After Hours (16 page)

T
he flickering flame from candles on a low table on the terrace bathed Dina's face in a luminous glow that fired the gold in her eyes and skin. Lance, unable to pull his gaze away from her, took a swallow of his wine. He couldn't remember spending a more pleasurable evening with a woman.

Setting down the glass, he picked up a napkin and touched it to the corners of his mouth. “The dinner was wonderful, baby girl.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Dina had promised Lance she would cook for him, and with the decrease in her work hours she'd finally fulfilled her promise. When she asked him what he wanted to eat, his response had been
Surprise me.
She'd surprised him with rosemary roast Cornish hens, garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans and homemade yeast rolls.

He winked at her. “I have a confession to make.”

“What's that?”

“I didn't believe you when you said you could cook.”

Dina traced the rim of a goblet of sweet tea. “Why?”

He lifted his shoulders under a loose-fitting white linen shirt. “You don't seem that domesticated.”

Her gaze met his across the small space. “Do you care to explain what you mean by
domesticated?
”

Lance ran a hand over his face. “I think I just put my foot in my mouth. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't.”

“Help me out, Dina.”

Her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. “Why should I? Are you interpreting
domesticated
as not housebroken or not fit for marriage?”

Pushing back his chair, Lance came around the table. He eased her from her chair, cradling her to his chest. “I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You're the perfect—”

Dina had placed her fingers over his mouth. “Don't say it, Lance.”

His fingers circled her wrist, pulling her hand down. “Don't say what?”

Tilting her chin, she stared up at him. “I'm not who you think I am. And I'm certainly not perfect.”

“I don't care who you are, Dina,” Lance countered. “All I know is that I enjoy being with you because you're never boring. You make me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. I—”

Dina stopped his passionate entreaty when she kissed him. It began as a tentative joining, deepening when his tongue gently parted her lips. His hands came up, cradling her face as she arched toward him.

All of the men she'd known ceased to exist for Dina when she gave in to the delicious sensations taking her beyond herself. She was soaring, floating outside of her body to a place where she'd never been. His mouth moved lower to the column of her neck as she curved her arms under Lance's broad shoulders, holding on to him as if he were her lifeline.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered hoarsely.

Hot tears sprang up behind her eyelids. She wanted to sleep with Lance and experience what it meant to be a woman—a real woman. When she told him she was a virgin she hadn't lied altogether. Yes, she'd slept with men, but she'd never felt passion, or experienced an orgasm.

Everything she knew had come from porno flicks: the moans, groans, screams and the different positions. Men never knew that she'd choreographed and faked every move because their egos wouldn't permit them to believe that they weren't the best lover she'd ever had. There were times when she got out of sleeping with them when she told him she was on her menses or she'd gotten them so drunk that they fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.

“I can't, Lance.”

“Why not, baby?”

“You know what can happen if I stay over.”

“I promise not to touch you.”

Dina pulled away from him and presented him with her back. “But I can't promise not to stop you if you do decide to touch me.”

Lance stepped around Dina and cupped her chin in his hand. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. His gaze dropped to the fluttering pulse in her throat. She was frightened of him.

“I'll take you home.”

 

Dina walked up the narrow staircase leading to her apartment, Lance following closely behind. He waited until she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She'd left on the light in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.

Winding her arms around his waist, she pressed a kiss to his smooth cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

He smiled. “I should be the one thanking you.”

Dina dropped her arms and took a backward step. “Good night, Big Daddy.”

Lance chuckled under breath. “Good night, baby girl. Make sure you lock the door.”

“I will.”

She closed and locked the door, listening to the heavy footfalls until they faded completely, then she turned and made her way into her bedroom. Light from the street lamp spilled into the room through the lacy curtains at the tall windows. She lowered the shades before switching on a table lamp.

Everything in the apartment reminded her of Lance because he'd paid for the comforter, the matching dust ruffle, the shams, the throw pillows, the bathroom towels and accessories; he'd ignored her protests when he selected cookware, dishes and flatware, then informed her that they were housewarming gifts.

Lancelot Haynes was her friend, but he was also much more. He was a man she could trust. She knew he was attracted to her, and if she were honest with herself, then she'd admit that she was attracted to him. He was older, worldly—traits she sought in a man—and he was someone who made her feel safe whenever they were together.

Tonight signaled a turning point in her life because she'd experienced desire for the first time. She wasn't certain how long she and Lance would remain friends, but she wanted to be prepared if or when it changed. He was expecting a virgin, and she had to make certain she could back up her assertion that she was.

K
arla stared at the paving stones in contrasting shades of light and dark gray in the fading light that expanded the patio by an additional one hundred feet. The outdoor kitchen was nearing completion; the contractor had reassured her that he would finish in time for her to hold her Independence Day celebration.

She felt the warmth of a body, then a pair of strong arms around her waist over a flowing caftan as Ronald joined her. Leaning back, she rested her head against his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It looks okay.”

“Okay, Ronald?”

