Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel)

by Angela Burt-Murray

  Married women don’t understand that while a major part of what makes a man cheat is of course the sexual desire they feel for women like me, the part that makes a man go deeper and lose all sense of rational behavior and fall in love is the way I make him feel. If I’m a sanctuary in life’s storm—meaning a nagging wife—he would always come running back to me. So it was a few weeks before we saw each other again, but I was determined to make sure it was well worth his wait.

  So when Kareem arranged to fly me to Chicago, I was ready with a plan. And since I knew Marcus would be feeling a little nervous about his wife sweating him about the video, and might be taking some heat from the conservative Gladiators organization, I knew I’d need to really pull out something special to keep him hooked.

  The New York Gladiators beat the Chicago Blaze handily 106–89 that evening, so Marcus was in an especially good mood when he unlocked the door to our hotel suite. When he stepped in, I could tell he was pleased with what he saw.

  Freshly showered after the game, he smelled like soap and the Dolce & Gabbana cologne I loved. His deep ebony complexion was freshly scrubbed, and the sexy stubble along his cheeks framing his bright white smile made him irresistible. He was dressed in black wool pants and a crisp gray shirt that peeked out from the collar of a thick black cashmere sweater that zipped up the front. The sleeves were pushed up and exposed his powerful forearms and his custom platinum and diamond-encrusted watch. Damn, he looked good.

  But I knew I looked even better.

  I greeted my man, dressed in a crimson plunging silk corset that laced up the back and matching sheer panties with a black garter belt, stockings, and eight-inch crystal-encrusted Christian Louboutin Daffodil platform pumps. My hair cascaded in long, glossy honey-blond curls swooped to one side and laid in a pool at the top of my breast. I looked into his dark eyes, which were hooded by long lashes, and kissed him deeply, sucking on his beautiful chocolate lower lip.

  “Oh, you taste so good,” I purred as I pulled the zipper down on his sweater and slid the soft fabric off his broad shoulders onto the floor. I wrapped my arms around him tightly and leaned my body into his. He picked me up with one arm and started to untie the silky straps along the back of my corset with the other.

  “Not yet, baby,” I teased playfully. “Come on in and see how much I’ve missed you.” I gave him a glass of his favorite scotch, which was sitting on the table in the foyer.

  The lights were dim, and there were scented votive candles around the sunken living room that overlooked the twinkling lights of the city and Lake Michigan. I led him over to a chair in the center of the room and told him to take a seat. He finished his drink while I picked up a rectangular velvet box off the coffee table. I walked back over to him and asked him to open it.

  “What do you plan to do with those?” Marcus asked in a husky voice as he took out a pair of silver diamond-studded handcuffs, which sparkled against the black satin lining of the box. I laughed softly, took the handcuffs from his hand, and slipped them onto his wrists while I leaned in to kiss and softly lick his ear.

  “Are you ready for the show?” I asked as I nibbled on his ear and moved down his neck.

  “Oh, I think I’m ready,” he said, looking down at the rising fabric of his wool slacks.

  “Well, then let’s get this party started,” I said as I stepped away from Marcus and walked slowly over to the French doors leading to the bedroom so that he could appreciate the view. I pushed open the doors, and standing there waiting was the evening’s entertainment.

  “Marcus, I want you to meet Crystal,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him.

  Crystal, a brunette beauty with warm olive skin, full red lips, and piercing green eyes, wore a tight black leather corset, matching thong, and thigh-high black leather platform boots. Her straight jet-black hair hung down her back, the ends grazing the top of her thong. She was gorgeous if I did say so myself. Clearly not as fabulous as me, but she would do. I turned to look at Marcus and could tell he appreciated my selection.

  I picked up the leather leash dangling from the diamond choker around Crystal’s neck and led her into the living room. I turned on some music, and Raheem DeVaughn began to croon.

  “Crystal wants to dance for you,” I said as we made our way to him. “Is that all right, baby?”

