Between the Sheets (9781476775807) Read online

  “Yeah, aiight. How much is this upscale outing gonna cost me?”

  She laughs. “You’re off the hook this time. It’s my own treat.”

  “Oh, aiight, then. Go do you, sexy.”

  “I plan to.”

  “Yeah, aiight. And you better have on drawz, yo.”

  She laughs, giving me a dismissive wave as she heads out the door.

  NINE

  Marika

  Hair done. Nails done. Feet done. Facial done. My experience at the exclusive salon, Nappy No More II, was more than an experience. It was a pleasurable adventure. Now I’m in my fourth boutique on Rodeo Drive trying on dresses for tonight’s fucktivities.

  The problem is, Marcel is here with me.

  And as much as I love spending time with my husband, this man is impossible to shop with. Time is ticking. And I still haven’t found the perfect dress. Yet, here I am—seven dresses hanging on hooks, three others tossed over on the bench—braless, inside a dressing room with Marcel standing in back of me, his tongue trailing down my spine. His strong hands cup my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples. He stares at me through the mirror. “Damn, you so fuckin’ sexy, baby. Je une chatte.” I want some pussy.

  I gasp and writhe and whimper. I know enough by looking in his eyes that he wants to fuck me. That he wants me right here, right now.

  “MarSell, you’re gonna get us…caught…in here.”

  “So. What they gonna do? Arrest me for fuckin’ my wife?”

  I shake my head. Try to wriggle out of his embrace. “Not here, baby. We have—”

  He presses in close. Licks the back of my neck. Nips it. Causing me to forget my train of thought, to lose my senses.

  “Uhh, ooh…you have to stop…mmm…”

  I hear voices on the other side of the door, coming closer. I blink. Find my voice of reason. “Baby, someone’s coming.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be coming in a minute.”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  He grins. “So am I.”

  “But—”

  “Shhhh.” He turns me to face him and quiets me with his mouth. His warm lips parting my own as his tongue slowly melts away my hesitation. He breaks our kiss, only to step back.

  A warm rush of wet passion pulses between my legs as he unbuttons the top button of his jeans, unzips his fly, revealing a vee of smooth, taut skin covered in wisps of dark hair. He doesn’t have on any underwear. I swallow, drinking in the sight of him as he pushes his jeans down, over his hips.

  Right here. In the dressing room, his dick stretching and thick.

  Within seconds, I am in front of the mirror, bent over, the flimsy gown bunched up at my waist, the head of Marcel’s dick easing into me.

  The heat grows, blossoms, then explodes as he strokes his dick into me. I feel him swelling, pulsing, inside me. Stretching the seams of my pussy.

  I hear myself scream.

  Hear the wetness of my cunt.

  Hear the thrusting of Marcel’s dick.

  Hear the low grunts and groans lodged in the back of Marcel’s throat.

  Hear the saleswoman talking to someone on the other side of the door.

  “Oooh, yes, yes, yes…”

  Oh God, yessss!

  Yes, yes, yesssss!

  I swallow another scream just as there’s a soft knock on the door. Marcel rolls his hips into me, his dick sliding in and out, pressing in balls deep, then out to the tip.

  “Oooh…”

  There’s another knock. “Mrs. Kennedy? Is everything all right in there?”

  “Uhh…”

  “Mrs. Kennedy?”

  The doorknob jiggles.

  I look up into the mirror. My face is distorted. A film of sweat coats my skin. My freshly done hairdo is slowly becoming undone. “Yes,” I manage to squeak out. “I’m good. Give me a sec, oh, uh, ohhhkaaaay? I’ll be done in a minute.”

  Marcel grins, eyeing me through the mirror. “You love this dick, baby?” His voice is a hushed whisper.“Dis-moi que tue aimes il.”

  He tells me to tell him how much I love it. His dick.

  “Are you sure?” the saleswoman inquires.

  My eyes roll up in my head. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” she says, “if you need any help. Let me know. I’ll be up front.”

  Marcel reaches around me and plays with my clit. His dick strokes are slow and methodical. He fucks into my flesh; fucks into my soul.

  “T-thanks,” I mewl, sounding like a screeching cat in heat.

