Chapter 13 #2
The lotion was thick and faintly scented, expensive in that quiet way everything in Dre’s suite seemed to be.
I smoothed it over my arms first, then my legs, taking more time than necessary because my hands needed something to do besides tremble.
When I stood in front of the mirror, the robe had loosened just enough to show the curve of my breasts, the glow of my skin, the soft fullness of my body beneath all that white cotton.
I looked good.
Better than twenty-two in ways twenty-two would not have known how to value.
Grown and desired before Dre even put his hands on me.
My bra went into my purse.
I picked up my panties, stared at them for half a second, then stuffed them in with my bra.
Why bother?
I already knew my pussy was on the menu.
The thought should have embarrassed me.
It did not.
I tightened the robe, lifted my chin, and opened the bathroom door.
Dre was near the windows with his phone in his hand.
His head lifted when I came out.
Whatever polite thing had been on his face disappeared before he could save it.
“That robe big as hell on you,” he said.
“It has a job.”
His eyes moved over me once.
Slow enough to touch.
“Doing it?”
“Barely.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but he did not make the joke. His restraint warmed the air.
“I’m gonna shower.”
“You should.”
He passed close enough for his scent to brush over me, then disappeared into the bathroom.
I let out the breath I had been holding.
Food arrived while he was inside. Two attendants rolled carts into the suite, arranged everything across the dining table, and left with the kind of quiet efficiency that made the room feel even more expensive after they were gone.
Lamb. Warm bread. Butter. Garlic. Rosemary.
Something sweet waiting under a silver cover.
My stomach responded.
So did everything else.
Dre came back out in a matching white robe.
His chest showed where the robe opened. Water still darkened the edge of his beard, and the diamond chain was back at his throat, bright against all that deep-brown skin. Apparently, the man showered and put his diamonds right back on.
Of course he did.
All that dark skin, muscle, white terry cloth, and cold white fire looked like The Nocturne had decided to test my relationship with God.
His gaze dropped to my legs.
The robe had fallen open enough to show more thigh than I meant to give him.
Or maybe exactly as much as I meant to give him.
His eyes came back to mine.
Neither of us said a word.
We ate on the couch with Reasonable Doubt playing low and the city glowing beyond the glass. The food was too good for the little bit of attention I gave it. Dre sat close enough that his thigh brushed mine every time one of us moved, and each touch made the robe feel thinner.
We talked because we had to put our mouths somewhere safe.
The distraction did not last. His knee near mine. My pussy bare beneath the robe. His eyes dropping to the knot at my waist like he knew exactly what I had decided before I ever came out of the bathroom.
At some point, the robe loosened across my chest.
Dre took my empty plate from my lap and set it beside his on the table.
The suite went quiet around us.
Maybe he moved.
Maybe I did.
I had no interest in investigating.
His hand came to the knot of my robe, not touching it yet, just resting there like a question.
“You know we can stop here, right?”
My pulse stumbled.
“I know.”
“I mean it, Mani.”
“I know you do.”
He looked hungry enough to make a woman lose her vocabulary, but he was still giving me the room he had promised. Still making sure I understood I could walk away with my robe, my panties, and whatever was left of my pride.
Instead, I covered his hand with mine.
“Untie it.”
His jaw tightened.
The robe loosened around me, heavy fabric parting inch by inch until cool air touched my skin.
Dre’s eyes followed it.
My throat. The tops of my breasts. The place over my heart where his name still lived inside that infinity symbol. The curve of my stomach.
Then the tiny diamond at my navel caught the light.
His jaw flexed.
I felt that look everywhere.
“You been busy,” he said, voice lower now.
“A little.”
His eyes lifted to mine, then dropped again. “You like decorating what’s mine?”
The nerve of him.
The accuracy.
Dre leaned forward and kissed the tattoo over my heart before I could find a response.
My eyes closed.
“You know what it does to me,” he said against my skin, “seeing my name still here? Knowing I never really left?”
His mouth touched it again, lower this time, close enough to the edge of my breast that my breath left on a hiss before I could stop it.
Of course he heard.
“What does it do?” I asked, though forming the words took more effort than it should have.
Dre lifted his head.
His eyes were dark.
“It makes my dick hard, Mani. Touch it and see.”
My hand moved before my pride could catch it. I reached across the small space between us and dragged my palm over him through the robe.
God.
He was thick and hard, heavy beneath my hand, impossible to pretend away. My mouth watered with a hunger I had not given permission to speak yet.
