The Pleasure Zone

by Cairo

  “Damn,” he groaned, before kissing Nairobia on the side of her mouth. “You sure know how to get a muhfucka excited.”

  “And I know how to bring him to orgasm, too,” she muttered in his ear. “Do not tempt me, my darling.”

  Carlos chuckled. “Oh, have at it, baby. I’m all yours.”

  “Mmm. Do tell, my love. Is your cock hard for me?” she whispered, sensually rubbing her crotch into his right in full view of the public. Yes. Smack dab in the middle of a bustling LAX airport she grinded herself into him.

  She was shameless. And she knew it. She fearlessly explored her sexuality and loved expressing her sensuality through her dress. And she didn’t give a damn who didn’t like it. She lived to make the world around her uncomfortable.

  Besides, it made for great press.

  She felt the thickening of Carlos’ cock against her clit, then remembered the heavy feel of him on her tongue and the musky smell of him as she’d taken him deep in her mouth. The memory of how he’d enjoyed her wandering tongue wetly loving over every inch of his turgid flesh brought a wicked tilt to the corners of her lips.

  Mmm. Got milk?

  She swallowed.

  Behind her, Lamar’s jaws tightened. He’d felt his dick stirring in his boxer shorts as he watched her ass—literally, on the low. And no matter how many times he mentally scolded himself for looking, he couldn’t help himself. There was no denying it. She was a stunner, sexy as fuck. He didn’t know how he’d be able to concentrate on the job, if she insisted on wearing skimpy shit around him. Fuck.

  At the rate he was going, he’d have to wear bigger slacks and an extra pair of underwear to keep his dick strapped down and from bulging. He was slowly starting to hate himself for taking on this job. He should have handed it over to one of his employees, or his partner.

  He sighed, tearing his sight from her plump ass just long enough to glance at his watch before surveying the area. The airport was crowded as fuck and all she wanted to do was stand here dicking around with this…pretty-ass muhfucka.

  What the fuck is she doing? he thought as his cell phone buzzed in the front pocket of his black blazer. Though he could use the distraction, he ignored it, his eyes drifting back over the globes of Nairobia’s mouthwatering booty.

  There was no denying it, no matter how hard he tried. First day on the job and there was definitely a raw attraction to the infamous Nairobia Jansen.

  Motherfuck. Lamar shook his head. He’d already concluded, as beautiful and desirable as she was, she’d be more trouble than her worth. She was self-indulged. Used to getting her way. Too damned high-maintenance. Thought the sun, the moon—hell, the whole fucking solar system—revolved around her. And she had a ton of starry-eyed mofos falling at her feet.

  He wasn’t the one.

  Though he’d never admit it right out, he’d bust a nut or two to a few of her porn videos back in his day, fantasizing about fucking the shit out of her sexy ass. Hell, he even had a pinup of her when he was, like nineteen, up on his wall.

  She was flawless then. And she was more dangerously perfect now.

  Now, here he was working for her. He’d have to keep his distance. Keep this shit strictly professional. He’d crossed the line once with his last client. But he wouldn’t get caught up again. At least he hoped like hell not. The last thing his security firm needed was to be tangled up in a bunch of drama, like with his last employer. Or worse…some sex scandal.

  Lamar looked back over at Nairobia and stared at the back of her head, instead of her juicy ass cheeks. He cursed himself, his dick growing harder against his will. He was hired to protect her, not fuck her. He knew this. Sadly, his dick hadn’t gotten the memo, yet. He made a mental note to purchase those jockstraps and baggy pants first thing in the morning, and pick up two more pairs of dark-lensed shades.

  Carlos grabbed her hands and stepped back from her, his eyes appraising her. “Damn, baby. Are you coming or going?”

  Nairobia licked her lips. “I’m coming, my love. And you do know how much I love to come, no?”

  Carlos grinned. “I already know. Damn. You’re starting to make me sweat with your fine-ass. So what brings you out to L.A.? Business or pleasure?”

