His Secret Desire (Atlanta Nights)

by Linda Verji

  HIS SECRET DESIRE

  An Atlanta Nights Novel

  Linda Verji

  Copyright © 2015 by Linda Verji

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means with the prior consent of the author, excepting brief quotes in reviews.

  This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contains Explicit Sex & Language suitable for a Mature Audience 18+

  ‘We are the perfect couple. We’re just not in the perfect situation.’

  Author Unknown

  CHAPTER 1

  “Women!” Marcel Isaac tipped the brown bottle to his lips and took a large gulp of the liquid in it. The bitter brew burned its way down his throat, mimicking the angry emotions swirling inside him. “You can’t trust them as far as you can throw them.”

  “No, you can’t,” his twin brother, Sebastien offered as he maneuvered the car through night traffic.

  Marcel took another swig of his beer. “I handed in my player card for her. No, I handed in the whole damn deck.”

  “True,” Sebastien agreed.

  “I designed and built her a house. A house. In Atlanta. Do you know how much it costs to build a house here?” Marcel complained. “Then she skips town with her photographer. Who does that?”

  “Sophie,” Sebastien offered helpfully.

  “Sophie.” Saying her name, sent a stab of pain through Marcel. “I don’t get what she saw in that dude. Was it the bike shorts? Cause if she wants I can wear them too and show everyone my dick print.”

  “No one wants to see your di-Fuck,” Sebastien cussed as he swerved to the right. A car blared past them at full speed and with all its lights on. He stuck his head out the window and shouted at the passing car. “Go back to driving school.”

  When he turned back, Marcel glared at him. “You’re not even listening to me.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re just like Sophie,” Marcel said. “She never listened to me either.”

  Here he was mourning the loss of a three year relationship, and this clown couldn’t even stop looking at the road long enough to listen to him. Wow! With brothers like these who needed enemies?

  “Somebody shut him up,” Tay, Marcel’s best-friend, whined from the backseat. “If I hear another word about that damn woman, I’ll open this door and throw myself into traffic.”

  “Chill out.” Sebastien defended his twin, “He’s just venting.”

  “No, he’s being a bitch.” Tay smacked Marcel’s shoulder. “Ey, Weeping Beauty, shut it.”

  Marcel ignored him. “I can’t live in that big house all by myself. Seb, will you and Rasheeda come live with me?”

  “No.” Sebastien laughed. “We’re good.”

  “Whose bright idea was it to get him drunk again?” Tay complained.

  “Yours,” Sebastien reminded him.

  “I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy,” Marcel corrected. A man was allowed to get tipsy on the day after his fiancée abandoned him. He tipped the bottle to his lips but before he could drink, Tay reached between their seats and snatched it. Marcel swiveled in his seat, yelling, “Hey.”

  “That’s it.” Tay tossed the bottle out through his window. “Seb, turn the car. We’re taking this fool back to the club to get back his player card. The only way to get over a woman is to get under another one, or behind her, or on top – Shit, I don’t know what his preference is. But once he’s balls deep in some other woman, Sophie will be nothing but a distant memory.”

  “I can’t turn. We’re in the middle of the highway,” said Sebastien, “and Marcel isn’t interested in trolling for women.”

  “Marcel.” Tay tapped his shoulder. “Do you want a woman?”

  Marcel looked up at the car’s ceiling and considered the question – or tried to. But his brain was a cloudy mess incapable of any clear thought so he shrugged. “Sure.”

  “My man.” Tay patted Marcel’s shoulder before turning to Sebastien. “Club Red Hood.”

  “Man, it’s almost midnight,” Sebastien complained. “It’s too late to be running around.”

  “What? Did Rasheeda give you a curfew, Mr. Pussy Whipped?” Tay taunted.

  Sebastien glared at him through the rearview mirror. “You’re just lucky my hands are on the wheel, otherwise…”

  The mention of Sebastien’s wife reminded Marcel of Sophie, hitting him with the irrepressible urge to sing, “I’d have caught a greeenade for her.”

