“Yes,” Lindsay whispered, lips quivering.
His mouth hovered near hers. “Thought you would.”
He squeezed again, picking up the speed of his thrusts. “Still?” His voice was a husky growl.
“Yes.” The gentle pressure increased the thrill. She’d never known anything could feel so good and wouldn’t trust just any man with such a delicate act, but she trusted Malik. She was vulnerable and at his mercy, but he’d proven he was careful on more than one occasion.
“I want you to come hard, sweetheart. I want you to scream and beg so loud that your neighbors know my name.”
His body drove into hers, the penetration hard and deep like she’d asked. Circling her hips and wrapping her arms around his torso, Lindsay sucked in a breath each time he lessened the grip on her throat. She bounced her hips higher and faster, but he refused to match her pace. He was in full control now. He dictated the pace.
A slow heat built in her loins as Malik altered the angle of his hips and hit the spot that gave her the sweetest pleasure. He hit it over and over again until she was holding his shoulders in a death grip and begging for release.
Mouth open, gasping, ripples of pleasure coursed under her skin. “Yes, yes. Malik...I’m, I’m coming!” She convulsed around the throbbing length of him.
“That’s it. Come for daddy.” His fingers tightened around her throat.
She shoved and grabbed him at the same time. Whimpers chased moans in a continuous cry as her oxygen-deprived brain increased the intensity of the climax.
He fired off multiple thrusts in rapid succession, harder and with an animalistic growl in his throat. Then he let loose a loud groan in her ear as he exploded into the condom and then collapsed beside her.
Later, while Malik was in the bathroom, Lindsay dragged the sheet over her sex-sensitive skin. It was clear that after that bout of lovemaking, she’d unleashed a raging bull, and tonight she was in for the time of her life.
Chapter 15
Malik removed his welding helmet. “What do you think, girl?” he asked his dog.
He rolled back on the stool, away from the metal table he’d been working on, and examined the aluminum fragments he’d forged together.
Sunning her black coat in the entrance to the barn, Daisy lifted her head and barked.
“You’re right. Needs more work.” Malik stood and tossed his gloves onto the bench. Stretching his arms high above his head, he let out a low moan. “Lunch time. I’m starving and Unc will be here soon.”
Malik locked the barn, and he and Daisy went into the house. He poured water and dog food in bowls in the kitchen and changed into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Minutes later, his uncle, Oscar Brooks, pulled into the yard.
Malik ran down the steps to meet him. “Perfect timing,” he said, as he hopped into the SUV.
Oscar was married to one of the richest women in the country, Sylvie Johnson, billionaire entrepreneur and philanthropist. She tended to use a chauffeur, but not his uncle. When alone, he preferred to drive himself wherever he needed to go.
“How’s my favorite nephew?” Oscar asked, backing out of the driveway.
“Hungry.” Malik buckled his seat belt.
“Good thing we’re going to lunch, but I’m in the mood for Brazilian.”
“Sounds like a plan. I haven’t had Brazilian food in a while. I could eat a bucketful of that cheese bread.”
“Pão de queijo.”
Malik’s father, Dirk, had been born a few years before Oscar, and both men shared the same father. Oscar’s mother was a pale-skinned Brazilian woman, and his father was a brown-skinned Black American. His mixed-race background resulted in swarthy skin and loose curls that contained a patch of gray over his right temple.
They drove until they arrived at the side of metro Atlanta that contained a solid Brazilian presence, resulting in restaurants and bakeries that specialized in food from South America’s largest country. At the restaurant, they were greeted by the current owner-chef, son of the original owner who’d been a friend of Oscar’s mother.
They were shown to a seat in the small dining room of the semi-crowded restaurant, and after they placed their orders, Malik took a good look at his uncle’s hair. “So Sylvie hasn’t told you to cut your hair?”
“What do you think?” Oscar said, running his fingers through the loose curls.
“I should have known better. Of course she did.”
“That’s my punishment for marrying a fashion maven,” Oscar said with a wry twist to his mouth. “She and I have an event to attend tonight. After we finish our meal, I’m off to see the barber for a cut and shave.”
“She still won’t let you grow a full beard, huh?”
He shook his head. “I’m working on her, but she’s stubborn. I’ve learned to pick my battles.” After a divorce that spanned fifteen years, last year the couple remarried in a ceremony that took place in a small village in the south of France.
“What’s the event you’re attending tonight?” Malik sipped his water and then set it back on the table.
“Hell if I know. I’m only an escort. Something organized by a wealthy venture capitalist and friend of Sylvie’s. Someone she met after we were divorced.”
By the way his eyebrows sank over his eyes, Malik suspected his uncle wasn’t too happy about tonight’s activity. “You got a problem with going to the event?” he asked.
“I have a problem with the man hosting it. He has the hots for my wife, and he doesn’t have the decency to hide it. Not even when I’m around.”
“You don’t trust her?” Malik asked.
“I trust Sylvie. It’s that disrespectful louse I don’t trust. He thinks because he’s loaded he deserves her more than I do. I told Sylvie if he makes one more inappropriate comment to her tonight, there’s going to be a problem. My subtle attempts of telling him to stay the hell away from her haven’t worked. She said she’ll talked to him and set him straight. I told her if she didn’t, I will, and my words will be accompanied by a fist to the face to help him get the message.”
