And while she was deep in the throes of her climax, he rose from her just long enough to shed his clothes and sheathe himself. To be as naked as she. To relieve his aching erection. He hungered for her and could not wait one more moment to be inside her.
* * *
Chance thrust his hard inches inside her swiftly. Deeply.
Ngozi reached out blindly and gripped the wrought iron railing of her staircase, not caring about the hard edge of the step bearing into her lower back or how each of his wild thrusts caused her buttocks to be chafed by the wood.
Chance lifted up his upper body to look down at her as he worked his hips back and forth. Each stroke caused his hardness to slide against the moist ridges of her intimacy. She was lost. To time. To place. To reason.
“Here it comes,” he whispered down to her.
She gasped as his inches got harder right as he quickened his thrusts and climaxed inside her, flinging his head back, the muscles of his body tensing as he went still and roughly cried out in pure pleasure.
Wrapping her ankles behind his strong thighs, Ngozi worked her hips in a downward motion that pulled on the length of him.
Chance swore.
Ngozi had a devilish little smile, taking over as she worked her walls and flexed her hips to send him over the edge into the same mindless pleasure he brought her. And when he gave a shriek similar to the falsetto of an opera singer and tried to back out of her, she locked him in place and continued to work every bit of his release from him.
“Please,” he begged, wincing and biting his bottom lip.
“Please what? Huh? Please stop, or please make me come some more?” she asked, her tone flirtatiously mocking in between hot little pants of her own.
“Please stop,” he pleaded.
She stopped her sex play, but with him still inside her, she sat up and pulled his face down to kiss his mouth a dozen or more times. “Don’t you ever forget that I love you, too,” she whispered against his lips, searching his eyes and seeing that all her doubts of his feelings for her had been for naught.
* * *
The next weeks for Chance and Ngozi seemed to fly by. Happiness and being in love had a way of snatching time. And they were happy. Their time apart had brought on changes both needed to be able to love someone properly.
Life was good.
Ding-dong.
Ngozi was lounging on her sofa reading through briefs. She picked up her tablet and checked the security system, frowning at the sight of Chance’s mother, Esmerelda, standing on her front doorstep.
Well, life was almost good.
She dropped the tablet and the back of her head onto the sofa as she released a heavy sigh. What could she possibly want?
Ngozi avoided Esmerelda at all costs. Although she and Chance had reconciled, they’d never discussed his mother or her clear dislike of her son’s choice for love. “Hell, I’m not the one who left him at the altar,” she muttered, rising from the sofa to pad barefoot out of the room and over to the front door.
Ding-dong.
Ngozi paused and frowned with an arched brow. “A’ight now,” she warned.
She allowed herself one final inhale and exhale of breath with a prayer for patience before opening the door with a smile that felt too wide and too false. “Hello, Ms. Diaz. How can I help you?” she said.
Esmerelda was a beautiful woman of just her late forties. Having had Chance at such a young age, she physically did not look that much older than him. She stood there in a strapless red dress with her hair in a messy topknot. Ngozi couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.
“May I come in?” she asked, looking past Ngozi’s shoulder.
“Chance isn’t here,” she immediately explained.
“Yes, I know,” Esmerelda said. “He’s at the offices for Second Chances.”
Very true. Yes, he was. Of course, she would know that. Esmerelda and Chance were very close, Ngozi knew, but she also felt they were too close. Hell, does she think anyone is good enough for him?
“So, may I come in?” Esmerelda asked again.
Ngozi nodded and stepped back, pulling the door open along with her. “Right this way,” she said, closing the door and leading her into the family room.
“That is a beautiful painting,” Esmerelda said, moving to stand in front of the fireplace and look up at the artwork Ngozi had hung there the day of the Spring Bazaar.
Three svelte women in floral print dresses with large wide-brimmed hats that covered their faces sat in a field of flowers. “It is The Gossiping Neighbors by—”
“Juan Eduardo Martinez,” Esmerelda provided, turning to offer her a smile. “I am very familiar with his work.”
“Chance introduced me to him and some other Dominican painters with the art he has at his house,” Ngozi said, crossing her arms over her chest in the strapless woven cotton jumpsuit she wore.
“Yes, I introduce him to our culture any time we are back in Cabrera,” she said with pride.
Ngozi nodded. “We flew there last weekend and it really is a beautiful city, Ms. Diaz,” she said.
Esmerelda looked around at the room, taking in the vibrant colors and artwork. “Do you mean that or are you just saying it?” she asked.
“I mean it or I wouldn’t have said it,” Ngozi said, feeling offended.
Esmerelda looked surprised by Ngozi’s push back. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug and downturn of her ruby red lips as she dragged a finger across the edge of the wooden table.