  “Hell, yeah. That sounds good to me,” he said as he looked at both of us and licked his lips. “But it would be even better if I didn’t have these handcuffs on.”

  “That’s all part of the fun,” I said, laughing huskily as I unclipped Crystal’s leather leash and went to stand behind Marcus. My arms snaked around to the front of his body so that I could unbutton his shirt while Crystal began to move seductively in the candlelight. Dark shadows from her undulating body danced off the walls as she began her performance.

  “Do you like that?” I asked Marcus as I bit his ear gently. Crystal bent over and began to flash her round bottom in his face.

  “Oh, don’t you want some of that?” I asked as I raked my nails along his broad chest and began to work my way down to his belt buckle. “Look at that juicy bounce.”

  Crystal wound her body slowly like a snake and whipped her long black hair back and forth across Marcus’s chest. Standing in front of him, she put her hands on his knees and leaned in. I felt her warm breath on the left side of his neck. She played with his other ear as I kept whispering dirty little nothings to him. Her breasts were pressed against his chin. She reached around and unsnapped her corset, freeing her full breasts and displaying her erect dark nipples. She squeezed them and popped one of the long brown nipples in his mouth.

  “Suck on it, baby,” I encouraged. Marcus moaned. I could feel him straining against the handcuffs. I knew he wanted his hands free to really enjoy himself.

  As Marcus continued to lick hungrily at Crystal’s glistening breasts, she sat in his lap and began to grind her hips into him. She arched her head and back, thrusting into him, and the long strands of her hair grazed the carpeted floor. I pushed Marcus’s open shirt off his muscled shoulders and massaged and squeezed his arms.

  “Ride it,” I commanded Crystal. “Does that feel good, Marcus?”

  “Oh, yeah, but it would feel better if it was you,” he moaned.

  “Oh, it will be, baby. Believe me, I’m going to enjoy you all night. But let’s have some more fun with Crystal for now.”

  I gave Crystal a look so that she realized I wasn’t so caught up in her show not to remember that I told her she better not make my man orgasm. That was my job. And I could tell Marcus was just about ready for me. She got my message and began to wind up her performance with the big finish.

  As she danced in front of him, I came from behind him and sat in his lap facing Crystal. His bulge had stretched out long and strong and strained against his pants.

  Crystal leaned into me, and just as we had planned, she began to kiss me along my neck and reached out to untie the laces of my corset as I pushed my bottom back into Marcus. When the corset was completely undone, I raised my arms for Crystal to lift it up over my head. Marcus’s breath began to quicken, and his wet tongue danced across my bare back. He was thrusting, pushing up into me from the chair as best he could with his arms restrained.

  Crystal came back over and straddled us both. She wrapped her arms around Marcus’s shoulders to steady herself as she began to grind her hips into mine, pushing me back into Marcus’s lap. I threw my head onto Marcus’s shoulder and closed my eyes as he began to kiss the other side of my neck. The pleasure intensified, our three bodies locked into one rhythm as we rocked back and forth in the chair.

  Wet and more than ready to pleasure my man, I decided it was time to wrap up Crystal’s performance. As I opened my eyes to give Crystal the signal, I saw her tongue snaking along the side of Marcus’s cheek, heading toward his mouth.

  Oh, hell no. I was very clear. Everyb
ody knows in a successful threesome, you don’t let the other girl kiss or actually screw your man. Crystal was the appetizer, and I was the main course. That’s why you can’t trust strippers around your man.

  Stabilizing myself against Marcus’s thighs, I suddenly pushed my body up, causing Crystal to tumble hard to the floor onto her back.

  “Damn, what the hell . . . ?” Crystal said, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she stood up, rubbing her bruised bottom.

  “Sorry, boo. I think we’re finished with this evening’s performance.”

  I could hear Marcus chuckle behind me. He knew why I’d done it, and that was fine with him because he was just as ready to get to the main event.

  I scooped up Crystal’s leather corset and leash from the floor, grabbed her trench coat from the hall closet, and then led her to the door. I handed her an envelope with her fee and shoved her whining ass out the door.

