by Mia Madison
Table of Contents
Morelli’s Prologue
Dom’s Prologue
Dom’s Epilogue
Morelli’s Epilogue
Morelli
Dom
About the Author
Copyright
Let Me Kiss You
Mia Madison
Contents
1. Morelli’s Prologue
2. Dom’s Prologue
3. Morelli
4. Dom
5. Dom
6. Morelli
7. Morelli
8. Dom
9. Morelli
10. Dom
11. Morelli
12. Morelli
13. Dom
14. Dom
15. Morelli
16. Dom
17. Morelli
18. Dom’s Epilogue
19. Morelli’s Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Morelli’s Prologue
Nick and Dilayla’s wedding was beautiful. There’s nothing like seeing two crazy people fall in love and seal the deal.
But my eyes weren’t on my gorgeous cousin and her handsome husband. They were focused on the husky man standing at Nick’s side, across from me.
Dom.
He was the strong, silent type, I’m sure. Except, instead of seeming solid and secure, he came off shy.
I wanted him.
He knew I wanted him.
I wasn’t shy about any man I wanted. Ever. Even if I were, men weren’t an issue. Plenty of them chased me down.
I was Scarlett Morelli, one of King of Diamonds’ hottest entertainers. Beneath my busty hourglass figure was a passionate, multifaceted woman. Not many were aware, but in addition to dancing, I was a design whiz and marketing geek.
Yep. Brains, beauty, and intelligence, all wrapped in one.
I’d been getting tired of the dating scene. Dates were nonexistent. Most men wanted to date me for their personal fantasies and cool points. My name alone elicited wet dreams, but at twenty-five, it was time to hang it up. Dancing for dollars could only happen for so long before one washed up and washed out.
I wanted to find love, real love, build a web design business, teach pole fitness, and start a family, you know, do normal things like normal people.
I wanted to be with a normal guy — like the one standing across from me, who stubbornly pretended not to see me staring him down intensely while our friends exchanged vows.
As the newlyweds kissed and cheered to their eternal love, we were the last man and woman standing. I smiled and shed tears of joy. I was happy for my girls, Rocky and Dee.
… But deep down inside, I also pondered the possibility of being next in line.
Kenny fell in love with Raquel.
Dilayla fell in love with Nick.
Could Dom fall in love with me?
Dom’s Prologue
I pushed my key in the knob and turned. Cold metal sent tingles through my palm as I entered my Collins Ave penthouse. Darkness soothed my eyes. It was way too late at night, or should I say, early in the morning, for harsh lights to sting my eyes.
Coming home this late would be a rarity now.
Kenny and Nick, my best friends since high school, were officially married. Kenny married Raquel a week after they’d met. Now, I was just coming home from Nick and Dilayla’s wedding.
Nick was an arrogant playboy until he met Dilayla. He persistently pursued her hand in marriage just weeks after meeting her. She was scared at first, but he took my advice and offered her a clear-cut prenup, something generous but modest compared to his true holdings. She couldn’t resist an ironclad financial guarantee, especially when he paired it with that engagement he paid for.
It was nearly three in the morning. I’d had almost too much to drink. At thirty-nine, I knew my tolerance perfectly. I also knew myself enough to know I needed to drink two bottles of water before I went to bed to avoid a crushing hangover the next morning.
Blackness and silence filled my environment as I slid out of the shower and into bed. I’d get to sleep peacefully knowing that my friends were financially protected in case things went wrong.
Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for my best friends; we were brothers. But I was also their accountant. I worked with my team of financial advisors to help them manage and protect their estates, and love was the biggest risk.
I didn’t mean to be cynical. I believed in true love. I’d just seen the highs and lows of love, especially the lows in terms of finances.
Love is wonderful to have. Everything is fine while one is basking in it. But after several years, a couple of kids, and a harsh wave of boredom that sets — the one what arrives when someone starts to think the relationship’s old and stale — things can get pretty rocky.
That was what I protected them against — those hard, jagged edges of the rocks that shit on them where it hurts the most. Besides their hearts, of course.
Morelli’s beauty came to my attention as my eyes drooped to sleep. She was gorgeous. Tall and leggy, with the most perfect tits I’d ever seen. She had an amazing smile with a beauty mark, a natural one. Her hair was always in a different color and style, and she had a well-placed tatt on the back of her neck.
Her eyes were the blazing feature. They were honey colored, and her gaze was as sweet and syrupy as you’d expect.
She was Dilayla’s cousin, her best friend next to Raquel. And she was also the bridesmaid standing across from me today.
My cock tingled when I remembered the way she eyed me. We’d spoken before. She took me home from Kenny and Raquel’s joint bachelor party, the one we had after they got married.
Dilayla and Raquel enjoyed the dancers’ performances more. They were particularly tickled by the way Morelli straddled me and drowned me in her attention.
My fingers lightly wrapped around the relaxed, ultra-sensitive head of my cock. I stroked upward, focusing on my frenulum as I thought about those huge tits, with perfect dusky-rose nipples against tanned skin. Morelli spoke English, Spanish, and Italian, and she knew what nasty things to say while she danced on me.
