Erika

Leaning over the front of my desk‚ I ignore the sound of my office door closing. Nancy‚ my assistant‚ has a habit of checking on me if she hasn’t heard me murmur to myself in awhile so I don’t bother looking behind me. I’m so focused on the storyboards for my Sensual You advertising proposal‚ I miss the distinct click of the door locking.

Yes‚ I’m one of those people. I talk to myself and on occasion‚ answer myself (when I’m alone). I know what you’re thinking but I’m not crazy—I’m a Gemini. Talking out loud helps the twins communicate better. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I become agitated when I suddenly sense someone in the room. Before I can turn around and blast the person for not only disrupting my creative process but not making their presence known‚ a pair of large‚ muscular legs push against the back of my thighs and strong‚ warm hands massage my lower back.

The much needed massage inches up my back to my shoulder blades. Absorbed in the feeling of my tension floating away‚ I’m taken by surprise when the hands cup my breasts. Before I can fully grasp what’s happening‚ his hands seem to be everywhere.

In my hair‚ squeezing the back of my neck. Underneath my silk blouse‚ caressing my sides and stomach. Over my French lace and silk bra‚ torturing my sensitive nipples through the thin material. On my hips‚ stroking my thighs and tugging my linen skirt up around my waist. How is he touching me everywhere at once?

The sharp edge of the desk bites into my bare thighs. My first reaction is to move away from the pain but he’s not having it. The unexpected cracking of wood breaks the silence when the pencil in my hand snaps under my strangle hold. The more I push away from the desk‚ the harder he pins me to it.

Why won’t he let me off my desk? Is he planning to take me right here? The pain and pleasure increase in equal amounts overwhelming my body until only pleasure remains. An all-consuming heat wraps me in a cocoon so tight I can hardly breathe.

My now-creased storyboards rustle as they fly across my desk to land on the floor. I brace myself against the newly cleared surface in an effort to keep myself from melting into a puddle at his feet.

Maybe he knows my knees are weak‚ that’s why he’s keeping me locked between his rock hard thighs and my desk. His thighs aren’t the only thing that’s rock hard. His erection is quite apparent pressed against my butt.

What is this guy doing to me? Why isn’t he saying anything? Why am I not sca…? My question disappears mid-thought when I breathe in his cologne.

It makes me ache in places I’d rather not mention. I love a man that smells good and this man’s scent is phenomenal—clean like soap with hints of warm vanilla and something spicy…masculine.

His left hand insists on exploring inside the lace and silk prison restraining my breasts‚ squeezing in to knead them and gently twist my nipples. His right hand slides inside the matching panties.

Teasing my trimmed mound before moving down to the slick lips‚ spreading the cream he finds there‚ creating a different kind of tension.

I gasp as two long fingers slip inside me‚ slowly scissoring in and out as he grinds against me. In a haze‚ my hips respond to the tempo he sets.

My body is on autopilot. Its sole focus: the pleasure this man is bestowing on me. He continues to touch‚ tease and finger me until my honey runs down the inside of my thighs.

The delicious feeling steadily builds in my body. His breath caresses my hair while his teeth nip at my neck. I rock my hips hard against him‚ willing his hand to ease the ravenous ache he’s created. I want—. No. I need more. He seems to sense my need but takes his sweet time accommodating me.

He eventually decides to unpin me long enough to slide my panties off. Teeth‚ lips and an agile tongue follow the silk’s journey down my smooth legs. I have no clue when his pants disappeared but both of our lower bodies are now exposed.

He places himself between my butt cheeks like he’s the hot dog and my booty is the bun. He feels big. Definitely too big to play with me there.

I attempt to wiggle away but that only embeds him deeper. There’s no escaping the firm grip he has on my pleasure-seeking body. Maybe he wants me to get used to his size?

The small circles his thumb is making around my clit distract me easily. Those circles are going to be the death of me. I know it.