  “Now where were we?” I said to Marcus when I returned to the room with a small silver key in my hand. I stood in front of him in my red panties, garter, and heels, stroking the key down my bare breasts. “You got something for me?”

  “You know I do, and I’m going to show you as soon as you take these damn cuffs off. Stop playing, girl.”

  I walked behind him, dropped down on my knees, and unlocked the cuffs. Marcus stood up and began massaging his wrists.

  “Maybe you want to put these on me now,” I said playfully as I twirled the cuffs around my gold-flecked French-tipped finger.

  “You damn right.” And before I could get away, he snatched the cuffs from me, grabbed my hands, and locked them around my tiny wrists.

  “So what are you going to do with me since I’ve been so bad?” I teased, pushing out my pouty lips.

  Marcus’s eyes were dark with desire. He quickly scooped me up in his massive arms and carried me into the bedroom. Any thoughts I had about a slow, romantic lovemaking reunion were quickly dashed as he bent me over the front of the bed. I heard his zipper come down. He ripped off the delicate red lace panties, and then he was thrusting inside me, causing me to gasp with pleasure. He pushed my shoulders down hard into the bed as he kicked my legs apart with his feet to gain deeper access. I pushed back up into his body as best I could with my arms constrained by the handcuffs.

  He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head up. He leaned into my body and began to whisper roughly in my ear.

  “You like that?” he asked as he pushed hard inside my velvety warmth. I could barely catch my breath, so I just moaned in affirmation as I pressed my knees against the foot of the bed to raise myself up to heighten the pleasure.

  “Oh damn. You’re trying to make me explode, raising that pretty golden ass up in the air for me.”

  Suddenly Marcus was outside me. He pulled me up from the bed and pushed me down onto my knees in front of him.

  I took him into my mouth and deep-throated him hungrily as he pushed his hips into my face while he palmed the back of my head.

  “Yes, baby. That’s it. Take it all.” Marcus moaned, closed his eyes, and threw back his head. I felt him begin to thicken and pulsate. I quickened the pace and then switched up, licking along the large vein and swirling my tongue around the silky tip. I felt his legs shake.

  Gotcha . . .

  “Give it to me, baby. You know what I want,” I said as I looked into his eyes, which were dark pools drunk with passion.

  I licked my lips.

  Ready.

  Waiting.

  Marcus groaned deeply as he pushed back into my warm, wet mouth, hitting the back of my throat with long deep strokes.

  It didn’t take long.

  Spent and with me wrapped in his arms, he said it. The magic words.

  “I love you, Laila.” He mumbled sleepily as he cupped my face with his hands and kissed me gently on the lips after our second round of making love.

  Now, I’m not stupid. I know you can’t always believe a man who says he loves you right after you finish sexing him like crazy. And I know that ball players are sleeping with girls in every city behind their wives’ backs. But it was the way Marcus said it to me that let me know he really meant it.

  My plan was working.

  But it never hurts to have a little insurance to move things along. I hit “Send” on the photo and softly placed my phone back on the nightstand, then turned around to wake up my man.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nia

  After my meeting with Vanessa last week, I knew I had no choice but to contact my ex, Terrence. Since Vanessa wouldn’t let me go to the police, Terrence was the only one who could help us. And we hadn’t seen each other in five years, so that shouldn’t make it awkward or anything.

  Yeah, right . . .

  Damn, the things I do for my girl.

  I walked into the trendy SoHo French bistro and scanned the room. There he was, seated in a corner banquette. Before I could stop it, my mind began replaying the tumultuous relationship with him like a projector running in my head.

  We met when I started as a cub reporter at the New York Tribune my first year out of Harvard. He was a rising star in the NYPD’s notoriously tough narcotics division. Jake Irby, one of the crime reporters at the paper, always got a bunch of reporters together for drinks on Friday nights after work, and one night he took us to a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen where a lot of cops hung out. We were enjoying drinks and a couple games of pool when a long shadow was cast across our table. I looked up from my shot to see Jake talking to the finest man I had seen since moving to New York six months ago.

