Читать книгу Promises We Make - Pamela Yaye - Страница 11

Damien studied his gold Concord watch. He’d been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes, but there was still no sign of Niveah. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? The curvy, fresh-faced beauty could have any man she wanted in the grand ballroom, and there was a very good chance she’d hooked up with someone else.

He raked a hand over his head, trying to decide what to do next. In an effort to regroup, Damien breathed in deeply through his nose. He considered returning to the party to scope out another playmate lookalike, but decided against it. The truth was, he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted the sister with the curly hair, caramel complexion, and smokin’ hot body.

To block out the images of Niveah flashing in his mind, Damien shut his eyes. It didn’t help. He saw them kissing, fondling, tearing at each other’s clothes. Just as he was about to hit the climax of his X-rated dream, he heard someone call his name. Damien turned in time to see Niveah sail through the ballroom doors.

Desire zipped up his spine.

Hotter than the lead girl in a rap music video, she stared right at him, oblivious to the googly-eyed expressions on the faces of the other men in the lobby. Damien had always been a sucker for a big butt and a smile, and the sister sauntering toward him had both. Her high heels gave her legs incredible definition, and he imagined himself running his hands up her smooth, toned calves. Sexy wasn’t how a woman looked or what she wore, it was her attitude; and he could tell by the way Niveah moved that she was in a sexy state of mind. Perfect. Maybe they could skip the useless chitchat, and get right down to business.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

On the outside, Damien was as calm as the Rock of Gibraltar, but when Niveah placed a hand on his forearm, he felt himself unraveling. It took everything he had not to crush his mouth against her pretty pink lips. “It’s no sweat. I used the time to check the messages on my cell.”

Niveah gestured to the grand ballroom. “They’re doing the electric slide in there and it was crazy getting through the crowd. I thought I was going to get swept away.”

“No worries, beautiful. You’re definitely worth the wait.”

Her smile widened. “You certainly have a way with words.”

“I’ve heard that a time or two before.”

“I bet you have.”

They shared a laugh.

Damien jabbed the elevator button and almost cheered when the doors immediately slid open. The sooner they got to his room, the sooner he could see her naked. Allowing her to go first, he examined her pear-shaped figure with wide eyes and a dry mouth. The clingy dress material swished over her hips, outlining her round, juicy butt. Damien hoped she was wearing a thong. That was his favorite piece of lingerie and just thinking about squeezing, and smacking her ass made his pulse hammer in his chest. “Are you hungry?’ he asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence. “I could order something up from room service if you’d like.”

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” The words seemed to burst out of her mouth, and for the first time since meeting her she seemed shy, scared. “I’ve dated some over the years, but I’ve never had … a one-night stand.”

Amused, he pressed the button for the twentieth floor. If he had a dime for every time a woman had fed him that line he could buy the car of his dreams—a black Rolls Royce Phantom.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of me. I’m not the kind of girl who …”

Why did women always do this? he wondered, concealing a grin. Did they think pretending they were actually good girls gone bad for the night would improve his opinion of them? The muscles in his jaw tightened. Right, like that was ever going to happen. If there was one thing he’d learned through traveling the globe, it was that women enjoyed sex. As much, if not more, than men did. And those with sexual hang-ups had been programmed by their parents and wellmeaning Sunday school teachers into believing only whores liked doing the nasty. But Damien was here to tell Niveah that it was okay to embrace her sexuality. She was a freak, a woman who loved casual sex, and there was nothing wrong with that. “Tonight’s about being in the moment, about being free without restrictions.”

“I think I made a mistake.” Niveah rubbed a hand along her forehead, then dragged it through her hair. “My friends were ganging up on me, and I let what they said get to me. I approached you at the bar to prove to them that I can be fun and spontaneous, but the truth is I’m not. I’m really sorry about all this, but I have to go back downstairs to the …”

Damien blinked, sure the cognac he’d downed earlier was blurring his vision. The sexy, flirtatious woman he’d met at the bar less than an hour ago was crumbling right before his eyes. And if he didn’t do something quick, their night of passionate lovemaking would be ruined. Realizing their evening was in jeopardy, Damien sprang to action. He stepped forward, pulled her to his chest and planted one on her. A kiss so fierce their bodies slammed together.

Niveah fought against him, trying to escape, but gave up the fight when he inclined his head toward her, deepening the kiss. Bolts of electricity shot between them. He’d initiated contact, but feeling her lips against his sent Damien stumbling back into the mirrored wall. Had he ever tasted a mouth so soft? So wickedly sweet and enticing?

Unsteady on his feet, he clutched her waist. They grunted and groaned, caressed and squeezed until it became unbearable. Damien stuck a hand up her dress, and cursed fashion designers for ever inventing such a tight, restrictive material. A little piece of fabric wasn’t going to prevent him from copping a feel, he decided, using his hands to yank down the sheer barrier.