  Marcel’s dick plunges into my cunt, in and out, each stroke stretching my walls and sending waves of pleasure through my body. My pussy clenches.

  Oh God.

  Oooh he’s fucking me so good. A tidal wave of carnal need washes over me, causing me to throw my hips back at him. I fuck him back. My ass bounces and shakes around him.

  “Yeah, that’s my baby. Fuck this dick, baby…Give me that wet pussy…”

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Then he is out of me again, his dick long and wet; my pussy wet and aching and greedy. My body shakes with want and need. Goddamn him!

  He swiftly turns me, backs me into the mirror, lifts me up by the hips, and sits me on the head of his dick. The mouth of my cunt opens wide as he eases me down on him.

  I hook my arms around his neck. Gasp. Marcel cups my ass. And makes love to me.

  “Vous aimez cette bite, pas vous?”

  Love and dick is all I can decipher.

  Marcel repeats himself in English. “You love this dick, don’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes…,” I whimper.

  He growls in my ear. “Je vais venir dans ta chatte humide, bébé.”

  A groan slips from between my lips as I wrap my legs around him. “Please tell me what you just said, baby.”

  He digs his nails into my ass cheeks. “I said I’m gonna come in your wet pussy, baby. You want me to nut, huh, baby? Mmm…uh…fuuuck…you want this nut…?”

  His words are like kerosene, igniting flames inside of me. Decadent heat and pleasure quakes through me as my own orgasm swells.

  My cunt clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again. It spasms around Marcel’s cock, and gets wetter and hotter with each stroke. His strokes get deeper and faster.

  He is on the verge of coming.

  I am on the border of an orgasm as well. Marcel is fucking me closer to the edge. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders and bounce up and down on his dick, taking in every bit of his length as he hits the bottom of my well.

  I can hear the saleswoman as she returns to the fitting room area, checking in on someone else. I hear the other woman call out and say she is fine.

  I moan.

  Marcel moans.

  The saleswoman knocks on the door again. “Mrs. Kennedy, are you sure you don’t need any help in there?”

  Marcel’s long fingers delve inside my crack. He presses into my asshole. Everything inside of me erupts. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I’m sure. I’m com…ing…mmm…right out.”

  “All right.”

  “That’s right, baby. Let me get that nut,” Marcel murmurs into my neck. “Pussy so fuckin’ good.” He growls low. Then bites into my shoulder. And unloads a thick river of heated pleasure inside of me.

  I cling onto him. Kissing him. Milking him.

  Five minutes later, his dick plops out of me. He lowers me to the floor. Then plants one last kiss on my lips, before lifting his pants up from around his ankles and stuffing himself back inside.

  “Let’s get home so we can finish this up.” He grins, opening the dressing room door and slipping out, leaving me wet, disheveled, and deliciously fucked.

  TEN

  Marika

  The black-suited driver rolls the stretch Bentley with its tinted windows through the ornate iron gates of the Beverly Hills mansion where tonight’s extravaganza will take place. He slowly pulls in front o
f its circular driveway, then stops the car and slides out of the driver’s seat, walking around to open the door for Marcel and me.

  Marcel leans over and kisses me lightly on the cheek. He takes in my white draped, sleeveless Azzaro Capricieuse jewel dress with its plunging V-neckline and long slit in the middle, revealing my inner thigh. I’m wearing the six thousand-dollar dress—that is sure to catch the eye of many of tonight’s elite guests, shakers and movers in the movie and music industry as well as some well-known sports figures—with a pair of white Valentino Garavani six-inch, rock-stud sandals.

  His gaze drops down to my perky nipples peeking from underneath the thin fabric of my dress, then onto my smooth, shimmering thighs.

  He licks his lips. “Damn. You look sexy as fuck, baby.”

  I smile, breathing in the scrumptious scent of his cologne, Creed Royal Oud. Every time he wear this, it drives me wild. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” The glint in the diamond studs in his earlobes is blinding. He’s donned in an elegant, black-fitted Valentino suit with a matching pair of loafers. “And you smell delicious, I might add.” My hand slides between his legs, finding his meaty dick. I gently massage it until it starts to thicken.

  “Yo, c’mon, baby,” he says, grinning while trying to pull away. “You better stop before shit gets serious back here ‘n’ I end up ripping that dress off you ‘n’ beatin’ that fat pussy up in this backseat.”

