Page 52 of Mahogany 2
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at her thigh.
She looked down at her leg and tugged on the skirt, pulling it down. Or trying to at least. Mahogany wasn’t a small woman—she was thick as fuck. The tugging was for no reason. Split raised as soon as she tugged on it again.
“Oh, my tattoo? It just says W.A.Y.S.”
“What does it stand for?” I asked.
I watched as she swallowed and tugged on the skirt again. “Why aren’t you smiling.”
“What’s the meaning behind it?” I asked, relaxing against the back of the couch, watching as she grew more uncomfortable with each question.
She shrugged. “I just like the song. It’s by Jhene Aiko.”
“Mmmh.” I grunted, only halfway believing her. People didn’t get the titles of songs tattooed on them just because they liked the lyrics. I made a mental note to have a listen on the ride home.
With a deep breath she said, “Anyway… If you would have read over the email I sent last night, you would have seen the layout plans for the lobby. I was thinking… since you like to spend money,” she paused and laughed. “Custom pieces for the check in desks. If you look—” She paused and looked at me. “Are you listening?”
I was listening. However, my eyes were on her—not that damn iPad. I didn’t care about anything design related. She could do whatever she wanted to do with the hotel. I trusted her vision. The only thing I wanted was what was listed in the requirements. Skylights for the penthouse suites, two massive playhouses, parents suites, and a lounge for leisure. When it came to the logistics, and the overall design scheme, I trusted Mahogany. The House of Nova Ray was my first passion project, but I trusted Mahogany’s vision. She had children. She was very capable of bringing the hotel to life. I was just there.
“Yeah, I’m listening. Keep goin,” I told her, eyes locked on hers. Just for a second before she looked away.
With a light laughed, I shook my head. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” She asked, eyes centered on the iPad.
“Look away whenever I catch your eye.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” She asked, crossing one leg over the other. “Stare?”
“The same thing you do with everyone else. Connect.”
My eyes found that tattoo again and I let them linger there. When the skirt rode up a bit more, she didn’t tug on it. She left it alone. Bounced her leg a bit, causing the skirt to raise a bit more. She was nervous. I wasfamished. I didn’t get excited about shit like a little thigh. It wasn’t easy to get me riled up. At all. I’d had my share of pussy. Had fucked with a nice amount of women. I didn’t use words like famished to describe my desire for them. Just… shit… I wanted to fuck. I was horny. Simple shit. But my mouth literally salivated at the thought of Mahogany. Her cocoa brown thighs begged to be touched. Pulled at me. Urged me. Taunted me. I wanted to part them both. Wanted to dive in between them. I wondered… if she was a creamer. Or if it was thin and sticky. I wondered about her scent. Wanted to know if she smelled as sweet as she did sitting beside me. Wanted to know if it was faint. Wondered if she’d mind me spreading her open to take a long…long.. whiff. Did she like to be licked? Sucked on? Kissed?
I was bugging.
All of that because I’d seen a little thigh. I was tempted as hell to reach over to rub her.
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip and slightly tilted my head to the side, steady eyeing the tattoo.
“I connect with you too,” She softly said, watching me, watch her.
“Not like that you don’t,” I told her. “Why’d you get it there? To hide it?”
She knew my eyes were on her thigh, yet she did nothing to cover it up.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“From who?”
Then she tugged on her skirt and took a deep breath. “People with questions,” she laughed. “You feel like focusing?”
“I’m focused,” I told her before my eyes travelled from her thigh to her lips.
Mahogany was the focal point, obviously. I didn’t know how long it would be before I made a move. I didn’t know how long it would be before I fucked up and did something I’d probably later regret. Fucking with Mahogany, the way I wanted to fuck with her could be detrimental to the company. Not only because she would indeed fall in love, but because she was married. I wondered how long it would be before none of that shit mattered. Before I let my desire for flesh-to-flesh to potentially ruin a good thing.
Would it be ruined? The probability was high. I’d never fucked with anybody I worked with. Never had the desire to. Had never been faced with a problem like this one. Had never felt sex oozing from a woman the way I felt it oozing from her. It was thick. Almost as thick as she was. The energy in the room. It was heavily laced with desire. Longing. Chemistry. Thirst. Forbiddance. And every time I saw her… every time we were like this… alone, face to face… it thickened. I wanted her more and the self-control I thought I had, diminished a bit.
I looked up and caught her eye. This time she didn’t look away. This time, she stayed put. Looked back at me with sultry eyes of a feline, seeking out prey. And I inched in closer. She didn’t back away; her eyes traveled from mine to my lips. I licked them. My heart raced and I felt a tug. An urge. One that said to go in for a kiss. I was only a couple of seconds away. Maybe not even that. A millisecond, I was so fucking hungry for her lips. My eyes traveled from her lips to her rising and falling chest. She was damn near panting. I wondered if she noticed the same thing coming from me.
