The Pleasure Zone

by Cairo

  And Nairobia loved even more seeing her juices glistening a man’s lips and his chin, and him licking his tongue over his lips, removing the traces of her slick release. Oh how she loved coming in a man’s horny mouth, drenching him with her sweet cream.

  But this freaky business of Marcel wanting to flood her cunt with his nut, then lick it out of her had her clenching. Damn him.

  A wave of desire washed over Nairobia. She sucked in a huge, steady breath, but Marcel’s heated, evocative words had already licked at her cunt and made her clit twitch with an urgent need.

  Oh he was greedy. Insatiable. And Nairobia was tempted.

  Just for a moment.

  “Good day, MarSell,” she said—a smile easing over her lips, just before disconnecting the call.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “These just came for you,” Josiah said as he walked into Nairobia’s office, carrying a floral arrangement almost as wide as his broad shoulders. “Where do you want them?” he asked behind the exquisite arrangement of pink cymbidium orchids and white and pink roses.

  Nairobia’s breath caught. The flowers were simply gorgeous. She pointed over toward the credenza in front of the window. “You can sit them over there.” She stood up and walked over as he set the large crystal vase on the table, breathing in him and the flowers, both intoxicating scents making her almost lightheaded.

  He hadn’t shaved this morning, and the light brown formed a shadow on his jaw, the light stubble giving the pretty boy a sexy rugged look.

  Nairobia liked it. A lot.

  Through the veil of her dark lashes, she drank in the sight of him a little longer than she probably should have, feeling her body tingle with desire.

  “Thank you, my love,” she said, circling him, running a hand over his chest, then up and down his muscled arm, before sliding her fingertips along his back. He wore a black PLEASURE ZONE T-shirt that molded perfectly to his chiseled chest and a pair of black jeans covering his long, muscled legs.

  “It’s been days since you’ve pleasured me, my sweet Josiah. You wish to make love to me, no?” she asked, her eyes flashing with lust, her gaze settling on his crotch.

  He smirked and eyed Nairobia up and down. “You haven’t had time for me, lately.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it had been on the tip of his tongue for over a week now. She’d been summoning him less and less since the club’s opening. And he was beginning to wonder if she’d found herself someone else to toy with, perhaps that new security/bodyguard of hers. Even behind those dark shades of his, Josiah had seen the way Lamar looked at her with raw hunger in his eyes.

  Josiah was young, but far from silly to believe he’d ever be her only lover. Though he’d had hoped that eventually what they shared would, could, evolve into something more meaningful than mere fucking. He felt like a piece of meat on display for her nourishment.

  And he was.

  There to feed her hunger, whenever, however—on demand, at her beck and call.

  Still, he no longer liked his station in her life as her boy toy. And he didn’t necessarily like how Nairobia treated him as if he were privileged to get her attention—any attention. He wasn’t a submissive, per se. He wasn’t into groveling for attention, or begging to be humiliated. And he wasn’t into pain. But he didn’t mind role-playing if that’s what she wanted. He loved pleasing her, loved submitting to her desires.

  And he loved fucking her.

  He was a man—all man. With a big dick that grew hard as granite. And he knew how to fuck—thanks to her. Nairobia had made him the incredible lover he was. And he wanted to take what she’d taught him to greater sexual heights, with no one else but her.

  Sure he’d been with a few girls his own age, but he’d found them sexually boring. Nairobia, on the other hand, was spontaneous and exciting and uninhibited. She’d taught him how to surrender to pleasure, and how to pleasure a woman. She’d pushed him sexually. Tested his boundaries. He had become hers, to tease, to taunt, to toy with. To bring her pleasure when she required it, demanded it, expected it.

  When Nairobia looked at him, all he saw was heat and passion and raw desire. He saw nothing else when he looked in her eyes. However, he was acutely aware of her insatiable libido. Her sexuality oozed from her pores. Her sex drive was always in overdrive, so he understood the rules. That she’d take more than one lover, whenever, wherever, she felt the burning urge to. Josiah had been fine with that. But, over the last several months, he found himself growing, evolving. He found himself wanting to bend the rules, some. Wanted to build a relationship with someone. Maybe one day have a family.