  Tay growled, “Make a fucking u-turn, Seb.”

  Twenty minutes later, the three men settled around one of the tables at Club Red Hood. Marcel sipped on a bottle of water and nodded his head in time to the music thumping around them. The smooth beats, the strobe lights, the sea of people gyrating on the dance-floor; it was like a shot of adrenalin, giving him a nice buzz.

  Now that he was here, he could see the sense in Tay’s plan. It’d been two months since he’d gotten laid. In those two months Sophie had claimed headaches, periods, exhaustion, among other excuses to avoid lovemaking. He’d accepted all of them, too in love to come to the most logical conclusion – she was sleeping with someone else.

  Yeah! He’d show Sophie. He’d show her that he was good without her. He was taking back his player card tonight; getting himself a new woman. Maybe he’d even take a selfie with a woman and post it on Facebook. And if Sophie saw the picture…well, my bad.

  CHAPTER 2

  It didn’t take long for women from the nearby tables to notice the three men. Judging from the flirtatious looks being sent their way, finding a woman for Marcel wouldn’t be that hard.

  “What about that one?” Tay pointed to a big-breasted blonde seated two tables from them. Her tight skirt was so short her white panties were visible. She smiled, kissed her palm and blew a kiss their way.

  Marcel shook his head. “Too thirsty.”

  “I hear that,” Tay agreed. He gestured toward a raven-haired woman dancing alone on the dance-floor. “Check that.”

  Marcel whistled appreciatively, taking in the woman’s curvy figure emphasized by her tight crop-top and leggings. “I could work with her.”

  “You don’t have enough game for even half of that woman,” Sebastien scoffed.

  “I’ve got game,” Marcel protested.

  “He’s a hater,” Tay dismissed. Thumping Marcel’s back hard, he urged, “Go get her, Player.”

  Marcel rose to his feet. Immediately a wave of dizziness hit him and he swayed. Hm! Apparently he wasn’t as sober as he thought.

  Sebastien laughed. “You’ll fall before you even reach the dance-floor.”

  “No, I’m won’t.” Marcel blinked to clear his vision and stayed still for a couple of seconds to find his center of gravity. Once he was steady, he took one step forward. He didn’t fall. Took another step and still didn’t fall. Another step…

  See, he was not drunk.

  People bumped into him as he made his way onto the crowded dance-floor. But Marcel pushed on, his eyes on his target. Miss Raven-hair wasn’t dancing alone for lack of willing partners. Men kept coming close to her and whispering in her ear, but each time she shook her head and skirted away from them.

  Bolstered by liquid courage Marcel edged closer, confident that he could succeed where other men had failed. The nearer he got to her, the heavier the crowd got and the louder the music seemed. Marcel pushed past the steady stream of gyrating dancers intent on reaching Miss Raven-hair.

  He was two feet from her when another woman ste
pped in front of him. Marcel wasn’t sure what happened; wasn’t sure whether she tripped or someone pushed her. But the woman suddenly pitched backwards.

  Instinctively, he reached out to catch her. He grabbed her upper arm and caught her around the waist just as she stumbled into his arms. Her back pressing to his front, she clasped her hand around his wrist to steady herself. Her sweet strawberry candy scent was the first thing he noticed after the collision, then how toned her stomach was beneath his fingers.

  He looked downwards only for his gaze to clash with the brightest, most orange hair he’d ever seen. Hell! He wasn’t even sure that shade of orange could be found on the color wheel. It glowed like a fireflies butt. So mesmerized was he with the hair that he forgot all about the woman in his arms. Until she turned her head.

  Beautiful eyes. Long-lashed, wide and liquid brown, they were the kind of eyes a man sank into and never climbed out of. Then she smiled at him and his heart started to pitter patter as did the rest of his body. His eyes grazed over her lips, her lush lips. Their stark red contrasted with her smooth caramel complexion, emphasizing their sexy thickness. They parted and over the loud music, she mimed, “Sorry.”