The hell...
“Ms. Diaz, I love your son. I really do. I mean, I thought I would never be blessed with happiness after losing my husband. At first I didn’t know what I did to deserve a second chance. I actually thought I didn’t, but now I know I am just as good and decent and caring as he is. We are good for each other,” Ngozi stressed. “And if you can’t see that I make your son happy, then you just don’t want him to be happy with me or maybe anybody else. I just really wished you had been this vigilant with Helena and saved him the heartache and shame.”
Esmerelda’s eyes lit up and she rubbed her fingers together, like she was excited by Ngozi’s spunk and candor. “Hello, Ngozi Johns, it’s nice to finally meet the real you,” she said, extending her hand.
Ngozi looked down at it guardedly. “Huh?” she asked.
“I thought you were a phony blowhard like the Blonde Devil, and it’s good to see a difference in you,” she explained, her hand still offered. “I fed you the spiciest meal I have ever cooked, and you still swallowed it down to avoid angering Chance’s mother. You wouldn’t even speak up for yourself. I saw you as docile and weak. That is not the type of woman my son needs.”
Ngozi was surprised at the woman’s discernment. They’d met just once, and she saw right through the facade.
“I told him this and my Chance kept insisting that you were fiery, strong and had no problem telling him when he was wrong. I wanted to see this for myself and I didn’t...until just now,” Esmerelda said, actually offering Ngozi a smile. “I know my son. Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes he needs to be challenged and pushed. Push him to be the best man he can be, and then my job can be done, Ngozi.”
She nodded, feeling relief as she finally took Esmerelda’s hand into her own. “I will because he does the same for me.”
“Good,” Esmerelda said, releasing her hand and turning to open her tote to remove a teal canister with delicate flowers. She handed it to Ngozi. “Recipes of my son’s favorite Dominican dishes. Learn to feed him something besides sex. Bueno?”
Ngozi took the can and laughed. “Si,” she said, holding the canister to her chest.
Esmerelda reached for her purse and headed out of the room, pausing at the entrance. “The only two secrets I want you to keep from Chance are that you have those recipes and that I was here today,” she said be
fore turning and leaving.
Ngozi didn’t have a chance to walk her to the door.
Instead, she opened the canister and sifted through the recipe cards. They were photocopies of the originals Esmerelda obviously wasn’t ready to part with.
Feed him something besides sex.
Ngozi could only laugh.
* * *
Chance was watching television as they lounged in Ngozi’s master suite, having decided to spend the night at her home in Passion Grove instead of at his in Alpine. He glanced over at where she had been reading Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad. The book was lying on the lounge chair in front of the window, and she stared outside at the late summer night.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Ngozi glanced over at him with a soft smile. “Today would have been my brother’s birthday,” she said.
Chance used the remote to turn the television off and then rolled off the bed in nothing but his sleep pants to walk over and straddle the lounge as he sat closely behind her. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and then her nape. Finally, she had shared more with him about her brother’s death and its impact on her family’s life, just as he told her about meeting his father and discovering he had three half siblings—none of which he was prepared to deal with in the manner it called for. Ngozi had made sure he knew that she wanted him to reach out and meet his siblings sooner rather than later. It was clear her longing for her deceased brother intensified her feelings on his relationship, or lack thereof, with his siblings.
“If he was here, what would you give him for his birthday?” he asked, redirecting his thoughts back to her as he leaned to the side to watch her beautiful profile.
“Oh wow, I never thought about it,” she said, looking reflective. “He used to love comic books, so I would’ve bought out a whole theater and watched Black Panther with him,” she said, nodding. “He would’ve loved that movie.”
“Or you could have just brought him over to my theater at the house,” Chance reminded her, massaging her upper arms.
“True,” she agreed. “Sometimes I forget you’re a billionaire.”
“And that’s one of the reasons I want to marry you,” he said, meaning to surprise her with his admission.
He felt her body go stiff before she turned on the lounge to face him.
“Chance,” she said.
“Ngozi,” he returned, digging into the pocket of his pants and removing the box he had placed there.
The plan had been to slip it under the pillows and propose after making love to her, but the moment seemed perfect.
“Whoo,” she exclaimed as she caught sight of the large diamond solitaire atop a band of diamonds.
“Are you saying yes?” he asked, feeling so much love for her and no fear of laying his heart on the line once again.
“Are you asking me?” she said gently with a pointed look at the floor.
“Right,” he agreed, chuckling as he rose from the seat to lower his body to one knee and take her hand in his.