  “Pleasure, my darling,” Nairobia said saucily as she cast her gaze down to the lump in his designer cut-up jeans. Tonight, she was attending an all-white party at Hugh Hefner’s infamous Playboy Mansion in Beverly Hills. Then later in the evening, she’d be hosting one of her very own exclusive, invite-only sex parties at her Bel-Air estate, before flying back to New York just in time for the doors to her club to open.

  “And you, my love. Is this business or pleasure for you?”

  “Business,” he told her. He had a meeting with his PR team, followed by a photo shoot, then he was performing at the Staples Center tomorrow night. “But I am always in the mood for something pleasurable.” His eyes gleamed mischievously.

  Nairobia seductively licked her lips.

  He added, “Speaking of which, I hear you’ve opened a Manhattan gentlemen’s club. I’ll have to come through and check it out.”

  Nairobia cringed at hearing her club being trashed down to that of a gentlemen’s club. Yes, there were lots of scantily dressed women, and plenty of happy endings. But there was nothing gentlemanly about her establishment. “No, no, no, my darling. I do not have a nightclub for men. The Pleasure Zone is a den of sinful goodness for the uninhibited.”

  She removed her diamond hairclip letting her hair tumble down past her shoulders. She shook her head, running a hand through her tousled mane.

  Carlos grinned. “Nice. Put me on the guest list.”

  Nairobia eyed him and smiled. “Enter if you dare, my love…”

  “Oh, I’m always up for a dare, baby. How about we start with you coming to my show tomorrow night? Up close and personal?”

  Nairobia pursed her lips and pondered the invite. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a concert. It’d been years. For some odd reason, the thought of seeing a bunch of star-struck women, throwing themselves—and their panties—at the sexy crooner made her that more interested in attending. After several more seconds of thought, she told him she’d love to go.

  He smiled. “Cool. I’ll make sure my publicist has two tickets for you.” He shot a glance over at Lamar, then brought his attention back to Nairobia. “You’ll be my special guest.”

  Legs spread. Arms crossed. Totally still, Lamar cleared his throat, loud enough for the both of them to hear him. She could feel his eyes on her ass behind the dark lenses of his shades. She slid him a sultry glance and felt her pussy tingle. She decided, then, she might one day give him his very own private viewing if he earned one.

  But—

  A camera flash went off.

  They’d been spotted.

  “Ohmygod!” screamed a young woman, pointing in their direction. “That’s Carlos!”

  “Looks like I’m being outed,” Carlos said lightheartedly, giving her another hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “Yes, my love. Your fans have sniffed you out.”

  Nairobia quickly stepped out of his embrace just as a gaggle of women surged upon them like a tsunami, causing a number of travelers to get knocked over as adoring fans surrounded them, screaming out Carlos’ name, while whipping out their cells and begging for photographs with the R&B sensation.

  “Carlos! I love you!” another worshiping fan called out.

  “OMG! There’s my baby daddy!” someone else yelled, running in the direction of the others, cell phone on the ready for a photo.

  Lamar clenched his jaw. He knew this shit was going to happen. Instinctively, he grabbed Nairobia, pulling her into his hard body, ushering her away from the pandemonium, while struggling to ignore how good her body felt against his.

  His dick stretched another two inches down the inside of his thigh.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  FOURTEEN

  Sat
urday night came quickly. Laid out on her ten-thousand-dollar bed was an equally expensive gown. The backless, crystal-embellished, see-through gown with a plunging neckline was a Balmain masterpiece Nairobia simply had to have after seeing it in his collection at Paris’ Fashion Week. She’d snatch it up first chance she had gotten; now the fabulous piece was in her possession and she couldn’t wait to showcase the French designer’s one-of-a-kind, show-stopping evening gown.

  After applying a glittering body cream, she pinned her hair up into a sleek chignon, then slid in a pair of diamond and ruby studs, followed by a diamond choker with a huge ruby teardrop around her neck. The piece was exquisite, fitting snugly against her skin, the breathtaking ruby dangling ever so delicately in the middle of her slender neck.

  She then sat at her vanity and (for dramatic effect) applied a coat of MAC lipglass in Russian Red over her succulent lips. She reached for a bottle of her most expensive perfume, and spritzed her wrists, then dabbed some along her cleavage and along the inside of her thighs.