  I estimated he was about six foot two, and he had the lean, muscled build of an ex-athlete. His smooth deep-mocha skin was clean-shaven except for a goatee that framed full, juicy lips. And as he talked and laughed with Jake, I could see Crest Whitestrips–perfect teeth. But his eyes, deep brown with sleepy lids and thick lashes, were what got me.

  He was wearing dark jeans and dark brown Timberland boots. The sleeves of his navy-blue V-neck sweater were pushed up, revealing a tattoo on his forearm, but I couldn’t make out what it was. His police shield hung from a silver chain around his neck.

  Distracted, I missed my next shot, which was unusual for me because I had hustled other Harvard students to get most of my spending money in college. Eight ball was the easiest money I ever made.

  “Ouch, Nia. Is this my lucky night? Am I finally going to beat you?” Jake asked as he turned back to me and took another swallow of beer. I could tell he was excited by the prospect of finally whooping me.

  “I’m just trying to make our games competitive for once, Jake,” I joked as I picked up my own beer off the high top table next and swallowed. I tried to play off the bad shot. I hadn’t done something like that since I was eleven and my uncle Joe taught me how to play after school at his bar when I was supposed to be doing my homework. I’d been playing pool with the hardest of cats for over ten years, and I hustled throughout college, armed with all the tricks and angles.

  “Has this beautiful young lady beaten you before, Jake?” Jake’s friend asked as he looked at me and then chuckled. His eyes twinkled.

  I had regretted not going home after work and changing. I smoothed down the sides of my medium-length layered bob and tucked my hair behind my ears. I had tossed on a pair of my favorite jeans, a black turtleneck, my old faithful Nine West boots, and my red leather blazer. Why did today have to be the day when everything decent I owned was at the cleaner’s?

  “She’s gotten lucky a few times, Terrence,” Jake said, trying to play off all the many cans of whoop ass I had opened on him for the last several weeks. I appreciated his bravado. “But it looks like I’m going to be the one getting lucky tonight.” Jake broke the stack and watched as the balls scattered across the worn table. The ten ball went in the side pocket on the break.

  “Cool. At least you got one ball in the pocke
t tonight,” I said, laughing.

  “Tonight’s my night, Nia. I can feel it. Terrence, she’s been beating me up a little bit, but tonight she’s going down.”

  “Yeah, in your dreams, Jake,” I shot back. OK, so now I knew his friend’s name was Terrence. Jake surveyed the table, looking for the easiest next shot and not realizing that he needed to think three shots down the line to even have a chance of beating me.

  Rookie mistake.

  Jake hit the cue ball too hard, missing his planned shot.

  “OK, well, I’ve got next,” Jake’s friend said as he laughed at his poor friend. He then placed his beer on top of a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

  “Are you sure you want to lose all your money so early in the evening?” I asked, walking around the table to size up my strategy to run the rest of the table.

  “I don’t plan on losing,” he said confidently. His voice was a deep honey-coated baritone.

  “No one ever does, and then they play me,” I said.

  Jake missed his next shot as usual. My turn.

  “Seven ball, corner pocket.” I chalked my stick and set my position for my next shot.

  “Three ball, in the side pocket.”

  The next five balls fell just as easily. In order to sink the eight ball and win the game, I had to squeeze by Jake’s friend. And when I did, I swore I felt an electric current jump between us. I noticed he smelled like a fresh shower and soap. Nice. I hated pretty boys who wore cologne like chicks.

  I bent over the table and lined up my stick. I could see out of the corner of my eye that old boy was sizing something up as well. I was glad I had at least worn my sexy low-rise jeans. I decided to give Jake’s friend a real show and a last chance to pick up his money if he asked me nicely.

  “Eight ball, corner pocket.”

  “I hate to say this, Nia, but it’s impossible for you to put that ball in the corner pocket,” Jake said, surveying the table. He was sure that he was going to get another turn at the table to try to redeem himself.