Dre watched my face while I touched him, and the room seemed to lose another inch of air.
Then he reached for me.
The robe slipped from one shoulder. Then the other. The fabric fell open in my lap, and his gaze dropped to my breasts.
The nipple rings caught the light.
His face changed.
“Fuck, Mani.”
The roughness in his voice made my thighs press together.
Dre brushed one knuckle beneath my breast, careful enough to make the wanting meaner. “When did you get these?”
“A few years ago.”
His knuckle passed under the curve again, then his palm followed, warm and sure as he lifted the weight of me like he had missed knowing exactly how I fit in his hand.
“Your tits were already pretty,” he said, lowering his mouth. “But this?”
His lips grazed the metal.
My stomach clenched.
“This is delicious.”
Then he took one nipple into his mouth.
Pleasure shot through me so fast I grabbed the back of his neck, palm sliding over warm skin, fingers grazing the edge of his fade because there was nothing to grip and I still needed something to hold.
Dre’s tongue moved around the ring first, slow and curious, learning the feel of it before he tugged gently with his lips.
My breath broke.
His hand tightened at my waist.
“It do something to you when I pull it like that?”
I nodded before I remembered who I was dealing with.
Dre lifted his head.
“Don’t nod at me. Tell me.”
“Yes.”
His eyes stayed on mine. “Where?”
Heat climbed my face, but there was no hiding from him now. My robe was open. His mouth was still wet from my nipple. My pussy was bare beneath all that white cotton like I had made the decision before he ever asked the question.
“My pussy.”
His nostrils flared.
For a second, he only looked at me.
Then his hand slid down my stomach, slow enough to make every muscle beneath his palm wake up. His fingers passed my navel, and his thumb brushed the little diamond there once.
Then his hand moved lower.
His eyes came back to mine.
“No panties?”
The word barely made it out. “No.”
“You came out here like this?”
“I was hungry.”
His gaze dropped between my thighs.
“For food?”
I should have found shame somewhere.
I did not.
“For you.”
A sound left him, low and rough, before his fingers moved again.
He touched me bare, two fingers sliding through the wet heat of me, and the first contact pulled a sound from both of us.
Mine was a moan. His was something deeper, rougher, like his restraint had finally met a problem it could not solve.
Dre looked down between us.
Then back at me.
“You came out here in my robe with this pretty pussy already wet for me?”
I heard my breath fill the suite.
“Dre.”
“No.” His fingers moved again, slow and filthy, spreading the mess I had made of myself. “Don’t Dre me now. You knew what you were doing.”
“I was hungry.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “I’m about to feed you.”
The words moved through me so hard my thighs shook.
His fingers dragged higher, circling my clit slowly. Then he stopped.
Completely.
My body tightened around the pause.
His eyes dropped again, focused now.
“Well, damn.”
His thumb touched the tiny ring, and whatever laugh I might have tried to find broke into a gasp.
Dre’s gaze came back to mine, darker than before.
“You got this pierced too?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“A few years.”
“Sensitive?”
“Very.”
He circled it lightly, careful enough to make my stomach pull tight and my fingers grip his shoulders.
“I can tell.”
“Dre.”
“Does it feel good when I touch it?”
“Yes.”
His thumb moved again, catching the ring with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk.
He watched the reaction with a low sound in his chest.
“That’s what I thought.”
He kissed me then, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine until I tasted the restraint he was still trying to hold onto. I climbed deeper into his lap without thinking, robe falling open around us, and his hands caught my waist like he had been waiting all day for me to stop pretending.
His dick pressed hard beneath the robe.
Thick against me.
Right there.
I rolled my hips once, and the sound he made into my mouth ruined any little bit of sense I had left.
“Careful,” he said.
“I thought you wanted me.”
“I do.” His hands tightened on my waist. “That’s why I said careful.”
The words should not have made me wetter.
They did.
Dre’s eyes dropped to where my open robe exposed my breasts, my stomach, the diamond at my navel, and the place between us where I had already made a mess against him.
Then he looked at the couch.
“Lie back.”
My pulse jumped.
“Here?”
“You want to make it to the bedroom first?”
I shifted off his lap and stretched along the couch, robe open, one knee bent, the other foot still on the floor because I could not find enough grace to make any of this look elegant. Dre did not seem to mind. He pulled the ottoman closer, sat in front of me, and slid both hands under my thighs.
The position left me open.
Too open.