Malik laughed. “Unc, you can’t go around punching people.”
“Some people deserve it,” Oscar muttered.
Under normal circumstances, his uncle was as cool as an icicle and very laid back. The only times he’d seen him lose his temper was where Sylvie was concerned. He used to go into angry rages after one of their confrontations, but ever since the reconciliation, he’d turned possessive. Not surprising, since he was a man who’d lost his wife once before and had no intention of losing her again.
“Enough about me. I brought you out to lunch to get an update on you. Tell me what’s going on with your work.” Oscar folded his arms on the table and settled in to pay attention.
Malik updated him on the pieces he’d worked on and caught him up on other matters in his life. Talking to Oscar was a welcome relief, as he’d become a surrogate father since Malik wasn’t close to his own father, Dirk.
After Bessie died, he hadn’t felt like he could reach out to his Brooks family because they’d never been close. Bessie kept mostly to herself, steering clear of the Brooks because of her toxic relationship with Dirk. Embittered when she passed away, Malik also steered clear of his father’s family because he thought they’d rejected him and his mother. He spent a few years floundering until Oscar tracked him down and became a positive influence in his life.
Like Bessie, Oscar believed in Malik and was part of the reason he worked so hard over the past few years. He needed to prove that Oscar and Bessie’s belief in him hadn’t been misplaced.
By the end of the meal, he had told his uncle about Lindsay’s scheme. They were close enough that he felt comfortable sharing the story, though he left out the part that they’d had sex.
Oscar’s eyebrows raised when he heard about the ruse, but he made no comment, only sipped his post-meal cafezinho as he listened. “Well, whatever you two have going on, at least she’s hard at work for you.”
“There’s nothing going on between us.” Except for hot sex that made him realize once wouldn’t be enough. At first, he told himself it was because he hadn’t had a woman in a long time but immediately recognized the lie for what it was. It was Lindsay, and he wanted her again. “This…whatever you want to call this thing we’re doing…is only temporary. If she does what she says she will, I can pay back the loan.”
Oscar waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. Take care of your needs first. There’s no rush. I’m not hurting for money.”
“You know I can’t do that, Unc.” Malik appreciated his uncle’s nonchalant attitude about the loan, but he couldn’t let the debt slide. He pulled out his wallet and handed Oscar a folded check. “That’s the first installment.”
Courtesy of Winthrop Hotels, he’d made enough money on his first sale to catch up his bills and make an effort with his uncle. The hotel contact hadn’t purchased the tree sculpture, but they’d liked some of his other work and purchased a couple of pieces for the lobby of two of their hotels.
Oscar shook his head. “Just like your mother. Stubborn as hell.”
Malik smiled. Maybe so. Oscar had once told him he didn’t have to build a business on his own. He encouraged him to use their connections, but he’d wanted to succeed on his own merits.
“I prefer to say I’m resolute.”
“I bet you would.” Oscar tucked the check into his shirt pocket without even looking at it. “I told you that you didn’t have to pay me back, but you insist on doing it. I won’t stop you, but helping you was the least I could do after the way Dirk treated Bessie. I would have been there for her financially if I’d known the details.”
Malik nodded and rubbed a finger across the spot where his upper lip jumped. He realized, now anyway, that Oscar would have helped them, but at the time he hadn’t known the isolation he and his mother suffered was really a result of her own pride and stubborn nature. At least now he had a new family—one that was supportive and non-judgmental. One that had embraced him in a way he’d previously hoped for.
“Malik.”
He had been lost in his thoughts and looked up to see Oscar staring at him.
“About your mom and Dirk—”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“None of us were pleased about the way he cheated on her and never took care of the two of you. I don’t know where he learned that behavior because our father was not that kind of man. He took care of his responsibilities. Dirk should have been there when you were growing up. He should have been there to help her when she needed him.”
“It is what it is. Can’t miss someone if they were never there. I don’t blame him for what happened to my mother.”
His stomach tightened with renewed grief and his upper lip jumped into an erratic beat, which happened when he thought too much about her last days. How she’d tried to protect him by keeping the gravity of the situation from him almost to the very end. Her disease-ridden body had been frail after she’d given up hope, her eyes dull, and a grayish pallor in her previously glowing brown skin.
“The blame lies with the company that she’d invested her money in. Steele Investments…” Malik shook his head, grinding his teeth against each other. “I’ll never forgive them. They stole her life savings, and as far as I’m concerned, they killed her.”
“You still have a lot of anger, Malik, and I can’t say I wouldn’t feel the same way if I were in your shoes. Be careful, okay? Think about what your mother would have wanted, and think about what’s best for you and your peace of mind.”
“Are you saying I should forgive them?” He didn’t believe in forgiveness when another person caused such irreparable harm. They didn’t deserve to be absolved of wrongdoing.