My body is coiled so tight‚ I don’t know how much more I can take without screaming. I’m trying my best not to moan but I can’t see that resolve lasting long.

Panting and rubbing against everything of his I can touch‚ I wonder why he’s not in me. I don’t care about his size anymore I want him in me!

“Please‚” I whimper‚ almost at my breaking point. I feel like one of those women in my sister Lyn’s romance novels.

He doesn’t enter me or stop moving his fingers in and out of my aching flesh. Here I am begging and he hasn’t said a word. Why won’t he say something?

“Come for me‚” he breathes against my ear as his thumb applies more pressure to my swollen clit.

Three fingers plunge deep‚ over and over‚ curling to hit that special place few men can find. He pinches my clit‚ sending pleasure and pain straight to my core. The sensation triggers a total mental and physical meltdown. I come so violently‚ I’m dizzy.

He gently pushes me down until my elbows rest on the desk. Then he spreads my legs farther apart‚ squeezing my behind while bathing his huge‚ velvety head in my drenched opening.

Salt-n-Pepa’s “Push It” plays in the background echoing exactly what I want him to do. Push it really‚ really good! My body trembles with anticipation when he says‚ “This time you’ll beg me to stop. ”

“That was the ole skool jam of the day. Be the eighth caller at 8am to tell me the name of that song and you’ll win a prize pack filled with lots of cool stuff. Good morning all you sleepy heads out there. It’s 6:30 so let’s go!”

The overly enthusiastic deejay’s voice fills my bedroom. I hate him. OK‚ maybe hate is too strong of a word but it’s too early for anyone to be that chipper. Once again my alarm clock has horrible timing. My body is still trembling in anticipation.

This is the third time this week I’ve had a sexy dream. Did I mention it’s only Wednesday? I’m tired of waking up to wet sheets and a dull ache between my thighs. Something has to give.

Though it’s tough‚ I manage to pull myself out of bed to go downstairs to my building’s gym for my daily three mile walk/run on the treadmill. It’s more walking than running but hey‚ it’s all about baby steps. It wouldn’t be so bad if my body wasn’t craving a man’s touch. A craving that feels too much like deja vu.

I blame that stupid Sensual You proposal. What would one expect working on an advertising campaign for a new high-end line of sensual body products and sexual aids? It has my subconscious working overtime. Hence why I’m ignoring my body.

As the senior account manager‚ I’m in charge of making sure every aspect of this pitch is on point before we present it to the client. This could be—will be—my largest account yet. Yes, I’m claiming it. And I can’t afford for this presentation to be anything less than extraordinary.

This campaign needs to be so hot and sexy that thinking about the products will make a person’s body temperature rise. I want women creaming in their panties and men in pain from the strain in their pants.

The problem is a campaign centered around half-naked‚ anorexic women isn’t going to cut it. Everybody and their mother is pitching that. We need something different to stand out from the herd.

Hopefully one of my team members had better luck coming up with an usable idea. Instead of spending half the night dreaming about having incredible sex in their office.

Nancy found out Sensual You’s advertising budget is $6 million and the man behind the curtain is allegedly worth $10 million. No one knows his name but everyone seems to know he’s an African American-Cuban whose two loves are women and money.

He’s also known for being a tough nut to crack (though the way Nancy said it wasn’t as polite) when it comes to accepting new ideas. Especially new marketing campaigns akin to the one I’m trying desperately to finish.

So he’s basically your average rich‚ womanizing jerk. To top it off‚ he’s only 28! How they know all that but don't know the guy's name is beyond me.

Hearing his bio almost makes me feel like an underachiever. At 26‚ I make decent money‚ drive a fully loaded‚ hand-me-down‚ three-year-old Volvo S80 T5 and own a spacious two bedroom‚ two and a half bath condo with a great view of the city.

