Page 48 of Tarek

Her bottom lips tremble as a flicker of amusement dances in her eyes, as she struggles to hold back a laugh.

“Yes,” I murmur, stepping closer until her back is pressed against the glass door. The frame creaks under the pressure of my palm pressing firmly against it. “I like to fuck after every argument.”

We lock eyes, I can feel the heat rising between us.

“We have an audience,” she flicks her head to the side. Raising my head and I see Wes still standing there now he is joined by six staff members. Luce’s glasses are perched on her nose, and she is fanning herself with a manilla folder.

“I don’t give a fuck.” I murmur.

“Tarek, you have to be professional,” she pleads.

“It’s a sex club. I will be professional some other day.” I’m being 100% honest. I didn’t care who the hell was watching. In fact, I want them to watch especially fucking Wes.

I pull her in by the waist pressing her body flush against mine. She fits like she was made for me. I claim her mouth sucking her bottom lip between my teeth. My hand cradles her face.

“Open your fucking mouth,” I whisper against her lips, my thumb drags her bottom lip down and presses firmly against her chin guiding her.

She moans as she does, my tongue slips into her mouth and I feel greedy, covetous. Wanting her kiss, her touch for me alone. Instantly my eyes open and they land on Wes, never breaking the kiss. I want him to see who the hell she belongs to. My hand slips from her waist to her ass. I love the way my hand does a semi-circle as it traces her ass. I grip her butt cheek, its firm and heavy. I give it a little shake as to tell Wes this ass, this woman…. belongs to me. He swallows, turns and walks away.

Her nails crawl into my shoulders pulling me down to her. I want fucking more. I want to know what color her nipples are, I want to rub my hand on the supple skin of her stomach and slip my fingers into her warm cunt.

“Fuck,” I pull away slowly feeling my resolve slipping from me.

She blinks rapidly up at me, her grip on my arms tightens, her fingers digging in as if she was anchoring herself to steady her world.

“How much more work do you have to do?” I ask, hardly recognizing my own voice.

“Um I’m practically finished with the hard stuff. I fixed the leak; I can email Wes, and he’ll fix the rest.” She swallows hard.

“Do it. Then I can give you a tour of Nowhere and then you will see how unprofessional I can really be.”

* * *

PENNY

The last few hours felt like a complete blur to me, my fingers tingle from the keys that I pounded on the laptop. I can still taste him. Jesus Christ of Nazareth that was intense. His shoulders felt sturdy, thick and corded with muscles. His kiss, I bring my fingers to touch my lips. He devours you, envelopes you in desire, he directs your body to feel…to need. As the numbers from the elevator goes down, I feel like I have bit off more than I could chew. Tarek has the propensity of not caring what people think of him, while I do care about my image, and what I portray as a business owner as a black woman. Tarek really doesn’t give a fuck about much. I wish I had that in me, I fake it, but I don’t actually have it.

“Welcome to the VIP, floor,” Tarek states. The elevator jerks to a stop and he tugs the gate back for me to exit.

“Oh fuck, yes!” someone moans out loudly.

Finally, the sound of sex. Tarek joins me as we walk down a dimly lit corridor. He reaches a hand out to the side and instantly I take it.

Like the corridor before, erotic art hangs on the wall. I hear a scream of ecstasy making my pores raise.

“Each room is owned by our high rollers. Most are my best friends,” we pass eight closed black doors.

A red light beams out of the second to last doorway. I could hear the sound of flesh slapping and the heavy thick grunts of a man.

“Remember an open door is an invitation, for you to watch or join,”

“Join?” I never thought about having sex with more than one man, but the way that woman is moaning….

As we draw closer the earnest plea of a woman greets us. “Please, let me come. Please, sir.”

“Not until I say, princess,” the baritone voice grunts.

Tarek pulls up to the door, folds his arms and leans casually on the door post. I try my best to hide behind him but I’m clutching to his sleeve peeping from his side.

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