  He wanted that with only one person.

  He wanted that with Nairobia.

  He had already admitted to himself his need of her. He wanted her, no doubt. Not only sexually, emotionally as well. He was committed and unapologetically loyal to her. But he knew Nairobia wasn’t there with him. And she’d probably never get there. So he knew he’d eventually need to make some decisions about this arrangement they’d been sharing over the last several years. Not today though. Today he’d stay in the moment…until he was no longer able to stand.

  Josiah slid his arm around Nairobia’s waist and pulled her into him, almost possessively. She wrapped her arms around his body, melting into his muscled heat, loving the feel of his hard pecs and rippled abs. She felt her pussy warming.

  Before another word was exchanged between them, Nairobia took him by the wrist, bringing his hand between her thighs. As usual, she wore nothing beneath her dress. On contact, Josiah groaned as he cupped her there, the base of his hand against her clitoris.

  “Give me your fingers,” she urged. “Right here, right now. Finger out my juices.”

  Josiah closed his eyes, slipping his middle finger between her folds and inside her. He licked his lips. She was hot and slick.

  “You feel what you do to me, my love?”

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  He wanted to believe that. That he was the reason for her perpetual arousal. But he knew better. Nairobia’s juices flowed without cause. She stayed wet and ready.

  Nairobia’s breath hitched. “You like how I feel, no?”

  “Yes.” He slid his index finger inside her, and she moaned her approval. He maneuvered his fingers in and out of her body, alternating from one finger, to two, then back to one, causing her cunt to clench hungrily.

  “You keep my kut wet,” she said in a sultry tone. “So very wet for you.”

  Nairobia would never deny how Josiah’s heated touch always brought bliss to her body. No matter where he touched her, she would surely come. She nibbled on his ear, then moaned when he added a third finger inside her. “Ja, ja…mmm…faster. Finger me, faster…”

  Nairobia’s folds dripped, her juices dripping out over Josiah’s hand. She’d already had two mini orgasms in less than five minutes. Now she was on the verge of another, this one with more heat, more force; a rising tide of an orgasm so powerful that she felt it flooding her body. Her orgasm shot from her clit to her toes, then back up over her body. She closed her eyes, and moaned low in her throat, squeezing Josiah’s wrist as she shook with pleasure.

  A silent moment later, Nairobia caught her breath. Josiah nearly groaned when she took his wrist again and removed his hand, his fingers, from her body. She brought his hand up to his lips and watched him—without prompting—lick his fingers clean.

  Nairobia leaned in, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “My darling, Josiah. What would I ever do without you?”

  Josiah looked her in the eyes. God, she was incredibly beautiful. He took a breath, and said, “Replace me for another.” He leaned in and kissed her on the side of the mouth. “But hopefully not anytime soon.”

  Nairobia smiled at him as he turned to walk out of her office, before plucking out the white envelope nestled in between all the beautiful pink and white flowers.

  Thinking of you. I’m already missing you, baby. Longing for your touch. Your sweet kisses. Stay beautiful.
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  Marcel

  TWENTY-FIVE

  An hour later, Nairobia was at her desk interviewing a strikingly beautiful woman wearing a print wrap dress that bared a hint of cleavage. Nairobia kept her gaze on her as she crossed her smooth legs. She was petite, but shapely. The woman already held a silver membership, but wished to upgrade to the next level. She had access to the first two floors, but decided that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted access to the Love Tombs. From what her application had stated, she was new to BDSM, and wanted to explore her Domme side more; something she wasn’t able to do at home.

  Nairobia glanced down at her application, then back up into the woman’s eyes. “So tell me, Persia. What do you desire most, sexually?”

  She licked her lips. “Well, as you can see from my application, I have no sexual hang-ups, but what I want most is sexual freedom.”

