Read Within the Shadows Online
Authors: Brandon Massey
Within the Shadows (13 page)
Suddenly, her lips enveloped him.
He gasped.
He couldn’t believe what she was doing, right there in a public place. But he didn’t stop her. Couldn’t stop her.
She ran her moist tongue up and down the length of him.
He plunged his hands into her silky hair.
Placing her hands on his knees, she spread his legs farther apart. She took him in deeper.
“Oh, Jesus.” He arched his back.
She sucked him, kissed him, licked him.
He clutched the napkin in his fists.
He was going to explode.
Then, before he erupted, she withdrew.
His body snapped back into place like a rubber band. As he fought to catch his breath, she emerged on the other side of the booth.
“Why . . . why’d you stop?” he asked.
She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, smiled.
“Good things come to those who wait,” she said. “I’m ready to go dancing.”
She signaled the server to bring the check.
They went to Havana Heat, a club on Peachtree and Pharr, in the heart of the Buckhead nightlife district. Cigar and cigarette smoke, cologne, and perfume flavored the body-heat heavy air. The crowd—thick for a Tuesday night—was a multicultural stew, heavy on Latinos, with a generous seasoning of blacks, Asians, Indians, and whites, most of the clubbers in their mid-twenties and older. People grooved on the large dance floor to the lively sounds of Latin soul, most performing salsa with varying degrees of skill, a sprinkling of them rocking lamely with a club-footed two-step.
“You remember how to salsa?” Mika asked.
“Sure do.”
Two years ago, he’d taken a salsa class with Carmen, since her boyfriend at the time had no interest in dancing. He wondered what Mika would think about that—she seemed to have a jealous streak, and a keen interest in his relationship with Carmen.
Well, he figured he could deal with a little jealousy. She was so beautiful that he was prepared to deal with quite a bit. Besides, no one was perfect, right?
“Did you come here to hold up the wall?” She grabbed Andrew’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
She guided him to the dance floor. They found a space near the middle. The pounding beat made his teeth vibrate.
She pressed against him, her hand cupping his butt.
“Lead me, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”
She licked his earlobe, smiled.
Hot blood sang through his veins. Pure, animal lust. It made him so dizzy he worried that he would forget all the salsa he’d learned and bungle through the steps, wind up sprawled on the floor with his legs knotted like spaghetti.
She stepped back. Took his hands in hers.
“Anywhere you me want to go,” she said. Her gaze never left his face. “I’ll follow you.”
In a euphoric rush, his lessons came back to him, and he started to move.
Two hours later, they left the building and walked across the parking lot. After the stifling humidity of the club, Andrew breathed gratefully of the cool night air.
“You’re an incredible dancer,” he said.
“You’ve got moves, too. I’m impressed.”
“It took everything I had to keep up with you.”
“Nonsense, you were in perfect sync all along. As I knew you would be.”
They reached his car, got inside.
She twisted in the seat to face him. “Where are we going next?”
“It’s almost eleven-thirty. Tired?”
“Not at all. Are you?”
“I feel good. Full of energy, actually.”
She touched his arm. “Let’s go to my hotel.”
He knew very well what would happen at her hotel.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Are
you
sure?”
you
sure?”
Uneasiness clenched his stomach. This was moving faster than he’d ever imagined. Almost too fast.
But he couldn’t say no and live to look himself in the mirror again. A gorgeous woman was inviting him to her hotel. What guy on the planet could turn her down?
“Sure,” he said. “I’m cool.”
“I sense some apprehension, Andrew. Are you man enough for me? Or do I have to go back inside that club and pick up one of those Latino hunks who isn’t afraid of what I have to offer?”
“Where are you staying?” He threw the car into gear.
She laughed softly. “That’s my boy. I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead. Across the street from Lenox Square.”
“I know where that is. Hang tight.”
As he drove, she kneaded his leg. He played in her hair.
But uneasiness continued to simmer in his stomach. He wasn’t the kind of guy who routinely slept with a woman on the first date. He liked to take his time and get to know a girl. Sex was more fulfilling with a woman with whom he’d established a meaningful emotional connection.
His take-it-slow philosophy, unusual among many of his buddies, also had prevented a lot of the messy drama that some of his boys always wound up in. He valued neatness and stability, in all aspects of his life.
If there was one lesson his mom had mercilessly drilled into him, it was: if you’re man enough to lie down with a lady, you better be man enough to raise her baby. She’d damn near had him
terrified
to have sex. He was a freshman in college before he lost his virginity, an age so much later than his friends that it had been too embarrassing to admit. As time passed, he still preferred to move slowly to the bedroom.
terrified
to have sex. He was a freshman in college before he lost his virginity, an age so much later than his friends that it had been too embarrassing to admit. As time passed, he still preferred to move slowly to the bedroom.
But Mika had changed his game plan. His attraction to her was nearly overwhelming. Her aggressiveness only made matters more challenging.