  “No problem,” he returned, aware of the subtle brush of her ass against him as she steadied herself and straightened to her full height. His arms fell away from her once she was firmly on her feet.

  Miss Orange moved away, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of her voluptuous ass encased in a snug purple dress. He expected her to keep moving away but instead she turned to face him with the smile still lingering on her lips. The tattoo running from the side of her neck to the middle of her upper arm flashed with her movements. But Marcel was too busy drooling at the rest of her body to linger on it.

  It must’ve been thanksgiving or some other holiday when this woman was created because she was eye-candy personified. Her dress’s plunging neckline dipped dangerously between ample breasts to stop an inch above her navel. The fabric cinched in at her waist to flare out over generous hips and stop a few inches short of her knees.

  She had a body made for loving.

  Then she started dancing, and Marcel almost had a heart attack. The way she rolled her hips, the way she swayed to the music’s hypnotic beat… Thirty three was too young to die, but Marcel would’ve gladly gone six-feet under if Miss Orange agreed to dance on his grave.

  The people gyrating around them faded as all of his senses homed in on her, watched her. His body stirred, mesmerized by the sensual winding of her body to the music’s deep base. It was as if she had him on an invisible tether, drawing him to her. He didn’t even realize that he was moving until he was a hair’s breath away from her. One minute he was a foot from her, the next he was slipping an arm around her waist. She came into his arms smoothly, never ceasing her seductive dance as she wound an arm around his neck.

  Their eyes locked and their bodies met.

  Her breasts to his chest, her thighs to his.

  The heated contact was like striking a match in a room soaked in gasoline. Desire’s fire flared between them. It was in the flames in her eyes as she stared up at him and the way she moistened her lips. It was in the provocative sway of her body against his and his cock’s inevitable reaction to her teasing.

  When he lowered his gaze between them, he was treated to a mouth-watering view of her fleshy tits barely held in by her dress. The succulent orbs were obviously more than a handful but by their slight sway, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. The thought that a slight push of the fabric aside could give him a delicious view of her nipples had his erection lurching in excitement. It was obvious she was turned on too by how the pebbled tips stuck out against the fabric.

  The flames between them jumped higher when she turned in his arms and pushed her ass into his groin. When she started to grind on him, Marcel lowered his hands to her hips and squeezed.

  If he was a teenager he would’ve come in his pants just from the way she was pumping her ass up and down his crotch. His dick twitched at her torturous movements, reveled in the sensual sway of her buttocks against him. He moved one hand from her hip and set it on her torso, both to keep her firmly in place and to seal her closer to him. The result was that the underside of her juicy tits pressed against his arm further agitating his senses.

  His gaze scoured over her as she tempted him; took in her closed eyes, the way she pushed the orange hair to one side of her shoulders. She tilted her neck, flashing the string of words inked there. Though he couldn’t make out words, Marcel had the sudden urge to lick them. Maybe if he was sober he would’ve rethought that urge but alcohol and his libido had him firmly in their grip. He bent his head and licked her neck.

  A moan rumbled in her throat when he rasped his tongue over her skin. So he did it again, and this time added a kiss. Her fingers clasped over his wrist when he added a suckle. His response was to suckle harder on her neck and to thrust his rock hard erection against her. She in turn ground her ass harder against him. They were practically fucking with their clothes on.

  Then it stopped.

  Just like that, with no warning, she moved away.

  One second the woman was in his arms and the next she was walking away. She didn’t even look back at him as she made her way off the dance-floor. Confused, Marcel watched her leave, but his inaction lasted for only for a moment. Within seconds, his hunter’s instincts kicked in and he followed her. Her firm ass swished as she edged between tables, like a homing signal calling him and Marcel’s steps sped up.

  He was just about to reach her when she stopped at a table. He came to a screeching halt when he saw the light-skinned man seated at the table. Marcel’s heart plunged at the smile she gave the man when he pulled out a seat for her.

  Fooled again.