Palming her butt cheeks, he ground his erection into her, loving how soft she felt against his body. Damien slid a hand inside her panties, and Niveah purred in his ear. He played in her hair, twirling curls around his index finger. Then he probed her core with his thumb. A thick, creamy moisture oozed onto his hand. Her clit was wet, slick—just the way he liked it. He hadn’t tasted her yet, hadn’t dipped his mouth inside the treasure between her legs, but he could already feel the righteous makings of a killer orgasm. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to sex you all night long?”

Her tortured moans filled the air.

Damien withdrew his hand from in between Niveah’s legs and frantically searched his pockets. They weren’t going to make it to his suite. Not when she was bucking against him like a wild woman on a runaway bull. He retrieved the condom just as the elevator doors slid open.

Niveah surfaced from her haze. It was a miracle she was still standing. Voices carried down the hall, reminding her that she was still at the Ritz-Carlton, and not back in her bedroom playing out a hot, torrid fantasy. Since she didn’t want to kick off the year flashing perfect strangers in a hotel she frequented for business, she straightened her dress, and yanked up her stockings. How the hell did my stilettos come off? she wondered, stuffing her feet back into her red Fendi shoes. Probably somewhere between Damien palming my breasts, and fingering my clit, she surmised, still feeling the after affects of her mini-orgasm.

Niveah almost lost her balance when Damien seized her hand. “This way,” he said, making a sharp left turn. “My suite is at the end of the hall.”

A green light flashed when Damien slid his key card into the slot above the door. Opening it with one hand, he gently urged her inside with the other. Niveah almost stumbled over her feet. This was actually going to happen; she was about to have her first one-night stand. Doubts attacked her like invisible assailants hiding in the dark. Her mind was screaming, No, don’t do it!, but her body was screaming, Yes! Yes! Yes! What the hell was she supposed to do?

Warmed by Damien’s good-natured smile, she shoved her fears aside and stepped farther into the suite. The air smelled like men’s aftershave, and the light from the moon spilling in through the balcony created a peaceful, tranquil mood.

Damien came up behind her, so close that she could feel his erection through her dress. Goose bumps broke out across her arm. He—Niveah gulped—couldn’t be that long, could he? He gripped her shoulders, then buried his face into her hair. Damien placed kisses along the slope of her neck, and her head fell flat against his chest. Using his hands, he tweaked her nipples and massaged her clit simultaneously.

A fire brewed in Niveah’s stomach, causing her to moan. The ache between her legs grew to a full-blown throb. Then her heart got into the mix, skipping, thumping, rattling. Niveah never knew it could be like this. Never knew that she could want someone this much.

It started with a surge in her chest, then uncontrollable shaking and shortness of breath. Before she could ward against the onslaught, several fast, hard climaxes gripped her. Pleasure exploded behind Niveah’s eyes. Damien was going to kill her. Right here in the middle of his luxurious executive suite. Her desire for him couldn’t be contained, and she was quickly losing control. Screaming, grunting, begging Damien for more.

Time slipped away. Stretched into passion-filled seconds and minutes.

Niveah didn’t know how much more of this she could take. It was just a matter of time before she was gasping for air and her legs gave way. Moaning in sweet agony, she arched her back, fully prepared to ride out another looming orgasm. Damien cupped her chin, and kissed her so fully, so passionately, Niveah felt as if she was spinning on a carousel. Her shoes fell off, her dress sailed down her hips, and her fifty-dollar nylons lay in pieces on the floor.

Still kissing, they stumbled farther into the suite, knocking into end tables, couch legs and other furniture. Down to just her panties, her body throbbing with heat and desire, she dragged her fingernails up his chest, across his neck, and over his head. Moving to an inaudible beat, Niveah rocked her hips against his shaft. Grinding her backside into his crotch caused Damien to release a savage groan. Wanting to give as much as she’d received, Niveah reached around, unzipped his pants and massaged his erection. Touching him confirmed it. The brother was hung. Like Mandingo. Long, thick and righteously built.

Damien swiveled his tongue around her nipples, licked between her breasts and trailed his mouth down her spine. Niveah sucked in a breath, sure she was about to black out. The more aggressive Damien was, the more turned-on she was. Everything about him was erotically charged and exciting. He had great hands, hands a masseur would kill for, and he knew how she liked to be touched. Damien kissed like he was making love to her mouth, thrilled her every time he nuzzled his face against the curve of her ear, and whispered dirty commands in that deep, throaty tone. His voice, like his smile and gaze, made her weak.

Is this for real, or am I dreaming? Niveah wondered, feeling light-headed and free.

Undressing faster than a superhero in a telephone booth, Damien ripped open a gold packet, protected himself with the Magnum condom, and bent Niveah over the closest chair. “Spread your legs. Spread them nice and wide for me.”

