Chapter 3
Eleven A.M. Brenda’s Suite
Tyreek slowed as he passed CC's suite. He glanced at the black-and-gold DO NOT DISTURB sign that still hung from the handle. A dull weight settled low in his gut. He rubbed the back of his neck and kept moving.
The hallway carried a different energy than before.
A housekeeper in a crisp black uniform pushed a silver cart past him, its shelves stacked with folded towels and tiny bottles of expensive toiletries.
She offered a polite nod before continuing on, the cart's wheels whispering over the plush carpet that softened every footstep.
Tall arched windows broke up the cream-colored walls, revealing a sky darkened by rolling storm clouds.
Ribbons of bruised afternoon light spilled across polished console tables adorned with decorative masks and carved wooden sculptures as rain lashed the glass in sudden darkness.
A low rumble of thunder vibrated through the mansion's bones, adding an uneasy tension to the otherwise elegant corridor.
Somewhere deeper in the mansion, the faint clink of glassware mixed with distant laughter.
Tyreek swallowed hard, wishing he could take it all back—sex with CC, the complications with Teresa, the disaster at breakfast, the disappointment he'd caused Brenda, and Darius's warnings he should've listened to from the very beginning.
He stopped outside Brenda's suite, his pulse hammering in his throat as he looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a steadying breath before raising his hand to knock.
Dressed in a fitted black button-up shirt tucked into tailored black slacks with polished loafers completing the look, Tyreek suddenly felt less like the confident entertainer from the ballroom and more like a man walking toward judgment.
The door opened almost immediately with Brenda standing framed in the doorway.
Tyreek forgot how to breathe.
The silk robe draped over her body like liquid, catching the light every time she shifted her weight.
Blonde hair framed her face in soft waves that brushed her shoulders.
Red lipstick painted a mouth that looked made for secrets and bad decisions.
Long legs disappeared beneath the robe's hem while the neckline hinted at generous curves that age hadn't stolen.
She looked him over slowly and calculated. Her eyes settled on the bulge below his belt before returning to his face. She licked her lips.
"Are you gonna stand there," she asked, "or come in?"
Tyreek stepped inside and she closed the door behind him.
The suite looked less like a hotel room and more like something reserved for royalty.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the bay.
A grand piano occupied one corner while fresh flowers decorated polished tables.
Velvet furnishings surrounded a marble fireplace large enough to stand inside.
Original artwork lined the walls. Crystal decanters rested beside cut-glass tumblers.
"Follow me," Brenda said
Tyreek obeyed. "Yes, ma'am."
Brenda led him through the suite toward a narrow door tucked behind the sitting area, the silk of her robe whispering against her legs with every measured step.
Tyreek followed a pace behind, trying very hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on her, but failed.
It wasn't lust that kept drawing his attention to the elegant curve of her hips or the confident way she carried herself; it was the undeniable fact that Brenda was stunning.
The robe skimmed over a body that had only sharpened into something formidable.
By the time she reached the door and opened it, revealing only darkness beyond, Tyreek's nerves had tightened into a knot he couldn't ignore.
Tyreek hesitated.
The room beyond was no larger than a walk-in closet, its cramped space illuminated only by the cold glow of dozens of monitors mounted across the walls.
Screen after screen displayed live feeds from every corner of Blackwater Manor, creating a dizzying mosaic of surveillance that captured hallways, ballrooms, sweeping staircases, elegant dining areas, outdoor entrances, the indoor golf wing, and even the corridor just outside.
A desk sat beneath the monitors, a leather chair tucked neatly underneath while remote controls rested beside carefully organized paperwork. Brenda reached for one of the remotes, and with the press of a button, one of the screens changed as the footage began to play.
Tyreek watched himself appear on the monitor as he and CC stumbled through the hallway together, her laughter echoing through the footage while her hand clung tightly to his arm before they finally disappeared inside her suite.
Brenda paused the footage. Silence swallowed the room. Tyreek's breathing sounded too loud in his own ears. Sweat gathered beneath his collar.
"You only had one job," Brenda said. "Dance. Shake your dick on my platform. Entertain the women." She looked directly into his eyes. "Fucking them was not part of your job description."
