Authors: Fabian Black
The Education of Donovan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
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The Education of Donovan © 2013 Fabian Black
Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
I would like to sincerely that
for giving me this opportunity. And a hardy thank you for each and every person who bought this book! I hope you enjoy and come back for more!
Coming home in the middle of the day to Mary, Donovan’s sweet, biddable wife, was supposed be a happy surprise. Maybe he’d take her out to see the sights and then they’d have a nice, romantic dinner. She’d been a trooper, moving from their tiny Iowa town to the big city only to be left alone most of the day in their small apartment.
Work was going well, though, despite the horrible economy. Soon they would be able to move out of the tall apartment building in the middle of the bustling metropolis into a bigger, flashier place somewhere in the good part of town. No suburban trap for him, not yet. Yeah, he knew Mary wanted the whole picket fence, two kids, and a dog routine, but they were young...
. There was still some time left to really live before settling down into a humdrum, Americana life.
Striding into the elevator, Donovan tried not to focus on the woman who had come in, arms laden with shopping bags. Tried but didn’t succeed.
. She’d introduced herself when he and Mary first moved in. The vivacious woman lived on his floor; he’d watched her come and go covertly for the entire year he and Mary had lived here. Back in Iowa, women didn’t look like her.
Full and lush, like she was made for a long, hard romp in the hay.
Of course, there weren’t any minorities in
. There wasn’t much of anyone left there. That’s why he had packed up and left as soon as he’d finished college, a miracle in itself since his family had sold off their once profitable farm little by little.
Women with deep cocoa-colored skin, flashing deep brown eyes and full, pouting lips weren’t seen walking around wearing dresses that fit curves that brought a man to his knees. It seemed unreal the way her incredibly abundant chest tapered down to a waist Donovan bet he could span with two hands, only to flow back outward to hips that were born to ride. And that ass! Donovan didn’t think he had ever seen one quite like it.
Large, certainly, but not in a way that made you scrunch up your nose in disgust.
Those bounteous globes made his dick hard no matter how much he tried not to stare.
Like right now. As soon as she ran into the elevator just before the door slid shut, he had to grit his teeth. Her tits were bouncing like balls so full of air they were almost bursting. Of course her dress today was as low in the neck area as it was high at the hemline. Powerful, thick legs gleamed with health and vitality. He was willing to bet she wouldn’t get tired riding a man. Mary hated doing that. Mary didn’t much care for any part of sex that wasn’t in the dark and in missionary position.
The woman smiled as he stabbed their floor
pretty sure what was supposed to be an answering smile probably looked more like he was grimacing in pain. His cock throbbed painfully in his slacks. He’d never been with a black woman before. He’d always wanted to, always wondered if it would be different in any way, but he didn’t want to cheat on Mary.
Even if their sex life was so mundane.
Really, it always had been, but they had been high school sweethearts, their folks were friends,
. Donovan wished he’d had a chance to really live before marrying. Maybe have a few exotic-type girls, like this one.
“Hey, you live on my floor, don’t you?”
Voice like sin, an invitation to all things to send him straight to hell.
Why the hell was this elevator so slow?
“Yes, three doors down.” Donovan didn’t think to play it cool. The dark angel was leaning back against the cool metallic walls of the five-by-six-foot cube, her legs spread ever so slightly apart.
Angel? More like devil. Those slanted, dark brown eyes smiled at him as much as her lips did. There was knowledge there, knowledge that she knew the effect she had on him and she liked it.
Loved it, more like.
Girls like her knew and loved the power they held over the hapless male species. The elevator was too slow, the area too small, and despite the flurries of snow coming down outside, it was too fucking hot in here.
“Then you don’t mind helping me with these packages, do you?”
Donovan glanced at the bags at her feet before his gaze was pulled back to her face...and that ravishing chest.
Beautiful, and much too tempting.
And yet he heard his voice say, “Of course,” before his brain could catch up.
Very bad choice.
Still, like the good little farm boy he was, he picked up the bags as soon as the doors slid open.
Like a child, he followed her out of the elevator to her front door. Knowing to cross her threshold would be the point of no return, Donovan swallowed down his conscience and stepped inside as soon as she beckoned, his body connected by some invisible force to her very essence. God, he could smell her.
The light, floral scent of her perfume, the heat of her sex.
That was just crazy. No way
smell her sex. She didn’t stink or anything, after all. But hell, there was something pumping off that insanely tantalizing figure. Knowing he was on the fast track to hell on a greasy slide, he followed right into her bedroom, where she threw off her coat, sitting on the edge of the bed to kick off her shoes.
A small moan slipped unashamed from his lips. Those heels were at least three inches. How the hell did she manage to navigate the streets in the snow and sleet wearing contraptions like that? It would be all too easy to slip right into some perverted arms. Some freak would be given free range to gather her close, rubbing the erection she elicited against the fleshy mounds of her ass. The degenerate wouldn’t stop there. He’d cup those breasts; so much more than a handful. The plump
would swell in his feeble hands as he clutched, squeezed, kneaded...
“Damn, baby, do I excite you that much?” Oh, shit, he had long since dropped her bags on the ground and was openly stroking himself through his pants. And he didn’t stop now that he realized what he was doing. That would make him the pervert, wouldn’t it? Yet the way she was looking at him... The lips coated in a blackberry gloss smacked as she watched his hands slowly milk his dick in homage to her. “And it looks like you’re packing there.
, why don’t you open that zipper and let me see it all?”
This was the point where Donovan should’ve walked away if he had a lick of sense left in his skull. Wasn’t it just too bad he didn’t? In the blink of the eye, his zipper was down, his slacks, boxers, and common sense pooling around his feet. Grasping his dick tighter than he generally liked, he welcomed the pain, watching as the gorgeous vixen watched him. A smallish pink tongue slipped from her mouth to swipe at her lips as his thumb worked his
in circles around the reddening head of his prick. Her legs gaped open all too languidly.
Holy fires of hell! There was nothing at all covering the dark brown, puffy lips between her legs. The only hair in evidence was a small landing strip leading the way to her treasure trove. Donovan’s mouth watered as she eased back, leaning on one arm as her opposite hand slithered to the place he desperately wanted to be.
“I’ve been watching you, you know.” Her words surprised him. All the brief times they had seen each other, there hadn’t been anything more than mild recognition on her face. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes just eat me up...” Eat her? Yes, he would love to do that. Bury his face between those
thighs to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. “I’ve wanted you from the moment you moved in.” Her finger spread the wetness from her cunt to the deep rose clit emerging from its hood. His hands stroked his dick faster, wanting so much to take the place of that finger. Her eyes never ceased watching him, even when her finger made the trip southward again, plunging inside her drenched snatch. One finger was followed by two, her hips rising, writhing as she fucked herself. “I want to taste you...may I?”