  Finally, Nairobia removed the dress from her bed and shimmied herself into the delicate garment. She stared into her mirror and smiled. The gown wrapped scandalously around every inch of her body, hugging her delicious curves. Underneath, she wore a pair of sequined panties. She decided against baring all her assets tonight. Her breasts and delectable nipples, hidden beneath jeweled pasties, were sufficient enough. She turned to the side and admired her voluptuous ass. Carlos might be the featured attraction at the Staples Center tonight, but Nairobia would definitely be everyone’s distraction.

  She tucked her diamond-encrusted clutch under her arm, then made her way downstairs to where her date for the night had been impatiently waiting. She hadn’t planned on asking him to the concert tonight, and it wasn’t as if she needed him tagging along, but she had decided at the last minute that she wanted to know more about the sexy hunk whom she paid quite generously to protect her. And what better way to get to know her bodyguard than by seeing him with—what she hoped—his guard down; and, perhaps later (after a few cocktails), his pants. Or if not his pants off, she hoped to get at least a sly glimpse of his cock bulging in his slacks at some point during the evening. She hadn’t gotten over how he’d snatched her up in his arms and escorted her out of the airport yesterday. His body felt hard against hers. And she almost believed she’d felt a hardening in his crotch when she ever so lightly brushed a hand over him when she’d pressed into his body, but she hadn’t been for certain.

  Lamar paced the tile in the foyer becoming increasingly irked that she’d taken her slow, sweet-ass time getting ready. Almost two-motherfucking hours! He was real close to telling her ass he’d catch her the next time. But, on the low, he wanted to see what the hype around that pretty R&B motherfucker was really all about. Still, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to go with his client to a concert.

  Not as her bodyguard as she’d boldly informed him, but as a last-minute substitution for a date. She’d considered him a date substitute, some shitty last-minute afterthought. He couldn’t believe that shit. But why should it matter? It didn’t. Not really. He wasn’t checking for her like that, even if she were one of the hottest broads in the world, bouncing around a big, juicy-ass.

  She wasn’t the only bad bitch in the universe.

  Nah. She’s the fuckin’ baddest.

  Lamar shook his head, then glanced at his watch. It was already 7:30 and the concert started at eight. Women. He slid his phone from his hip, ready to hit up his partner, Mel, on the West Coast to see how life and business were treating him when Nairobia appeared in the foyer. He stopped pacing and looked up from his phone. Goddamn. His breath caught. That fucking dress!

  His dick hardened by the heartbeat.

  He groaned inwardly as his gaze flicked over her face, then lower. She was provoking him. That dress was provoking him. And he didn’t like it one goddamn bit. He was pissed he’d taken his shades off.

  Nairobia grinned as she followed his glance. At the last minute, she’d removed her pasties. And now her nipples were stiff. “You like, no?” she asked saucily. It was a loaded question for sure.

  Fuck yeah, he liked. The way her dress dipped low in the front, almost to her navel, flashing lots of cleavage and the generous swells of her breasts. But he wasn’t about to play himself as some thirsty cat. Still, surprisingly, his mouth watered to suck a nipple between his lips and graze the tips with his teeth until they tightened almost painfully. “Yo, muhfucka, snap outta it,” he told himself. Get ya mind right, niggah. She does this shit for a living. Turning muhfuckas on. Dick-teasin’ ass!

  Lamar swallowed and took a moment longer to savor the view, then shrugged his shoulders. “It’s aiight,” he said evenly, almost nonchalantly.

  She stared at him, blankly. It’s aiight? Was that the best this beefy bastard could do? All right was not the effect she was going for tonight. She rolled her eyes. “Come,” she huffed, sashaying toward the doors. “I don’t want to be late.”

  He smirked. Oh now she’s concerned about being late. Really? He followed behind her, his eyes on the sway of her hips. And the vision pissed him off more. It made him hard. Again.

  Once inside the limo, Nairobia settled back into the soft leather as the driver shut the door the moment her so-called date slid into the luxury cabin. Mirrored shades back on, he sat across from her. Legs open, he tried not to look at her, those mouthwatering nipples, her smooth, silky legs.

