Chapter 11 Naima
NAIMA
Islammed the shower handle to the left, the water scorching against my skin. I scrubbed harder than necessary, as if the loofah could scrape away the frustration simmering beneath my skin. How dare he? How dare Lennox brush me off so easily after what we shared?
I’d gone through the motions all day, guiding guests through yoga poses, and offering meditative breaths, but my own were shallow and uneven. Every inhale was filled with the scent of him. Every exhale carried a memory of his tongue against my skin, the way he’d devoured me in the kitchen.
"Damn it." I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool tiles. My nipples, traitorous as ever, tightened painfully against the onslaught of hot water. They weren’t mad at him at all. No. They wanted more of him.
I shut off the water and stepped out, grabbing my towel and wrapping it tightly around my body. I slathered myself in shea butter, the rich, warm scent of vanilla and amber filling the small bathroom. It was my favorite blend—comforting and relaxing. But today, it did nothing to soothe me.
A hard knock at the door jolted me and I wondered who it could be. Dinner wasn’t for another hour. Tasha was probably in the kitchen, working her magic.
I opened the door and froze. Lennox stood there, broad and solid, looking every bit as delicious as he had earlier. His eyes searched mine— his looking tortured.
I stepped back, allowing him inside. He moved slowly, his gaze sweeping over the room, every step deliberate.
His attention lingered on my large red amethyst cluster that sat on my nightstand—the same one I used to find my center.
Before him, it had been enough. Now, nothing but the weight of his body and the burn of his touch could ground me.
“It’s a beautiful stone,” he remarked, his eyes settled on my warm face.
I didn’t want to get into the beauty of my stone, or how I felt it watching our every move. Not when I had so many questions for him. Not when only one question and one answer mattered.
"May I help you with something?" My voice came out lower, rougher than I intended.
His eyes held mine, molten and heavy. His lips parted, but instead of speaking, he closed the distance between us, capturing my mouth with his. The kiss was fierce, erasing every bit of anger I’d felt. His hands slid into my damp hair, his groan a vibration that shot straight to my core.
I didn’t resist. Couldn’t. The need pulsing between us was undeniable, primal.
His tongue swept against mine, tasting, claiming.
My towel loosened, and he slipped his hands beneath it, cupping my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my hardened nipples.
I gasped, arching into his touch, my body begging for more.
"Naima," he breathed, his voice a delicious rasp. "I need you. Now."
I nodded, words lost to the torrent of desire. He pulled a condom from his pocket, his hands sure and practiced. The towel fell away, pooling at my feet, and his amber eyes darkened as he took me in. His gaze was a physical touch, raking over my bare skin, setting me alight.
"So damn beautiful," he whispered. His mouth descended to my breasts, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peaks, sucking one nipple deep into his mouth.
He laved and pulled, the wet heat of his tongue mixed with the gentle scrape of his teeth.
My knees wobbled, the pleasure electric, every tug of his lips sending a fresh wave of wetness between my thighs.
His palms slid down to my hips, gripping me as he lifted me easily. My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck, and then—
He filled me. One long, deep thrust that stole my breath.
I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his strength guiding me up and down on his thick length.
Each pull, each push, stretched me, marked me.
His growls rumbled against my skin, his control unraveling as he drove us both to the edge with his punctuated thrusts.
"Look at me," he demanded, his hand cradling my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. "I want to see you take it."
I could barely keep my eyes open, the pleasure too much, too sharp. But I obeyed, my vision blurring as he hit that spot inside me, the one that made my toes curl and my voice break.
"Good girl," he whispered, his lips brushing mine. "Take it all."
I shattered around him, my walls clenching tight, drawing a moan from his lips. But he wasn’t done. Not yet. He moved us to the bed, lowering me onto my knees. His hand rested on my shoulder, the other guiding himself back inside of my wetness.
"Arch that back," he instructed, his hand pressing into the small of my spine.
I bent deeper, my ass high, my cheek against the cool sheets.
He smoothed his palm over my back, the weight of his hand grounding me.
Then, his thumb traced the curve of my ass, teasing, spreading, before his hand came down in a sharp smack.
The sting bloomed, pain and pleasure twisting together, and I moaned, my pussy fluttering around nothing.
"Such a pretty sound," he murmured, his voice like gravel. He spread me wide, his fingers brushing over my wetness, dipping inside just enough to make me clench. "You like being taken like this, don’t you?"
"Yes," I breathed. "Please, Lennox."
He slid inside me, his dick thick and unyielding, stretching me open in the most delicious way.
The angle was deeper, the connection tighter.
My amethyst crystal sat on the nightstand, a silent witness to the way he took me, the way I gave in to him completely.
The sounds of our bodies—skin against skin, the wet slide of him into me—filled the room.
He gripped my hips, pulling me back into every thrust, his pace brutal, relentless. I couldn’t hold back. My orgasm crashed over me, my walls clenching, milking him, my name a broken scream on his lips.
He followed, his body locking against mine, his release hot and deep. His hands slid up my spine, gathering my hair into a fist, pulling my head back until his lips were against my ear.
"We skipped dinner," I murmured, a lazy smile stretching across my face.
He chuckled, the sound rich and sated. "Nah, I got everything I needed right here."