But my bank account has a slight dent in it after last week’s shopping spree. It’s a treat I allow myself once every six months—around my birthday and Christmas. Ah‚ the benefits of not having a car note thanks to Daddy’s promise to buy Mom a new Volvo every three years.

In addition‚ Nancy found out Sensual You rejected three advertising agencies last week and two more the week before. They didn’t love our firm’s initial proposal either‚ saying they wanted the campaign to have a more ethnic and exotic feel.

They specifically asked for a woman of color to manage the second pitch. No one knows why they gave our firm a second chance. Apparently‚ this is where I come in.

Renee (I call her Reese)‚ a fellow senior account manager and my best friend since college‚ and I are the only women of color with the experience to handle an account this size. Since Reese is up to her eyeballs with another presentation‚ I got Sensual You.

Wondering why I call Renee Reese? Long story short: whenever she does me a favor‚ I have to fill her candy jar with Reese’s milk chocolate peanut cups. The peanut butter cups have to be Reese’s and milk chocolate.

I tried to change things up one time by buying her Reese’s dark chocolate peanut cups. Let’s just say that did not go over well and I won’t make that mistake again. When I do her a favor‚ my candy jar is filled with gourmet jelly beans.

§§§

Donte

“Kevin‚ what’s on the agenda for today? ”

The stock market ticker tape running across the bottom of my 80″ flat-panel TV‚ strategically positioned on the wall in front of my treadmill‚ causes me to miss his reply. A commercial for erectile dysfunction brings my attention back to him.

“Hey‚ are ya watching dat ticker tape again? ” Kevin asks.

He knows how I am when it comes to the stock market so instead of getting upset‚ he repeats my schedule.

“Budget meeting at 9:30‚ internal marketing meeting at 10:30‚ lunch wit Jennifer at 12:30‚ Finch & Meyer at 4‚ dinner wit Kim at 8.” Then he hangs up.

Kevin has been my best friend since senior year of high school and my right hand from the beginning. His easy-going personality has always balanced my more intense one. I wish I could find a woman to give me that same sense of balance.

A business-minded woman that plays as hard as she works. Someone elegant and cultured yet street smart. And last but certainly not least‚ an accomplished hostess and lady in public who’s a freak behind closed doors.

Who knew how arduous it would be to find all those qualities in one woman? Papa said all I had to do was become a millionaire and I’d have my pick from the cream of the crop.

Thanks to one of my undervalued green-energy stocks‚ I’m worth $12.8 million as of this morning but the cream hasn’t been too frothy lately. It’s time to clean house.

Jennifer is an accomplished hostess and has her own money but she isn’t fun and she’s far from being a freak. Jennifer needs to be dismissed. I’ll end things with her over lunch.

Kim is new to the mix. I can tell she’s smart and definitely a lady but will she be a freak between the sheets? I plan to find out after dinner tonight.

Before I can finish running through the list of women I’m casually seeing‚ my treadmill beeps‚ signaling the end of my daily five mile run. I need to get in another 45 minutes of weight training before I shower and head to the office. It’s going to be a long day.

Henri‚ my driver‚ is holding open the back door of my Maybach when I step outside. During the week‚ Henri drives me around so I can concentrate on business instead of rush hour traffic. This morning‚ I want to focus on streamlining my steadily increasing stable of women.

Carly‚ Maria and Amie have to go. Their looks are slipping. Well Carly’s looks didn’t really slip—her cone-shaped feet turn my stomach. I tried to ignore them but I can’t. Maria’s stomach looks like she swallowed a small watermelon and Amie has put on at least 30 pounds since I met her on that beach in Costa Rica.

When a plump‚ ghetto booty turns into lumpy cottage cheese‚ I’ve got to let it go. A woman’s ass should be big and round‚ yet smooth and firm like Tia’s. Tia stays. She’s intelligent and the things that woman can do with her body. Damn.

Thinking about her makes me hard. I wonder what she’s doing tomorrow night. I’ll have Kevin send two dozen peach roses to her office. She loves peach roses. Tia also doesn’t require a lot of my time and is easy to keep happy. She’s almost perfect. Almost.

