by Tiana Laveen
She plopped down for a spell onto the couch, bursting with nervous energy. Oddly enough, he’d left her all alone like an abandoned child… trusted her to not be a grab and dash type of hoodrat she was certain he’d heard about, though he was too polite to utter such.
Well, she’d take that back. He wasn’t polite at all. He just gave her a little more credit than that. Meanwhile, he still craved the sweetness between her legs and though he was brash and bold, he was no fool. Lazarist stopped short of crossing that thin line between pushing the envelope and distasteful.
Nahhh, he doesn’t look at me and see that… I’d have picked up on it by now. The White guys that fetishize about getting in between some silky, Black thighs… he’s not one of them.
Perhaps he saw her as some sort of princess, and she had to admit, he often looked at her like she was. She’d catch him stealing glances from his bright blue eyes, the dark, thick brows arching above them making him look dangerous and sexy. That intense stare of his… oh boy was it intimidating. She loved every damn psychotic minute of it. It was cute and predatory all at once.
She’d been enjoying him, perhaps too much. He had the gift of gab. Their conversations ranged from the nonsensical to the political and thought provoking. They’d fallen asleep on the phone…
And he’d asked to make love to her twice since they’d known one another, but her response was always, ‘Too soon…’ He never kept pushing, but he was becoming more and more desperate as they spent so much time together.
The sexy text messages… and yes, the childish dick pic he’d sent her last night…
She didn’t respond to it, let him dangle in the wind. She wouldn’t admit it to him and stroke that already huge ego of his, but damn it, he had the right to be cocky about such a specimen. It was big and thick, a motherfucker that promised to make a woman walk funny for at least a week, so she sure ’nuff hit save and kept that bad boy for safekeeping and posterity. Grinning like a naughty little girl, she chewed softly on her fingernail.
I like him so damn much. This is going to end in disaster if I’m not careful. What have I gotten myself into?
Lazarist walked about with his chest poked out, moving like a storm. His voice was full of animation, passion and depth, like a volcano in mid-eruption. He watched her like a hunter… and when he’d kiss her, he’d breathe slow and hard. The warm air from his flared nostrils would tickle her neck as he wrapped his big, strong arms around her body and pull her in a tight embrace. He loved with every limb of his body, consumed her with the slightest touch. She could feel his heartbeat as she’d rest her head against his broad chest, and he smelled good. He smelled so damn good, like warm vanilla bean libido… libido?… negro… hero… She toyed with the words in her head, constructing them in strange ways as her thoughts played tricks on her.
Back to negro… Black… ebony… African American… Yes, and then some. All kinds of people congregated at his club. It was a true free for all, a Rainbow Coalition for the masses.
She knew he was someone worth running from, to protect herself from indeed, but she couldn’t quite turn away from this man who was larger than life. No matter where she’d turn, he’d still be right there, and she couldn’t escape. Where he ended, she began. Where she began, he continued. He’d been a lover since birth; he had the type of natural sexiness that ran in the veins like heroin… She’d seen it first at the club on the evening they met when she watched his tattooed fingers slowly twirl a white, shiny cane. Back and forth he twisted the thing, like a magician doing tricks, putting her in a trance.
They had an instant attraction—one that made her feel so out of sorts, she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. The chemistry was intense, and yet she held back time and time again, playing Scarlet’s warning in her head. It literally hurt to keep denying him. She’d sweat, her pussy would throb with need, but she played that poker face like she was the Las Vegas champion. In the end, she believed it would be worth it.
She heeded the advice because something within her wanted him…
Wanted him so… damn… badly.
She refused to be easy, and she soon realized that Scarlet was right, regardless of her motives for cockblocking. If you wanted a lion like Lazarist, you had to make him chase you. No wild beast like him appreciated a meal that fell into their lap. They relished the ones that had them jumping, yelling, falling about and putting in the work.