  “Ooh, yes, daddy,” I coo into his ear. “Beat this pussy up. Fuck it until it stretches and burns. I want to feel you still inside of me throbbing and pulsing long after you’ve pulled out.”

  Marcel leans in, and whispers, “Hold tight, baby. By the end of the night, I promise. I’ma be doin’ just that. Putain la gueule d’ya cul sexy.” Fucking the shit out of ya sexy ass. “But, for now, let’s save the foreplay for the onlookers inside.”

  I press my thighs together, reluctantly retrieving my hand from his hard dick.

  The back passenger door swings open.

  Marcel winks at me, grinning. “You ready?”

  I lick my lips as sordid scenarios of lewd sexapades flash through my freaky mind, causing heat to creep inbetween my thighs. My clit tingles, causing my pussy to instantly moisten.

  “I’m always ready.”

  • • •

  “So, what…or should I say who…are you in the mood for tonight, baby?” Marcel asks as we maneuver our way through the maze of designer-clad and diamond-studded guests, giving customary smiles and head nods, along with generous hugs and handshakes.

  “I’ll know when….”

  There are several VPs and A&R executives from various record labels and numerous A-list celebrities and athletes milling around the room, drinking flutes of some of the finest champagnes while mingling, flirting, groping, and sidling up to their objects of desire as bare-chested waiters wearing black bowties and tuxedo pants circle with champagne on silver trays.

  “Ooh, the two of you are simply delicious together,” says a sultry voice in back of Marcel and me. We both look over our shoulder and our eyes flicker into the face of Nairobia Jansen—the half-Dutch, half-Nigerian author, model, and sex goddess who has graced the covers of both Penthouse and Playboy and has built a multimillion-dollar empire with her adult toy line.

  “Mmm,” she purrs, running a finger lightly down my spine, causing a burst of sensations to erupt inside of me. She’s dressed in a scandalous white sheer dress sans bra and panties, brazenly revealing the assets she’s most famous for—her voluptuous breasts, curvaceous hips, and beautiful round ass. “I’d love to have the two of you in my chambers tonight doing all sorts of naughty things.”

  “Nairobia, my darling,” I say saucily, casting my gaze to the swell of her breasts, “you’re looking irresistibly scrumptious as always.” I lick my lips zooming in on the outline of her dark areolas and thick chocolate-tipped nipples.

  She air-kisses both my cheeks, then hungrily eyes Marcel as he leans in and kisses her lightly on the lips, cupping her delightful ass.

  He licks his lips, then says, “Good to see you, baby.”

  Gray eyes lit with mischief, Nairobia stands on her tiptoes and whispers, “And it would be even better to feel you deep inside me again.” Before giving Marcel a chance to respond, she presses the mounds of her breasts against him and nibbles on his earlobe, taking his hand and sliding it between the long slit in her dress, placing it between her legs. “I’ve missed the feel of you inside my pussy.”

  Marcel gives her a lopsided grin. “Oh, word? You miss this long, hard dick, baby?”

  She moans in response, pulling me into her, cupping her hand at the base of my neck for a tender kiss. My pussy moistens. She parts my lips with her tongue, while her other hand finds its way to my breasts. She brushes her mouth against the column of my neck, her warm breath heating my skin.

  My hand slinks between her legs to join Marcel’s. Index and middle fingers brush lightly against her slippery nub while Marcel’s fingers get lost deep inside her heat. The scent of her pussy, wet and hungry, flows freely over Marcel’s hand.

  My mouth waters for a taste of her sweet nectar.

  In between gasps and moans, Nairobia says, “I want…mmm…both of…you…fucking …me…in my mouth…my pussy…my sweet, tight ass…”

  Marcel’s thick fingers open her, wide and wanting, making room for my two slender fingers to slide in alongside his. Together we finger-fuck her. I can feel the silken swell of her cunt as she nears orgasm. She’s getting wetter with each stroke.

  Marcel leans in, kisses me, tongues me, then does the same to Nairobia. She hums deep in her throat, her cunt contracting around our probing digits, causing my own pussy to pulse. And thicken with desire.