Nikki goes on the dismissal list. That crazy chick is hinting about commitment when I’ve only known her four months. Not gonna happen. She’s OK but she’s no Tia and I found out yesterday she has jacked up credit. Gold-digging ass.

At this point in my life‚ I plan to stay in complete control of myself—mind‚ body and money. Control equals power. Losing control means whole-heartedly trusting someone. Only one woman has proven herself worthy of that kind of power.

Tia is a close second but she’s no Erika. With Erika‚ I lost control from the jump. She had my nose wide open from the word go‚ though I made sure she never knew.

My primal instincts would take over whenever we were together. Every chance I got I’d brand that ass as mine. I’m seconds away from a massive boner thinking about how great sex was with her.

I was shocked to find out Erika was a virgin the first time I slept with her. I knew she wasn’t a slut but I never suspected she was innocent. I hadn’t been with a virgin since I was 15. At that age‚ I couldn’t appreciate the significance of the discovery. Let alone savor the moment.

Who would have thought that at 19‚ Erika’s fine self would be unexplored? The boys at her high school must have had weak game. Her virginity told me everything I needed to know: she loved me enough to offer me her special gift.

I remember wanting it to be special and trying to be gentle with her. Pulling out every technique I’d learned over the years. Massaging her scalp while kissing her full‚ strawberry scented lips. Licking and squeezing tits so big‚ I could only hold one at a time. Sucking and twisting her little dark brown nipples.

Caressing her as I ran my tongue down her flat stomach to that oven-hot pussy. Hearing her gasp as I licked her glistening slit then stuck my tongue inside. At first I only wanted a taste but when she attempted to wiggle away‚ I locked my arms around her thick thighs and devoured her.

Erika went crazy. Screaming‚ bucking her hips and pulling my hair. That’s when I named her mi tigre pequeño‚ my little tiger. I ignored the pain and munched on her until she came repeatedly. She even passed out at one point. To this day‚ I haven’t tasted a sweeter pussy.

Preparing her to accept my ten inches was more of a challenge. When I slid a finger in her‚ she bucked against me so hard‚ she damn near knocked me off the bed. Thank goodness for quick reflexes.

Her body was so responsive‚ I was on the brink myself. When she was close again‚ I eased in a second finger. She came‚ yelling until she was hoarse.

I love watching women’s facial expressions when they get off. It’s such a rush knowing I have the power to giveth or taketh away that orgasm anytime I want. Making women come without being inside them is a specialty of mine that I’m shameless about using. Usually that talent alone keeps women coming back for more.

I remember reaching over to my nightstand for a condom when she stopped me‚ saying she was on the pill and wanted only me inside her‚ nothing else. While I knew she was safe‚ I couldn’t believe she’d want me inside her raw‚ not knowing how many women came before her. The depth of her love and trust amazed me.

The way she looked at me when I entered her will forever be imprinted on my mind. She looked…crazed. There’s no better way to describe it. When I was blocked by her hymen‚ I grabbed her hips and told her it would hurt but I’d make it better. She nodded.

I pushed forward trying to be gentle as I broke her but I was desperate to be buried deep inside her. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and she dug her nails into my back as I slowly tunneled my way in. Her sexy squeaks nearly unmanned me. Several times.

I laid still on top of her‚ reveling in the idea of being her first while allowing her time to adjust and catch her breath. I rubbed her hair while mentally preparing myself to make that the sexual experience anyone after me would be compared to. If there was anyone after me.

At 21‚ I’d never been inside a woman raw before. Papa warned me early on to use two condoms instead of one to avoid preventable mistakes. Erika was so warm‚ wet and tight. Her pussy clamped around my dick like a vise.

Those new feelings alone almost sent me over the edge but when she wrapped her legs around my waist and wiggled underneath me‚ I knew she was going to test my staying power. She was ready and school was in session.

