Page 153 of Kentrell

Stretching across her ass and thighs and sinking tightly into her folds. I knew that shit was gon’ look just right on her body. She looked like a brown barbie dominatrix straight out the box.

And those heels?

Tall, pink, thigh-high.

Her legs went on forever in them. Smooth. Powerful. Deliberate.

A sheer robe with a long, feathery train floated behind her like smoke, sliding off one shoulder like it couldn’t stand between us either.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t smile.

Just walked—slow, hips swaying like the bass was built for her body alone. Her eyes stayed locked on mine as she crossed the room, step by step, stopping just short of the rug in front of the fireplace.

And I still hadn’t moved.

Couldn’t.

My dick was already hard just watching herexistin front of me like that.

“Surprise,” she said finally, voice like silk and fire.

I set my glass down, never taking my eyes off her.

I didn’t mean to grab her.

Didn’t mean to lose control that fast.

But the second she smiled and said “surprise,” my body moved before my mouth could.

I reached out and yanked her straight into my lap.

She gasped and laughed against my mouth as I kissed her deep, hands already trailing down the silk hugging her ass. My grip was tight. Possessive. I felt her hips grind once—soft—and I was ready to flip her over and fuck her right here on this couch.

But she pulled back just enough to catch her breath and whisper, “Not so fast, baby—let the lady lead.”

My brow rose. “The lady need to hurry up.”

She chuckled low, eyes twinkling. “Andbabyneeds to practice patience?—”

Then she slid out of my lap and dropped to her knees.

Just like that.

“Besides,” she added, looking up at me through those lashes, “this isn’t the surprise.”

I clenched my jaw as she reached for my Timbs first, unlacing them slowly—too slowly—like she wanted to test how much patience I had left. Then the socks. My feet hit the floor as she moved with care I didn’t ask for.

She rose to her knees again, hands moving to my belt next.

I shifted in my seat, growing harder by the second.

She undid the buckle, then the button, then the zipper—one by one. Dragging time like she was trying to kill me with it.

I growled, “I can take my own shit off.”

“I know.” She smiled, fingers still working. “But I wanna do it.”

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