Willows, Jennifer - A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Jennifer Willows

  “What’s so funny, Charli?” Jamie asked.

  “I can’t believe I’m marrying him.”

  “Why not?” Makenzie asked, and Jamie seconded mentally. The man was richer than Croesus, sexier than Matthew McConaughey, and was head over heels in love. What more can any woman want? Jamie sure knew who she wanted though, and it wasn’t Deven.

  “Everything is too perfect. I don’t have a single zit, the wedding planning went seamlessly, and I love his mother. Something has to—”

  The words were cut off by Mak, who clamped a small hand over her friend’s mouth.

  “Uh-uh, don’t go inviting trouble. If it is good, be grateful. When it’s bad, pray.”

  Charli nodded her head in agreement and smiled.

  “You’re right, Mak. I just can’t believe how perfect he is. The last months have been heaven. I just don’t know how to feel. Sometimes I find myself giddy, and I don’t know why. Other times I’m paranoid that I will end up a Stepford wife because I’m too desperate to keep him.”

  “I know. Those Moreland men have a way about them.” Mak put her glass over to her friend and gently clinked the rims of the two snifters together.

  “Jamie, if you only knew.” Charli just shook her head.

  “I know enough.” Jamie let the words speak for themselves, complete with a knowing look. Charli pursed her lips and looked abashed for a split second.

  “No way, I can’t believe I’m that loud.” Charli looked dumb for a moment then appeared to reconsider. “Maybe I am. Hell, he works hard to make that happen.”

  Jamie laughed. She never felt like screaming with frustration and joy at the same time. Maybe some women were not made to orgasm during sex. The only time she got off was alone with a trusty toy, and even then that didn’t feel like much worth the effort.

  “Makenzie, you don’t have a leg to stand on, girl. So I suggest you stop cackling like a hen ova there.” Makenzie turned beet red and laughed harder.

  “Girl, shut up, I can’t help he’s hung like two horses.” Makenzie shuddered and sipped her liquor slowly. “Mmm…that sounds appropriate.” Charli smirked a bit and swallowed the rest of her glass.

  Jamie still sipped hers and let the mellow burn to her belly. She should tell them. She had finished the tat months ago. To give herself a dose of courage, she downed the rest of her glass back in a long gulp. Jamie spoke up.

  “I have something to show ya’ll.” Both Makenzie and Charli looked at their friend in unison, eyes searching her for a hint.

  “What is it?” Charli busted out and asked.

  “This.” Jamie stood and pulled her green T-shirt off. Her friends gasped aloud, and she hadn’t even turned around yet.

  “Wow…” Charli and Makenzie spoke in unison. They walked over and circled Jamie, each looking at the detail on the ink bisecting her belly and back.

  “It’s awesome. I love it!” Charli jumped up and hugged her friend. “That took some balls, girl. Who would have thunk it? Our Jamie tatted up like sailors on shore leave.”

  Jamie laughed. Only Charli would say that.

  Makenzie looked thoughtful for a moment and started searching out the detail with her eyes.

  “Would you let me paint you?” Makenzie’s hands clenched slightly, and Jamie could see she was itching to sketch.

  “Sure, why?”

  “Just the dichotomy of duality. The tattoo brings you a depth that I have to capture on canvas. Do you mind being topless? Or maybe nude?” The question seemed to come from left field as Makenzie’s gaze was glazed over, and Jamie realized that her friend wasn’t all there at the moment.

  “Uh—” Jamie was shocked by the idea, and she knew her expression had to be that of a deer caught in the headlights.

  “I don’t think our Jamie is game for that, Makenzie,” Charli interjected, and Makenzie’s face showed she agreed. The fact that her friends even thought she didn’t have the balls to do it made up Jamie’s mind.

  “Sure, Makenzie, I’d love to pose for you.” Jamison spoke before she realized it. The pair of mouths facing her went slack, and their lips gaped wider than their eyes did.

  “Word’s bond, Jamie?” Makenzie wasn’t going to let her squirm out of her promise.

  “Yeah, word is bond. And don’t worry, Charli. It will be covered in time for the reception.” Jamie smiled and thought that it was a bit fun to spoil other people’s expectations of her.

