Page 22 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

I pushed the delicate lace fabric of her panties aside and teased her opening with my fingers. My thumb circled her clit, a vow to make her come. I pushed my fingers deep inside of her soaking wet pussy. Damn. She was so tight. My tongue licked at my lips as I looked up at her beautiful face.

She was a fucking sight. With her legs splayed open, a soft moan escaped her parted lips as her chest heaved. Her nipples hardened from arousal and the chill of the air-conditioning. The soft waves of her hair framed her head like a halo as she lolled back and forth.

My pace quickened as my fingers moved faster in and out of her. My other hand pumped my dick to the same rhythm. As we sprinted toward our release, her sex rippled against my fingers. We kept going until our simultaneous eruption.

Back in the shower, I tilted my head back, rivulets of warm water ran from my hair down my face to the shower floor. I placed my left hand on the tiled wall to stabilize myself as my right hand glided over my length.

With a firm grip on my cock, my hand stroked faster and faster. The image of Kandace’s head slumped back with her lips shaped into the perfect ‘O’ was the motivation for my release. I held my head back into the shower spray as I shot thick ropes of cum. In a perfect world, I would have squirted ribbons all over her tight wet pussy, decorating it like my own special present.

The Magnolia Room was a posh bar in downtown New Orleans. Its quiet, secluded atmosphere made it a haven for local celebrities and athletes. It was the place you went when discretion was paramount. The bar had a reputation for exclusivity because they granted entry to the select few of New Orleanian society.

Getting off in the shower resulted in loosened muscles and an adjusted attitude. I sat at the bar and sipped a Manhattan as I surveyed my surroundings. Three seats over was a dark-haired beauty who was desperately attempting to catch my eye. I ignored her. The only dark-haired beauty on my mind was Kandace.

My best friend strolled in without a care. In typical James fashion, he was late. I’d known him for almost twenty years, and he had never been on time for anything.

“What’s up, Playboy?” He grinned, his perfect white teeth gleaming. We slapped hands and then hooked our thumbs before pulling back.

“Nothing much. Dude, why the fuck are you so late?”

He sat on the barstool next to me and shrugged.

“I had to console Kenya. She’s lost her mind with the damn wedding planning. Every single aspect has to be perfect.”

James and his fiancée, Kenya, were planning an October wedding. When we were younger, it had been James’ idea to remain bachelors for the rest of our lives. He’d pledged he would never get married. That had gone by the wayside once he’d reunited with his high school sweetheart. They had quickly moved from dating to exclusivity to engagement. Three months after their reintroduction, James had proposed.

“But don’t most women want the perfect wedding?”

“I’m convinced this isn’t normal. If it were, there would be no marriage. Check it. I jokingly said I’d be wearing a white tux and white shoes. She lost it.” He continued after I grimaced. “I will not wear no bumpkin-ass shit. Listen . . .” He popped an imaginary collar. “Bespoke navy brocade jacket. Black satin lapel. Black slacks. Black patent Christian Louboutin dress shoes.”

James’ style was too flashy for me. But I expected nothing less from my friend. He was always the ladies’ man and always the center of attention, he craved the spotlight. He’d used all of his charm and wisdom to reinvent himself from a professional football player with a lackluster career to a wealth management advisor to several stars of the NBA and NFL.

“I just wanted to fuck with her. I hoped we’d laugh and get back to loving each other. Sometimes Kenya can be a brat. But these were not the typical Kenya tears. She did the ugly cry. After seeing my baby so distressed, I had to make it up to her, so I stopped by Saks. I hope she likes Louis Vuitton. We can go to City Hall tomorrow and end the torture for all I care. I just want to spend the rest of my life with her.” He scanned the bar before flagging the bartender over and ordering a Hennessy. “What’s going on with you? I haven’t heard from you in weeks. Are you dating anyone? Kenya’s sister is still single.”

“I don’t need a hookup,” I blurted, searching for the right words. I was about to make a major confession to my best friend. The moment I said it aloud, it would be real. “Do you remember Kandace?”

“Hell, yeah. I remember her. I saw her a few weeks ago at the Drake concert. She’s grown up nicely.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively, which angered the shit out of me. I growled a warning.

“Watch it.”

He raised his hands.

“Damn. Calm down. Have you forgotten I’m happily in love and almost married?” He took a sip of his drink, fighting back laughter in his smile. “Why are you asking about Kandi? Are you two seeing each other?”

I cast my eyes downward. The hopelessness of the situation was clear before I even spoke my next words.

“No. We aren’t seeing each other. She works around the loft. Sometimes, I wonder about her.” Backtracking because I knew I sounded foolish, I began a stream-of-consciousness ramble, “She’s a nice girl, but she’s so young. You know I’m no good in relationships, and I don’t have time. She’ll want more. She may want it all. I’m not built for monogamy. And because of our families’ friendship, I can’t fuck around with her.”

James lowered and shook his head while chuckling. He gave me two hearty pats on the back.

“Make it happen. You aren’t getting any younger. It’s time to settle down and have kids. I want you to be blissfully happy. Like I am.”

“Didn’t you just buy an expensive apology gift?”

“Touché,” he said, raising his glass to me. “Stop being a pussy. Call Kandace and ask her out for drinks.”

“She’s out with her friends.”

“Where?”

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