dick, tonguing the moistened slit in the middle until he shot his load down in her throat, and all over her face. He wasn’t a porn star, but—if he weren’t on her payroll and opportunity had presented itself (another time, another place), he’d fuck the living shit out of her dick-teasing ass as if he were one.

“What the fuck, man?! he thought, scolding himself. This is just this freaky bitch’s M.O., teasing muhfuckas. She likes fucking with niggahs…”

And she was fucking with him. He felt it deep in his gut. And he didn’t appreciate it one motherfucking bit. She’d never catch him slipping, though—not if he could help it. He wasn’t some soft-ass mofo. He wasn’t about to get played for a sucker. And he wasn’t about to let her sexy-ass or his throbbing dick fuck up his money. He had restraint. Self-control. And he intended to use every ounce of it to keep from getting lured into her snare.

He shook his head as Drake’s cover of Jamie Foxx’s “Fall For Your Type” started playing. How fucking apropos.

Nairobia Jansen was fucking off-limits. Period. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He’d willingly offered his last client more than just his company’s security services. And he quickly found himself caught up in more than he was prepared for. He hadn’t fallen in love with her. But he’d fallen in love with her head game. She sucked his dick and loved on his balls with her tongue, making his toes curl and him spit his nut faster than any other woman had ever done.

She’d been a dick-sucking beast and he couldn’t get enough of her neck work. Anytime he’d see her lips, his dick would come alive. The rumors had been true. She’d been trolling online for dick, and took to sucking random cats while her then fiancé was behind the wall, serving a prison bid for drug dealing. Then he released from prison and she’d married him. To only end up leaving him, and ruthlessly bringing her man down with the help of him and others she’d meticulously lured in with her charm and seductive wiles. She’d been known as the Deep Throat Diva, and lived up to every part of her name, sucking his heart and soul out through the slit of his fat dick.

However, truth be told, attached to that wet, juicy mouth of hers had come with it a whole lot of unnecessary drama that’d caused him to take a bullet for her, and have to boot up and get down and dirty for her cause, doing things he’d cared not to rehash.

He wasn’t complaining—just remembering. It had come with the territory. Protecting a woman who’d been married to a major drug dealer. Trying to keep her safe from him at all costs. Still, because of how he was built, he’d do it all over again—for her, if he had to, because that was how he got down. He was loyal. And he knew if Nairobia needed him, for anything, he’d more than likely have her back too.