“I’m saying don’t let anger consume you. When we’re angry, we make the worst mistakes. Take it from an old guy who’s made his fair share of terrible mistakes. I wouldn’t want you to live with the same regrets I have.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I think anger can be a good thing, actually. Keeps situations in perspective and keeps us from being taken advantage of.” Malik forced his body to relax. “My mother didn’t deserve to die like that, and I’ll never forgive those sons of bitches for what they did to her. The ringleader is lucky he’s dead. If he wasn’t, I might have killed him myself.”
Chapter 16
On her way from the copy room, Lindsay paused mid-stride, unable to believe what she read on her phone screen. She let out a little squeal and dialed Malik’s number as she picked up the pace to her office.
His low voice came over the phone. “Hello?”
It was hard to have a normal conversation with him after what they’d shared last weekend, but she kept her voice neutral. One time. That’s what they’d agreed to.
“Hey, Malik, I have some news.” She entered her office, tossed the copies on her credenza, and propped her butt on the edge of the desk. “You’re going to thank me when you hear this. You have a showing at a local gallery off Highway 85. Ever heard of Noble Art Gallery?”
“I have. They’re a pretty big outfit. They have what, three locations around the city, don’t they?”
“That’s right. Their fundraising auctions are notoriously successful, and they’re known for all the high-end art they sell. They have an invitation-only event planned for two weeks from Friday for up-and-coming artists. It’s the kind of thing they do for a small segment of their mailing list who want to be part of discovering hot new talent. I’d told Hal to keep an ear to the ground regarding any opportunities for you. He found out that one of the artists who was supposed to attend the Noble Art event, a sculptor, had to cancel—family emergency or something. They were looking to replace him with another sculptor, and Hal sent them to your website and Instagram page. He texted me a second ago to say they want you to take the place of the other artist.”
“Are you saying that I have a showing?”
Lindsay grinned when she heard the excitement in his voice. “Along with two other artists, yes. Get ready to schmooze some very wealthy people with lots of money to spend. Tell me you’re free.”
“Hell yeah, I’m free.”
“Awesome. I’ll text you the info so you can get in touch with them.”
“How about you give it to me when you see me?”
Lindsay paused. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” she said carefully.
“You’ll see me in a few minutes. I just walked into the lobby of your office.”
“What?” Lindsay said softly.
“Brought you lunch. I’m checking in with the receptionist now. See you in a little bit.”
Malik hung up, and for a moment, Lindsay was so stunned she couldn’t move. Was he serious? Then the phone on her desk rang, and the receptionist told her she had a visitor—Malik Brooks. He was serious.
“Send him back,” she said.
Lindsay hung up and straightened her black slacks and checked her face real quick to make sure her makeup was still intact. Unlike some of the other entrepreneurs she shared office space with, she always came into the office dressed well even though she seldom had outside visitors.
At the knock on her door, she called, “Come in,” from behind her desk.
Malik walked in holding a Styrofoam cup and brown paper sack and looked very delicious in a chest-hugging orange T-shirt and jeans. Her pulse rate tripled. She wanted him like she never wanted any man before. Breathe.
“Hey.” He gave the room a cursory review, and when the corners of his mouth pushed up into a slow, delicious smile, her toes curled in her shoes.
“What’s in the bag?” Lindsay went to stand in front of him.
“Mexican food from your new favorite place.” He handed the food and drinks to her.
His gaze traveled over her body, and she felt his look as if he’d trailed his fingers over her breasts and waist.
“My new favorite place?” she asked, continuing
the friendly conversation despite the way the temperature in the room had raised a few notches. “On Buford Highway, I guess?”
“Of course.”
He was right. It was her new favorite place. She’d been back several times since their trip there.
Lindsay set the items on the table and peeked in the bag.
“A couple of tacos and a burrito,” Malik said. He was much closer now, his voice low and the heat from his body warming her back.
“That’s a lot of food.” She closed the bag.
“You can save some for later.”
Lindsay turned to face him, and he was standing closer than she thought. She reached for the mental strength required not to maul him.
“Why are you all up on me?” She stepped back so her thighs bumped the edge of the desk.
“Why do you think?” He came closer. A few more inches and they’d touch.
“I have no idea. I have no idea why you’re even here,” she whispered, because that’s all she could manage.
Malik hooked a finger in the waistband of her black slacks and pulled until the tips of her breasts touched his chest. His gaze dropped to her lips. “I think you know why I’m here.”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
His gaze flicked up to hers, and their eyes locked. “I’d rather show you.”
With a hand at her nape, Malik slanted his mouth over hers. She gave in without hesitation. He was an excellent kisser, and his mouth moved over hers with a level of expertise that made her moan and fold her arms behind his neck. She dragged him closer, parting her lips and pushing her tongue into his mouth. Standing on tiptoe, she urged closer contact. The soft hairs of his beard rubbed against her cheek as he kissed the corners of her mouth and plucked her lower lip between his teeth.
Lindsay framed his face with her hands, and when he pushed her against the desk, one leg wound around his so he could comfortably fit in the cradle of her thighs. Feeling the hard swell of an erection, excitement seized her blood, and she fastened her arms around him and opened her mouth for a full French kiss.
Wild Thoughts Page 10