“I’d like to call you Quanesha.”
“I’d like that too.” She drapes her arms around my neck, and we kiss. “Your turn.”
“You know my name. This is our family business.”
“Is my forwardness a turnoff?”
"No, why'd you ask that?"
"It's been four days, and most men would have sealed the deal on the first night."
“I’m my own man.”
She nods.
I never thought I'd proceed with such caution. She asked for sex with no attachments, but she calls to my need to do the exact opposite. I want to fulfill her desires and more. But knowing she's part Quanie, the firecracker, and part Rachelle, a dreamer, has me trapped between my flesh and unexpectedly my heart.
I transition us until she's lying on the couch. Then I sit back to remove my jacket. She sits forward, loosening my tie. I duck to kiss her lips, and she slides my tie off, and it joins my jacket.
I remove the condoms from my pocket and place them on the coffee table. She stares at them and back at me. Then we move as one. Clothes unbuttoning, unzipped, tossed with hasty fingers between stolen kisses. Quanesha lays beneath me in her silver bra and panties. And I'm resting between her thighs in my boxers.
“Is this what you want?” I run a finger from her lips, down her chin, between her breasts, through the valley of her stomach muscles, stopping once I brush the moist patch between her ebony legs.
Her head falls back, arching her heat against my hand.
"I want you, Quanesha, but I'm not sure I can enjoy your beautiful body and keep this situation free of complications."
My hands have a mind of their own. One massages her breast, and the other weaves through the elastic of her panties. I pet her kitty, and she purrs as my fingers slide in and out of her, ensuring she's physically ready for all of me.
A wave of emotions dances across her face. The scent of her arousal had me rock hard.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask her.
“Yes, Carson.”
She grabs a condom, tears open the package, and rolls it down my length while kissing across my chest. Her bonnet hits the floor, and I turn her mouth to mine. And without another question, I align myself, knowing this is the point of no return.
But this is what she wants...
Carson parts my folds and fills me with a deep thrust. I buck. The thickness of his cock fills my celibate body. I groan in relief and sweet agony. He stretches me, sliding in and out of my body, coaxing me, holding me captive. Each stroke deeper than the last.
Three years of self-pleasure.
Three years of running from the last mistake.
I’d wait another three years for this.
Sure, steady, strokes branding my body as his. Sliding in and out of my wetness, leaving no part of my walls untouched.
His massive hands roam my skin. His hot tongue suckles on my breasts. His cock so deliciously deep, I beg for more.
Mouth to mouth.
Body to body.
One.
“Is this what you want?” he asks.
“Yes…”
The walls of my core shake, wrapping tighter around his cock with each promise. A promise of more, more kisses, more loving, more Carson.
Whispers of how he loves my body. The bite of his teeth on my nipples. Pleasure is knocking at my door, and I'm answering with every thrust of his body.
“Carson…”
“Damn, baby, I got you. We gotta get your stamina up.” He laughs.
It's the last words I hear. He cups my ass, digging to the back of my walls. He bucks faster, and I meet each one reaching for ecstasy. My mouth and pussy beg when his tongue plays with mine in tandem and a flood of ultimate pleasure overtakes my body.
“Fuck!”
Heat burns across my skin. His name rips from the back of my throat, and I'm sure every guest in the hotel hears it. But I don't care.
I surrender to the pleasure waving from my head to my toes out through my limbs, and the world, as I knew it, shatters.
Carson’s mouth covers mine. “Quanesha, I lied. This is about to get complicated as fuck.”
God, I know.
Chapter 8
Blueprints cover my conference table. Harold’s an architect from the top architecture firm in the country. He flew in on short notice to present the designs for the building next door.
The ongoing concert series is a hit with the conference-goers and our holiday guests. It's tripled the revenue from the kitchen. An additional bonus to sending the live music next door is it keeps the hotel more family-oriented.
"Harold, these look amazing. Let's revisit the designs for the conference floors."
He reshuffles the pages and redistributes them. These five floors need extensive work to align with the recent updates in The Wellington.
“We need to add family bathrooms on each floor and a security bay. Here and here and here.” I point out.
“Mr. Wellington.”
“Yes, Merrilyn.” I look toward the phone across the room.
“You have a guest at the front desk.”
“Take a message.”
“Yes, sir. But—”
“I’m in a meeting. Hold my calls.” I grab a Post-It note and capture a few thoughts before I lose them.
“Sir, it’s Rachelle Montgomery.”
I stop and look toward the phone. “With you now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Harold, can you get estimates and send me an updated quote by the end of the week?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have them to you in a couple of days.”
“Fantastic.” I lead him to the door. “I’ll be in touch. I look forward to working with you again.”
“Same to you, Mr. Wellington.”
He heads out, and I turn to find Quanesha. She's standing in front of Merrilyn's desk with a wobbly smile and a white gift bag in her hand. She kept me up all night. Even after showering, I smell her all over my body.
I stayed in her room until she fell asleep in my arms. She told me about growing in Raleigh, her siblings, her parents. She told me about working in the family soul food restaurant. But what rang loud and clear is her feeling of duality.
“Hey, babe, this is a surprise.”
She glances at Merrilyn, who resumes her work. I gather Quanesha in my arms and kiss her lips. She moans then opens her eyes.
"Here, Carson?"
"Yes, here." I grab her hand, leading her to my office. "Merrilyn, I'll notify you when I'm available. And schedule a follow-up meeting with Harold early next week and Pierce as soon as I can get on his calendar."
“Before Christmas, sir?”
“Yes, tomorrow if he’s available.”
I close the door and pin Quanesha to it. For some reason, I want more of her. We kiss until we’re breathless.
“Is it lunchtime already?” I glance at the clock. “You must be eager for a repeat. You’re two hours early. Would you like coffee, tea, water?”
“No, thank you. I came to return this.” She extends the bag in my direction.
“It’s a gift.”
“This is too much. I can’t accept this.”
“Actually, you can. You can’t focus while working in the business center and you don’t have a laptop. You’re welcome.”