Lesson #1: Acceptance. I reminded myself to go easy on her since it was her first time. I started off with little strokes‚ barely pulling halfway out before slowly pushing back in‚ watching her face closely. Talk about exquisite torture.

Erika’s eyes fluttered closed as I whispered sweet nothings. I could tell she was enjoying the new sensations racing through her body. Gradually she lifted her hips to meet mine. It wasn’t long before her initial nervousness was replaced by demanding need.

At 6′ tall and a solid 210 pounds‚ I didn’t want to hurt her. But when I saw her eyes filled with desire and‚ of all things‚ challenge‚ all I could think was‚ is she serious? There I was trying not to fuck her little 5′5″‚ 140-pound frame into the mattress and she was throwing down the gauntlet.

Never one to turn down a challenge‚ the ‘slow and gentle’ lesson plan went out the window. She was mine and she needed to know who was in charge. She had to understand there was no one before me and there would be no one after me.

The new plan: Thoroughly brand her as mine. I threw her legs up on my shoulders‚ grabbed the iron headboard with one hand and her juicy ass with the other. This time‚ I pulled damn near completely out before slamming balls deep into her again and again.

I made sure each and every plunge would leave a lasting impression. I put my back into that shit! I wanted her to feel me in her throat.

No reaction could have satisfied me more than her surprised gasps or her trying to rip my new sheets off the bed. Most women surrender at that point but not mi amante‚ mi tigre pequeño. In no time‚ she was biting her bottom lip‚ arching her back and meeting me stroke for powerful stroke.

I pounded her repeatedly‚ not stopping until I knew she was close. Her spasming pussy made my dick swell. She begged me to come with her seconds before she climaxed‚ making those muscles tighten even more around me. I was OK until she wouldn’t stop milking me.

Normally‚ I could disregard it but Erika’s pussy wouldn’t be ignored. The unyielding suction snapped my last thread of control. My whole body jerked. I shot off like I hadn’t had sex in months instead of the mere days it had been.

I was momentarily blinded by how intense my orgasm was. Afterwards‚ I was mentally and physically shaken. It had never been like that with anyone before.

I’d been challenged before but never had I wanted to physically brand someone as mine. I hoped I hadn’t been too rough especially since it was her first time. Usually I wouldn’t care‚ especially if the woman challenged me but Erika was different.

I couldn’t forgive myself if I hurt her. I caressed her cheek and whispered‚ “Are you OK? Did I hurt you? ” And with nothing but love in her big brown eyes she asked‚ “How could you hurt me by loving me? ”

The memory is interrupted by our arrival in the parking garage. Time flies when you’re reminiscing. I use my suit jacket to cover the tent in my pants. Bypassing my office‚ I head straight to the conference room‚ hoping to grab a few minutes alone before the budget meeting.

It’s definitely going to be a long day.

§§§

Erika

Today is the brainstorming session with the top execs from Sensual You. The head honcho isn’t expected to attend so I’m prepared but not overly concerned. I summon the team to my office to see what they have come up with.

We all know how important this account is to our careers as well as our future at Finch & Meyer so we waste no time diving in. We intend to make this the hottest ad campaign of the decade.

The morning flies by; we work until 12:30 before breaking for lunch. I rarely go out for lunch but I didn’t have time to make it this morning.

Those sex dreams are beyond annoying. They throw off my entire day. The two things puzzling me the most are 1) it’s the same guy in every dream and 2) his cologne is oddly familiar. I know that scent but for the life of me I can’t figure out who it belongs to.

Maybe this is my body’s way of demanding its sexual needs be met. I hope not because I don’t want to complicate my life right now with a man. I haven’t been in a relationship in years and I’m fine with that. To be honest‚ I haven’t been willing to commit to anyone since Donte.

