The Pleasure Zone(90)

“Ahh, yeah…I don’t know what the fuck you doin’ to me…”

Her lashes swept upward and she’d looked at him, full of heat and desire, setting every nerve ending ablaze. By the time Nairobia’s tongue made its way down to his dick and flicked over the bead of pre-cum that seeped out—swiping her tongue along the tip, tasting his arousal, before sucking him into her mouth—a guttural sound had roared out from the back of his throat and he’d begun rocking his hips in a sensual rhythm, his body arching up to the maddening pleasure.

She’d teased him with her mouth and tongue, her hot breath cascading over his twitching cock, then abruptly stopped.

“Ahh!” he’d yelled, rolling his hips. “Damn, yo. Why you fuckin’ wit’ me? C’mon, suck on this dick…”

“No, no, my love. You want my wet mouth feasting you? You want my tongue loving you? Then tongue my insides. And taste my cunt.”

She’d caught him off guard with that request, no demand.

She hadn’t been kneeling in front of him as he’d had liked to see her, but having her between his legs while he lay on his back with one leg draped over the back of her sofa was sexy enough.

And as bad as he wanted to bust in her pretty-ass mouth, he wasn’t about to reciprocate and put in any tongue work, especially knowing how she loved to fuck. But he’d be remiss if he hadn’t acknowledged the fact that Nairobia had a beautiful-looking pussy. And he had wondered if it tasted as good as it looked. He knew what it felt like raw—he was still tripping off that. That was some real live reckless shit on his part. But damn if he hadn’t loved the way his dick was wrapped in nothing but wet, silky heat. Still, his freak flag wasn’t waving high enough for him to want to indulge in licking her out.

So he hadn’t.

As a result, Nairobia had left him with his dick aching for her mouth. Yet, that hadn’t stopped the sensations from shivering their way through his body. In fact, that only had made him want her more.

He’d known he should have stopped it. But how, when he’d wanted it, her, so goddamn badly? He hadn’t gone over to her penthouse for pussy. She’d summoned him. Said she needed to go over some security issues with him that couldn’t wait until the following day, or be discussed over the telephone.

But when the elevator doors opened to her apartment and he’d stepped into her foyer, there she stood. Naked. That teasing allure of hers called out to him, taunting him. What the fuck was he supposed to do after seeing all that body? Bad enough he’d wanted another round with her in order to redeem himself.

And there she was offering pussy up on a platter to him. So he did what any man with a dick would do: he threw his arm around her and lifted her against him. Saying nothing, Nairobia had wrapped her legs around him and kissed him as if she wanted to taste ever bit of him, savoring and memorizing every part of his mouth.

No, he didn’t kiss. But he’d kissed her again. Had his tongue swirling around hers, probing inside a mouth that had probably sucked a nation of dicks and licked more cunts than a country of hungry, sex-starved men.

Mel laughed. “Muhfucka, what happened to not fuckin’ the clients, huh?”

Lamar groaned. “Yo, man, fuck that. I tried, bruh. But she kept throwin’ that shit at me.” He leaned against the door of the black S-600 with the tinted windows, and kept his eye trained on the Valentino entrance. Her fifth boutique and counting, Nairobia had been inside the expensive Fifth Avenue boutique for close to an hour in search of the perfect dress for a Hedonism party she’d been invited to host in Jamaica tomorrow night. She hadn’t wanted Lamar to come inside, and he was fine with staying outside, waiting.

“Yo, you got issues, fam,” Mel said, still laughing at his boy whom he’d known since elementary school. Truth was, they were more like brothers than anything else. They’d been through thick and thin together. Knuckling up together, hustling together, and fucking broads together.

Lamar grunted. “Nah. What I got is a hard, horny dick, muhfucka. My shit stays on rock.” He shook his head. “Yo, I’m tellin’ you, fam. This club shit is killin’ me, yo. The shit that goes down up in that muhfucka is…” He paused, then swallowed. “Man, listen. It goes down up in there.”

“Well, damn. You sound miserable,” Mel teased. “Let me put you outta ya misery. Let’s swap. You come out here ‘n’ let me handle the club shit.”

“Hell, nah, fam. I’m good right where I’m at.” Lamar scowled when a bike messenger sped by almost running into the side of a cab. Dumb muhfucka.