Niveah did as she was told, and was rewarded with a kiss on her shoulder. Damien pulled her hair, great big handfuls, as he positioned himself between her legs. He piqued her pleasure when he caressed her butt, tenderly, lovingly. His stroke felt great on her neck, back and thighs.

“You feel like heaven,” he praised, gliding his hands up her hips to her breasts. This woman—not the Mona Lisa—was the finest work of art he’d ever seen, but when Damien told Niveah she was gorgeous, she laughed. “You don’t believe me?” Damien cupped her chin. The heat of his gaze torched her flesh, made her feel as if she was on display. “Since you don’t believe me, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Slowly, he slid his penis along her clit. Back and forth until she cried out. Begged. Pleaded. Cursed. Demanded he slip inside her. When he finally did, she released a torrent of screams. Niveah pressed her face into a cushion to muffle her moans. This wasn’t like her. Only porn stars groaned and grunted during sex. That’s what they were paid for. To play it up for the cameras. But the more Damien swiveled his lips, the louder, more intense her groans became.

Feet firmly planted on the ground, she held on to the arms of the padded chair and rocked her hips against his groin. Damien swelled inside her. At least three inches. He hit all of her hot spots, and created body-quivering sensations that brought tears to her eyes. With his hands and his words, he took her to new heights and deeper depths.

Her breathing picked up.

Her moans intensified.

The room spun faster, and faster.

Colors—vivid pinks and whites and red—exploded behind Niveah’s eyes, causing her to choke back a deep, racking sob.

“Damn!” Damien pulled out, then turned her to face him. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Niveah shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me. I just …” Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes to the floor. “It just felt so good that … that it made me a little emotional. That’s all.”

“We’ll stop. The last thing I wanted to do was cause you pain or make tonight all about me. I lost control and I feel like an ass for …”

Niveah wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he listening to her? Couldn’t he tell how incredible he was making her feel? To end his rant, she placed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. “This night is far from over. I plan to finish what you started, even if it takes all night.”

Full of energy and determination, she circled his nipple with her tongue, licking, teasing, stroking. She wanted to ravage him, prove to herself that she was a good lover, that the accusations her ex-fiancé had leveled at her the night of their breakup were unfounded. To show him that she was in charge, that the tables had turned and that she was running the show, Niveah grabbed his butt and gave it an extra hard squeeze. Her breathing was shallow, and her body was burning up, but Niveah wanted more. A lot more kissing, teasing and licking.

“Are you sure about this, Niveah?” Concern touched his features, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. Not one.”

Niveah lifted his hand, seized his index finger and eased it inside her. She felt naughty, dangerous and in complete control. It was a feeling she could easily get high off. A deep sigh fell from between Niveah’s lips as Damien’s fingers probed her core, and when she finally spoke her voice was several octaves lower. “You feel how wet I am? You did this to me, Damien, and the only regret I have is not approaching you sooner.”

“I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Easily, he lifted her up off the floor. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he swooped down, and feasted on her lips. Niveah folded her arms around his neck, and wrapped her legs around his slim, muscular torso. Feeling sexier than a Maxim swimsuit model, she nipped at his earlobe, then eagerly sucked it into her mouth.

On the king-size bed they laughed and played, lost in their exhilarating private world. They were in perfect sync, moving naturally together, as graceful as a pair of ballroom dancers. An hour in, and countless orgasms later, Niveah was begging Damien to climax. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

“I’m nowhere near being ready,” he announced, thrusting his hips, plunging deeper still. “You feel so damn good, I may never come …”

“We’ll see about that.” Niveah flicked her tongue against his ear, and he cooed. Propping up her elbows, she loosened her legs from around his waist, and rotated her hips in tight, fast circles.

Damien swore.

To achieve the intended outcome, Niveah added her mouth to the equation. Placing kisses on his neck, his erect, chocolate-brown nipples and all over his chest. Realizing she’d weakened her prey, she went in for the kill. In one swift movement, Niveah had Damien flat on his back. His eyes widened in surprise, causing Niveah to giggle. Keeping her head up, her back straight, she lowered herself onto his lap and released a deep, satisfying groan.

Squeezing her pelvic muscles held Damien firmly in place, and before she could put any of those childhood horseback riding lessons to good use, he gripped her hips, gave a powerful, thrust and collapsed onto the mound of pillows beneath him. “Damn, baby, that was incredible.”

Niveah licked the dryness from her lips. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“If I knew you were such an animal in bed, I would have updated my will!” he teased, pulling her to his chest.

Niveah tensed. Her friends said cuddling was against the rules, so she was surprised when Damien spread the blanket over them and wrapped his arms around her. Shouldn’t I be dressed and on my way out the door? Isn’t this how these things usually worked?