Make him chase you. Make him chase you to the edge of the forest… but not beyond. Make him sweat, make him so hungry that by the time you offer yourself on a plate, he eats everything in sight, then licks the plate clean!
Her mind delved in and out of possibilities, remembering how her friends would always tell her she overthought everything, that it was downright nerve-wracking. They’d warn her that not everything needed to be evaluated.
But this matter did. She didn’t want to be one of many… a trophy on his shelf, a plaque on his wall, a notch in his belt.
Maybe he’s got a thing for Black women…
That idea piqued her interest. Was she the first or one-hundredth Black woman he’d dated, courted, dragged home like a caveman and eagerly tasted the fruits of the forbidden? Was she a new temptress or his Saturday night special? The sort he preyed upon as he pried dark, rich thighs apart before eagerly dipping his hard White cock deep into the ocean of an African American Goddess of his choice. Fetish? Fantasy? Or his Forever? She shook the notion out of her mind and reflected further on the matter that caused her to be alone in the vast house in the first place…
Trust.
Lazarist had invited her over and upon her arrival, when he asked what she liked to drink and he didn’t have it, he insisted on going out and purchasing the Cabernet Sauvignon Washington State wine. It wasn’t anything expensive; most places sold it for less than twenty bucks but he stated it was the principle of the matter. Despite her protests, her telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal, he insisted and promised to be right back as soon as possible. So, he headed off to the liquor store down the road, leaving her in the company of a roaring fire, a bowl of fresh cherries, select cut deli meats, premium cheeses, and a small chocolate fountain that flowed over various pieces of fruits and marshmallows. Music played from the speakers and she danced to it. Bob Marley… Bruno Mars… The Beatles… She danced and danced and danced. What a wonderland he dwelled in.
Look at this damn house…
She burst out laughing as she spun so fast around and around, she grew dizzy.
She’d never seen such a sight… When they talked about big ballers, Lazarist Zander was it, the epitome of such a man.
Suddenly, she heard the front door being opened. With a gasp, she plopped back down on the couch, crossed her legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them back. She tried to look natural, as if she hadn’t just been stuffing her face with chocolate covered pineapple wedges, assorted cheeses from Europe, and flapping her wings like a headless chicken.
“Heeeey, babe! I got it!” His smile was as bright as the sun as he drew near, a wrinkled brown paper bag in hand with the neck of the bottle visible. High hopes lingered in his eyes, the lustful kind for certain, but she couldn’t help a smile.
“Thank you so much. You’re sweet.”
He walked past her and placed the wine in the refrigerator, then came to sit next to her on the couch. His smile slowly faded.
“What? What’s wrong?”
A look of concern danced in his eyes. He gently leaned over and traced her lips with the tip of his tongue.
“You’ve been busy at the fountain, I see…” He smiled, then kissed her cheek. “You had chocolate all over your mouth.”
Her lips crimped in a smile. Hooking his thumb under her chin, he tilted her mouth to his and pressed his lips to hers. With their hands they explored one another slowly… so slowly. The sound of fabric rising while their eyelids were falling closed made her weak in the knees. He was hard and warm, his presence overwhelming.
Don’t
fight this any longer… trust yourself. Is this it?
Yes…it’s time, Sky, you know it’s time. End the chase, let him finally have you…
Within the blink of an eye his shirt was removed, exposing an extensive canvas of intricate designs in royal blues, emerald greens, candy apple red, and midnight blacks. From the neck up, he looked like Wall Street; from the shoulders down, he was a wild man, a modern-day Tarzan in the flesh. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Spoiled like curdled cow’s milk left in the sun, generous like God to Adam and Eve, strong like fathers who openly love their sons, calculating like jewelry thieves who escaped capture time and time again, smart like runaway slaves who’d steal away into the night. Lazarist was all of these things and more, but with beautiful tattoos one must remember what they truly are: scars.
