Page 33 of The Pleasure Zone
Legs spread. Arms crossed. Totally still, Lamar cleared his throat, loud enough for the both of them to hear him. She could feel his eyes on her ass behind the dark lenses of his shades. She slid him a sultry glance and felt her pussy tingle. She decided, then, she might one day give him his very own private viewing if he earned one.
But—
A camera flash went off.
They’d been spotted.
“Ohmygod!” screamed a young woman, pointing in their direction. “That’s Carlos!”
“Looks like I’m being outed,” Carlos said lightheartedly, giving her another hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Yes, my love. Your fans have sniffed you out.”
Nairobia quickly stepped out of his embrace just as a gaggle of women surged upon them like a tsunami, causing a number of travelers to get knocked over as adoring fans surrounded them, screaming out Carlos’ name, while whipping out their cells and begging for photographs with the R&B sensation.
“Carlos! I love you!” another worshiping fan called out.
“OMG! There’s my baby daddy!” someone else yelled, running in the direction of the others, cell phone on the ready for a photo.
Lamar clenched his jaw. He knew this shit was going to happen. Instinctively, he grabbed Nairobia, pulling her into his hard body, ushering her away from the pandemonium, while struggling to ignore how good her body felt against his.
His dick stretched another two inches down the inside of his thigh.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
FOURTEEN
Sat
urday night came quickly. Laid out on her ten-thousand-dollar bed was an equally expensive gown. The backless, crystal-embellished, see-through gown with a plunging neckline was a Balmain masterpiece Nairobia simply had to have after seeing it in his collection at Paris’ Fashion Week. She’d snatch it up first chance she had gotten; now the fabulous piece was in her possession and she couldn’t wait to showcase the French designer’s one-of-a-kind, show-stopping evening gown.
After applying a glittering body cream, she pinned her hair up into a sleek chignon, then slid in a pair of diamond and ruby studs, followed by a diamond choker with a huge ruby teardrop around her neck. The piece was exquisite, fitting snugly against her skin, the breathtaking ruby dangling ever so delicately in the middle of her slender neck.
She then sat at her vanity and (for dramatic effect) applied a coat of MAC lipglass in Russian Red over her succulent lips. She reached for a bottle of her most expensive perfume, and spritzed her wrists, then dabbed some along her cleavage and along the inside of her thighs.
Finally, Nairobia removed the dress from her bed and shimmied herself into the delicate garment. She stared into her mirror and smiled. The gown wrapped scandalously around every inch of her body, hugging her delicious curves. Underneath, she wore a pair of sequined panties. She decided against baring all her assets tonight. Her breasts and delectable nipples, hidden beneath jeweled pasties, were sufficient enough. She turned to the side and admired her voluptuous ass. Carlos might be the featured attraction at the Staples Center tonight, but Nairobia would definitely be everyone’s distraction.
She tucked her diamond-encrusted clutch under her arm, then made her way downstairs to where her date for the night had been impatiently waiting. She hadn’t planned on asking him to the concert tonight, and it wasn’t as if she needed him tagging along, but she had decided at the last minute that she wanted to know more about the sexy hunk whom she paid quite generously to protect her. And what better way to get to know her bodyguard than by seeing him with—what she hoped—his guard down; and, perhaps later (after a few cocktails), his pants. Or if not his pants off, she hoped to get at least a sly glimpse of his cock bulging in his slacks at some point during the evening. She hadn’t gotten over how he’d snatched her up in his arms and escorted her out of the airport yesterday. His body felt hard against hers. And she almost believed she’d felt a hardening in his crotch when she ever so lightly brushed a hand over him when she’d pressed into his body, but she hadn’t been for certain.
Lamar paced the tile in the foyer becoming increasingly irked that she’d taken her slow, sweet-ass time getting ready. Almost two-motherfucking hours! He was real close to telling her ass he’d catch her the next time. But, on the low, he wanted to see what the hype around that pretty R&B motherfucker was really all about. Still, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to go with his client to a concert.
Not as her bodyguard as she’d boldly informed him, but as a last-minute substitution for a date. She’d considered him a date substitute, some shitty last-minute afterthought. He couldn’t believe that shit. But why should it matter? It didn’t. Not really. He wasn’t checking for her like that, even if she were one of the hottest broads in the world, bouncing around a big, juicy-ass.
She wasn’t the only bad bitch in the universe.
Nah. She’s the fuckin’ baddest.
Lamar shook his head, then glanced at his watch. It was already 7:30 and the concert started at eight. Women. He slid his phone from his hip, ready to hit up his partner, Mel, on the West Coast to see how life and business were treating him when Nairobia appeared in the foyer. He stopped pacing and looked up from his phone. Goddamn. His breath caught. That fucking dress!
His dick hardened by the heartbeat.
He groaned inwardly as his gaze flicked over her face, then lower. She was provoking him. That dress was provoking him. And he didn’t like it one goddamn bit. He was pissed he’d taken his shades off.
Nairobia grinned as she followed his glance. At the last minute, she’d removed her pasties. And now her nipples were stiff. “You like, no?” she asked saucily. It was a loaded question for sure.