Runway ready and always fabulous, Arabia strode into the sleek Upper Eastside high-rise overlooking Central Park, where one of her fiancés, forty-eight-year-old Theodore Banks, took up part-time residence and rode the sleek private elevator up.
Married with three teenaged-children, he was an investment banker who owned one of the two sprawling penthouses up on the top floor that could have easily been featured in any of the luxury-home magazines. It reeked of power and wealth. Things Arabia believed every good man should embody.
She glanced down at the three-carat solitaire engagement ring she’d pulled from her safe and slipped on her ring finger earlier this morning. She reveled in its blinding brilliance as the elevator’s lights shone down on it.
She smiled.
After all, she was worthy of nothing but the best. And she required it. Expected it. And, goddamn it . . . deserved it.
Why shouldn’t she?
She was exquisitely stunning and, in her mind, a rare gem that should be coveted. No. Arabia wasn’t a gold digger, unlike her mother, Claudia. But she loved a man who dug deep into his pockets, sharing his worth in gold—and diamonds, of course. The deeper he dug, the wetter her pussy became. Still, she never, ever, asked a man for anything. That would be in poor taste. And a woman of her caliber never stooped to such tactless methods. Asking a man. Mmph. Please. Not. She used creative coercion—okay, okay . . . she gently prompted a man when she had to—to get what she wanted out of him. But, truthfully, she rarely had to, though. The men in her life, more often than not, gave willingly.
Oh, don’t be fooled by her sexual proclivities. Arabia wasn’t a home wrecker. If anything, she was a peacekeeper. She fucked her lovers with purpose—to keep them happy, then send them home to their wives in a state of sweet bliss. She had no interest in disrupting a cheating man’s life. She simply enjoyed sleeping with men who were sexually frustrated with their home situations, men who needed love and affection, and some stress-free pussy. Yes, she sought them out. Preyed on them. Those types tended to be more giving with their gifts and coins than any of her past so-called single lovers.
So all any married man was good for was trinkets and trips and, hopefully, some good hard dick. And if he couldn’t keep a hard dick, a long tongue would do just fine. Truthfully—though she loved gifts, Arabia didn’t really need the treasures men bestowed upon her. She simply loved being pampered and spoiled. So she expected the men in her life—married or not, to keep her kept.
Other than that, she didn’t need a man for his money. She needed him for . . .?
Hmmm . . . wait. She’d have to think on that for a moment.
What did she really need him for, besides his hard dick and wet tongue?
Umm.
Well . . .
She didn’t.
Men were simply a means to an end for her, period. They couldn’t be trusted. None of them; yet, she knew she couldn’t not have them in her life. She loved the feel of a hard-bodied man, especially a successful one. She simply loved men who had it going on financially. And she loved them successful—shakers and movers. Hung men who hungered good pussy; that’s what she loved most—powerful men who gave over their control—to her, losing themselves in heat and sex . . . in her.
She loved seducing her lovers.
Loved mind-fucking them.
Loved sucking their dicks deep into her mouth, then watching each one become powerless. Her need for control, at times, could be daunting; something that made some men—hell, most men; especially black men—uneasy.
Her mouth watered at the mere thought of it. Dick. Oh, God, how she loved it. Loved the way it felt, the way it tasted, the way it smelled—all manly and erotic. She loved sliding her pussy down on it, then using her walls to massage its shaft.
Mm, yes.
She felt her pussy clench at the thought of being stuffed with cock.
She had to admit. She was looking forward to seeing Theodore. It’d been almost three weeks since she’d last spent any quality time with him. And, today, she was eager to have his dick in her mouth, then inside her pussy. Sure he came fast every time he was bathed in her liquid fire, but she tried not to hold it against him. His saving grace was that his dick was deliciously thick, and always gave her pussy the best fifteen-minute pounding a woman could ever hope for in a quickie. And he was, surprisingly, always able to recover in minutes, ready for another round.
Still . . .
It was sometimes frustrating and unforgiveable for him to taunt her cunt like that. Coming quick. Leaving her pussy humming for more. That was, that was—well . . . it was simply downright obnoxious. Hell. She’d given him a vibrating cock ring for his birthday almost three months ago—something to help his staying power—and he had yet to wear the damn thing.