  This is why Marcel didn’t trust women. Her orange hair, tattoos and barely there dress should’ve warned him that she was the wild type. But with the way she was grinding on him, who could blame him for thinking she was single?

  She was just like Sophie. Disloyal to the core.

  Gritting his teeth, Marcel turned on his heels and headed back to his table.

  “Wow. Really?” Olivia Armstead’s male companion shook his head. “The fake stumble and grind? The thirst is real.”

  “What?” Olivia grinned as she sat down. “That man is so fine I almost started a praise session on the dance-floor when I saw him. Did you see those lips? Thirst traps, Lex, thirst traps.”

  Her body was still buzzing from the way the man had set those lips on her and the strength in his muscular arms as he’d held her close. The memory his hard cock pushing into her ass was enough to make her pussy pulse in hunger.

  Lex stared over her shoulder. “You’re right. He’s fine. I could do him.”

  Olivia shot him glare. “Hands off.”

  “Oh, relax, the way that man was humping you on that dance-floor it’s obvious he’s not my type.” Still looking beyond her, Lex sighed. “His friend though…”

  Mesmerized by the twins, Olivia had barely noticed the friend. Hell, all she remembered was that he wasn’t too bad on the eyes either and was more muscular but a shade lighter than the twins. Turning her attention back to Thirst Trap, she asked, “Is he coming this way?”

  Lex shook his head. “No, he’s headed back towards their table.”

  Olivia’s grin fell. “He’s supposed to follow me.”

  “I guess now we know the stumble and grind doesn’t work.” Lex suggested, “Why don’t you just go to his table and offer to buy him a drink?”

  “Your world is just rainbows and bunnies, isn’t it?” Olivia offered him a pitying look. “Let me teach you something about men-”

  “You realize I’m a man, right?” Lexie cut in with an amused raise of his eyebrows.

  Olivia waved away that assertion as she continued, “Men like to hunt. You need to make him chase you, be subtle. Buying Thirst Trap a drink would be like throwing myself in his lap and whimpering ‘take me n
ow’.”

  “If what you did on the dance-floor is being subtle-” Lex sipped his drink. “-then a spade is a big spoon.”

  “Why do I even bother training you?” Olivia shook her head and made clucking noises. “Watch! In a couple of minutes he’ll come to our table and offer to buy me a drink.”

  A couple of minutes passed, then another couple, but Thirst Trap didn’t come to their table.

  “May I should buy you a drink,” Lex teased. He laughed when Olivia flipped him the bird. Glancing over her shoulder he said, “He’s watching you though.”

  “Is he?” Olivia sat up and straightened her shoulders waiting for Thirst Trap to make his move. When someone touched her shoulder, she offered Lex a triumphant grin before swiveling in her seat with a ready smile.

  Her smile fell like a rock in water when she came face to face with a Lionel Richie look-alike. His oily jehri curls and big, white teeth gleamed as he started, “Hey pretty lady, can I-”

  “No,” Olivia cut Mr. Jehri off before turning in her seat only to find Lex grinning knowingly. Cutting her eyes at him, she snapped, “Shut up.”

  Lex laughed and took another gulp of his beer.

  A couple minutes more and Thirst Trap still wasn’t at their table. Olivia couldn’t understand why. She’d wetted his appetite. Any healthy heterosexual male would be trying to get to the buffet table by now. Trying to be subtle, she turned slightly in her seat and glanced towards his table.

  Oh, he was looking at her all right. Actually, more like his hooded eyes were burning into her. They were like pinpricks on her skin, roaming over her in a blatant stare. Being the subject of his unwavering attention was dizzying. If she was a drinker, Olivia would’ve thought she was buzzed.

  Her awareness of her surroundings melted as she took in his wholly masculine presence. From the denim shirt folded at the elbow to reveal his brawny arms, to his long legs clad in black slacks that clung to his trunk-like thighs. Swallowing hard at the sudden heat that flared in her body, she turned her gaze back upwards past those sexy lips to his dark eyes. She held his gaze for a long moment, mesmerized.