When Mika returned, she sat on his side of the booth. She pressed against him.
“Am I too close for comfort?” she asked.
“Nope,” he said in a weak voice.
She snaked her leg on top of one of his. Lifting his hand, she placed it on her smooth, bare thigh.
She was so shamelessly bold. He felt as though he were dreaming.
But the closeness of her body caused a predictable reaction. His erection came back harder than ever.
She slithered her hand between them and touched him in his slacks.
“Okay, now,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, innocently. “My hand seems to have a mind of its own.”
“Uh-huh.”
The server brought the chocolate cake. He noted how closely together Andrew and Mika were sitting, favored them with a secretive smile.
Andrew reached for a fork. She swatted his hand.
“Let me feed you.” She guided a forkful of cake to his mouth. “There.”
“Delicious,” he said.
“I know something that tastes better,” she said.
“What would that be?”
She moved his hand from her thigh to the warm cleft between her legs.
He drew in a quick breath.
“I’m not always such a bad girl,” she said. “Please don’t get the wrong idea about me, Andrew.”
“Do you hear me complaining?”
She fed him another piece of cake.
“I go after what I want,” she said. “That’s my nature.”
“I like an assertive woman.”
“So, then, you like me?”
“Yes. A lot.”
She gave him another forkful of cake.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I want you to like me.”
“You’re passing with flying colors.”
She set down the fork. She moved her hand to his belt buckle, loosened it. Grasped the zipper of his slacks. Pulled it down with a whisper.
What was she going to do? He wasn’t going to stop her, whatever she had planned for him. He sat there like a wax dummy. With a throbbing hard-on.
No one was around to stop them. They had the corner of the dining room to themselves. But to Andrew, it seemed that they were the only people in the entire restaurant. Mika’s presence captured his single-minded attention.
Her fingers crept into his boxer shorts, discovered his rigid manhood. Encircled the sensitive tip.
A moan slipped out of him.
She turned. Their faces were almost nose-to-nose.
“I want to be the only woman you like,” she said. “No competition, Andrew.”
She squeezed him firmly, eased the pressure, squeezed again.
He gripped the edge of the table.
“You’ve got no competition,” he said.
She stroked him.
He gripped the table so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t break it in half.
“Am I the only woman you like?” she asked.
“The only one, yes.”
“And if I share my body with you tonight? Will I still be the only one?”
“The only one.”
“And you’ll treat me like a princess?”
“A princess.”
“Do you promise?”
“Promise.”
With the nimbleness of a cat, she slid underneath the table.
Oh, man. Was she going to . . .
Suddenly, her lips enveloped him.
He gasped.
He couldn’t believe what she was doing, right there in a public place. But he didn’t stop her. Couldn’t stop her.
She ran her moist tongue up and down the length of him.
He plunged his hands into her silky hair.
Placing her hands on his knees, she spread his legs farther apart. She took him in deeper.
“Oh, Jesus.” He arched his back.
She sucked him, kissed him, licked him.
He clutched the napkin in his fists.
He was going to explode.
Then, before he erupted, she withdrew.
His body snapped back into place like a rubber band. As he fought to catch his breath, she emerged on the other side of the booth.
“Why . . . why’d you stop?” he asked.
She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, smiled.
“Good things come to those who wait,” she said. “I’m ready to go dancing.”
She signaled the server to bring the check.
They went to Havana Heat, a club on Peachtree and Pharr, in the heart of the Buckhead nightlife district. Cigar and cigarette smoke, cologne, and perfume flavored the body-heat heavy air. The crowd—thick for a Tuesday night—was a multicultural stew, heavy on Latinos, with a generous seasoning of blacks, Asians, Indians, and whites, most of the clubbers in their mid-twenties and older. People grooved on the large dance floor to the lively sounds of Latin soul, most performing salsa with varying degrees of skill, a sprinkling of them rocking lamely with a club-footed two-step.
“You remember how to salsa?” Mika asked.
“Sure do.”
Two years ago, he’d taken a salsa class with Carmen, since her boyfriend at the time had no interest in dancing. He wondered what Mika would think about that—she seemed to have a jealous streak, and a keen interest in his relationship with Carmen.
Well, he figured he could deal with a little jealousy. She was so beautiful that he was prepared to deal with quite a bit. Besides, no one was perfect, right?
“Did you come here to hold up the wall?” She grabbed Andrew’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
She guided him to the dance floor. They found a space near the middle. The pounding beat made his teeth vibrate.
She pressed against him, her hand cupping his butt.
“Lead me, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”
She licked his earlobe, smiled.
Hot blood sang through his veins. Pure, animal lust. It made him so dizzy he worried that he would forget all the salsa he’d learned and bungle through the steps, wind up sprawled on the floor with his legs knotted like spaghetti.
She stepped back. Took his hands in hers.
“Anywhere you me want to go,” she said. Her gaze never left his face. “I’ll follow you.”
In a euphoric rush, his lessons came back to him, and he started to move.
