by Cairo
Josiah looked up at her, a smile eased over his cunt-juiced lips. He licked her wet seam, then slid a finger inside of her, felt around in her heat. Fucked into her core. Searched for her pleasure zone. Then, when he found it, wedged a second finger in. Nairobia gasped. He loved the sound of her juices. Loved the way the folds of her pussy flared. Her pussy was heaven for him.
He tugged her succulent clit between his lips and softly sucked, nursing on it until it swelled and throbbed against his tongue. Nairobia was on the verge of coming. She dropped her cell, forgetting…
Marcel who?
Marcel what?
He could listen to her cries of pleasure from the floor for all she cared. Her pussy fluttered around Josiah’s tongue and fingers.
And then she came.
SIX
The following afternoon, Nairobia pulled into the subterranean parking garage of her apartment building and was greeted by one of the valet, Ethan. He greeted her with a smile as he opened her door and helped her out of her Lambor-ghini.
She returned his smile and thanked him, before sliding him a twenty-dollar bill. She didn’t have to tip him, but she found the blond-haired, blue-eyed attendant adorable. And she saw how he always looked at her every time he was on shift. With eyes filled with curiosity and heated want.
A part of her wanted to indulge his desires with a dose of good pussy. But she knew fucking him would more than likely ruin him. She didn’t want that on her conscience. Being responsible for turning out yet another, horny manchild.
Josiah was more than enough.
Before him, there had been her young Spanish lover, Felipe. And the one before Felipe had been her Italian Stallion, Carlo. And then there’d been Javier, Zeus, Adam, Mark, Lewis…in that order.
Nairobia never kept any of them around for longer than a year, however. There was no need to. All her lovers ever needed was, a year of good-fuck training from her. She saw it her duty, her sole mission in life, to deliver them toe-curling sexual experiences by teaching them how to be good in bed, how to be open-minded and sexually adventurous. The more open-minded, good lovers there were in the world, the less likely for women to be sexually unfulfilled.
She believed you had to train them—potential lovers—up while they were still young…and teachable. Legal age of, course. Still, you had to get them while they were ripe and ready for the picking, or you might end up with another sexually challenged—or worse, a selfish lover. Nairobia found most men were too set in their egotistical ways and too difficult to open their minds and free them of their sexual repression. Unlocking their inhibitions was more of a challenge than it was sometimes worth.
So she’d rather seduce them while they were young. Fuck one young cock at a time. Turn him out. Then send him out into the world. Hard cocked and horny, prepared to make a woman’s toes curl, fucking deep inside her pleasure zone.
Surprisingly, she’d still kept Josiah around.
He was her special one.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Jensen,” Ethan said, cutting into her reverie.
Nairobia raked her gaze up and down his body, taking in all five feet, eleven inches of him. He was too meek for her. And way too short. But he had a lean, muscular build. And he had a strong jaw, strong nose, angular face, and high cheekbones. He wore his thick golden-blond hair longish, the ends brushing past his collar. And he had a deep, powerful voice to be so young. Oh he was young. But he was so ripe and ready to have his cock in her.
Oh if only he were a bit more aggressive. She found the meek ones to be…well, let’s see…potentially hazardous. They had the potential to become stalker-ish after a dose of good pussy. That was the last thing she needed on her hands, some sex-crazed manchild pestering her for more pussy. She knew the aftermath of such foolishness. She’d been there, done that: the harassing phone calls, the gifts, the stalking.
Nairobia had no interest in drama.
She shuddered at the memory. “Thank you,” she said. She licked her lips and leaned into Ethan. “I’m sure I’d enjoy you more, my love. Perhaps one day.” Then she kissed him on the cheek, keenly aware by the lump in his pants that she’d aroused him, once again.
Designer bag dangling in the crook of her arm, Nairobia sauntered off, while Ethan struggled to keep his eyes off her as he always did. Yes. It was no secret. He had a burning crush on her. And he kept a hard-on in his pants for her. All the time.
Shit. She was Nairobia Jansen after all.
He’d been working part-time at the luxury high-rise building for close to three years, but the minute he’d found out who she was, he’d gone and ordered every porn movie she’d ever starred in. He even had clips of her on his smartphone for those midday moments when he wanted, needed, release.
As if she could feel his eyes on her, Nairobia glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring at her ass.
Busted.
She winked at him, then sassily strutted toward the elevator, leaving behind the faint trace of her floral perfume. She smiled, and swung her hips to give him a little show. He was so aroused, his balls heavy, his cock aching. Every time he saw her, she made his body hot and sizzling.
He inhaled. Suddenly he could smell her. Just her. Among the exhaust fumes and rubber, somehow Nairobia was the only thing he breathed in.
God, what a horn dog he was. He couldn’t help himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Couldn’t stop lusting her. Couldn’t stop imagining the feel of his hands caressing her body.
A sly smile slid over her lips as she envisioned Ethan in back of her, still staring at her ass. One time she’d caught his gaze locked on her protruding nipples, and she’d asked him flat-out if he wanted to lick them, suckle them in his mouth, if he wanted to tease them with his fingertips.