  Nairobia glanced at the three-carat diamond on her ring finger. “And your fiancé? Does he not fulfill your desires?”

  Persia swallowed. “Not all of them. Don’t get me wrong. I love him. Royce—that’s my fiancé—he satisfies the vanilla part of me, and some parts of my freaky side, but my dark side, no. That part of me goes unfulfilled.”

  Nairobia nodded, understanding flickering in her gaze. “So he does not know about your membership here?”

  Persia shook her head, clutching her neck as if she were reaching for a set of pearls. “Ohmygod, no. He’d lose his mind if he knew.”

  “How often do the two of you have sexual relations?” Nairobia pried.

  “Twice a week; sometimes three times a week if I’m lucky.”

  “And it is good, no?”

  “Yes. Remarkable. Royce is a good lover.”

  Nairobia tilted her head. “But?”

  Persia sighed. “But it isn’t enough. I need more. I want more. If it were up to me, I’d want it morning, noon, and night. I just love sex. And I love sex with him more.”

  Nairobia stared at her almost pathetically as she wondered how she could ever expect her marriage to last with lies. No judgment. Her indiscretions and dirty secrets were none of Nairobia’s business, or concern. Most of the club’s members had spouses and/or significant others at home who knew nothing about their partner’s dark desires. They, like the woman in front of her, lived double lives. And, sadly, in Nairobia’s experience, nothing good ever came out of it once their deceit was discovered.

  Curiosity pushed Nairobia to ask, “So you are fine with sleeping with married men, no? You do know most of the club’s members are indeed married or—like yourself—happily involved.”

  Persia uncrossed her legs, shifted in her seat, then crossed them again; right over left this time. “I’m not looking to disrupt anyone’s home situation. And I’m not looking for anyone to try and disrupt mine. At the end of the day, when it’s all said and done, I’m going home to my man. Satiated and completely satisfied.

  “So to answer your question, I am more than fine sharing another woman’s man. Man sharing is nothing new for me. In fact, my sisters and I used to…” She paused, shaking her head. “Oh, never mind. Let me not go there.”

  Nairobia’s brow raised, her eyes flashing in curiosity. “Please, my darling. Do tell.”

  “Well, simply put, my sisters and I used to share men…”

  Nairobia’s lips curled. “As in dating the same man?”

  Persia shook her head. “No. We never dated any of them. We sexed them.”

  Nairobia licked her lips. “Man swapping?”

  Persia nodded. “Yes. Threesomes, foursomes—mostly threesomes, though, since one of my sisters usually preferred to watch while she masturbated.”

  Nairobia’s mouth watered. “Mmm. Sounds decadent.”

  “It was.” She reached inside her purse, and pulled out her checkbook. She giggled. “I have a confession. Anytime my sisters and I were sexing a man, we’d always use aliases. I was—well, I still am—Pain. And my two sisters were Passion and Pleasure. Pleasure, well my sister, chose her name after you. You inspired her. You inspired all of us. We used to watch your movies.”

  Nairobia smiled, touched. “I’m so glad to know I was able to touch the three of you in some way. I want to empower women to never be ashamed of their sexualities. To be comfortable in being their own freaky sexual selves.”

  “Oh, you’ve definitely done that. The three of us shared a very unique bond.”

  “To say the least,” Nairobia agreed, watching as Persia wrote a check out for another five grand. When she was done, she slid Nairobia the check across the desk.

  “My mouth is already salivating at all the nasty things I’ll be able to explore with access to the lower level.”

  Nairobia’s lips curled upward. “Indulge your desires, my darling. This is what we are here for.” Check in hand, Nairobia stood to her feet. “Give me one sec, my darling.” She walked around her desk and over to a wood panel. She punched in a code, then pressed her palm up to another security pad. She walked inside. Moments later, shutting the panel behind her, she returned with a new membership card.

  “Here you are, my love.”

  Persia stood, taking the coveted gold card in her hand.

  “Are you wet with desire, my love?” Nairobia wanted to know.

  Persia’s eyes flickered. “I’m always wet.”