Sweat clung to her skin, and matted clumps of hair were stuck to her shoulders, but Damien was smiling at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His grip was fierce, protective, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The hotel suite smelled like sex, and a hot stifling air that made Niveah feel as if she was trapped inside an oven.

“I don’t want to get up, but if I don’t get something to drink I’m going to die of dehydration,” he joked, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.” Swathing the bed sheet across her chest, she carefully tucked it under her arms, and braced her body against the headboard. “Better yet, make mine a double!”

Damien chuckled as he switched on the bedside lamp. “We should order up some room service. I’m starving, and I bet you are, too.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled. “I can’t. I have to get going.”

“Why, do you have someone waiting for you at home?” Damien picked up the phone, but his gaze remained locked on her face. “Things happened so fast, I forgot to ask if you had a man.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here with you,” she told him, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Then stay and have dinner with me.”

Niveah opened her mouth to decline, but when he smiled at her, she caved. “If you’re sure you don’t mind me staying a little while longer, I’d love a bite to eat. I’m not picky when it comes to food, anything will be fine.”

“I’d like to order an extra-large deep-dish pizza with everything on it, and the twenty-piece buffalo wings,” he said, into the phone. “Bill it to my suite, and ask the concierge to leave the cart outside the door. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

Damien ended the call, took two sodas out of the fridge and handed one to her. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’m curious to why a woman like you is still on the market.”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same thing about you.”

“Are you trying to dodge the question?” He wore a serious expression, but Niveah could see the makings of a smile on his lips. “Are you between lovers or playing the field like me?”

“None of the above. I’m married to my work, and I don’t have time to date. I was engaged last year, but it didn’t work out. We … we wanted different things.” Niveah glanced out the window. It had been a year since Stewart left her for another woman—someone younger, and more adventurous in bed—but every time she thought about their breakup, she felt a pang in her chest. He wasn’t ever coming back so why was she thinking about him? “What do you think of Tampa? It’s nothing like the Big Apple, but I bet you’re loving the weather.”

“What makes you think I’m from the East Coast?”

Niveah laughed. “No offense, but you could be the poster child for NYC. The cocky, bad-boy swagger instantly gave you away, and if that’s not enough, you have an accent, too.”

“All right, you got me,” he admitted, drowning the rest of his soda and grabbing another one. “I grew up in the Bronx. And you’re right about the weather. Every time I come down here for business, I think about relocating permanently!”

They laughed.

“I’ll be right back.” Damien got up off the bed, and strode out of the bedroom. Niveah watched him leave, marveling at his utterly perfect body. Resisting the urge to scream into her pillow, she smoothed a hand over her cheeks and ran a hand through her wild, unruly hair, knowing she could give the winner of the Atlanta Hair Show a run for their money.

Spotting the remote, she picked it up from off the nightstand, and pointed it at the black entertainment unit. Why am I still sitting here watching TV? This is the perfect opportunity for me to break free. Niveah tried to get off the bed, but her limbs were asleep.

Hearing a door slam, she strained her eyes toward the foyer. The scent of mozzarella cheese hit her nose and Niveah licked her lips. Twice. All thoughts of leaving evaporated into thin air when Damien walked into the bedroom and placed the box of pizza on the nightstand.

“Dig in, beautiful. You’ve worked up quite an appetite tonight.”

Niveah dove right in, helping herself to a large, gooey slice, but she couldn’t help thinking the whole scene was a little strange. She was sitting in bed eating pizza and buffalo wings with her one-night stand.

“Cool, Robin Thicke is about to perform. That dude’s got amazing chops!”

“I’m impressed. Most men would never admit to being a fan.”

“I never said I thought the guy was cute. I said he could sing. Nothing wrong with that.”

Niveah bit into her pizza. It was hot and loaded—just the way she liked it, and if Damien didn’t hurry up and start eating, there’d be none left. “Everyone has their weakness, and mine is definitely junk food,” she said, chewing slowly. “Oh, and coffee. I drink five, sometimes six cups a day. It all depends on how bad things are going at the office.”

“You must have a very demanding career.”

“It’s not my job that’s going to kill me, it’s my lazy, dimwitted employees!” Shaking her head, she wiped the oil off her hands with a napkin. “If they did everything they were assigned to do, I wouldn’t be so stressed out, but I’m always having to correct their mistakes and it’s exhausting. I swear, one of these days I’m going to replace every last one of them!”

Damien chuckled. “It sounds like you need a little TLC.”

“You have no idea.”

His hands traveled up her thigh, and Niveah purred in anticipation, knowing exactly where they were going next. Higher, higher, higher dammit!

“Why don’t you let me show you what you’ve been missing?” he whispered, pulling her down on top of him and running his hands over her butt. “By the time I’m done tapping this ass, you won’t have a care in the world.”