Nevertheless, the smart thing to do was to slow down. Take a little more time getting to know her. He’d only met her this morning. Their conversation had been great, and the date was going wonderfully, but he didn’t know her. Not really. The one thing he did know was that once a woman shared her body with you, you quickly became introduced to a more intimate side of her, which usually was good. But if she flipped the script and got crazy on you, it could be disastrous.
They arrived at the hotel. He cruised underneath the porte cochere, and stopped. A valet hurried to the car.
Take it slow, man. You’re rushing this.
He looked at her, at her soft, full lips. He remembered the rapturous sensation of those lips on him, sucking, kissing.
The valet waited beside his door. “Sir?”
Slow down, or you’ll regret it later.
Most times, it was wise to heed that quiet voice of conscience. But he felt good, overall, about Mika, about where this budding relationship might be headed. They had a powerful, mutual attraction. Fantastic chemistry. He wasn’t going to back out of this situation and ruin a great thing, based solely on a voice in his head.
He opened the door.
In the hotel lobby, a doorman nodded at them. “Good evening.”
“Hi, there,” Mika said cheerfully. She led Andrew to the bank of elevators.
The quiet lobby was opulently furnished. Regency and Georgian antique furniture. Crystal chandeliers. Marble tables. Eighteenth-century English paintings and sculptures.
“Nice place,” he said.
She shrugged, as if the sumptuous surroundings were no more remarkable than those found at a Days Inn. The nonchalance of someone accustomed to affluence.
An elevator beeped open. The car was empty.
“Go,” she said.
“Huh?” He frowned at her commanding tone.
She put her hand on his back and shoved him inside. He stumbled against the back wall.
She stabbed the button for the seventh floor. The doors slid shut, and the car began to ascend.
“You didn’t have to push me,” he said.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Seizing his arms, she crushed her lips against his. He opened his mouth, and her tongue darted in, teasingly. Her lips tasted of sweet wine.
He ran his hands down her back, squeezed her hips.
She grabbed the front of his jacket and tore it open. Buttons popped.
“I want you so bad, baby” she said, between kisses. “You want me, too, show me how much, stop being so timid.”
In response, he drove her against the wall. He grabbed the top of her dress and yanked it down, exposing more skin.
“Act like you want me,” she said.
He unsnapped her bra, flung it to the floor. Her breasts hung in his face, round and full, with nipples like chocolate strawberries. He put his mouth on one of her breasts, sucked urgently.
“That’s right,” she said, clasping his head to her bosom.
Then she pushed him against the opposite wall. She ripped his belt buckle loose, jerked down the zipper of his slacks. She dug her hand into his boxers and cradled his manhood.
“This is gonna be mine,” she said. She left a trail of kisses on his neck. “All mine, all mine.”
“All yours,” he said. He hiked up her dress, rolled down her panties, probed his finger inside her. She was moist. “And this is mine.”
“Yours.”
The elevator stopped. The doors chimed open.
“Room seven-thirteen,” she said. “Hurry.”
She clung to his neck. He carried her out of the elevator, kissing her.
While he held her suspended, she dug in her purse, fumbled out the room key, unlocked the door. He brought her across the threshold as if they were newlyweds. She kicked the door shut.
He took in the suite in a glance: soft lighting, lots of space, large bay windows that provided a panoramic view of the glittering city, luxurious upholstered furniture, a dining area with a mahogany table, a kitchenette. A vase of fresh orchids scented the air.
They stripped out of their clothes, left them in a sloppy pile on the floor.
She braced him against the hallway wall. His manhood stood at attention. She grasped it gently, possessively.
“Want me to finish what I started, baby?” she asked.
Without waiting for his answer, she lowered to her knees.
He cradled her head. She took him inside her mouth—completely.
It felt so good that if he hadn’t been leaning against the wall, he would have fallen down.
Her fingers clenched his butt. Tightened her hold on him. Her head bobbed, drew him in and out, tongue lashing him in a sweet rhythm.
His hands roved through her hair. “Oh, Mika. Mika, Mika, Mika.”
The ecstatic pressure mounted. He didn’t want to come, not before he’d tasted her, repaid some of the pleasure she’d given him. He withdrew and sank to the carpet.
“My turn,” he said.
She lay back, guided his head to her damp center.
His first lick was slow and tender, a stroke from bottom to top, like licking an ice cream cone.
“Oooh.” She grabbed his head, gasped.
He explored her fully with his tongue and lips. Tasted her juices. Found her sensitive spot, teased it with short, quick flicks.
Crying out, she wriggled on the floor.
Pleasuring her with horizontal and vertical strokes, he chased his tongue with his index finger, creating a contrast of softness and firmness.
“Andrew, baby, yes, yes, baby, oh, Andrew, baby . . .”
He pressed his tongue flat against her fullness.
Screeching, she ground against him. Her fingernails scraped the walls.
He dove in again, quickened the pace.
Hips bucking, she rode the wave of an orgasm. He smeared his lips in her juices, lashed her with his tongue. She shrieked as another orgasm rocked her.
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