Oh, and there was the time she’d brazenly asked, whispering the question low enough for only him to hear, how big his cock was, causing the twenty-one-year-old NYU student’s cheeks to flush.
Another time, she slipped out of a pair of lacy thongs—on one of those rare occasions when she wore underwear—right in front of him and slipped them inside his pocket. “Take me to bed with you tonight, my love,” she’d said, low and sultry.
He’d almost come on himself on the spot.
But those sweet panties were in his hands and up to his nose way before he’d ever made it home. He spent his whole hour lunch break sniffing her, licking the inside of her crotch wildly as he watched his favorite porn movie of her, Cum Snatcher.
And there had been a few other awkwardly enticing moments…
Nairobia’s gaze lingered on the young valet’s face, and he blushed, not sure if he should turn his own gaze away or run over and press her up against the elevator door and fuck her.
He had nice-sized balls, but God, he wished he had bigger ones to do it. He’d fuck her good, too. Or at least try.
Nairobia placed the palm of her hand up against the security panel, and the elevator leading to the top floor slid open.
She blew him a kiss, and Ethan swallowed as the elevator closed behind her. He stood a moment longer, then, before he slid behind Nairobia’s car’s wheel and drove off to park it in its designated spot, he looked around the parking garage, then slyly leaned in and sniffed her seat. He licked over the leather where he believed her pussy and ass had been. He imagined she tasted like honey and felt incredible. Fuck, yeah, baby. He fantasized about having his long cock in her. She was nothing like the campus sluts he rammed. Nairobia was a grown woman. Experienced in the art of fucking. And he wanted to be covered in her heat. Painted by her warm juices.
She was his ultimate fantasy.
One day he’d drum up the courage to make it a reality. He knew he’d probably bust fast. Of course he would. In most of her five-minute movie clips, she’d been able to make the male actors in them come quick. And they were pros for Christ’s sake!
Ethan groaned inwardly. He’d never last with her.
He’d have to take
two Viagra pills and a Red Bull.
And invest in a cock ring to keep up with the infamous Pleasure.
SEVEN
She leaned back against the brass handrail, and glanced up at the surveillance camera mounted in the corner and mouthed, “Lick my kut.” She enunciated the words as if she were speaking them directly to someone. She felt like being naughty. Felt like giving whatever horny soul was on duty today a peep show. But she licked her lips instead, and pulled out her ringing smartphone. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.
“Ja?”
“Bonjour belle.” Hello, beautiful.
Nairobia caught a glimpse of herself in the elevator’s mirrored walls, and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. She had to admit, she looked remarkably stunning for a woman who’d only had three hours of sleep. Beauty was only skin deep. Nairobia knew that. And she knew once the physical beauty faded, if you didn’t have good character, if you didn’t have a good heart, then you had nothing. She’d known over the years beautiful people who were downright ugly on the inside.
Nairobia ran a hand through her hair. “MarSell, mijn liefde. Bonjour. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I was thinking about you, baby,” he said in his rich baritone voice. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.” The elevator dinged, announcing the arrival to Nairobia’s floor. She stepped out into the marble foyer when the door slid open. “You know I live for today, my darling. Why?”
“Well, baby, how about you live for tomorrow and let me whisk you away for the day?”
“Oh, no, no, my love.” Nairobia placed her palm against a wall-mounted security pad. “You call me from a private number, then want to kidnap me for the day?” The smooth mahogany doors slid open automatically. And Nairobia stepped in.
Marcel chuckled. “I’m not tryna kidnap you, baby. Simply tryna spend the day with a beautiful woman on my arm.”
Nairobia dropped her bag and keys on the credenza, then headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of coconut water from the massive stainless steel refrigerator and popped it open.
“Flattery will get you almost everywhere,” she teased.
Marcel smiled. “Ah. Then permettez-moi de vous ai…” Let me have you. “Pour la journée.” For the day.
She took a sip from her water. “Mmm,” she moaned, leaning up against the kitchen’s marble island. She had a state-of-the-art kitchen, but couldn’t tell you where most of the cookware or cutlery were. “You know I love when you speak in French. Keep it up and I may lose myself to you.”
“Then come lose yourself, bébé. Come to Rhode Island with me.”
“Rhode Island? Why on heaven’s earth would I want to go there?”
“Because I’d like to be in the presence of your company,” Marcel said firmly.
“And you’ve called me from a private number, no? You call me private like I’m some stranger to you, no?”
Marcel shook his head. “Definitely not. My bad, baby. I’ll text you my number if that’ll make you feel better.”
She feigned a pout. “It is too late. Damage already done.”
“Nah, it’s never too late, baby.”
He’d forgotten to unblock his number when he’d called her as he had the few other times he’d called her. He’d had his number changed and blocked shortly after Marika’s death. Too many people had had his number, and the phone calls had been overwhelming—from those wishing to extend their condolences to the nosey-asses wanting to know what had happened to the relentless reporters fishing for a story. It’d been too much for him to deal with, so he changed his number, cutting off everyone’s direct access to him.
Less than a second later, Nairobia’s phone pinged.
