African-American

She didn’t ask him where he was going because she didn’t care. Toni kept her arms tightly wrapped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked.

He quickly located a sandy spot where she wouldn’t hurt her back on anything hard. He removed his shirt without asking her to climb down off him and though it wasn’t big enough to cover the entire sandy spot, he carefully set her down on it.

She anxiously watched him as he quickly removed his clothing. She was pleased with his muscles. He was a perfect male specimen as she held his hardness in her hand before he placed the condom on it. God, it felt like steel.

Wayne knelt down and started kissing her lips. His lips were more than mere lips. They belonged on her lips…on her body for all of eternity.

She was so anxious, she had almost lost herself by acting like a hungry animal, grabbing and clawing at him. Her body was on fire.

She was so turned on that when he kissed her neck—which normally didn’t do anything for her—her sweet juices began flowing even more. When he sucked her breasts into his warm magical mouth, she moaned aloud. He played with her nipples, nibbling on one while gently twisting the other.

He slid his tongue down the center of her tummy and into her navel, playfully licking her. He began his journey downward, kissing the insides of her thighs. The gentle caresses of his lips and glides of his tongue against her inner thigh drove her crazy.

Joshua moved intimately close to Pamela. His breath was hot with crackling intensity as he whispered, “I will take you up against this wall if you don’t come with me right now.”

* * * *

 Her body throbbed with need from his graphic declaration. Slowly, she moved away from him and took a deep breath. She kept her back to him as she held out her hand. When he took, it she allowed him to lead the way.

Her hand was trembling as she tried to unlock her front door. How long had it been since she’d been this aroused? How long had it been since she ached for the feel of a man all over her? Too long, she admitted.

Once they were inside, Pamela suspected that Joshua would pounce immediately. But to his credit, he surprised her by tempering his lust with steely control. As they removed their coats, she noticed that he was watching her. Watching the way her body moved. Watching the way she eyed him cautiously.

Finally he asked, “Am I making you nervous?”

Her shoulders slumped and she turned away from him. “I don’t know why. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

Suddenly, his arms came around her and closed her in tight. “You haven’t. Pamela, this isn’t a business transaction. It’s you and me. Open, exposed, vulnerable, wanting, need. You don’t think I’m not intimidated?”

She turned and looked up at him perplexed.

“With every caress of my hands, with every touch of my lips, somewhere in the back of my mind I’ll be wondering if you understand, can you feel, will you know just how much you mean to me.”

Before he could think, his body reacted to her. His cock hardened to an almost painful degree. Brandon fused Adina's mouth with his. He couldn't stop himself. He was lost completely in his desire. He was drowning in the softness of her lips, felt tidal wave after tidal wave of warmth surge through his body. He had to have more. His tongue brushed over her lips, silently tempting her to open.

He felt Adina surrender to his gentle invasion. Oh God, her mouth was so sweet and wet. Brandon kissed her until he no longer knew where he ended and she began. His reaction was something he had never experienced. She was a feast that he had fasted for all his life.

 Adina wasn't in any better frame of mind or emotional state than Brandon. Her body committed mutiny the second his hands touched her hips. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardening as she pressed and formed into his powerful body. Knowing she couldn't fight it, she let go and enjoyed it.

Good Lord, did this man know how to kiss. Every turn and twist of his long tongue drugged her. Every time she thought he couldn't take her any higher, he'd deepen the kiss and sent her head spinning. And when he clamped his lips around her tongue and sucked it, she knew she'd simply expire right in his arms.

She felt how her moans affected him. Suddenly his hands were everywhere. When they closed around her ass, her arms tightened around his neck. It was as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

Down, down she goes, fingers probing. I know I’m gushing, drenched. I’m fat. She seems not to notice, finds my clitoris and presses gently. I am ready to erupt from my skin.

Her fingers wrap around my butt, move around like a white eel, squeeze. I groan, groan again, I feel her lips on mine, her warm breath. Her skin is like satin, so thin, barely wrapped around her muscles and bones. I have never felt anything so beautiful in my life.

Kisses again. Her breathing is swelling. One more kiss, then an adjustment to now steaming water, throwing steam out, beading on her white skin. She turns, smiles at me and curls a finger to my eyes. I obey. I’d lose twenty pounds if she asked me to and would have my lips sewn together if that would make her happy. I’d do anything, everything, just to receive one more kiss, one more touch, one more pungent gasp of breath cruising from those lips, warming my neck, burning my soul as they do.

Shower adjustments aim the water tendrils away as she sets me down. Then, like a prank-filled kid, sprays me, head to un-pedicured toes. Now, water and sex bring giggles from her, then me. Then she is kneeling before me—soap, razor, smiles, mischief in her eyes. I can’t seem to breath, and my eyes simply cannot blink as she soaps me, leans in, kisses me, mumbles something. I’m fair, like her anyways, so she shaves every hair from my cunt like she owns it, which she does.