Mmph.
Men.
They could be so damn unappreciative.
She caught her reflection in the elevator’s chromed interior, and smiled. She loved the image staring back at her. Perfection, that’s all she saw.
At thirty-two, she still had the tight, firm body that most females half her age would kill for, or die trying to have. She couldn’t blame them, though, for hating on her for being beautiful. Her traffic-stopping looks and body had been cause for more than enough slamming brakes and head-on and rear-end collisions by men trying to get a second glimpse at what sexy and fabulous looked like wrapped in one body.
Thanks to genetics and the help of yoga, kickboxing, and her morning five-mile run, she kept her perfect 34-22-38 body measurements tight and right. As far as she was concerned, being a top-shelf, sidepiece trophy required dedication and commitment. At all times.
It meant staying fit, fly, fabulous and . . .always fuckable.
Proudly, she was all four.
Still, she was nothing more than “on-call pussy” as her mother had so eloquently put it one night after one of their many heated phone conversations over her not being married and with kids—like her sisters. Her mother resented the fact that she’d wasted all of her good damn coins on her education only for her to end up stupid . . .and still single.
Claudia had been grooming her very early on how to snag a husband—not some damn married man. She hadn’t spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on sending her to all those fancy-schmancy charm schools, and whisking her off to private schools as a child, before shipping her off to Spelman in Atlanta, so that she’d simply acquire a college degree and want to do something with it. No. Her degree was meant to be a showpiece, something to hang up on a wall. Not put to use. How damn ridiculous!
And Claudia hadn’t demanded her youngest daughter pledge her beloved sorority, either—although she’d pledged herself as did her other daughters—so that she’d follow the principles of Sisterhood, Scholarship and Service to all Mankind. She expected it. But to her chagrin—once again, Arabia defied her and pledged a rival sorority just to get under her skin.
Simply put, her youngest was an ingrate. Everything Claudia set before Arabia was so that she’d land a Morehouse Man, a man of substance, a man with the right pedigree. As with her three older sisters marrying wealthy was all that Arabia should have ever aspired, nothing more, nothing less. Instead, the selfish little twit would rather slum around in stained sheets playing wifey to some already married man, being his nasty little cum dump.
Claudia was utterly appalled at her daughter’s silliness. And, in so many words, she’d told her so. Why be a whore for many, when all she had to do was whore for one? What a stupid trick.
Her words had stung Arabia. They’d felt like a slap to her face when they’d rolled from her mother’s lips. And, at times, she could still feel the sting. She had wanted to tell Claudia to kiss her plump ass. But she settled on disconnecting the call without so much as a goodbye.
How dare that gold-digging bitch judge her?
That’s exactly what her man-eating mother was. A gold digger!
Arabia, along with her three sisters, had learned firsthand from their mother how to use what they had to get what they wanted. Claudia had used her Louisiana charm and striking beauty to seduce her way into each of her husbands’ lives, starting with their father’s. Bless his dead soul. She’d milked him for everything he had until she’d finally sucked him to his grave.
Three months after he died, the sheets hadn’t even cooled and she was already in the arms of her next lover. They married two months later in a private ceremony in Maui. But that marriage only lasted for three years, before he suddenly collapsed to his death from a heart attack, leaving her all of his fortune.
Since then, Claudia had been running through husbands and rotating them like tires. She was now currently on husband number six.
Arabia shook away thoughts of her hateful mother, catching her reflection one last time. Fuck her. She was happy with the way her life was. Maybe it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but she wasn’t idealistic. She was a realist. And the reality for her was: she was living her life, her way and fuck anyone who didn’t like it. Married man or not, Theordore was still a good catch for shacking up with. And his long bankroll, and his long, wet tongue kept Arabia inspired to keep him.
True. There’d never be any “I dos” or “happy-ever-after” being engaged to someone else’s man. Being the sidepiece didn’t come with any long-term rewards. But the short-term benefits were well worth all the empty promises and sweet nothings being whispered in her ear before, during and after a sweaty romp in the sheets.