“Did my text come through, yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said as she opened the text with his number. “Now, tell me. What exactly is in Rhode Island?”
Marcel smiled. “Laila Reynolds is giving a free concert in Providence,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. As if she would have known this already.
“Oh,” was all she said.
Nairobia liked the R&B singer. She even had both her albums. Autographed. But that did not mean she stayed abreast of the sultry songstress’ tour schedule. However, she did enjoy a good show. “When? And where?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. At India Pointe Park. And I want you to attend with me.”
Nairobia took another swig of her water. “And why would I do that, MarSell, my darling? So you can hold me hostage, then have your way with me?”
Marcel laughed. “I assure you, baby. I won’t do anything against your will. Je le promet.” I promise.
“Very good. Now what time shall I expect you?”
Marcel grinned. “My driver should be there around ten.”
“Okay. I’ll be down in the lobby waiting.”
“We’ll be outside waiting. See you tomorrow, beautiful.”
Nairobia smiled. “Oh, and MarSell, my darling…”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“U krijgt geen kut.” You will get no pussy.
Marcel knew what kut meant, so he knew that whatever she said had something to do with her pussy. He groaned. “Damn, baby. What did you say about that beautiful pussy of yours?”
Nairobia repeated herself. “I said you would not get any of it. You will not taste, or feel the insides of my kut. Comprendre?”
Marcel let out a hearty laugh. “Aiight, baby. I understand. Whatever you say. But how about some of those sweet kisses instead?”
Nairobia felt her body warming. There was something deliciously irresistible about him. But she would not allow him to become a distraction for her. Period.
“You have done nothing to earn my sweet kisses, my darling.”
He groaned. “Then I’ll have to fix that.”
“Best wishes, my love.”
Marcel laughed. “See you in the morning, baby.”
She disconnected the call, smiling.
EIGHT
Ten a.m. sharp, Nairobia stepped out of her building to find Marcel’s driver waiting. The moment he saw her, he tipped his hat and smiled as he opened the rear door.
The car smelled of leather and him.
Dial soap, a hint of cologne, and a dizzying amount of testosterone. She slipped inside the car and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek once she was safely inside and the door shut. She hadn’t seen him since the radio interview, and he looked good, casually dressed in a pair of white linen pants and a white linen shirt that was partly opened, revealing a smooth expanse of chocolate chest. No, on second thought, he looked better than good. He looked…damn good, fucking good—and everything else in between.
He had his iPhone and iPad both on the bench beside him.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, his lips slowly curving into a sensual grin. “It’s good seeing you.”
“And you as well, MarSell, my love,” she said, settling back in the seat across from him. This was the first time the two of them—not counting down at the radio station—were alone, together…without Marika.
For some reason, the space in the cabin all of a sudden felt smaller, the air between them thicker. She shifted in her seat.
“How’s the club going?” he asked, cutting into the awkwardness that had seeped in around them.
“Deliciously sinful,” she said, her tongue gliding over her lips. “You should come indulge your curiosity.”
Marcel smiled, his undivided attention on her. “I may do that.”
“And so you should.”
There was that awkwardness again.
But why?
He was no stranger to her, or she to him. So what was the problem?
Marcel’s phone rang. It was one of his many assistants, Arianna. He reached for it, and picked up. “MarSell here.”
“Hi, MarSell. It’s me. Arianna,” she said as if he didn’t already know.
“Yeah. What’s up?” he asked calmly,
his gaze dancing up and down the length of Nairobia’s body.
“I know you’re on your way up to Rhode Island. So real quick. I need to know where you put the contracts that were on your desk yesterday.”
He stroked his chin. “Oh. They’re locked in my desk, bottom left drawer. Why?”
“Lance asked for them,” she told him. Lance Green was one of MK records’ attorneys, and Marcel’s fraternity brother.
“Oh, aiight. Make sure you lock my desk when you find them.”
“Already done.”
“Aiight. Hold it down until I get back.”
“Always, Boss. Have fun at the concert. And bring me back something. Nothing cheap, either.”
He laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” The call ended and he set his phone back on the bench. He looked over at Nairobia. “Now, back to you, beautiful lady. I’m all yours for the rest of the trip.”
Nairobia glanced out the window and noticed that they weren’t headed toward any of the airports. She blinked. “Um, we are flying, no?”
He shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t tell you. My bad, baby. We’re driving up.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Driving?”
“Yeah. It’s only a three-hour ride. I thought it’d be a nice leisure drive. Give us more time to spend together, before the concert…”
She blinked. He expected her to travel three hours in a car? Cars were made to sit in for travel under an hour; anything else required flying. What was this world coming to? She could have flown and met him there.
“And when do you expect to have me back?”
“Tonight. After the concert.” She flashed him a “you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” look. Amusement curled his lips. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll fly back by helicopter.”
She glanced at her watch. Laila’s concert had better be worth the trip.
Nairobia couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to ask, “How have you been holding up, MarSell, really?”
“I’ve been good, baby.” He smiled. “I’m even better now that I’m in the company of a beautiful woman.”
She blushed. “Thank you. But that’s not what I’m speaking of. I want to know how are you?”