ELLA
My face was beat, hair laid, body right in a crisp white oxford shirt dress and thigh high black leather boots. The dress was unbuttoned at the neck and chest to reveal layers of gold chains. A houndstooth clutch and oversized gold hoop earrings completed the look.
Seated in my living room waiting for Armand Daniels to pick me up for our date, I felt a little anxious. I hadn’t really looked at another man sexually since Jackson’s death, too busy fighting demons and piecing my life back together for the mere idea to enter my mind. Now? Now I was about to go on a date with the bad boy of the NBA. I guess I had a thing for bad boys, even if I was the only person privy to their badness.
I’d texted him my address in reply to his message indicating the day and time of this little date, even sent directions, and hoped he wouldn’t be late because I couldn’t stand tardiness.
My anxiousness morphed into excitement when my gate called my phone indicating that the code had been entered. I pressed the pound key to open the gate and waited. Moments later, a knock sounded at my door, and a smile popped up on my face as I moved to answer it. Armand was fine as hell standing there in jeans and a bright orange t-shirt with some anime character on it. A huge diamond stud in his left ear and a crazy pair of vintage Nike Waffle Trainers completed his look. I liked his style.
“Hey,” I greeted him, “I see you found the place.”
Deep dimples accented his smile as he said, “Yeah. You gave good directions. You look good.”
“Thank you. So do you,” I replied, looking him up and down again.
Somehow, that gorgeous smile of his widened. “Thanks, Miss McClain. You ready?” he asked, proffering me an enormous hand.
Sliding my clutch under my arm while taking his warm hand, I said, “Yes.”
ARMAND
She slipped her little purse under her arm and took my hand, stopping to set her security system and lock her front door before letting me lead her to my vehicle parked on her stone driveway. Her mouth dropped open as we approached it.
“Is this new?” she asked as I opened the passenger door for her. “I thought you drove an Urus.”
“I do. Got this for our date,” I replied, shutting her door.
As I slid behind the wheel, I could hear her say, “This is a Cullinan.”
Grinning, I nodded as I looked over at her.
“You bought a Cullinan just for this date?”
“Not just for the date, especially for the date. Buckle up, Miss McClain.”
She did, and we made most of the ride to Plush in silence except for the music filling the inside of the truck—one of the playlists from my phone.
Once we arrived at our destination, Ella slid on a pair of sunglasses, and I smiled. “You going full incognigga, huh? Ain’t tryna be seen with me?” I asked, not that I could blame her.
She shook her head. “I don’t…I’m over people being in my business.”
“Even your family?”
“Even them.”
“I feel you on that. Let me call the manager. He’s supposed to meet us and escort us inside.”
She nodded her response.
Plush was always a nice joint but the renovations had sent it over the top. That plus the fact that they’d built private rooms for VIP to replace the previous open floor concept had transformed the place from a mere nightclub to a night life experience in pure luxury.
In a word, it was lit!
A soft white sectional, a floor-to-ceiling glass wall providing a view of the dance floor, a private bar with bartender, an ensuite restroom, a crazy speaker system piping in the DJ’s set—as far as I could see, it was well worth the money I’d coughed up.
“If you need anything, let Frankie, your bartender, know, and he’ll get word to me,” Elias, the manager, advised us.
“Can Frankie leave?” Ella asked.
I just looked at her with wide eyes. So she wanted privacy? Hell yeah!
Elias observed me as if waiting for my confirmation, so I said, “If she don’t want him here, neither do I.”
He nodded. “Very well. You have my number. Call me if you need anything.”
After he and Frankie left, Ella walked over to the glass wall, watching the activity below. I wasn’t sure what to do. Now that I was in a room alone with her, I felt like a kid, all nervous and shit. Yeah, I was kind of famous, even if it was for being troubled. Yeah, I had money and access to anything I could dream of wanting. Yes, I’d had women, many women, but this was Ella McClain, hands down one of the most beautiful women in the entire world. She’d grown up rich, had traveled the world, and was once the girlfriend of a huge rap star. Never mind that her dad was a legend and her mother had always been fine as hell. I was in a room alone with fucking royalty. I needed a drink.
So I made myself one—a shot of Hennessy Pure White that I quickly threw back. After glancing at her still standing at the window wall, chocolate thighs peeking out the tops of those boots, I took another shot.
“You planning on getting drunk or you planning on getting to know me?” she asked in an Americanized version of her mom’s voice. She’d removed her sunglasses, and her eyelids were low as she smiled at me over her shoulder.
In response, I left the bar, finding a seat on the sectional. “I’m all about you, Miss McClain. You gon’ come sit with me?”
She glided toward the sofa, sitting mere inches to my right, the perfume that had me damn near woozy in my truck following her. Turning her head, she locked eyes with me before giving me a smile. “Are you nervous to be here with me, Armand?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
I wanted to lie. Shit, I probably should have lied, but something about this woman made honesty more appealing to me. “Because I’ve had a crush on you for a minute. It’s crazy being here with you.”
Her thick lashes dropped and lifted as she twisted her mouth to the side. “A crush? I’m flattered. After all, I know the girls are after you. You’re virtually everyone’s #mancrusheveryday.”
Grinning, I shrugged again. “Everybody loves a bad boy.”
“Hmmm.”
“That why you’re here with me right now? You like bad boys?”
“That might have something to do with it. I mean, I do like a challenge.”
“A challenge? I ain’t no challenge. Not when it comes to you.”
Damn, what was I saying?
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, really?”
Licking my lips, I nodded. “Yeah.”
Her eyes were locked on my mouth now, which made me focus on hers—full, soft-looking, juicy.
Without a word, she reached over and touch my top lip, her eyes never leaving my mouth as her finger moved to my bottom lip. Then she shifted toward me, kicking a leg over my thighs and straddling me. Instinct made me grab her hips as her mouth hovered over mine. I stared at her, her eyes still on my mouth as she lowered her face, pressing her lips to my mouth, licking my mouth. In seconds, we were tasting each other’s tongues in a kiss so damn sloppy and hectic that I swear I got lost, time stopped, and I forgot how to breathe. She felt so soft against me, the weight of her long body felt so right, and the flavor of her kisses was like nothing I’d ever tasted before.
We kissed and kissed and kissed, my hand sliding up and down her back, meeting her ass at one point. Her bare ass. I gasped into her mouth as she reached behind herself, grabbing my wrist and moving my hand between us, to her pussy.
Her naked pussy.
Ella-motherfucking-McClain was in my got damn lap with no panties on!
Commando like a motherfucker!
My dick took this as a sign to act up, and I guess she liked that, because the next thing I knew, she was rolling her hips, sliding that naked pussy of hers over my hardness through my pants.
That’s when I ended the kiss, throwing my head back while trying not to completely lose my shit. When I felt her lips, then her teeth, on my neck, I lifted my head to kiss her again. She moaned into my mouth, rolling her hips faster and faster and faster, and then she…stopped. She just stopped moving, sliding off my lap and leaving me with a rock-hard dick and a lonely mouth.
I watched as she stood from the sofa, pulling that dress down. “I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing her purse from the sofa and heading into the restroom.
There I sat, intensely horny and wildly confused. None of that improved when she emerged from the restroom and informed me that she was ready to leave, but what could I do other than drive her home? So I did. She didn’t utter another word between the club and her house other than, “Thank you,” once I’d walked her to her door.
This woman was strange, weird as shit, but I still wanted her.
Now that I’d tasted her kisses and smelled her essence, I wanted her more than ever before.