bunched, straining, working as he pumped into her. And when the tension reached crescendo, he knew he was about to cum. He wanted this honey to join him.
Slipping a hand between them, Jamal found her clit with his fingers. She was wet for him, his thumb swirling in her cropped, black hair. To hell with holding back. He needed it all now. Grinding into her wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Orgasm hit fast and intense. She trembled around him, whimpering sweetly. On his final surge, her lush lips opened, letting out a husky cry. His body shook and he grunted a primal sound from the back of his throat. He climaxed. Biting back his holler of victory in fear of discovery, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. The feminine scent of her smooth skin mixed with the heady odor of sex and latex. Each of her little pants and moans sent a shimmering of warm air across his sweat–dampened skin.
It took Kat awhile to catch her breath and to keep the blush of shame from crossing her cheeks. She didn’t urge him away but took comfort in his half–hard cock inside her. In his nearness. Her body sated, conservative Kat was returning. But it wasn’t regret she was feeling, more like confusion.
What happened to her? Was it the dirty dancing in the club? The sensual hum of the bass? Having the power of freedom to take a man of her choosing? And, she’d wanted this stud all right. She could feel him getting hard again; the longer they remained locked together. She could do him some more, all right. But run the risk of forgetting the details she needed to write her next piece? Not! Her deadline was looming and that, after all, was what this escapade was about.
Putting her hands on his chest, she gave a little shove. He backed away, his dick sliding from her sex. The creamy liquid droplets lingered white against his dark brown skin and black pubic hair. Evidence of her arousal and climax. Unable to resist, she swirled one finger into it, then in a light glide, slid down his semi–hard cock.
She hitched her hip to the side. “Thanks, I needed that,” Kat said, shaking off her insecurities and calling upon the façade she’d created for the evening.
The gleam of his white teeth cut through the darkness. She liked his smile. Her heart skittered. She pretended his grin had no effect on her.
Liar.
“You all right?” he asked, bending to gather his pants and drag them up over his hips.
Oh, yeah, men’s macho crap that they can fuck anything that walks and has a pussy but women are too soft–hearted. Too bad in this case, it was hitting the nail on the head. It could take her weeks to recover, to get her emotions in check. Kat gulped, then forced what she hoped was a sexy smile. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged but remained silent as he zipped, buttoned, then buckled up. “Women just tend to feel a little funny…after.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. If his skin hadn’t been so rich and dark she would’ve sworn he blushed.
“Don’t worry about me. I got just what I wanted.” Kat’s eyes studied his handsome features.
Unexpectedly, he reached out and tweaked her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re made for sex.”
Thinking of her job and all the research, she silently agreed. Most people thought that if you sold sex for money you were a prostitute. She laughed at the idea. Don’t they know better? Don’t they know their spouses were reading what she wrote to get their ideas? They ought to. She bit her bottom lip to suppress a grin.
“I know,” she said, thinking of all the men who’d be getting off on reading her fictional account of tonight.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ve got to go.” She didn’t wait around. She couldn’t or she might take him up on his offer, just to get to know him better.
Gathering her deflated pluck, she decided walking away was the best thing to do. She didn’t want to think about good–bye kisses or other awkward bullshit. Shifting her hips so the fall of the mini would look natural, she sauntered down the alley toward the front street, her spiked heels clicking a beat to each step.
“What’s your name?” he called after her.
She paused. A moment passed. She’d gotten just what she’d come for, but something about him made her want to answer. Like saying nothing would have cheapened the wonder of what had just happened. “Not this time, Baby,” Kat tossed over her shoulder. It was no lie. Not this time, but if she were ever lucky enough to meet up with this fine piece of chocolate again, she’d do more than share her name.
Shy Kat regained control while her newer persona scratched her way into a hole. She couldn’t give him her real name, despite the arrival of compunction, the nudging of shame. Kat Mason writes relationship columns for the Sunday paper, she doesn’t do strangers, she doesn’t write porn.
Keep telling yourself that, sistah. Pausing mid stride, she looked back at the gorgeous man, the inspiration for the sexing–him–good article she was about to write.
She kept walking. With his scent on her skin, the taste of him on her lips, Kat swiped a tear from her cheek. She couldn’t believe she’d done this.
“How will I find you again?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the brick walls. There was a note of sincerity in his tone that panged in her heart.
She didn’t stop, but turned the corner and walked out of sight, pretending she hadn’t heard him. A few more lingered moments and he’d have seen her knees wobble and more liquid fall from her eyes. Part of her wanted nothing more than to see this stranger again, to know him.
But getting to know him would only reveal her as the shy, quiet, sit–in–her–sweats all day writer. Not the brazen woman she’d been tonight. He’d be disappointed. Better to leave him with the memory of the hot chick than to learn the fantasy wasn’t real.
Chapter 4
Kat stared at the email to her agent—her finger hovering over the send button—narrowing her eyes at the five attached files. Grit blurred her vision; her butt was numb from sitting so long in her office chair. The five completed articles were the result of her thirty–six hour, uninterrupted writing spree. Well, broken only by her T&P, her code for brewing hot tea and trips to the potty.
Five? Wow, she couldn’t believe she’d done it. Drawing bits and pieces from her night out on the prowl at The Night Kitty, she’d managed separate and unique works, each purely inspired by Mr. Gorgeous and her own shocking behavior.
It wasn’t the speed of her typing that had stunned her the most—but the incident. How irresponsible. How careless. How dangerous. How stupid.
And the best damn orgasm she’d ever had—no batteries required.
Taking a deep breath, Kat was hit by the lingering scent of sex, of sweat, of him, that not even her scented soap had been able to vanquish.
Him? She knew nothing about him. The hunk could be married, a father of two. Guilt sliced through her. This wasn’t what she was about, not her style, not her moral code, and yet she’d been so caught up in lust, she’d not used her head. She shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have cheaply offered her body to an unknown man just for pleasure, just to assure a writing deadline to a career she wasn’t all that proud of.