  “Spread your legs wider,” I urge. She is close to coming. I can smell it, feel it, around our fingers as she thrusts her hips; four fingers fucking into her juicy cunt. The sound of wet pussy swallowing our fingers causes a deep throb to take root inside of me.

  “Yeah, baby, nut on these fingers,” Marcel murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “Bust that pussy for me, baby…”

  And she does.

  Like a tidal wave, warm juices erupt, washing over our fingers, soaking our hands. Nairobia squirts and shudders and gasps. Her skin flushes hot. And then she comes again.

  A few seconds later, when her body is no longer trembling, when her cunt is vacant from our prodding fingers, Nairobia kisses us both, whispering promises of sweet, nasty things to come, then floats away.

  “Damn, I love how wet her pussy gets,” Marcel says, kissing me, then pressing his cum-slick fingers to my lips, offering me Nairobia’s cunt juice. I suck his fingers into my mouth, sweeping my tongue around his fingers.

  He smiles, and I moan as he pulls his wet fingers from my mouth. “Mmm, and she tastes so good.”

  Across the room, there’s a set of eyes watching us. I’m not sure who spots him across the room first—me or Marcel, but when my eyes land on him I know he’s the one I want eating my pussy alongside my husband.

  He’s gorgeous. And tall, at least six feet five, with a shock of dark, wavy hair and dark, piercing eyes. From where I’m standing, he looks as if he’s been sculpted from a delicious batch of caramel, then drizzled with hot fudge.

  “Him,” I say, sliding my sticky fingers into my mouth, then licking them as I would a hard dick. “He’s who I want for us tonight.”

  “Yeah, that muhfucka’s real sexy, baby. Good choice.”

  He doesn’t shift his gaze when he sees us looking back at him. He smiles. I smile back. Marcel acknowledges him with a head nod. “Yo, I think he likes what he sees.”

  “And so he should,” I say, feeling my skin heat at the thought of sucking his dick and licking his balls while Marcel fucks me. I pick up a crystal flute off one of the trays. I hand it to Marcel, then grab a flute for myself.

  Marcel smirks. “Let’s hope the muhfucka doesn’t have a lil’-ass, infant-size dick. I’m not tryna see th
em pretty lips wrapped around no tiny-ass dick, baby.”

  I clink my glass with his. We both take slow sips. The fact that Marcel enjoys seeing my mouth wrapped around another man’s dick, the fact that he revels in the sight of seeing my lips painted with another man’s semen, is what makes me desire him even more. Not many men could or would handle having their women—let alone giving her permission—to suck another man’s dick. And he damn sure wouldn’t be willing to kiss her with another man’s cum on her tongue. But Marcel…he’s uninhibited. Freaky. And secure enough in his manhood to enjoy it. Encourage it. And indulge in it.

  “Oh, no,” I say, eyeing Mr. Sexy across the room. “The way he’s standing, all wide-legged and confident, tells me that whatever is hanging between those long legs of his is quite substantial.”

  “Yeah, well. It’d better be.”

  I grab his dick. Squeeze the head a few times. Then tell him I’ll be right back. He kisses me on the cheek, his hand gliding over the globes of my ass. “Go get ’im, baby.”

  “I plan to,” I say, gulping down the rest of my drink, then pulling Marcel into me. “For the both of us.” I reach up and press my lips against his, parting them easily, my warm tongue prodding around his mouth before breaking free and prowling in the direction of the mystery man.

  The smell of wet pussy and freshly fucked ass wafting around the room is intoxicating.

  The thing I love most about sex clubs and private parties, there are no pretenses. No judgments. No limits. No shame. No room for games. No space for confusion. Everyone is always here for the same reasons, to fuck and be fucked shamelessly. To explore rapturous fantasies with whomever they choose. To be sexually fulfilled.

  “You are one fine man,” I say, walking up to him. I am already wet, but now I’ve become wetter with eager anticipation. I set my empty glass on a nearby table.

  He flashes a megawatt smile, revealing straight, white teeth. “And so are you, beautiful. I enjoyed the show.”

  I smile, reaching for another flute of champagne as a bare-chested waiter in black tuxedo pants saunters by with a full tray. “Oh, there’s a whole lot more to see,” I assure him, my tone full of seduction and promise.