4. Mahasin #2
Passing several floor-to-ceiling mirrors, my reflection stole my own breath. Happiness and love poured out of me, leaving behind a glow only those who’ve truly found their person could understand—the kind of love that gives you an out-of-body experience just from a whistle.
I swayed, watching how the deep burgundy skirt clung to me like it had been sewn onto my skin, rising slowly to reveal a dangerous stretch of thigh.
The feathered shawl slipped from my shoulders, framing me in a halo of feminine magic against all my fire.
My sheer top, once only hinting at my breasts, now betrayed me—exposing the hard peaks of my nipples, stiff from arousal.
Fuck, I should have worn pasties.
For a moment, I didn’t see a doctor, a best friend, or even a fiancée. I saw a survivor of love lost—a woman who carried grace even when love seemed to hate her. A woman who knew the room would stop breathing every time she walked in.
I was feeling the fuck out of myself.
“She is absolutely beautiful, isn’t she?” Hunter whispered in my ear as he embraced me from behind. “She’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” he continued, swaying with me, mocking my rhythm.
He pulled me closer, pressing the firmness of his dick against my ass, never breaking the spell of our reflections. His voice dripped into my ear, steady affirmations that made my knees weak.
“Intelligent. Loving. Self-sufficient. Sexy. Every man’s desire.” “And this pussy—” his hand slid beneath my short skirt, cupping me through my panties—“this pussy is a nigga’s kryptonite.”
He fisted my hair, tugging my head back with a firmness that bordered on rough but never cruel, his mouth branding my neck with deep, sucking kisses. The pressure of his hand massaging my pussy against the sharp pleasure of his bite had my eyes rolling back until I finally closed them.
“Ahh!” I moaned as Hunter bit down harder.
“Did I tell you to close your eyes, Mahasin?”
“No, King, you didn’t,” I panted, my breath sharp and shallow. “Hunter, baby—you’re gonna make me cum in this hallway if you don’t stop.”
“Why would I ever want to stop you from cumming?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
Like the magician he was, he managed to slide my panties aside, just enough to slip two fingers deep inside me.
His other hand left the back of my head and wandered to my breasts, kneading them one at a time with firm, claiming strokes.
“King,” I moaned.
“Sshhh… focus on cumming, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear as his fingers worked me. He pumped deep, then shifted to a slow, deliberate circle inside my pussy, and that was it—my body was ready to unravel, to come undone all over his hand.
“Are you mine, Mahasin?”
“Yes!”
“You gonna be my wife?”
“Yes… Yes!”
Tears began to fall from my eyes, slowly falling down my face. The combination of desire, pressure, and the fact that I had to piss was a pleasurable pain that triggered animalistic behaviors.
“Hunter, hurry and let me fucking cum!”
He removed his fingers from my pussy, and it seemed like time froze.
He gave me the scariest face of betrayal I’d ever seen, and the shit turned me on.
His dark brown skin glowed under the light, his full beard framing a jaw cut from stone, tattoos climbing his muscular arms, his hazel eyes catching the light as his intense gaze burned straight through me.
Before I knew it, Hunter had spun me around, lifted me up, and sat my wide-hipped ass on one of the floating end tables lining the wall.
I just knew we were going to be paying for property damage before the night was over.
I scrambled to wrap my arms around his neck, ready to catch myself when this table gave out and sent me crashing to the floor—but he pressed into me instead, capturing both my wrists in one of his big hands and pinning them above my head against the wall. His breath was heavy, almost a growl.
“You’re not in charge, baby,” he whispered, his free hand swiftly tugging my panties down. “I’m about to let you go,” he confessed, sliding them into his suit jacket pocket like a pocket square.
“Hunter, what? I’ll fall,” I gasped, breath ragged with excitement and fear.
He dropped to his knees, those golden-green eyes locked on me, hunger spilling out of them. His body pressed me firmly against the wall, the only thing keeping me balanced on this damn shelf. “Have I ever let you fall?”