Alex‚ the last guy I semi-casually dated‚ was such a disappointment‚ I ended it after three months. The guy before that‚ Ted…or was his name Todd? Either way‚ he didn’t last two months. It was kind of sad. He was not only intelligent but looked yummy with his shoulder-length blonde hair and beautiful ocean blue eyes.

Maybe I’m jaded. I tend not to date anyone long enough for the dates to turn into a relationship. I have a six-month rule. If I’m not tired of you after six months‚ I’ll consider taking our casual dating to the next level. I bore easily and don’t put up with a lot of crap so few men last that long.

In college‚ one person made it past six months. Though we were warned at freshman orientation to keep our minds on our books and not on the opposite sex because only one in three entering African American students graduated.

One in three!

Other statistics were given but that’s the one that stuck with me. I was determined to be part of the third to not only graduate but graduate on time.

My single-mindedness left little time for socializing until I met Renee‚ my Reese. Reese‚ being Puerto Rican‚ exposed me to all things Hispanic including the men. I even went out with her brother Fernando for a while but he didn’t make it the required six months.

He’s the only man I’ve ever considered breaking my six-month rule for. That’s how much I wanted him. Of course‚ I’m glad I didn’t do it. I think he wanted someone easy—as most guys do. When he realized I wasn’t‚ we decided to just be friends.

Fern became the big brother I always wanted though I wanted to jump his bones. He was so sexy and being around him all the time had my hormones in overdrive.

My stroll down Memory Lane brings with it the first big party Fern and Reese threw. Fern taught me a bunch of Latin dances and we put on quite a steamy show. He had no way of knowing that if he’d hung in there one more month‚ he would have been my first.

Oh well‚ I gained a best male friend. He came over last week for movie night and fixed my leaky faucet. If I’d been having those dreams last week‚ I may have asked him to fix something else that’s constantly leaking.

I wonder how Fern is in bed. He’s still sexy as all get out but if we slept together it would change our relationship forever and I don’t like change.

My thoughts are cut short when the cashier practically demands my order‚ like she’s asked me a hundred times already. For all I know she may have so instead of snapping her head clean off her shoulders or suggesting she invest in better quality weave‚ I place my order to go.

I walk the long‚ hot ten minutes back to work in the blistering June heat. When I finally reach the coolness of my office‚ I lock the door behind me. I don’t want anyone disturbing this much needed relaxation time. I insist on an hour or so to myself before a big meeting. It keeps my mind clear and my thoughts focused.

After eating my slightly wilted grilled chicken Caesar salad‚ I close my eyes‚ trying to shut out the distractions but my mind keeps going back to the party. Fern taught me more than dance moves. He taught me how to make my hips sing and my legs call to men.

Fern was so patient while teaching me. “Dancing is a sensual art‚” he kept telling me as he moved my hips so I could feel what he wanted me to do. He even made me dance in four-inch heels saying it was to get me used to dancing in them. But I knew it was to add the sexiness we were missing wearing jeans and T-shirts. Who wouldn’t feel sexy in four-inch heels?

When Fern chose their party to showcase my new-found talent‚ I was scared to death. I’d watched Latin girls dance before and honestly didn’t think I was on their level. But he insisted and I said OK. During the party‚ the way we danced made everyone assume we were together. Only a few people knew the truth.

His forcing me to wear four-inch heels during our lessons more than prepared me for the more comfortable red‚ three-inch peep-toe sling backs I wore that night with a red dress that flared out every time I moved. Fernando kept whispering‚ “Te ves tan sexy‚” while massaging the back of my neck. I felt like a debutante all over again.

One thing I learned early about Hispanic men: once you become involved with them‚ their possessiveness knows no bounds. They also take very good care of their possessions‚ especially their women—unless you break their trust. If that happened‚ heaven help you.

I met Donte at their party but didn’t learn his name until weeks later. More details from that night rush back to me. After Fern and I finished dancing‚ this incredibly sexy guy walked up and asked Fern’s permission to dance with me.