“Marry me, Ngozi, and love me just the way I need you to, and I promise to love and to cherish you just as you need to be loved and cherished. I want nothing more than to create a family with you. To love and be tempted by you for the rest of my life,” he said earnestly, hiding none of his love for her.
Ngozi nodded. “I will love you forever and always, Chance Castillo,” she swore as he slid the hefty ring onto her finger.
“Mi tentacion,” he whispered to her as he rose and pulled her body up against his and kissed her with enough love and passion to last a lifetime.
Epilogue
Three months later
Ngozi felt sexy as she came down the stairs of Chance’s mansion in Alpine in the beautiful silver beaded sheath dress she’d seen in the window of Spree the very same day she reconciled with Chance. She had returned to the upscale boutique and purchased the dress the very next day. She now finally had just the right opportunity to wear it.
A celebration.
She looked over at Chance, looking ever so handsome in his black-on-black tuxedo as he awaited her. Life is good.
Chance’s foundation, Second Chances, had just received a multimillion-dollar grant to help fund its philanthropic efforts toward underserved and sorely underrepresented lower-income defendants unable to afford bail or bond. With Ngozi’s involvement as cochair of the board, the foundation’s efforts would also expand to recruit skilled attorneys for pro bono work, including helping innocent men serving time for crimes they did not commit. Together, Chance and Ngozi were determined to effect change with the unfair treatment of people of color within the judicial system.
“Ready?” Ngozi called over to him, striking a pose.
Chance turned, and his eyes instantly went to the short hem lightly stroking her legs midthigh. “Worth the wait, Ngozi,” he said, now looking at her face as he came over to her.
They shared a brief but passionate kiss.
When his hands rose to grip her buttocks, she reluctantly shook her head. “We have a whole party and all our family and friends waiting for us at Alek and Alessandra’s,” she reminded him, using her thumb to rub her crimson gloss from his lips.
“To hell with that party,” he growled low in his throat.
“Don’t you want to celebrate the sale of your second app, Mr. Tech King?” she teased.
He smiled, and it slowly broadened. “Tech King, huh?”
She shrugged one bare shoulder. “Forbes’ words, not mine,” she said, accepting his hand as they crossed the foyer together.
“Not bad for a kid from the projects?” Chance asked as he opened the front door for her.
She glanced up and stroked his cheek as he passed. “Not bad at all,” she assured him.
The sun had disappeared, but the summer evening was still warm as they made their way to Chance’s new white Lamborghini—a celebratory gift.
He deserves it.
She looked around at the beautiful grounds of his estate before climbing inside the car. “You sure you’re not going to miss all this?” she asked him once he was behind the wheel in the driver’s seat.
“We’re building from scratch. I’ll be fine,” he assured her.
Ngozi covered his hand on the stick shift with her own. “Good, because I really want our home base to be in Passion Grove,” she said as she eyed the ornate bronzed for-sale sign just outside his exterior gate.
She had gladly given up her rental. Its purpose in her newfound independence had been served.
Chance chuckled. “Can you believe I used to make fun of Alek for moving to a small town?” he asked, accelerating the sports car forward.
“Yes, but Passion Grove is no ordinary small town,” she said, thinking of the ability to maintain its charms but still perfectly blend with luxury.
“Damn straight it’s not.”
Chance pulled the car to a smooth stop at a red light. His hand went to one of her exposed thighs.
She released a little grunt of pleasure. “I can’t wait to let everyone in on our secret, Mr. Castillo,” she said.
Chance smiled as he looked over at her. “Me either, Mrs. Castillo,” he said.
Just that morning they had followed their impulses and flew to Vegas to get married. Neither longed for a huge event after their past experiences with such—his nuptials never happened and hers led to anything but marital bliss.
They chose to focus on their marriage and not the wedding.
“My tentadora,” Chance said, indulging himself with a kiss.
“Will I always be your temptress?” she asked, her voice and her eyes soft with her love for him.
“Until death do us part.”
“Now that sounds tempting.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Seductive Memory
by AlTonya Washington.
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Seductive Memory
by AlTonya Washington
Prologue
Costalegre, Mexico
The wedding plans had changed, and quite suddenly. The bride and groom had opted for an event with a lot less flash and dazzle than the bride’s mother would’ve liked. Still, no one could argue that the ceremony hadn’t been a perfect one.
Santigo Rodriguez and Sophia Hail had spoken their romantic and heartfelt vows amid tropical breezes scented by the variety of exotic flowers adorning the environment. The change in venue and time had been a gift of sorts from the bride’s sister and brother-in-law-to-be. Viva Hail and her fiancé, Rook Lourdess, had arranged a breathtaking escape that the bride and groom had eagerly accepted.
Tempting the Billionaire Page 16