“All right, Karla. It looks very nice.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I thought you'd be dressed by now.” It'd been a while since he and Karla had gone to a party with the intent of sleeping with other men and women.

Turning in her husband's loose embrace, Karla brushed a light kiss over his mouth. Ronald was dressed entirely in black: shirt, slacks and shoes. The color was dramatic, flattering, and he breathtakingly virile. “I'll meet you out front in ten minutes.” She'd showered, made up her face and styled her hair.

Ronald ran his hand over the nape of her neck. “I'm going to time you.”

“You're going to lose, darling.”

“No, I'm not,” he said, watching his wife walk.

Ronald Thaddeus King was living a life he never would've imagined while growing up. He'd married a brilliant, beautiful wife with whom he shared the most incredible sex ever. Their passion for luxury, lust for power and unlimited sex drive had drawn and kept them together.

He'd had numerous affairs, but that stopped completely the first time he shared Karla's bed. What had surprised
and
shocked him was that she was insatiable. At first he thought her a nymphomaniac, but when he'd asked if she was, her reply had been
I want to get enough before you leave.
He finally left her apartment after an entire weekend in bed, but he returned the following weekend and every weekend after that until he asked her to marry him.

And as unconventional as Karla was in the bedroom, she was the opposite outside of it. She wouldn't give him a key to her apartment and refused his when offered. She'd sleep with him, but refused to live together unless married. They'd had their share of disagreements, but he always compromised in order to save his marriage.

Together he and Karla had become a super couple who were living the American dream with a multimillion-dollar mansion, luxury automobiles and investments worth millions. They worked hard and partied even harder. Life for the Kings couldn't be better.

He made his way to the garage, where he'd parked his truck. He started the engine when he saw Karla. Ronald glanced at his timepiece. She'd dressed in less than ten minutes.

Getting out of the Escalade, he came around to open the door for her. Karla was stunning in a pair of black stretch slacks, a matching tank top and high-heel zebra-striped mules.

“I've changed my mind about going out,” he whispered softly.

Karla's eyes widened. “Are you serious?” Ronald nodded. “Why didn't you say something before?”

His teeth shone whitely under his mustache when he flashed a smile. “I just had a change of mind.”

Unconsciously Karla pushed her hair behind her right ear, the light over the three-car garage reflecting off the diamond stud in her ear. The diamond earrings were a gift from Ronald for their fifth wedding anniversary. She'd also given him jewelry—a gold watch with a genuine alligator strap.

“Let's go and hang out for a while, then we can leave.”

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Ronald asked.

“Yes, Ronald, that's what I want.”

She wanted to be anywhere but home, watching and obsessing about whether the construction project would be finished by the projected date. She needed to interact with people who were the complete opposite of the uptight pricks at her firm, who tended to take themselves much too seriously. She'd stopped a heated discussion about the best way to handle a client's estate when she reminded them that they weren't talking about a cure for cancer and that they should stop wasting precious time and make a decision. The silence that followed her outburst was deafening. Two minutes later they agreed on a course of action, and the ruse to inflate billable hours came to an abrupt end.

Ronald assisted her getting into the vehicle, then slipped in beside her. He shifted into gear and maneuvered out of the circular drive to a private road lined on both sides with sprawling properties dotted with pools, tennis courts and a nine-hole golf course.

“Are you all right, Karla?”

“Yes. Why would you ask me that?”

“You seem a little on edge.”

Karla rested her left hand over his thigh. “I don't know what is it, but lately the old gray suits annoy the hell out of me.”

Ronald smiled. She always referred to the men at the boutique tax firm as “old gray suits” or “old heads.” “Don't tell me that you cussed them out again.”

“I was this close.” She held up her thumb and forefinger. “If I hadn't worked so hard to make partner, I'd leave.”

“You can still leave, baby.”

Karla shook her head. “No, I can't, because I don't want to give them that satisfaction. Not when I'm the only female partner—and a black woman, to boot.”

Ronald lifted thick, silky black eyebrows. “Your decision not to leave is based on gender and race?”

“It's more gender than race, because of their old-boys'-club bullshit. They get together to golf, go sailing and share drinks at the country club. If I were a black man I'd be included to join their social outings, but because I don't have a dick between my legs I'm excluded.”

Ronald laughed while shaking his head. “I, for one, am glad that you don't have a dick. One dick in this family is enough.” Karla's hand moved closer to his crotch and she massaged the bulge resting against his leg. “Dammit, Karla! Don't do that while I'm driving.”

Leaning over, she caught his earlobe between her teeth. “Pull over.”

Ronald gritted his teeth as the flesh between his legs hardened quickly. “Stop it, Karla.”

“Pull over, Ronald.” Her teeth and hand worked their magic until she felt him trembling.

Maneuvering off the road, he drove a short distance and parked behind a wooded area with an overgrowth of brushes and trees concealing them from passing motorists. He parked and turned off the engine.