Bath time doesn’t seem to be on her mind, so she stands and I gasp seeing the space between her thighs. She’s one of those girls, so thin nothing touches. I can see every vein pushing against her white skin. I almost orgasm just peeking from her toe to her face, nothing so marvelous have I seen before.

Adjusting the spray, she kneels before me, green bottle eyes just inches away, pouting, white teeth biting those lips, pink tongue edged and pulsing as she wraps her fingers around the back of my head, pulls me in and lights a kiss along my lips. Tongue on tongue, lips on lips, gentle, probing, breathing increasing. She is not rough. There are girls like that. Everything about her is so miniature—hands, fingers, tongue, body. Except her eyes and so-full lips. They’re perfect. The kisses go on and on, as do her fingers along my spine and rump.

My breasts are large, one of the good things left from the younger me. She has none almost. As they meet, press bodies against bodies, and then, as if she knows, she moves away, not far, takes a breast and touches it sweetly. I see her body shudder as she takes a nipple between her lips, presses, then closes her eyes and grips it nice with her teeth. My body trembles as a semi-orgasm ripples through it.

We’re in suspended animation for some moments, then she breaks away, kisses me again, and with fingers like kite tails, she turns me. I’m on my fat hands and knees. I feel my belly, the folds creasing. I’m never comfortable with my body, but she is. I love her for that, whoever the fuck she is.

I’ve had rough sex before and liked the carnal stages of it, but she is different. She is slow, gentle, almost sweet and kind. Now I feel her soaped hands washing my back, my butt, my anus, a single finger. I begin to shake and moan. She moans. I have never been so clean since a child when my mother bathed me in our tub. Then I feel pressure, her fingers are pressed against the opening of my vagina.

I gulp, wheeze, my back arches as it tingles in pleasure. She pushes her fingers into me. To the knuckles. “Oh my God,” I whisper, glad there is water, mine and the shower everywhere, masking my orgasm as I bow my chin to my collarbones, almost weeping from her touch.

Time moves right along as she uses her lips, tongue and fingers on me. Deep, not so deep and I orgasm. Then, at its epicenter, she simply slides her tiny fist inside of me and it is so gentle. I begin to dream as I feel it deep, struck as deep as it might ever go. I orgasm again, tears and unfamiliar sounds spilling from my throat and past my vibrato lips.

Releasing me, she pulls her fist from my cunt, turns me and, seeing that I am weeping, crawls upon my knees, straddles me, wraps her legs around my waist, then her hands around my head as my arms wrap around her body. Kisses, lips, tongues again. Steam and water blast everywhere around us. Her tongue plunges deep into my mouth, seeking, I presume, wanting, I hope, as my tongue mates with hers and we kiss for what in my mind is forever, though that is only my own way of seeing this remarkable moment.

Totally in charge, she morphs, breaks away and stands. I gasp again, for the whiteness of her body almost hurts my eyes as she extends tendril fingers to me, which I take as she helps me struggle to my feet, holds me so I do not collapse, then waits. She is a patient Queen Bitch, so caring I do not know if I could ever be with a callous man again. Their skin, from this moment on, would always feel as sandpaper and hurt silhouetted against the memory of her skin, my skin for a moment, this I know.

She leads me naked from the shower and there it looms, the bedroom, which she leads me into. I am, for the moment, a Goddess, a selected pleasure prize for a Queen so elegant, so mesmerizing and sexual I still don’t believe any of it is real. On the bed now, she nears, sits, leans and kisses me. Yes it is real. So very fucking real.

Niko Davaris bolted upright in the heavy darkness of his hotel room. His naked body dripped with sweat and his chest heaved as he gulped air into his lungs. Remnants of his all-too-familiar dream stayed with him. Visions of blue-tipped flames danced in front of his wide eyes. The smell of gasoline still stung his nostrils after all this time, and the sound of car metal crashing over jagged rocks echoed in his head.

A nightmare I can't seem to get away from. His throat felt parched. He flung off the sheets draped around his waist and dug his fingers into the firm mattress in an attempt to stop his body's tremors.

Click.

The unmistakable sound of a gun cock.

Fuck! Niko froze with his right leg hanging off the side of the bed. How did Vicente find me?

The sound came from the foot of the bed, but the room remained pitch black--he couldn't see a thing. Stiff fingers crept under the pillow for the SIG P90 he kept there.

"Tsk, tsk. Bad boy." The throaty female voice halted his movements. It skitted over his skin and left goose bumps in its wake.

What the hell?

The overhead light flicked on. He blinked at the brightness, then took in his uninvited guest sprawled in the black leather armchair at the foot of the bed. She looked at him through lowered eyelids, head tilted back. The left side of her head was shaved close to the scalp, but the right side appeared untouched. Bangs, kissed with light pink, obscured her right eye. Dark waves brushed a shoulder the shade of creamy sepia. A nickel plated Glock pointed at his head.

"Who the fuck are you?" He couldn't believe this person got the drop on him.

Her bow lips curved into a smile and she dragged her gaze down his body.

A muscle began a slow tick in his jaw.

"Nice view." She licked her lips.