She traced his shoulders and looked up into his eyes while he lowered her onto the couch. They tore into each other like feverish children ripping apart wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Clothing covered the ground like piles of leaves until their needy bodies leaned into one another like blades of grass beneath a stone. Smothered with lust, begging to never breathe again… She danced inside of him, drawn into the intensity of his eyes as he kissed all up and down her neck. He was hungry… oh so hungry…
He’d worked up a healthy appetite for she’d made him suffer… but he wanted the pain. She wasn’t for sure, but she was pretty damn convinced that the man craved it like the agony of the needle pricking the flesh and flooding the sensitive layers of skin with copious ink for the first time. She sighed when she felt his nature rubbing against her panties. Shocked at the thickness, a part of her tightened up, scared and excited like the prey that she was.
“I’ve waited for this for so long… so… fucking … long. Come on, baby!” Running his fingers through her hair, he mouthed the words, his voice husky, desperate, and filled with intense need.
He kicked her legs open and grinded against her zone, and she shuddered when she felt his hand sneak in between the fabric of her underwear and her flesh, stretching the lace and sliding his finger inside her wet pussy.
“Ohhhh… shit.” Her eyes fluttered as he began to work it in and out of her, nice and slow, his eyes not leaving her for a moment.
She bucked her hips to his movements, and he kept dry humping her the whole way, instigating a sensual rivalry within her, working her up into a frenzy. The couch sighed beneath them, and she tried to stay afloat but slipped and slid about as he built up his pace, a torturous slow climb.
“Your pussy is sooo tight, baby. It’s gripping my finger, squeezing it. Those sweet walls of yours are hugging my finger like they’re in love with it…”
He slid another within her, and the thickness made her coo and wiggle all the more. She was soon crowned with a pillow behind her head, although it took a minute for her to realize he’d done it, slipped it beneath her nice and easy. The tickle of sweat collected against her brow as he slid another pillow beneath her ass, then slowly… so very slowly, slipped his fingers out of her zone.
Sitting on his haunches between her thighs, he looked lustfully at her, then placed his thumb against her clit, circling back and forth. She rocked her hips nice and slow to his movements, an orgasm soon knocking on her pelvic floor door. A hard, heavy hand cupped her right breast and gave it a squeeze. She shuddered when the wet heat from his mouth engulfed the left breast, sucking through the lacey sky-blue fabric.
He teased and pleased her, toyed with her, made her want him to the point of frustration. He kissed all the way down her body, slowly… slowly… slowly… until he reached her valley. With one hand resting against her upper stomach, and his other hand opening up her floral folds, she hissed when the soft, wet muscle from his mouth slipped and slid, sucked and flicked against her clit. She gripped his shoulders, holding on as she wrapped her legs around him, crisscrossing her ankles against his lower back.
While she mouthed things, shuddered and grinded, he slid his hand beneath her back and plucked her from the couch, lifting her into the air. Lavishing her pussy like a gourmet meal, the wet slurps of his mouth made her shake and tremble against his working lips. Holding her close, arm wrapped around her waist, he ate her pussy like the beast that he was, and made his way up his steps to his bedroom. Before they even reached there, she was raining into his mouth… a wet mess of a woman, her screams echoing through his home.
A cold sensation brushed against her back as he pressed her against something hard, soon discovering it was his master suite bedroom door. The thing swung open, and he brought her into the darkness, with only the bits of light from the outside that shone through his window lighting the way.
“Baby… your desires are my command. The sky is the limit. It’s time you give me what I want, and I’m definitely going to get my lion’s share…”
CHAPTER TEN
The Lion’s Roar…
HE WAS NEVER going to admit it.
Besides, pride was involved, and pride was his forte. He kept a stockpile of it on top of a stockpile, and had some in his pantry for an emergency. It was just that serious…
But Lazarist had begun to question his pussy hunting skills. Had he lost his touch? He’d whipped out so many tricks on the broad, he had no choice but to start recycling his tried and true ideas. She was blowing his ego to kingdom come, instead of his dick.