Karla didn't give him enough time to prepare for her sexual onslaught when she unzipped his slacks, released his erection and took him into her mouth. Eyes closed, head pressed to the headrest, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and gave in to the exquisite ecstasy that seemed to stop his heart before starting up again.

Karla's tongue and mouth communicated a silent, passionate message that said Ronald King belonged to her and it was only with her consent that other woman could sample the small pieces that he handed out like priceless gems.

Her fingers tightened around the thick, blood-engorged length of flesh as she quickened her rhythm. The musky smell of him combined with the sensual scent of his cologne had become an aphrodisiac, heightening her desire. She struggled not to push her free hand between her own legs when she felt the gush of moisture bathe her core.

The harsh, uneven rhythm of Ronald's breathing echoed in the close confines of the SUV as he struggled not to come in Karla's mouth. He tried pulling her head away, but she wouldn't let him go.

Broad shoulders heaving, his heart pumping painfully in his chest, he rose slightly off the leather seat and freed himself from the intense pleasure that had no way to go but outward.

Karla moaned softly with the rush of semen filling her mouth. She waited until the pulsing under her fingers slowed, then stop altogether before she released Ronald's still-hard penis. Straightening, she opened the glove box and took out a handful of tissues, spitting into the soft cotton. She took another handful and gave them to Ronald.

He cleaned himself, rolled up the tissues and flung the wad at his wife. His hands were shaking when he attempted to adjust his slacks. “Fuck you, Karla King,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Karla knew Ronald was angry because he hadn't wanted to ejaculate into her mouth. “That's exactly what I want you to do. Now turn this truck around and take me home.”

He punched the start button and shifted savagely into gear, retracing the route.

Ronald hated when his wife took out her frustrations on him. She'd gone down on him because he was a man and right now she was angry with the men who worked with her. Sucking him until he came in her mouth had reaffirmed her power and control over all men who wouldn't acknowledge her as their equal.

What Karla couldn't or didn't want to understand was that he never viewed her as inferior. She'd earned three degrees to his two, spoke fluent French and made twice as much as he did. The only exception was physical strength. He was able to bench-press twice his body's weight, while Karla hadn't been able to lift more than fifty pounds. He thought he understood her, but it was apparent he didn't know her at all, because she'd become a creature of extremes—physically, mentally and emotionally.

Karla was out of the Escalade as soon as Ronald came to a complete stop. Quickening her pace, she made it to the front door. She was upstairs in the bedroom when he walked in.

They stood motionless, staring at each other like strangers. Although married for six years, they still were strangers. Ronald didn't understand his wife's unceasing drive to prove herself and he knew she would never accept the aberrant sexual fantasies that emerged when he least expected.

Reaching up, he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the floor. He kicked off his shoes, then bent over to remove his socks. His gaze met and fused with hers when he removed his belt, slacks and boxers. He saw her gaze shift to the pile of clothes on the rug.

Ronald knew she wanted him to pick them up, but he wouldn't.

Not now.

Not tonight. His hand went to his groin, fingers caressing the heavy flesh between his thighs.

A hint of a smile softened Karla's wide mouth as she kicked off her mules. It had become a battle of wills, a dance of desire as she eased the tank top over her head, exposing her full breasts to Ronald's heated gaze. Slowly, as if she were on stage seducing a room of horny men, she unzipped her pants and pushed them down her hips without bending her knees. Wearing nothing but a black thong, she turned and presented her husband with her back as she anchored her hands between the narrow elastic band, pushing it slowly down her thighs and legs.

Ronald moved quickly, sweeping Karla up in his arms and carrying her to the bed. Holding her effortlessly in one arm, he swept back the comforter, placing her on the cool sheets, his body following hers down. Grasping her wrists, he anchored her hands against her body as he slid down the length of the bed to press his face to the apex of her thighs.

It was his turn to exact revenge, to assert his power and control when he alternated suckling with nipping gently at the sensitive folds around her vagina. She screamed and arched off the bed when he captured her clitoris between his teeth, applying enough pressure to make her climax.

Moving quickly, Ronald entered her and they breathed out a shared groan of pure pleasure. The walls of her vagina closed around him, pulling him in until he was mindless with the lust that imprisoned his mind
and
body. His hands were everywhere—her breasts, hips, face and hair.

A moan of ecstasy slipped through Karla's lips as she felt the onset of contractions that signaled she was going to climax. She tightened her vaginal muscles but to no avail. She couldn't stop what had begun in the front seat of the Escalade and she couldn't stop the screams of rapture building up in the back of throat; she opened her mouth when a spasm of erotic pleasure seized her, holding her prisoner for several seconds before she and Ronald climaxed simultaneously, their breathing coming in long, surrendering gasps.

Karla languished in the weight pressing her down to the mattress, the smell of sex and an amazing sense of completeness. Her arms went around Ronald's head as he pressed his mouth to her moist neck. She loved Ronald. He'd become her partner, the other half that made her whole.

“I love you,” she whispered softly.

A beat passed before he said, “I love you, too.”