  “Down the hatch, ladies.” Charli came back and poured a small shot of Ciroc in each glass. They all clinked glasses and tossed their drinks back.

  “Charli, boo, it’s time to get you hitched, girl.” Makenzie tugged her to the bathroom and applied the base make up to make Charli glow even brighter, and Jamie tugged off the Gucci scarf covering her hair up. The hair was finished for the most part, as Charli had the extensions and roller set earlier. The only thing left was to let the rollers out, brush to a side ponytail at the nape, and make a chignon. The front of her do was a Farrah Fawcett inspired bang and side part. Charlotte would pin the flowers later, and Charli’s mom, Geraldine, would be in to help her dress. Makenzie finished the makeup with a bit of time to spare and gave Charli a robe.

  “Put this on then have these.” She handed Charli a pack of crackers and a cold bottle of Jamaican ginger beer from the fridge.

  Jamie walked away with Mak, the pair splitting up at the stairwell headed for their own rooms.

  When she made it back to the room, Jamie found she didn’t have too much time left. Opting to call Charlotte before getting ready, she got the voice mail instead and opted to leave a message. First Jamie undressed, putting on a pair of PJ pants and a robe from the closet to keep her clothes clean while she made her face up. She then put on a light coat of base makeup and powder, mascara, and smudge of liner on her eyelids. A matte lipstick was last.

  When she put on earrings, she heard a knock at the door and, assuming it was Charlotte, opened it wide. But it wasn’t Charlotte. Marq stood there instead, half-dressed. He wore a wifebeater A-line tank with his tuxedo pants and shoes. The pants were a more modern cut and clung closely to his thick thighs and slim hips. His hair was combed in a classic side part, making him look even more yuppie and even more yummy. If the man wasn’t sex on a stick, then Jamie had no idea who was. After it became apparent she was a deer in the headlights, Marq smirked slightly and walked inside as if he owned the joint as usual.

  “Mom told me you needed some help.”

  Jamie was stunned. Charlotte sent him?

  “W–w–what?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But she promised–d–d she would h–help.” Damn the stutter. Jamie had something to say.

  “Something about a tattoo? Covering it up ring a bell?” If anything, the initial smirk on Marq’s lips became an ear-to-ear grin. Jamie could see he was enjoying her discomfort, and her anger rose even further. The fury made her next words very clear and left no mistake as to how she felt.

  “Why are you here then? Your mother is supposed to help me. There was nothing in that discussion to lead me to believe you would be here in lieu.”

  “But didn’t you get her message? She had to get the champagne for the toast and won’t be back until just before the reception starts.”

  “Well, then I’ll wait.”

  “No can do. Mom needs to get dressed just like you do.” No way was she going to let him see her nude, even partially.

  “T–th–hanks but n–no thanks.”

  “Come on, Jamison. I do bite, but it feels good. Promise. Plus, if you show me yours, I’ll be sure to show you mine.” The comic leer on his face combined with an exaggerated wink made Jamie fall halfway over in laughter.

  But even as she laughed, Jamie’s curiosity got the best of her. What did he have on his back?

  * * * *

  As he stood in front of her door, Marques felt his hands shake slightly, and he wiped the moisture off of his palms onto his slacks. He had the feeling that Jamison wasn’t goin
g to appreciate that he showed up instead of his mom. But, he thought smugly, at least he had a valid reason for it.

  Marq was in the process of getting ready when he got a phone call from his mother.

  “Hey, Marq, I need a huge favor.”

  “Sure, Mom, what is it?”

  “I just called Jamison, but she didn’t answer the phone. I left her a message, but there’s no telling if she will check the room extension or not. I promised her that I would help her do some airbrush on her back before she got dressed today, and I’m not going to make it. The wine order is still screwed up. Can you help her for me? You’re the only person I can ask.” Airbrush Jamison’s back? That sounded like a recipe for either a really good time or a severely awkward moment.

  “Sure, Mom. When are you supposed to be there?”

  “Give or take, ten minutes ago.”

  “I’m not dressed, but I can get to her in ten minutes.” He couldn’t wait.