They’d been to the movies, out dancing, he’d taken her to restaurants with names that neither could even pronounce! He had to admit, they laughed way more than they argued, but when a disagreement did arise, it was due to one thing and one thing only. He was hard on the outside but sensitive on the inside, and she was the polar opposite. Perhaps, they could balance one another out.
Days had matured to weeks and he still hadn’t cornered sweet little Sky at the back of his cave. Once there, she’d have no choice but to succumb. Once he had her on his property, he had courtside advantage, but she still was making things difficult, toying with him, playing with his emotions. They’d even made out in his car where he finger-fucked the living daylights out of her, but then she gathered herself, pulled her dress down, and waved goodbye, as if the shit had never happened. He was beside himself with roaring rage. How dare she!
He’d resolved himself to the fact that she was going to stretch this out until he burst. Yet, although patience was wearing thin and he was growing weary and frustrated, he kept all this frustration bottled up. It was important to him that he remain, at least on the outside, calm, cool, and collected. Internally, however, it was a completely different story. Every time he found himself alone, he’d been jacking off to her photos practically non-stop.
Worst of all, he had no desire to race out and get his ‘fix’ from some random stranger, or even a tried and true fuckbuddy who’d be ready at the drop of a dime. No. His desires were strictly fixated on her, and he despised her for it. She was the sweet morsel that kept hiding and ducking, slipping away in the night. He’d race after her; she’d smell him coming and flee. He’d creep up on her; she’d roll around under the brush and obscure herself from sight. But now… the wait was finally over…
He flicked on the light in his bedroom, illuminating it just enough so he could take in the details of her beautiful body, and the bra and panties, which looked so good against her skin.
Of course they’re blue… she loves blue… how sweet…
I’ll beat that pussy black and blue… that’s what I’ll do!
He salivated at her image, feeling frisky as fuck.
He was in no hurry though. This meal needed to be savored.
“I’ll be right back.” He pointed to his bathroom door and she nodded.
After discarding the remainder of his clothing, he combed his hair just right. After all, he was very particular about his mane, and even in the throes of passion he wanted to look his best. Spritzing on a bit more cologne, he looked himself over in the bathroom mirror, then reached for th
e mouthwash and gave a vigorous swish. Once he exited the bathroom, he found her beautifully deposited in the center of his king sized bed, the sheets pulled up to her now fully exposed breasts. She’d already done the honors…
She’s no prude. This should be interesting…
He swallowed hard at the sight of her dark nipples poking out. Such lovely breasts she had… he guesstimated they were about a 38C or so, give or take. Rather large for her small frame but to him, they made her even more beautiful. He traced his lower lip with his tongue as he walked to a large curio cabinet in the corner of his bedroom. Opening it, he pulled out two red black cherry scented candles, lit them, and set them on a small desk.
Next, he reached for his white cane that lay against the wall.
“What are you going to do with that? I’m not into being beaten, so if that’s what you had in mind you can—”
And then she burst out laughing. He’d hooked it on his erect cock and made the cane swing back and forth as he performed dick tricks.
“Oh my God! You are so childish, Lazarist!”
Her laughter soothed him; he loved hearing the beautiful woman make that sound. Placing the cane back against the wall, he turned on his television and selected several musical playlists he’d created on his computer and uploaded to his TV saved network. This one was titled, ‘For Sky.’ He could feel her eyes upon him and hear her shifting under the covers.
“Oh, I see you were ready. You really think you’re slick! Unfortunately, you kinda are.”
He dropped his head and gave a light laugh.
“Of course I was ready. I’m always ready, baby.”
The first song began to play, ‘When We’ by Tank and Trey Songz. He liked how she cocked her head to the side, her lips twisted as if to say, ‘Really?’ He slowly rubbed his hands together and smiled at her, then mouthed the lyrics of the first line.