I was so mortified when she was on me. I was shy by nature and didn’t want a lot of attention. But my cock loved every minute of it. And the entire ride home, I shrank to the passenger side, out of fear she’d see both my erection and my attraction.
As I erupted to images of Morelli bouncing up and down my cock with her nipples in my mouth, I realized she was flirtatious with me, perhaps interested.
But I wouldn’t approach her. I refused to.
Morelli was beautiful. Too beautiful. It was unreal. And I lived in reality. Beautiful women, in my opinion, were more trouble than they were worth. They needed more money, more time, and sucked up so much attention I was bound to fight off at least one crazy ex.
I just wanted a plain Jane beauty. Nick and Kenny joked that I deliberately went for the ugliest one in the room, but the truth was I wasn’t attracted to tons of makeup and injectable beauty. I scaled the amount of silicone a woman had to the amount of self-centeredness she came with.
Unlike them, I wanted to settle down with a good, normal, average, and unassuming woman. One who didn’t care about occasional bags under her eyes or relentless calorie counting. One who would happily bear stretch marks and maybe some sag in her boobs as welcome changes in exchange for having our children.
I craved a woman who wanted to experience traditional family values, like those in my Italian bloodlines, and build. My fortieth birthday was
coming, and I knew my mother would hound me again. It wasn’t that I wasn’t trying, but finding one in Miami was like a searching for a needle in a haystack with my eyes closed.
I erupted as I finished my fantasy of Morelli, grinding on me the way she did that night at Nick’s house for Kenny’s bachelor party. Except in my fantasy, nobody else was there and she rode my cock to completion.
Sigh. I was really the last man standing. My boys were making love to their wives, and I was daydreaming about a dancer.
I had to do something. I was getting up there, and the chances of finding a good woman to love felt as if it were slipping through my fingertips.
Morelli
Things were going so smoothly. He was tall, dark, handsome, wealthy, and Cuban. His curly black hair and five o’clock shadow made me think wild thoughts of dragging my pussy lips against it until every prickled nerve in my body made my back arch and my toes curl.
“How’s your food?” I asked, swirling my fork into my linguine. I hadn’t had a rich Italian meal in forever. I’d picked up a more plant-based lifestyle for the summer. Yet and still, the rich, hearty chunks of oregano and garlic-drenched tomatoes sent leaps of joy into my heart from the first bite. Authentic tomato sauce over a bed of from-scratch pasta was worth every extra workout I’d be forced to endure this weekend.
“Perfecto, mi amor. Yours?” His dark-grey eyes burned with translucent lust as they focused on my lips.
“Delicious,” I replied. “I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in a long time.”
“You deserve to enjoy yourself all the time.” His intense gaze jumped from my lips to my cleavage, making my nipples hard with lust, before jumping to my eyes. I’m sure they blazed lustfully, their golden-hazel color giving away my dirty thoughts.
It had been awhile since I felt enough chemistry to go on a date. Most of my time was spent dancing at King of Diamonds, working on a new website, or building my social media platform.
Yes, I danced professionally, exuding sexual energy and exhibiting my busty figure for entertainment. But it was only entertainment; the profit was in maintaining the mystique of being almost, yet never, really available. A dancer clients know they can sleep with or meet outside the club is a danger to the pockets.
Manuel wasn’t a regular customer. He’d been lining my pockets with VIP dances for the past five to six months.
He was Cuban, as in born in Havana, and here for business. Real estate was beginning to take off, especially with the US allowing Americans to travel back and forth there freely. He was looking for investors to capitalize upon the open turf.
Initially, I figured our chemistry was just due to the amount of alcohol I had in my system. I’d had several shots the first time I danced for him. I thought it was just me. But there were consistent sparks between us. There’d been many nights I’d gone home drenched, my ass and pussy tingling from the way his thick cock nestled rock hard between my cheeks when I slid on his lap and ground down on him.
And as for sex, it’d been so long, I couldn’t resist feeling the tingle of possibilities between my thighs when he suggested we do dinner. He’d even expressed interest in collaborating on a web design project.
“Has the lady saved any room for dessert?” the waitress asked, a warm smile on her face.
Fantasies of smearing tiramisu on Manuel’s cock and licking it off filled my mind. But no, I’d pretend to be a lady. I couldn’t be that kinky tonight.
“Tiramisu, please.” I smiled innocently, determined not to give away my feelings. Manuel ordered one as well.
We teased each other with lurid, erotic licks and suggestive eye contact. Although we’d spoken about websites, branding, and social media management, we both truly knew why we were here. We wanted to fuck.
I don’t think we even made it all the way to his house before the foreplay began. His hands crawled under my skirt. I spread my legs, allowing him access to the sweet treat I withheld from most.
I tossed my head back and melted when he slowly circled his fingers around my wet nub, swirling it to my pleasure. My sensitive body was open and ready, yet he held me on the brink until we entered his place. On a high floor in a building on Collins Avenue, it was decorated with an affectionate warmth, neutral browns and calm greens amidst breezy blues.