  It took a moment for her to answer the door, and he wisely used the extra seconds to put on his best poker face. He explained why he was there, but even with the legitimate reasoning, he felt like a pervert due to his excitement to see a partially nude woman. Well, he amended, not just any woman could make him this nervous, but his dawn yogi somehow did.

  “O–okay.” Jamie backed up to walk into the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To put on a shirt.”

  “None needed. You can’t wear one when we apply the airbrush anyway.” Marq sauntered the handful of feet needed to reach her. He made a twirling motion with his hand. Jamie complied, and his hands wrapped around her waist. She trembled, and he spread his hands across her belly in an attempt to soothe her.

  “Sh. It’s all right.” He kept moving and unbelted the robe, sliding the plush fabric from her shoulders. Gravity took over, and the heavy garment whispered to the floor. Jamie crossed her arms over her breasts, their ample weight bound against her body with forearms.

  Marq sucked a heavy breath then held it, inhalation sharp in the silence of the now too-small cabin. His cock rose to full mast in seconds even as he leaned back to catch the full view. Even as he noticed the sinuous wraparound of the pattern, Marques walked a circle, eyes torn between the band splicing her belly and the swell of breast above it. The mounds of breast were barely covered and too large for his hands and mouth. His cock grew even stiffer, and the length of him stretched down his now-too-tight pants leg.

  Marq was aroused. His blood rushed from every direction to converge in one place, and he knew she could feel the spike of his erection against her body. Her hands fisted tight, and he fantasized that she really wanted to touch him but couldn’t free her breasts without exposure of the very thing she worked to keep hidden.

  “How far does it go?” Since he couldn’t see all of it, he had to ask. Marq was sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being fully disrobed yet.

  “The tail—”

  The words were cut off as Marq decided to find out for himself. He stepped behind her and tugged the right side of her pants low enough to see the tail of the snake curl over the rise of buttock. He had a sudden urge to fuck her into muscle spasms so he could watch the snake tattoo slither.

  “Consider yourself lucky.”

  “W–why?”

  “If there wasn’t less than an hour for the reception, I’d be inside you right now.”

  “N–noo you—” He could see what she was thinking, the concern mixed with lust in her eyes. Jamison was unnerved because she didn’t know him. Not really. “Yes, I would, make no mistake. The way you’re trembling tells me you’d love what I’ll do with you.” His mouth perched next to her ear, even as his arms wrapped below hers, supporting the lower curve of breast.

  “Is this the airbrush kit?” Jamie looked over at the bed, where the bag waited.

  “Uh, yes it is.”

  “Sit on the edge of the bed for me.” Jamie let him lead her to the corner of the bed.

  She watched as Marq expertly screwed together the various nozzles and mix paint.

  “The color should be okay.”

  “Yes, but you want it perfect, right?”

  Jamie shut her mouth and let Marq proceed. He first wiped over the skin with an alcohol wipe to ensure she was totally free of natural oils. Next, his fingers trailed over the head of the snake at her left shoulder. When the airbrush touched her, the spray mist chilled against fevered skin. Jamie felt goose bumps pebble over her, nearly head to toe. Occasionally, he would stop and mix more paint before beginning the application again. When he finished, Marq helped her stand and walked her to the mirror on the wall and let her look in a smaller hand mirror to check his handiwork. “Thanks, you did a great job.”

  “My pleasure. It will be about a half hour before you can put on the dress though.” And he would like nothing more than spending the time with her. There were several positions they could try out and not mar the finish of her freshly covered skin.

  “I have some powder to finish it off right here.”

  Marq stuck his hand out for the brush and compact.

  He took the large puff and used it to jab at the compact. Jamie giggled and took it from him.

  “Swirl it gently, like this.” She showed him, rubbing the brush in a sweeping circle over the translucent powder. She only had one arm to secure her breasts, and Marq swallowed. He had to get a taste of the nipples she barely concealed from him. “Then pat it on like so.” She showed him, using her clenched forearm for demonstration.