At first‚ I was offended that my permission wasn’t required. Then I realized it was a respect thing and a test. If I was Fern’s woman‚ it could have gotten ugly. Since I wasn’t‚ he said OK and whispered something in the guy’s ear before handing me over.

Being among Latinos and Hispanic folks all the time improved my Spanish but I wasn’t quick enough at that point to catch everything that was said to me or around me. Especially when they talked fast‚ which they did a lot. When that happened‚ I was lucky if I caught every third or fourth word.

Anyway‚ you had to admire a guy bold enough to approach Fernando Vega of all people about a woman. Fern was the epitome of confident yet quiet male strength‚ even back then. There was also something dangerous hovering just below the surface. That’s probably why I was drawn to him from the beginning.

Yeah‚ I know‚ it’s cliché.

As the mysterious man led me back to the dance floor‚ I was able to get a good look at him from behind. He was taller than most of the guys there. His shoulder-length‚ wavy black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that begged to be touched. His massive shoulders and muscular back tapered down to a perfect 36″ waist and a nice bubble butt.

Years of helping Daddy shop for clothes had made me a waist size expert as well as honed my overall male size preference to a fine point. My mystery man was the perfect size everywhere.

It seemed like an eternity before we got to the dance floor. I knew he was a force to be reckoned with when he literally made space for the two of us. I should have run after he leisurely skimmed a finger down my chest and circled a barely hidden nipple but I didn’t.

Instead I stood there staring at him thinking‚ I bet he’s great in bed. Will he make it six months? My arousal must have been obvious because he pulled me so close you couldn’t have slid an extra thin piece of paper between us if you tried.

He put one of my arms around his waist and the other around his neck. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear‚ “I saw how you danced with Vega‚ let’s see if you can keep up with me.” The challenge in his eyes almost made me panic. I prayed I didn’t make a fool of myself.

Fern and I practiced for months to achieve what we did and now I was expected to dance with a stranger. A stranger with high expectations. Latin dances aren’t like Black people dances.

You can’t just bump and grind against each other. There are intricate steps involved and though everyone does the same basic steps‚ additional moves—and there are always additional moves—are highly individualized.

A salsa started. He whispered‚ “Sígueme.” Hispanic men have a way of making Spanish sound like the sexiest language in the world. I nodded and focused all my attention on keeping up with him.

He could dance and he knew it but thanks to Fernando‚ I was able to hold my own. We danced to several songs with him constantly testing my abilities. He seemed impressed. I guess he didn’t know many Black chicks who could keep up with him.

After one more dance‚ we decided to take a break. As he led me off the crowded dance floor‚ I noticed several girls throwing eye daggers at me. I smiled back. Yes‚ this guy was all that and he chose me.

We stopped by the kitchen to get something to drink before heading outside. I was glad no one was out there because no sooner than we cleared the door‚ he pinned me against a smooth brick wall.

I should have been scared but I wasn’t. For some reason‚ the thought never occurred to me. I didn’t even know his name for petesakes.

Flames of desire flared in his eyes before he kissed me. Sensually tasted every crevice in my mouth would be a more accurate description. He liquefied my body in seconds. And the sexual heat he radiated was intoxicating.

What surprised me most was he didn’t grope me or do anything I expected and‚ I admit‚ hoped he would. I was disappointed yet relieved because my panties were beyond wet. More like smell your own arousal drenched from his mind-numbing kisses.

If he wreaked that much havoc kissing me‚ could you imagine what would happen if he touched me? When he finally came up for air‚ he grumbled‚ “You shouldn’t trust strangers.” Then he grabbed my hand‚ led me inside and handed me over to Fernando.

I couldn’t believe he’d kiss me like that and not ask for my name or number. He didn’t bother to tell me his name either. And I was too stunned to ask.

A knock on my office door jolts me back to the present. It’s time to get the conference room ready for the meeting.

§§§