  Lamar exhaled. He felt himself swinging like a pendulum between agitation and sexual frustration. He looked down to keep from looking at her protruding nipples and made the foolish mistake of looking at her sandaled feet. She had pretty-ass toes on top of every-fucking-thing else that was ridiculously sexy about her. His blood heated all over again. This pissed him off even more. Lamar loved pretty feet and toes. Now he had to wrestle with thoughts of sucking each red-painted toe into his mouth.

  He sucked in a breath and cursed himself as hundreds of images—of her—swirled in his head: her on her hands and knees, him fucking her from behind, in her ass, her pussy; her on top of him, riding him down into a mattress; him eating her pussy while she sucked his dick; her ass in the air, his tongue in her sweet hole. He’d never eaten ass before, but he knew for sure he’d eat her booty like a bag of groceries.

  The salacious thoughts running through his head were fucking ridiculous, and had both his heads ready to explode.

  Nairobia breathed in as her pussy clenched. A mixture of leather and his intoxicating cologne tantalized her senses. His scent and heat clung in the air making it uncomfortably difficult for her to keep from soaking her sequined panties. She didn’t know what it was about the twenty-eight-year-old, dark-chocolate hunk who she’d hired to manage her club’s security that had her feeling…so unnerved, so damn needy and greedy. But she wanted a taste of his chocolate. Very thick chocolate, she hoped.

  She cleared her throat and willed her pussy still. “So tell me, my darling,” she cooed, reaching over and touching his knee. Lamar’s body stiffened as the electricity from her fingertips zapped through his core. There was definitely a sexual attraction he cared not to explore, nor acknowledge. He had to keep telling himself to stay focused. To not let anything she said or did unnerve him. Nairobia licked her lips. “Do I make you nervous?”

  He frowned. Why the fuck is she asking me some shit like that? No she didn’t make him nervous. She made him…he shook the thought from his head. “Nah,” he coolly replied. But his dark gaze behind his shades skittered away. “Why you ask?”

  Nairobia grinned. She knew men. She studied them. She’d been around enough of them—and fucked enough of them—to know when she made a man uneasy. When her sexual energy was too much for them.

  For some reason, with him, she couldn’t tell one way or the other. Instead of answering his question, she eased up from her seat, then leaned over him, her palms planted on either side of him against the seat, and said, “Good. I am precious cargo, my love. I don�
��t want, or need, any man who I am entrusting to serve and protect me, nervous of me, or around me.”

  Yeah, he’d protect her all right. But he didn’t like that serve shit. The way it rolled off her tongue made him cringe. Unless she was referring to getting served a dose of hard dick, Lamar wasn’t down with serving a broad shit else, except for a mouthful of his babies.

  He swallowed. And started to sweat. Motherfuck. He knew he should have busted a few nuts before flying out here with her. His hands itched to slide them through her hair, curling the strands around his fingers as he pushed her face-down into his lap. She could definitely suck his dick if she wanted.

  Yo, fuck, man! You buggin’ for real, muhfucka! Don’t let this broad try’n play you. His toes curled in his boots. He had to fight to keep from telling her what he’d like to see her do with that pretty mouth of hers.

  “Yo, check this out,” he said, his vernacular going from professional to hood. “Ain’t shit soft over here, ya heard? So we good on all that nervous talk, ma. You hired me to handle ya security team ‘n’ keep you safe ‘n’ that’s what I’ma do.” His jaw clenched. “But, if at any time you feel unsatisfied with my firm’s services, then you can terminate the terms of the contract ‘n’ me ‘n’ my peoples can bounce; feel me?”

  Nairobia gave him a lingering stare filled with promises of hot nastiness. “I would love nothing more than to feel you, my darling. Trail my tongue along the swell of your cock. Then fill your mouth with my cunt. But not tonight, my love.”

  Goddamn. Lamar felt his pulse quicken. His mouth went dry, but the tip of his dick trickled with desire. Behind the dark lenses, he kept his gaze on her, trying like hell to maintain his cool, calm, collected composure. He felt the heat. Felt her potent sexual energy slowly burning his senses.

  His jaw clenched. “Then we good,” he bit out.