Page 4 of A Merry Invitation
Her brow furrowed. “Just Slay? Like Prince or Joe?”
It took him a second to realize she was talking about singers. Well, he knew who Prince was, but Joe had given him a little pause because he was almost certain she was younger than him and wasn’t sure she would’ve known about his music. Then again, she was a singer so her knowledge of other artists would obviously be extensive. And why was he even thinking about male singers anyway?
“Slayton Turner,” he said. “I don’t have a criminal record. My most recent STD test results from about a month ago, declared me clean. I’m a Leo if you’re into that type of thing and at this very moment I’m dying to kiss you.”
He moved his hands to cup her face then, tilting her head up and leaning in so that her mouth was just a whisper from his. “If you’re going to tell me no, to get my hands off you and don’t bother you again, now’s the time to do it. Otherwise, I want to hear you screaming my name as I taste you in the next three minutes.”
She blinked up at him, those enigmatic eyes going darker so that they looked like deep pools of watered-down Coke. Her lips had parted like she wanted to speak but he’d only wanted to slip his tongue inside and drown in the warmth of her mouth.
“I don’t know…what…this is,” she whispered.
“It’s sex,” he replied, his nose brushing against hers. “It’s gonna be really good, really hot sex.”
His dick was painfully hard, threatening to break through the zipper of his pants as he pressed his body closer to hers. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and that moan he’d been trying to contain slipped free. She was killing him slowly, but definitely, with every moment she had him waiting.
“My name,” she said releasing that lip and touching the tip of her tongue to it as a replacement.
He had to blink and shake his head slightly in an effort to figure out what she was saying, since he’d clearly been following her tongue instead of her words. “What?”
“You’ll be screamingmyname in the next three minutes,” she said.
CHAPTER4
If his dick wasn’t already hard, it would’ve been after that declaration. Damn, he liked her. Of course, it was logical to like the person whose lips he couldn’t stop staring at and whose dress he wanted to rip off, but he could accept there wasn’t much else about this situation that made sense.
All he knew for certain was that he wanted her and if the way she was gripping the material of his shirt and pressing her body against his was any indication, she wanted him too.
In the next breath, his lips were on hers in a brutal kiss that seemed to reflect the urgency of his hunger for her. The banked desire that had come to a boiling point last week when he’d been gripping his dick as he sat at that table in the corner of the club and she’d sauntered her sexy ass to the edge of the stage and locked gazes with him. It was as if she’d seen what he was doing and wanted to get a closer look, or perhaps she’d wanted to come down off that stage and ride his dick instead. Whatever this pull between them was, it had hit its breaking point and he’d known then that he had to have her.
His tongue pushed its way between her lips and she gasped into his mouth. She tasted like cinnamon, a spicy tang against his tongue that only served to stroke the fire that had already been building inside him. His hands moved down her arms clenching her too him and holding tight because he didn’t dare let her go. Not at this moment. Not when it had taken all these weeks to decide that wanting her wasn’t breaking any of his rules.
“You taste,” he breathed the words when he’d finally torn his mouth away from hers. “Spicy.” That last word came out in a raspy whisper that he hardly recognized.
When she looked up at him, her eyes fluttered as if the kiss had dazed her as much as he feared it had him, his dick jumped. He was surrounded by great looking women for at least ten hours a day and he could’ve easily slipped inside any of them in his office, or the private manager’s room he had adjacent to his office, but he wanted her. He hadn’t taken any of the women entertainers who worked at The Corporation, even though as the manager he had all the privileges a regular member possessed. Despite those privileges and the club’s purpose, Slay preferred not to mix business with his personal pleasure. Instead, when he allowed himself the time to cater to his own needs instead of those of the members at the club, he found women who understood his limitations and were on board with the strictly sexual connection he desired.
“You taste dangerous,” her low throaty voice brought his attention back to her mouth. The lipstick she’d worn now smeared.
He shook his head. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said his hands moving from her arms to skim up the sides of her dress. “I only want one thing. One night. That’s all.”
She tilted her head, her eyes widening slightly when he slipped a hand between them and eased it up to run a finger along the curve of her breasts left bare by the sinful opening in the front of that gown. He waited, watching her intently as she digested the parameters he’d set. The thought occurred to him that it might’ve been nice to take her in a bed, but he hadn’t had a woman in a bed for years and didn’t understand why he’d even consider starting that bullshit now.
“You only want sex,” she said and then pushed her hands up until they flattened against the back of his head. “One night of really hot sex.”
She held him tight, as if she didn’t want him to move, to break the connection of their gazes or their bodies being pressed together. He could get with that. Hell, that was precisely what he wanted. “Exactly,” he breathed the word and his finger pushed further behind the material of her dress to find a taut nipple waiting for his exploration.
The hiss that escaped her at contact was arousing as hell and he sucked in a slow breath, letting the scent of her perfume permeate his mind. It was citrusy but soft, just different enough to raise a brow, and still potent enough to warm his blood. “Are you okay with that?” His voice sounded gruff as he took her nipple between his fingers, pinching it until her eyes widened, and then softening his touch once more.
Permission was not only a big deal at The Corporation, but it was also something he’d been taught from the moment his mother had caught him and Shandy Johnson on the couch in their basement. He’d been eleven years old then and Shandy had just turned twelve. She’d bared her tiny nub breasts to him earlier that day at her birthday party and his little dick had jumped for joy. He’d been holding Shandy’s wrists above her head as he positioned his young-boy’s length at her entrance when the light had flicked on and his mother had stomped into the room. He hadn’t been forcing Shandy, but it was hard trying to explain to his mother that he’d seen men hold women this way on the porn videos he and Roddy Lewis from down the block had watched. It was equally as hard to tell her how powerful and aroused seeing Shandy so bared and open to him had been. So, he’d sat quietly and listened while Amarie Holman had given him “the talk” about sex—what to do, where to put it, where not to put it—birth control, i.e., condoms for him and all other types for girls, and permission.
“If she doesn’t want it, you walk away.” Is what his mother had said. “Plain and simple. No means no, in all a languages, tones and gestures. You understand?”
He’d nodded vehemently, mostly because he’d wanted the conversation to be over so he could return to his room with whatever remnants of dignity he could recover from such an embarrassing moment and conversation. But also, because his mother’s tone had been adamant and serious enough that he’d known even then, how important a lesson that would be.
Tonight, though, he hadn’t asked her permission to touch her, or to kiss her, up to this point, but he had allowed the moment for her to walk away, yet she was still here. He’d put his expectations in simple terms and was now waiting for her to accept them.
Begging really. In his mind, the words “please, please, please,” played on loop.
She continued to stare at him for what felt like a billion minutes, her hands moving over the back of his head, her eyes searching his for what he couldn’t possibly imagine.