  Nairobia smiled walking her to the door, then following her down the hall. “It was a pleasure…” She paused, suddenly remembering Pasha telling her about a cousin who shared men with her sisters, and was a member at the club.

  So this was she?

  She decided not to mention that she knew Pasha. If she wasn’t going to make mention of it, then neither was she. It wasn’t important for her to know.

  They reached the sliding glass doors.

  “It was a pleasure seeing you again,” Persia said, extending her hand.

  Nairobia shook her hand. “Likewise, my darling. Will you be using your card tonight?”

  “No, God. My fiancé and I have plans tonight. But if I can get away tomorrow night, I’ll be here. Latex and all.”

  Nairobia placed her hand up to the security panel, and the doors hissed open. They walked out together. And just as they were rounding the corner, they bumped smack into Lamar.

  “Oh my bad.” He looked at Persia. Then Nairobia. Then back at Persia. “What’s good?”

  Persia smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi.”

  Although she didn’t know him personally, and didn’t have a problem with him knowing that she was a club member, it still felt awkward knowing he’d seen her in action on stage several weeks back.

  Nairobia noticed the look between the two. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, of course,” she simply said.

  “I used to work for her cousin,” Lamar said evenly. He glanced at Persia. “Tell Pash I said what’s up.”

  “I sure will,” Persia said, eyeing him.

  He brought his attention to Nairobia. “I’ll be up on the fifth floor if you need me.”

  She nodded, then escorted Persia toward the club’s foyer. She glanced over her shoulder, then said in low voice, “Tell me, my love. How well do you know Lamar?”

  Persia shrugged. “Not well at all.” A sly grin curved over her lips. “But I’d love to see him strapped to a Saint Andrews cross.”

  Nairobia licked her lips.

  Now wouldn’t that be a delightful sight.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nairobia took the three steps that led up to the deep marble tub already full of mint and eucalyptus bubbles. She dropped her robe, then dipped her toe in, testing the water. It was deliciously hot, but not scalding.

  A sigh of pleasure eased from Nairobia’s lips as she slowly slid in, the steam and heat enveloping her. She leaned her head back on the inflatable pillow attached to the edge of the tub as Marsha Ambrosius’ “Late Nights & Early Mornings” played low in the background.

  The last week had been exhausting. Between the club, a
nd flying out to Spain for an International Adult Film ceremony to only return for a meeting in L.A., Nairobia was drained. She needed this…this moment to do absolutely nothing.

  She swept her gaze around the bathroom aglow with candles, then closed her eyes and inhaled. She didn’t know what she was doing here, but she’d allowed herself to be enticed into coming over with the promise of nothing more than a massage.

  “Nothing more, baby,” he’d assured her.

  So how could she say no to that?

  Now here she was. Wondering if she’d made a mistake. She didn’t want to give the wrong message. Smearing her sweet juices over his lips and letting him stretch open her kut was one thing, but this…

  Marcel stood in the doorway, his eyes appraising the sight before him. She didn’t know he was standing there, watching her. Adoring her. He didn’t know what was happening with him, but he felt himself…changing. He felt lighter. Freer. And it was because of Nairobia. She’d done that to him.

  Unlocked something inside of him.

  He wasn’t sure what would come of this…this thing—whatever this was—he was feeling. But he wanted to pursue it, to see where it took them. He just needed Nairobia to open her mind to the possibility, to explore with him.

  She’d been ignoring him the last week. Not taking his calls. Basically avoiding him. And he wasn’t feeling that. He wanted her. And being ignored wasn’t something he took lightly to. Today, he’d tried her cell again, and when she answered he’d convinced her to come over for a night of relaxation. No sex. Simply her allowing him to pamper her and worship her in the way a beautiful woman deserved to be catered to.

  But fuck if he didn’t want to be inside her, to tie her to his bed and have his way with her all night, his legs wedged between hers, spreading her until her legs rested against his outer thighs, his dick slowly easing in and out of her body, stroking her walls until she orgasmed over the length and width of him.