“Fuck, I can’t hold back anymore, mami,” Manuel said, greedily covering my mouth with his. His dick urgently pressed into my leg, and my mouth watered. I wanted to know how he tasted, but refused to. Yes, it had been months since I had sex, and I was ready to go, but I still had to hold back something on the first night.
Manuel lifted my legs up as he pushed me against the wall and humped against my warm center. Just witnessing the strength in his muscular arms, and the way he held me so effortlessly while he took control, growling and saying things in Spanish, almost made me cum.
Manuel gripped my thighs and carried me through his condo to his bedroom. His housekeeper must have been good; there were tealight candles everywhere, and fragrant roses were in abundance throughout the room, with a heart made of petals formed over the bed.
Manuel wasted no time pulling my drenched panties to the side. He put his face in it when he ate my pussy, slurping sloppily as I held my hands atop his head and instructed him to suck my clit.
“Fuck, papi,” I moaned, snaking my hips as I relaxed and received his pleasure. “Eat my pussy, make me cum.”
His response was to groan and suck harder, and I enjoyed the sinful deliciousness of feeling him feast upon me. My Hitachi Magic Wand hadn’t been giving me the release I needed, so this magical opportunity to make my love come down on his immaculate Cuban lips was fucking perfect. We could never speak again - with the exception of business, perhaps — and the fantasies would live on forever.
Fervently, with need, Manuel’s tongue raced up, flicking away at my clit until my knees went weak. He brushed that stubble against my lips, hitting me at the right angle and my desire exploded into climax.
“Oooh!” I panted as my back arched and I came. “Ooooh, fuck yes. I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”
“Mmm, that’s right,” he groaned. “Cum for papi.”
He looked up, a satisfied smile on his face, which glistened with my juices. He reached out to me, ready to share the taste of my passion on his lips when the door opened.
“Ready for me?”
The woman was beautiful, five feet eight with long curvy legs and smooth, caramel skin. She reminded me of Lala Vasquez-Anthony, Carmelo Anthony’s wife. She wore a red velvet top that accentuated her busty top half, its skimpy bikini bottom showing off her ample hips.
She was built like she could be Dilayla and I’s cousin. We were curvy from the rich Dominican genes in our family.
She looked at me and smiled, her sparkly ruby-red lips spread in amorous, playful welcome. Manuel looked at her, smiled, and turned his eyes back to me. “Let’s play, mami.”
“The fuck? What do you mean, ‘Let’s play?’” I pushed him away and sat up, covering myself as I did. “Who is she?”
Amusement glittered in his eyes. “That’s my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend!?” I shrieked. “ You have a girlfriend?”
Manuel never told me he had a girlfriend. Why was this news to me? Just now, post-orgasm? And what the hell was going on?
“Maria.” She took a step forward to extend her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I shook it, feeling instant reluctance. I had done so out of instinctual response. She grabbed it, kissed, and murmured, “And I can’t wait to taste you either.”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” I looked at the horny couple, their mouths practically watering as they looked over me, like predators to prey. “What the fuck is happening here?”
“We’re about to play,” Maria said, matter-of-factly. She licked her lips as she spoke, and I realized I’d been duped. “Duh.”
“You think I came here to have a threesome?” I asked.
“Didn’t you?” She w
inked.
“That’s not what I came for. I was asked out on a date.” I countered.
“It was a date, mi amor. An amazing one. I just figured you would enjoy a little spice to end our night with a bang.” Miguel said, speaking up. “A little surprise.”
“Excuse me?” I looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t even tell me you had a girlfriend!”
“You never asked,” he replied, cavalier. He pulled Maria close to him, and they eyed me with wanton lust. “Maria and I love women. We’re polyamorous.”
“Manuel has told me about you for months,” Maria said sincerely. She blushed a little as she said, “I think you’re very sexy. I would love to make you feel even sexier.”
My head began to hurt. I hated surprises and secret girlfriends were only beat by unannounced threesomes.
“I know you’re a business woman,” Manuel said. “And I have every interest in talking about our business projects. But tonight is completely all about sharing pleasure, mi amor.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. Because he had to be.
“If it helps, we’re prepared to compensate you for your time,” he persisted. Maria nodded, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Just one night with you. Let us make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”
“No.” I shook my head in disbelief, not even believing the shit coming from his lips. I wanted to fuck, not become part of an FFM sandwich I wasn’t ready for. I’d had a bit to drink, but all the red wine in the world couldn’t have convinced me to fall for this.
I pushed past them both, ignoring their attempts to reason with me. I grabbed my shoes and bag, and ran out the door. By the time I got to the lobby, my face burned with anger, and my heart paced with frantic speed. I thumbed through my phone, desperate for an Uber. I was engrossed in my phone, too pissed to even think about where I was going when I ran smack into the door.
Thwap!
“Shit!” I fell on my ass and cussed. This night couldn’t get any worse, could it?