Chapter Four #7
“I wanted the challenge,” he admitted. “You’re the first women to inexperience an orgasm. Most women know what they want and they pay for a good time, but you’re different.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, not trying to be play into his antics of shit talk and lies that most women fall for.
“It’s the truth,” he held up his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I ain’t got shit to lie about.”
I pursed my lips after I swallowed, trying to sniff out a lie anyway, despite his best efforts to tell the truth. Though he was right, he had nothing to lie about. He’d already gotten paid, so even if he did, I couldn’t complain about it.
“All women want is some good dick,” he continued.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You don’t have to, but you’d be surprised.”
“So, I take that as a no?” My arched brow raised, because I was tempted to enter Pandora’s Box at this point. Emma hadn’t mentioned much about it.
“No, what?”
“Are you gonna be my plus one to Pandora’s Box?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I got the key, just don’t be shocked at what you see. There ain’t shit off limits in there. That wasn’t the plan, but it might help you learn some things about yourself.”
Like everything else, I was bold enough to come here, so if there’s more to see than Syx, I don’t want to pride my eyes of a good time.
Later On, That Night
“You ready?” Syx called out.
“Almost,” I said, as I slipped into a pair of black Tom Ford locket heels.
He’d already told me prior to getting dressed to be ready no later than 5 p.m. The simple black dress was fitted short, with thin straps around my shoulders.
My back was exposed just a tad, which fit the perfect time to wear a top knot bun, with a pair of mini gold earrings and matching gold accessories to compliment my fashion.
My makeup was kept minimal—concealer, pink blush, eye liner, defined brows and lip gloss.
Just as I stood up and walked over to the mirror to put a gold Herringbone necklace around my neck from Zales, Syx walked over to me, giving me a whiff of his intoxicating cologne and helped me.
Through the mirror, he stared intently at me, like he was observing something he couldn’t put a name on.
It took him all of six seconds to put it on, but he didn’t move.
His skin stayed lingering against mine, giving my body warmth, but he was also sensing the chill bumps down my spine and along my arm.
It was all too much to handle—too much to digest.
He stood in front of me looking like he’d stepped out of a luxury magazine spread.
He was in all black, dripping in designer.
His fitted Givenchy button-down was tailored perfectly to his body.
The fabric stretching across his broad shoulders and thick chest in a way that made my mouth water.
The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, showing off his corded muscles and the veins that ran down to his strong hands.
His black Tom Ford slacks hung low on his hips that was fitted enough I could see the powerful muscles of his thighs, but it was the details that made me want to drop to my knees.
A thick Cuban link chain in white gold sat against his collarbone, catching the light every time he moved.
His wrists were adorned with a Patek Philippe watch on one side.
The face glittering with what had to be diamonds and a matching white gold Van Cleef bracelet on the other and on his feet, were black Balenciaga Triple S clear sole sneakers.
When he smiled at me, I saw the flash of his bottom VVS diamond grill. The stones caught the light and made his smile even more devastating.
“You look pretty,” he said, his voice low and smooth.
I couldn’t speak. Shit, I could barely breathe, because as he stepped closer, his cologne hit me. It smelled expensive, woody with hints of bergamot and leather. Altogether it made my head spin and my pussy clench. He smelled so good.
My eyes traveled over him again, because I was unable to stop cataloging every detail. The way his shirt pulled tight across his biceps. The definitions of his abs visible through the fabric. The strong column of his throat. The sharp line of his jaw. The fullness of his lips.
I wanted to touch him and run my hands over every inch of his body. I wanted to taste his skin and feel the weight of that chain against my chest as he moved inside me and as it dangled in my face.
“Thank you,” I finally managed to say. My voice came out breathier than I intended.
“You ready?” He asked, and I noticed the way his gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, taking in the curves of my body in the tight black dress.
“Yes,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I was answering to his questions or responding to the unspoken promise in his eyes.
Syx had a burning fire in his eyes that caused a pool to melt between my pussy lips—messing up my thong.
He was good at that shit…good at making me wet, good at making me aroused without touching me, good at eating my pussy.
Then something snatched my out of my daze, because while he was good at all those things, he hadn’t mastered the art to make cum, so I guess almost didn’t count.
