She turned, her palms pressed flat against the cool marble, her back arching, offering herself to me. The thin gown rode up, revealing the curve of her ass, the delicate strip of fabric between her thighs already damp.
“Do you want this?” I asked, my hand sliding up her thigh, pausing just shy of where I knew she needed me.
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice a breathy plea. “I want it. I want you.”
That was all I needed. I spread her legs wider, running my fingers through her wetness, teasing her entrance before pressing a finger inside. She clenched around me, her body greedy, pulling me deeper. I added another, curling them, hitting that spot that made her thighs tremble.
“Fuck, Naima,” I whispered, my breath hot against the nape of her neck. “You’ve been driving me crazy since the day I got here. Those tight little yoga outfits, showing off this perfect ass. The way you move around the retreat, soft and sweet, but I knew—” I thrust my fingers deeper, her moan a melody I needed on repeat. “I knew you were trouble.”
Her answer was another breathless moan, her hips rolling against my hand, seeking more. I turned her around, pressing her back against the counter before I dropped to my knees, my hands sliding up her thighs, parting them. She was wet, her slick pussy pressing against my fingers as I kissed the inside of her thigh, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. I took my time, savoring the journey, until I reached the soft, sensitive folds of her.
I flattened my tongue, dragging it through her wetness, slow and deliberate. She trembled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white. I gripped her thighs, holding her open, holding her to me. When I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucking gently, she cried out, the sound filling the kitchen, wrapping around us.
Her legs draped over my shoulders, and I feasted on her, my mouth and fingers working in harmony, drawing her higher, making her fall apart. My other hand slipped into my sweats, stroking my dick, slow and tight, matching the rhythm of my tongue against her clit.
She was close, her thighs quivering, her breathing erratic. I sucked harder, slid my fingers deeper, and she shattered. Her body clenched, her voice a hoarse, breathy whisper of my name,and I held her through it, lapping up every drop, dragging out every pulse of her orgasm.
When her breathing steadied, when the trembling ebbed, she turned, her eyes glazed with satisfaction and need. She reached for me, her hand sliding over the hard length of my dick, and I bit back a groan.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.
But I stepped back, pulling her nightgown back into place, my thumb brushing over her swollen lips. “I got my milk and cinnamon,” I murmured. “You get to sleep now.”
Her brows knitted, confusion blending with lingering desire, but I just pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and turned away. As I grabbed a towel to clean up the spilled spice, I felt her eyes on me, a promise hanging between us—this was only the beginning.
And as she padded down the hall, hips swaying, I knew I’d be wide awake for the rest of the night, the taste of her still on my tongue, my desire a slow burn I’d nurse until she was ready for more.
9
NAIMA
Ilay in bed, the dew of our moment still clinging to my skin… arousal vibrating through every nerve. The darkness of my room wrapped around me, but nothing could dim the glow he’d left in me. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the slickness, the reminder of how his mouth had unraveled me right there in the kitchen.
I wished he had come back to my room with me. The desire felt sharp, a need I hadn’t known I could still feel. Earlier in the day, everything had seemed so innocent—simple touches, lingering looks, nothing overt. But there had always been this undercurrent, a pulse of something waiting to ignite. And nothing prepared me for tonight.
It was the restlessness that had pulled me from my bed. I’d sat on the small porch outside my room, legs crossed, breathing in the cool night air. I’d looked to the full moon, hoping its glow might soothe me, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. His voice, his scent, the way his amber eyes darkened when they looked at me. The moon offered no answers, so I’d retreated to the kitchen for warm oat milk and cinnamon, a childhood comfort.
But then he was there. His broad frame filling the doorway, those eyes stripping away my pretense. His need was palpable, an echo of my own. I couldn’t pretend. Not when he stood there, offering me the kind of surrender I’d only ever read about in romance novels.
Blame it on the full moon, I thought. Blame it on the months—years—of being so focused on keeping this place afloat that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched, to be wanted. His coarse locs had felt thick and warm between my fingers as he pulled at my nipple, his mouth hot and consuming. When he knelt before me, when his lips and tongue had worshipped me, I was sure I’d slipped into a dream.
If not for the hard, insistent length of his dick pressing against his pajama bottoms, I might’ve thought I was the only one so affected. I’d seen it, the thick outline, the bulbous head, prominent and persistent, the way it strained against the soft fabric. I’d been tempted to drop to my knees, to take him into my mouth, to let the weight of his thick dick rest heavy on my tongue. I wanted to feel his balls against my chin, to lose myself in the taste of him.
But I held back. I couldn’t get away from myself. If more was to happen, I needed to know he wanted more. Not just that it was a product of the moment, an accident born from late-night restlessness and the pull of the moon.
The next morning,I forced myself to move through my routine, though every step felt like a reminder. I brushed my hair into a bun, pulled on loose pants and a soft tee, and padded to the kitchen—the very place where I’d come undone.
Voices filtered through the doorway, light and teasing. When I entered, Tasha and Selena were already at the table, theirconversation halting as I stepped inside. Tasha’s grin widened, too bright for the early hour.
“I was just telling Selena that the full moon musta brought out some kind of wild animal, maybe wolves or abear.” Her tone dripped with mischief, and I fought the urge to look away.
Selena sipped her tea, her expression more guarded, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
I kept my expression calm, pouring myself a glass of water. “You know how it is around here. Nature likes to remind us who was here first.”
“Oh, I know.” Tasha’s smile didn’t falter. “Whatever it was, howled into the night. We might need to have wildlife come out to be sure we're safe when we go outside in the woods. Wouldn't want to be mauled.”
I nearly choked on my water. Someone got mauled, all right. I forced my expression to stay neutral, the weight of Tasha’s eyes heavy on me.