Two hours later, they left the building and walked across the parking lot. After the stifling humidity of the club, Andrew breathed gratefully of the cool night air.
“You’re an incredible dancer,” he said.
“You’ve got moves, too. I’m impressed.”
“It took everything I had to keep up with you.”
“Nonsense, you were in perfect sync all along. As I knew you would be.”
They reached his car, got inside.
She twisted in the seat to face him. “Where are we going next?”
“It’s almost eleven-thirty. Tired?”
“Not at all. Are you?”
“I feel good. Full of energy, actually.”
She touched his arm. “Let’s go to my hotel.”
He knew very well what would happen at her hotel.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Are you sure?”
Uneasiness clenched his stomach. This was moving faster than he’d ever imagined. Almost too fast.
But he couldn’t say no and live to look himself in the mirror again. A gorgeous woman was inviting him to her hotel. What guy on the planet could turn her down?
“Sure,” he said. “I’m cool.”
“I sense some apprehension, Andrew. Are you man enough for me? Or do I have to go back inside that club and pick up one of those Latino hunks who isn’t afraid of what I have to offer?”
“Where are you staying?” He threw the car into gear.
She laughed softly. “That’s my boy. I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead. Across the s
treet from Lenox Square.”
“I know where that is. Hang tight.”
As he drove, she kneaded his leg. He played in her hair.
But uneasiness continued to simmer in his stomach. He wasn’t the kind of guy who routinely slept with a woman on the first date. He liked to take his time and get to know a girl. Sex was more fulfilling with a woman with whom he’d established a meaningful emotional connection.
His take-it-slow philosophy, unusual among many of his buddies, also had prevented a lot of the messy drama that some of his boys always wound up in. He valued neatness and stability, in all aspects of his life.
If there was one lesson his mom had mercilessly drilled into him, it was: if you’re man enough to lie down with a lady, you better be man enough to raise her baby. She’d damn near had him terrified to have sex. He was a freshman in college before he lost his virginity, an age so much later than his friends that it had been too embarrassing to admit. As time passed, he still preferred to move slowly to the bedroom.
But Mika had changed his game plan. His attraction to her was nearly overwhelming. Her aggressiveness only made matters more challenging.
Nevertheless, the smart thing to do was to slow down. Take a little more time getting to know her. He’d only met her this morning. Their conversation had been great, and the date was going wonderfully, but he didn’t know her. Not really. The one thing he did know was that once a woman shared her body with you, you quickly became introduced to a more intimate side of her, which usually was good. But if she flipped the script and got crazy on you, it could be disastrous.
They arrived at the hotel. He cruised underneath the porte cochere, and stopped. A valet hurried to the car.
Take it slow, man. You’re rushing this.
He looked at her, at her soft, full lips. He remembered the rapturous sensation of those lips on him, sucking, kissing.
The valet waited beside his door. “Sir?”
Slow down, or you’ll regret it later.
Most times, it was wise to heed that quiet voice of conscience. But he felt good, overall, about Mika, about where this budding relationship might be headed. They had a powerful, mutual attraction. Fantastic chemistry. He wasn’t going to back out of this situation and ruin a great thing, based solely on a voice in his head.
He opened the door.
In the hotel lobby, a doorman nodded at them. “Good evening.”
“Hi, there,” Mika said cheerfully. She led Andrew to the bank of elevators.
The quiet lobby was opulently furnished. Regency and Georgian antique furniture. Crystal chandeliers. Marble tables. Eighteenth-century English paintings and sculptures.
“Nice place,” he said.
She shrugged, as if the sumptuous surroundings were no more remarkable than those found at a Days Inn. The nonchalance of someone accustomed to affluence.
An elevator beeped open. The car was empty.
“Go,” she said.
“Huh?” He frowned at her commanding tone.
She put her hand on his back and shoved him inside. He stumbled against the back wall.
She stabbed the button for the seventh floor. The doors slid shut, and the car began to ascend.
“You didn’t have to push me,” he said.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Seizing his arms, she crushed her lips against his. He opened his mouth, and her tongue darted in, teasingly. Her lips tasted of sweet wine.
He ran his hands down her back, squeezed her hips.
She grabbed the front of his jacket and tore it open. Buttons popped.
“I want you so bad, baby” she said, between kisses. “You want me, too, show me how much, stop being so timid.”
In response, he drove her against the wall. He grabbed the top of her dress and yanked it down, exposing more skin.
“Act like you want me,” she said.
He unsnapped her bra, flung it to the floor. Her breasts hung in his face, round and full, with nipples like chocolate strawberries. He put his mouth on one of her breasts, sucked urgently.
“That’s right,” she said, clasping his head to her bosom.
Then she pushed him against the opposite wall. She ripped his belt buckle loose, jerked down the zipper of his slacks. She dug her hand into his boxers and cradled his manhood.
“This is gonna be mine,” she said. She left a trail of kisses on his neck. “All mine, all mine.”