I’m old enough to accept that maybe, I can’t do it and I don’t have the will power…maybe I never will.
“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” He asked me, snatching me out of my thoughts, robbing me blind. “Get out of your head.”
My head swiveled around to face him directly. His mahogany brown eyes were drowning mine, and neither one of us dared to look away.
“This is dangerous Syx,” I admitted after releasing a deep sigh.
“What’s dangerous Nyne?” His deep voice swooned over my pussy, without meeting her face to face. All it took was him parting his lips, and speaking to me, is what did it. “You’re grown, and you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.”
I scoffed, because like everything else besides sex, I was in my head. “This—” my hand motioned around the house and everything in it. The island was included in this too. “It feels like something that’s too good to be true and I don’t know how to process all of this all at once—”
He cut me off to say, “Then don’t.” Then he paused, as our eyes played ping pong. “You’re always in your head about everything. Whatever happened to going with the flow and things and letting shit play out?”
“But what if they play out how neither one of us intended for?” Staring deeply into his eyes, I became lost in them and everything we agreed upon didn’t matter—at least not on my end.
Guilt began to take over in the slightest way and not because of what we had was transactional but mainly knowing I’d be doing my heart a disservice for a guy like Syx.
“I haven’t thought that far yet, Nyne,” he spoke.
Not bothering to respond, I snatched my attention away from him and toggled to a new task—something that didn’t include lusting over him or dwindling with my thoughts much longer.
“I’ll get my clutch and I’ll be ready,” I mentioned, as I walked away from his intoxicating scent and aura.
I took timid steps toward the bedroom, with heavy angst and weary.
Syx was making me lose my damn mind, but none of it was his fault.
I was trying to tuck away baggage that wasn’t his to carry.
Somehow, I was trying to flip this all on him, and his very being, but the rules were simple.
I’m not suppose catch feelings for a hoe and that’s what makes this somewhat more twisted than it’s supposed to be, because it’s merely impossible.
After the divorce, I carried most of my heart on my sleeve, but still I had hope that my true love was out there searching for me.
Rummaging through my things, I found my clutch in my suitcase. I wouldn’t need much and it’s not like a lot can fit in it, but I was able to fit inside towelette wipes, my Summer Fridays butter balm and condoms—just in case.
Trotting towards the bathroom, I did a once over to see if my makeup or hair needed a touchup, but I was heavily satisfied with my look so I rejoined Syx back downstairs where I found him typing away on his phone and when he heard my heels clacking on the tile flooring, he stuffed it back in his pockets, as if once again, he was hiding something from me.
“I’m ready now,” I spoke loud, sort of like I was announcing myself.
He jolted his head up and glanced in my direction and his eyes landed on mine. It felt so magnetic as if they belonged there. If I blinked twice it wouldn’t change the fact I saw him swipe his tongue over his lips in a sensual way that meant he was hungry for my body.
Walking over to me, I noticed he was holding something red. The closer he staggered over, I noticed it was a wristband. It was elegant and simple. “Before we go, I need to put this on you.”
I held out my wrist…the empty one. “What is it?”
“It’s a signal,” he said, while fastening the band. His fingers were warm against my skin. “It tells people at the club that you’re with someone—basically you’re not available for approach.”
“Oh, so it’s a territorial thing?” I asked, thinking of dynamics I’d read about in romance novels.
“Not exactly,” he said. “It’s about Dom and Sub dynamics or ownership.
It’s just the rules people follow at this club.
Most people don’t come unless they’re with someone and the wristbands make it clear who’s paired up.
Red means you’re spoken for. It’s optional, but people respect it.
See—” He held up his wrist for me to see the similar band on his hand. “We’re wearing matching ones.
“And that symbolizes what, exactly?” I inquired.
“That you, my baby, belong to me.” He stated matter of fact.
“So no one will try to touch me or talk to me?”
“Not unless I’m right there and give permission,” he spoke. “Which I won’t. Tonight is about you observing, experiencing the energy of the space. Not about anyone else touching you.”
It was something about the way he said it. His tone was so possessive. It made me stomach flip. “Okay.”
“Do you trust me?” He asked as his dark eyes searched mine.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
And I meant it.