His cock pulsed. Niko fought the urge to cover the wayward organ. She had the gun, so no sudden movements. "Who are you?" he demanded again. Fuck, he hated repeating himself.

She stood, gun still trained on him. She was barely five-foot-five and built. Make that stacked.

Huge breasts spilled out of a pink bustier. An image of his face buried between them flashed in his mind and made his groin tighten. Her smooth stomach was exposed and the tiniest waist, about the span of his hands, flared out to wide hips. Black leggings were tucked into black knee boots complete with silver buckles and almost four inch heels.

Her gaze zeroed in on his cock. "You have something I need, Niko."

Fuck if he didn't get harder at her statement. Then it registered, she knew his name. It could mean only one thing--after hiding for three years, his past had finally caught up with him.

Niko cleared his throat. He needed to distract her to get his gun. Regret churned in his gut at the prospect of hurting a woman, but he couldn't think about that. It was clearly him or her.

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage," he growled.

"I know, right? Hardly seems fair." Her husky laugh sent sweat trickling down his spine.

What was it about this woman that made his long-neglected body react? He studied her heart-shaped face with its pert nose and full lips. Enjoyment sparkled in the depths of her almond eyes.

"Who sent you?" Niko's voice hardened as he grew tired of all the questions and no answers.

His visitor raised a perfectly arched brow. "Oh, honey. Do I look like I take orders?"

"What do you want then?"

All trace of softness vanished from her face. Her eyes became glacial. If Niko didn't know before, now he did. This wasn't someone to be messed with. Unfortunately for her, neither was he.

"The flash drive."

Not the answer he expected. He shook his head. "Sorry, no clue what you're talking about." That flash drive was his leverage against the man who tried to kill him, but put him in a coma instead. Niko waited three years for his shot at Vicente, there was no way he'd let the woman in front of him take it away.

The stranger nodded once as if she'd come to some kind of decision and walked backward to the chair with the burner still trained on him. "Shall I tell you a story, Niko?"

She continued on without waiting for his reply. "I believe I shall." She sat. "So there I am, crawling through the godforsaken air ducts of Harper Royce's office, when three men enter the room dressed in black."

Mother. Fuck. She knew.

"Shall I go on, Niko?" She pursed her lips and waited for his reply.

Mute, he shook his head.

"I thought not. Now, why don't we start over? And you can forget about the SIG, it's mine now." Gaze and gun on him, she reached down with her free hand. Sure enough, when she held her hand up, there was the SIG.

Damn, she's good.

Once outside, Myka stood against the exterior wall of the club and waited. The whisper of cool air on the nape of her neck felt like a lover’s caress. She crossed her arms over her chest, then changed her mind and let them hang loose at her sides.

He wasn’t coming.

What was she thinking? She shouldn’t have approached him, but she’d wanted to prove her life was still her own. Pretend what she’d overheard wasn’t true, and her father hadn’t sold her to the highest bidder for a senate seat. But he had and here she was, grasping at anything to dull the pain.

The doors opened and Mr. Dark stepped outside. Breath left her body, her spine tingled. His gaze clashed with hers as he approached like a lion stalking its prey. Dark clothes cloaked his bulky frame—leather jacket, shirt, jeans and boots. His features looked like they’d been chiseled from the finest, darkest chocolate. Sharp, dark and smooth. He had high cheekbones, slanted eyes, and just a hint of stubble on his square jaw, framing full lips made to kiss and taste. A voice in the back of her head yelled run, but she ignored it. She sensed he’d like the chase.

He stood in front of her, chest to chest, and placed a hand on the wall behind her. Then he leaned in, licked her earlobe and caught it between his teeth.

Her breath hitched, knees wobbled. A whimper left her throat as her pussy flooded.

“You beckoned?” A Caribbean accent gave his deep voice an exotic flavor.

Nipples hardening, Myka stayed with the bold approach. “I want you. Under me, on top of me, but definitely inside me.”

Rachel felt his hands all over her body. Strong fingers, teasing, igniting, stimulating parts of her that were set on fire. Oh and the taste of him, deep like rich wine, bold like a new adventure and wicked like sin. Stimulation such as this only took her a split second to absorb. Lying there on the edge of consciousness, a little voice in tiny regions of her memory hinted vaguely to the fact that Malcolm had accused her of being cold blooded. How she would prove him and that tiny voice wrong tonight. She would give and take. Yield and claim. Surrender and conquer. She would leave no doubt in his mind or her own. She felt his body slowly gliding over hers. She felt his thick lips smile across her breasts. She groaned softly as she sensed he was pleased and unexpectedly surprised by their softness, their heaviness and beauty. She shivered suddenly at her own reaction to his touch as her nipples hardened and his mouth covered them one by one. A gasp tore from her as his tongue danced over her breasts, making them sensitive. She found herself arching into his mouth, wanting to drive him beyond his restraints. Soon she had what they both craved, he devoured her. She felt new sensations rise up and ride her. Tiny sparks of pleasures glided slowly from her breasts down her belly and settled in a pulsing hunger between her thighs.