“All yours,” he said. He hiked up her dress, rolled down her panties, probed his finger inside her. She was moist. “And this is mine.”
“Yours.”
The elevator stopped. The doors chimed open.
“Room seven-thirteen,” she said. “Hurry.”
She clung to his neck. He carried her out of the elevator, kissing her.
While he held her suspended, she dug in her purse, fumbled out the room key, unlocked the door. He brought her across the threshold as if they were newlyweds. She kicked the door shut.
He took in the suite in a glance: soft lighting, lots of space, large bay windows that provided a panoramic view of the glittering city, luxurious upholstered furniture, a dining area with a mahogany table, a kitchenette. A vase of fresh orchids scented the air.
They stripped out of their clothes, left them in a sloppy pile on the floor.
She braced him against the hallway wall. His manhood stood at attention. She grasped it gently, possessively.
“Want me to finish what I started, baby?” she asked.
Without waiting for his answer, she lowered to her knees.
He cradled her head. She took him inside her mouth—completely.
It felt so good that if he hadn’t been leaning against the wall, he would have fallen down.
Her fingers clenched his butt. Tightened her hold on him. Her head bobbed, drew him in and out, tongue lashing him in a sweet rhythm.
His hands roved through her hair. “Oh, Mika. Mika, Mika, Mika.”
The ecstatic pressure mounted. He didn’t want to come, not before he’d tasted her, repaid some of the pleasure she’d given him. He withdrew and sank to the carpet.
“My turn,” he said.
She lay back, guided his head to her damp center.
His first lick was slow and tender, a stroke from bottom to top, like licking an ice cream cone.
“Oooh.” She grabbed his head, gasped.
He explored her fully with his tongue and lips. Tasted her juices. Found her sensitive spot, teased it with short, quick flicks.
Crying out, she wriggled on the floor.
Pleasuring her with horizontal and vertical strokes, he chased his tongue with his index finger, creating a contrast of softness and firmness.
“Andrew, baby, yes, yes, baby, oh, Andrew, baby . . .”
He pressed his tongue flat against her fullness.
Screeching, she ground against him. Her fingernails scraped the walls.
He dove in again, quickened the pace.
Hips bucking, she rode the wave of an orgasm. He smeared his lips in her juices, lashed her with his tongue. She shrieked as another orgasm rocked her.
Finally, he slid out of her. Breathing hard, she clasped his head to her belly.
“Glad I brought you home,” she said. “My goodness.”
“We aim to please.”
She nudged him to turn over, onto his back. Soft carpet fibers brushed his skin.
She fondled his erection. “You wanna fuck me?”
Until now, she had spoken in formal language. Hearing her talk dirty turned him on even more.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Say it.”
“I wanna fuck you.”
“You think you can handle this?”
“Watch me.” He reached for his slacks, to get some protection out of his wallet.
“Stay there.” She straddled him, fished a condom out of her purse.
“Good girl,” he said.
“A lady’s always prepared. Although we would have beau
tiful babies.”
“You ain’t never lied.”
She placed the condom between her lips. Bending, she used her lips and tongue to tenderly roll the condom over him. She laid her tongue on his belly, ran it up to his neck in a warm line.
He fondled her breasts. Traced circles across the rigid nipples.
She rose, put him inside her. Her muscles closed around him like a hot vise.
“So tight.” The words burst out of him.
“You like it that way, baby?” She ground her pelvis in an excruciatingly slow figure eight. It snatched a gasp out of him.
“You’ve never had any pussy like this,” she said. “Have you?”
“No,” he said in a weak voice.
“Say it!”
“Never had any pussy like yours.”
“That’s my boy.” She swiveled in a wide circle.
He raised his hands to massage her breasts. She snared his wrists, pinned them against the floor.
“You’re my prisoner now.” She kissed his neck, rose and looked at him with an intense gaze. “You’re mine. I’m never letting you go.”
“If being a prisoner feels this good, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”
She began to grind again, her muscles clenching him like a warm, damp fist. He’d never felt anything quite like it; her control was amazing. He rocked with her; they found a comfortable rhythm and kept it.
“Look at me,” she said.
He looked up at her. Stared into her shining eyes.
“That’s my baby.” Moaning, she ground faster. Squeezed him tight.
He felt such a powerful eruption building it seemed it would shatter his body like a vase. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes.
“Look at me, look at me,” she said. “Want to see your eyes, those pretty brown eyes.”
He opened his eyes. Tears began to flood his vision, stream down his cheeks.
“Oh, Mika . . . damn . . .”
“Look at me!”
Gazing into her eyes, he thrust into her so deeply it felt as if she might suck his entire body inside her womb. She matched his thrusts and drew him even farther inside her. He was drowning in her.
“Mika, oh . . .”
“Look at me, look at me, look at me!”
Their gazes locked.
The orgasm hit him like a lightning bolt. It knocked him flat on his back and tore a cry out of his throat.
She continued to ride him, milking every ounce out of him, her gaze never leaving his face.
Within the Shadows Page 9