  Marq’s temple throbbed as the brush lovingly caressed her upper swell of breast and arm. He wanted nothing more than to latch his lips on the dusted spot and suckle the powder from her skin. But he instead took the brush and used it on her freshly painted back. He couldn’t wait to take off the paint for her tonight. His teeth ground together as his jaw clenched tightly, need riding him hard. When he finished, Marq skimmed his hands over the supple skin of Jamison’s back, wishing he could touch more of her, all of her.

  * * * *

  Jamison was still shuddering against the dresser when Marq left, the door snicking closed the only hint of his exit. Getting the dress on only should have taken a few minutes, but Jamie found her fumbling fingers hindering her. She wasn’t even fully dressed, and she needed to be above board in ten minutes. Finally the quaking in her hands ceased, and Jamie pulled the dress around her and zipped up the garment. She slid on the flat, jeweled, thong sandal and fluffed her hair. It was time to make nice with the wedding guests.

  The event was lavish, with gilded tablecloths and sparking table settings. There was a soul-train line that started compliments of the bride. Jamie couldn’t dance, not one lick, and had no desire to shimmy her stuff. Even if she was the only black woman without rhythm in America, that was best kept to herself. But the devil was coming for his due, and Jamie found herself holding up a ship wall watching as usual. She saw many things while observing. She saw wives who drank like fishes, never seen without a glass of some stiff liquor in hand. She saw dissatisfied men, eyeing their next conquest. There were single socialites all hoping to snag the attention of the last single Moreland brother.

  Marq’s countenance seemed stiff, so unlike the man she glimpsed over the last days. He appeared to keep everyone around him laughing at pithy retorts and witty ripostes. The quintessential gentleman, he transformed into a man of leisure after sucking the world of all its pleasures. She tried her best to look at him with a distanced eye, almost as if seeing him as a reflection and not standing before her in the flesh. It didn’t work. If anything, he was more attractive to her. His looks were debonair, just as at home in the tux as in his own skin. Her thighs quivered as she remembered his hands over her skin just an hour ago. She tried to forget the way he mapped her flesh with the touch of his skilled hands.

  Jamie tried not to look. She really did. But he drew her gaze like a magnet, and she couldn’t help coming back toward the pull. It seemed like he was watching her, to
o, at least when she looked in his direction, he was looking in hers. Nah. He couldn’t be, could he? The question was answered shortly after when he made his excuses from the small group that flocked around him. Jamison looked away as quickly as she could, hoping that her “don’t see me” trick worked. Now. Before anyone else had the opportunity to notice her and engage her in unwanted conversation.

  “Dance with me.”

  Jamie felt her cheeks pinken and ducked her head slightly. “No thanks.”

  “I’m not going to let you disappear. If you don’t dance with me now, you’ll regret it.”

  “How so?”

  “Let’s just say I owe you something that you won’t get if you don’t dance with me.”

  Ohh. Jamie remembered now. She was so flustered that she forgot he owed her a peek of the ink striping his back.

  “But I can’t dance.”

  “I don’t believe that, not one bit.”

  “Why should I care if you believe me?” How dare Marq think he was going to egg her into this.

  “You do. You just won’t admit it. Plus, dancing is all about leading and following. It’s simple.”

  “For a person with a right and left foot maybe. Not to mention a dash of rhythm.”

  “Watch.” Marq swept Jamie up, using one hand at the small of her back and the other clasping her at the wrist. He looked her in the eyes, and Jamie felt her knees loosen. He swayed with her at first, just acclimating her to the feel of him. She felt herself moving along, almost naturally. Then his left hand skimmed over her spine, the path he took as if he felt the ink under the body makeup. She began shuddering, her breaths choppy and harsh. The stuttered pant was audible and even to her own ears sounded labored.

  Marq maneuvered his head lower and whispered, “You feel me? The way we move together is so sweet, feels better than fucking.”

  It did. The sway of their bodies was that of two lovers sated with sex but needing the contact of their bodies to affirm they were awake. That the sensations were real and not imagined. Jamie was so hot all over her skin felt tight, like a sausage casing under pressure. The hand Marq clasped hers with wrecked devastation. The thumb stroked idly, rubbing the creased skin at the wrist, then in tight circles inside her palm.