"I'm sorry." Tyreek lowered his head as the fight drained out of him. He couldn't charm his way out of it or flirt his way past the consequences.
"Don't be sorry." She picked up the whip by its leather handle. "Follow me."
Tyreek followed her back into the sitting area near an oversized ottoman upholstered in cream velvet and stopped a few feet away. She sat, crossing one long leg over the other, and regarded him in silence. It was too quiet.
Brenda tilted her head, then said, "You want to earn your respect back with me and keep your job?"
"Yes, ma'am," he answered without hesitation, "I'll do whatever it takes."
Brenda spread her legs wide and pointed toward the empty space between her thighs. "Come here."
Tyreek took a step.
"No." Her voice softened, "On your knees." She opened her gown and revealed her silky light skin and beautiful breasts accented by hard brown nipples.
Tyreek crawled on all four like an animal and didn’t stop until his head was between her thighs.
He smelled sweet oil mixed with a scent that made his mouth water and blood rush to his dick.
His nose was less than an inch away from parted wet lips and a swollen pink clit.
He inhaled slowly, taking in her aroma, then looked up.
Brenda was arching her back with her chest pushed outward and clutching her breast with one hand.
“Is this a test?” Tyreek asked.
Brenda didn’t answer. She let go of her breast and let it rest against her torso, then grabbed the back of Tyreek's head.
She hissed when she felt his mouth grab her clit and suck.
“Right there,” she moaned. She propped her hands behind her on the ottoman for support.
His long tongue slithered in circles around her walls, then slid so deep inside her pussy she covered her mouth to muffle her scream.
She wound her hips, then hunched her pussy up and down as he lapped her like a dog.
“Wait,” she said between breaths.
Tyreek pulled back, looked up, blinked his eyes once, and smiled. His face glimmered from his nose to his chin. Pussy juice soaked him. “Yes ma’am.”
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” she continued, “you’re not done.”
She rose from the ottoman, then removed her gown and let it fall to the floor. She turned her back to him, spread her legs, her ass, then put it in his face. His nose brushed her crack as she bent over, holding the ottoman for support.
“You know what to do.”
On his knees, he grabbed her cheeks and spread them apart.
He lifted his chin and tongue up and down her asshole repeatedly.
She tasted like chocolate. He pointed his tongue and watched it rim her, then pushed the tip inside as far as he could until her ass cheeks hid both sides of his face completely.
Brenda clenched and moaned louder this time. The movement of his tongue, just inside her anus, sent shivers up her spine. She gripped the ottoman and rocked her hips as the sensation built behind her.
After enduring Tyreek's tongue for a while, she stood, yanked him by the ear, and pulled without warning. She walked him like a dog as he crawled beside her, obediently following her to her bed.
“Stand.”
“Yes ma’am.” Tyreek stood to his feet and brushed his knees. He watched her sit on the edge of the bed with her legs gaped, wondering what was next. He breathed nervously. “You want me to eat it some more or suck on them big ass titties?”
Brenda swung her whip and struck him in the chest. It happened too fast for him to dodge.
“You think this is a game?”
“No ma’am.”
“Undress.”
Tyreek removed his shirt, then his pants.
As he bent to pull his boxers off his ankles, she popped him in the rear with her whip.
He sprang forward and turned to face her.
His dick pointed directly at her with a perfect 10 inches of desire, threatening with thick veins and girth that made her blink twice.
“I’m not into this S&M shit you got going on,” he said. “If you want me to fuck you, I will.” He rubbed the dark welt left on his chest from her whip.
She got out of bed and got down on her knees. “Shut up and come here.”
Tyreek was hesitant but obeyed. If this crazy bitch bites my dick off, I’m gonna kill her ass, he thought.
Brenda grabbed his balls with the palm of her hand.
They were warm and swollen with life. She looked up at him and squeezed just enough to show she was in control.
She opened her mouth and sucked the head, still looking at Tyreek, and waiting for him to look down.
When he did, he eyed her. Not because he enjoyed her, but because she was the craziest bitch he’d ever encountered.