Before I could answer, gravity snatched me—but this magical nigga caught me by the waist, steadying me like I weighed nothing, before positioning me to sit right on his face.
He wasted no time, slurping me like a melting Italian ice.
His grip on my waist gave me all the stability I needed to ride his mouth, grinding shamelessly.
“That’s right, baby. Fuck my face. Watch yourself in the mirror while you do it.”
Now, why the hell did he tell me that? Heat flared through me, my mouth falling open, oxygen gone from the room. Hunter sucked my clit with just the right pressure, enough to have my legs trembling and spit sliding from my lips.
“King, I’m about to cum,” I moaned.
“Make that shit nasty, baby. Rub all that good shit on my face, like Vaseline on a winter day.”
“You are so nasty, Hunter—and I love that shit,” I panted.
“Disrespect the fuck outta me, Mahasin. I’m yours,” he growled.
And like clockwork, I broke—spilling down his throat, coating him, giving my baby the facial he demanded.
“Good fucking girl,” he said, swallowing my honey.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I giggled, easing off his face and trying to gather whatever sense I had left. “Someone could’ve caught us.”
“Nah, they wouldn’t. This hall’s also an emergency exit. I locked the door on my way back here,” he confessed as he rose to his feet and fixed his clothes.
“Hunter—” my eyes widened. “That is not okay. Don’t do no crazy shit like that again.” I laughed, caressing his face.
“You make me crazy—in the best way. You remind me life is meant to be lived, baby,” he murmured against my lips.
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna live that shit in jail,” I smiled.
Our lips rested together, soft at first, until the kiss deepened—long, hard, nasty, like it could be our last.
And why… why did it feel like the last time?
I heard keys jingle and a lock click. I dove for the nearest plan we had: both of us split—him to the men’s room, me to the ladies’. Besides, I still had to pee. As I moved to dash through the restroom door, Hunter caught my hand.
“Baby, relax.” He kissed my forehead and let me go. Between the anticipation of finding out who was opening the illegally locked emergency exit and the pressure from my bladder telling me it was now or never, I ran into the bathroom and relieved myself in the nearest stall.
While I washed my hands, a woman’s voice shredded the hallway—loud and furious.
“So you went and fell in love with this bitch?” she hollered.
“You told me you just needed time, a little space, but that you’d always come home—no one could ever take my place.
Why the fuck did I get served divorce papers by a sheriff officer? ”
Damn. My heart squeezed for the woman on the other side of that door—been there, felt that humiliation. God really did His big one when He blessed me with Hunter.
“Oh, so now you're speechless? Cat got your tongue. Answer me, Hunter Knox!” she screamed.
I tossed the paper towel and swung the restroom door open, joining Hunter, Nova, and the angry woman in the hall.
“What’s going on?” I asked, voice steady.
“Oh, and she’s a cute little homewrecking bitch,” the woman spat.
“Mhmm—let’s beat her pretty little ass. I’m sick of this job anyway. The boss be acting like nobody can fuck one of her fine- ass brothers; said she’d blow my head off or some shit,” Nova sneered.
I was down for whatever, but I wasn’t about to get jumped. Hunter better not let these bitches touch me. Just in case things went left, I grabbed my phone and shot Amber a text.
Me: 702 — restroom nearest the entrance.
Amber: Say less.
“Hunter, what the fuck is going on? I want the truth,” I demanded.
“Baby, can we talk about this at home?” he asked.
“At home? So, you've been playing house with this bitch? All this time you told me you were staying with a friend—I didn’t know you meant girlfriend.” I bristled.
“Fiancé,” I corrected automatically, fingers now tight around my ponytail holder—wrapped around my Cartier bracelet in case my hair needed taming. Never thought I’d use it to secure my hair to beat a bitch’s ass, though.
“Oh, fiancé—how cute. Hi, fiancé. I’m Morgan. The wife.” She reached out like she hadn’t just ripped my world open.