And, when it came to playing her position, Arabia knew her place. And she was comfortable in her role. She was more than okay with letting Theodore and all the others think the pussy was theirs. Truth was, no man had claims to what she held between her thighs, except her.
And she suspected no man ever would.
Still, she loved giving them the illusion that they held permanent stake to the prize. So what if he, along with her two other current lovers, had put rings on it?
As far as she was concerned, she was still very much single. And always open to new possibilities. Did she love any of her current lovers? Absolutely not. Loving them would require her lying to herself. And that wasn’t about to happen. So, hell no! There was no emotional investment where any of them were concerned. They were simply hard dicks, and financial benefactors. So, no, love wasn’t on the blackboard for Arabia. Old-ass—well, maybe not that old. More like seasoned—wealthy men, horny and starved for attention, who, more often than not, felt unappreciated at home was the only thing on her menu, period.
She knew her pussy had the power to heal. To make a lonely, rich soul feel whole again. So why shouldn’t she do her civic duty of mending their horny souls with a dose of good pussy?
She giggled to herself. Ooh, this snap-trap keeps the dick on lock. Oh no. She wasn’t some mediocre two-pump bitch in the sack. Even though, two of her three lovers were. But what did she care?
She had—
The elevator doors opened, and, without further thought, Arabia stepped inside the tastefully decorated apartment. Tall and muscular—wearing a pair of silk lounge pants, Theodore greeted her with a smile before pulling her into his arms. She snuggled against his bare chest, and breathed him in. He smelled of Dial soap and masculinity all rolled into lots of dollar signs.
He pressed his lips to her hair and inhaled as he kissed her head. Her scent tantalized his senses. Theodore loved the way she always smelled, so soft and so sweet. He’d leave his nagging-ass wife in a heartbeat to be with Arabia if it weren’t for his children, and the fact that his wife had him chained by the balls with the threat of taking him for everything he had if he ever tried to leave her. So, begrudgingly, he stayed. And cherished every moment he was able to sneak away on business to be with the woman he adored.
Arabia.
Theodore kissed the side of her temple, then along her cheekbone, before brushing his lips over hers. He kissed her mouth, sliding his tongue in to taste her. Arabia felt herself going lightheaded as he swallowed her breath. It was as if he was trying to suck out her soul, and she didn’t know what to make of it. Theodore’s kisses were always so gentle, so passionate. But this, this . . . this kiss felt so much different than all the others.
She’d kissed him more than a thousand times over the last two years, but she couldn’t remember the tenderness in his kisses being this intense.
What the hell was going on here?
“I’ve missed you, baby,” he said in a gruff voice, his erection pressing into her stomach. Arabia attempted to pull away from him, but he held her tighter, pressing himself into her, making his intentions clear. “My dick is so hard for you. I can’t wait to make love to you.” He smoothed a hand down the side of her hair, staring down at her. “I want to be buried so deep inside you that I feel your heartbeat on the tip of my dick.”
Arabia blinked, surprised by his words, wondering what poetry book he’d borrowed the line from. She looked up at him through her lashes, feeling sensual pleasure slog through her veins. Surprised by her body’s response to his touch, she couldn’t wait much longer, either. She needed this. Needed to make him feel like he was the only man she desired, if only for the moment.
She caught his waist and eased up on the balls of her heels and covered his mouth with hers. He groaned into her mouth, gripping her ass and cupping her there as his tongue tangled with hers. Ravenously, Arabia licked into his mouth, tasting him; a mixture of peppermint and wet heat that caused her cunt to clench, and her juices to seep into her laced thong.
Damn him.
She couldn’t deny it. Theodore was extremely desirable and one hell of a sexy man. Which was why she had pursued him, preyed on him, until she was able to eventually break his resolve. Still, he hadn’t wanted to cheat. He had been committed to his marriage, even though it was loveless and sexless, ’til death did them apart.
But . . .
Arabia reached between them and tugged at the drawstring of his pants. She seductively slid to her knees, dragging his pants down over his narrow hips with her.
Theodore’s dick sprung out, its tip glistening with arousal. Arabia licked her lips, then flicked her tongue along its slit, before swirling her tongue over and around the crown of his cock.
And mmm, God—his precum tasted so sweet. She wrapped her delicate hand over his shaft and squeezed it gently in her fist, caressing it, before her tongue peeked out from between her sumptuous lips and swiped over the head of his dick.
“Shit, baby,” he hissed, feeling every drop of his blood rushing straight to his now-painfully-hard cock. God, she hadn’t even sucked him into her mouth—yet, and he was already about to come. “That feels so good.”
She moaned and licked her lips. Then looked up at him through her lashes and licked him again and again, swiping the tip of her tongue along his piss slit, then wetly swirling it around his dick’s bulbous head.
“Unh. Shit,” he murmured as the moist flick of her tongue caused hot pleasure to ricochet through his body. He loved her wet, velvety mouth. She was such a good dick sucker.
Arabia leaned back a bit and took in the sight of his beautiful cock—arrow-straight, golden-brown, veiny, and thick—and prayed he wouldn’t come until she had him wedged snugly down in her neck. She gripped it, again, and cupped his scrotum.
He grunted.
“You like that?” she asked all coy and vixen-like as she stroked him, her hand sliding up and down the length of him. She had to admit, she loved having power over his long dick.
“Fuck, yeah.” She kissed the tip of his dick. Then licked it, again. “Suck it, baby. Put that big dick in your mouth.” His hands delved into her hair as he tried to guide his cock into her mouth.
Arabia looked up at him, with raised brow. He had her all kinds of fucked up. She sucked dick when she wanted to, the way she wanted to. Not when someone told her to, or demanded her to. Instead, she licked over and around his balls while brushing the crest of his cock with her thumb. She wanted to extend her tongue out a little further and lick along the crack of his ass. But he’d never go for that. Ugh. She licked over his balls again.
A low moan slipped from his lips, letting her know that . . . mmm, she had him right where she’d wanted him. At her mercy. She was taunting him with her mouth and hands, and the shit was driving him mad, heat and sensation blistering through him.
Head back, neck arched, he shut his eyes, and bit into his lip. Arabia smiled as his fist tightened in her hair. Yeah, snatch my scalp, motherfucker. Mmm. The words never left her lips, but she’d thought it as her tongue cradled his cock, then slathered the underside of his shaft with her spit.
His leg shook, and he hissed in sizzling desire.
She drew her tongue up the length of him again—under it, over it, along the sides of it, leaving wet streaks of intense pleasure.
“Unh,” he breathed as need spiked. He gritted his teeth. He wanted . . . oh God, fuck, he wanted to come in her beautiful mouth. Badly. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out. It’d been weeks since he’d come. His balls were full with want, and need, for release.
He had to see her, watch her. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Aw, aw . . . unh, baby. Look up at me while you do that. Let me see you sucking this long dick.”
She looked up at him and batted her lashes. “You wanna coat my throat with your sweet babies, don’t you?”
Shit yeah. He couldn’t get the words out fast enough before that sweet, velvet-slick mouth of hers opened, and she sucked him into her wet, silky mouth.
Her gaze locked onto his as she filled her mouth with his cock, taking him to the back of her throat, then easing out with a suction so strong that it almost took his breath away. Fuck! Theodore groaned out his pleasure and she sucked him more vigorously.
“Oh God, yes,” he growled. “God, yeah, baby—suck me with them sweet, sexy lips.” Arabia felt the throbbing in her mouth—he was about to release his warm man-milk. The thought moistened her panties. She was becoming deliciously wet. Her pussy clenched for some of him, the length of him; its own turn at milking his cock. She bobbed her head back and forth, his dick gliding in and out of neck, then mouth.
She wanted to suck him real slutty, wanted him to skull-fuck her, then throw her over the sofa and fuck her cunt deep. But she knew he’d never go for that. He was simply too damn gentlemanly.
Besides—
“Arabia,” he whispered, her name nearly a groan. Need and desire fluttered madly in and out and around him as his pulse raced.
Lips and mouth and tongue.
Deep sucking.
And lots of wet heat.
He was already on the edge.
Just a few more sucks, a few more licks, and . . .
Clutching his chest, he growled out, his warm nut hitting the back of her throat.
Then collapsed to the floor.