A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (7 page)

“O–okay.” Jamie backed up to walk into the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To put on a shirt.”

“None needed. You can’t wear one when we apply the airbrush anyway.” Marq sauntered the handful of feet needed to reach her. He made a twirling motion with his hand. Jamie complied, and his hands wrapped around her waist. She trembled, and he spread his hands across her belly in an attempt to soothe her.

“Sh. It’s all right.” He kept moving and unbelted the robe, sliding the plush fabric from her shoulders. Gravity took over, and the heavy garment whispered to the floor. Jamie crossed her arms over her breasts, their ample weight bound against her body with forearms.

Marq sucked a heavy breath then held it, inhalation sharp in the silence of the now too-small cabin. His cock rose to full mast in seconds even as he leaned back to catch the full view. Even as he noticed the sinuous wraparound of the pattern, Marques walked a circle, eyes torn between the band splicing her belly and the swell of breast above it. The mounds of breast were barely covered and too large for his hands and mouth. His cock grew even stiffer, and the length of him stretched down his now-too-tight pants leg.

Marq was aroused. His blood rushed from every direction to converge in one place, and he knew she could feel the spike of his erection against her body. Her hands fisted tight, and he fantasized that she really wanted to touch him but couldn’t free her breasts without exposure of the very thing she worked to keep hidden.

“How far does it go?” Since he couldn’t see all of it, he had to ask. Marq was sure that she wouldn’t appreciate being fully disrobed yet.

“The tail—”

The words were cut off as Marq decided to find out for himself. He stepped behind her and tugged the right side of her pants low enough to see the tail of the snake curl over the rise of buttock. He had a sudden urge to fuck her into muscle spasms so he could watch the snake tattoo slither.

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“W–why?”

“If there wasn’t less than an hour for the reception, I’d be inside you right now.”

“N–noo you—” He could see what she was thinking, the concern mixed with lust in her eyes. Jamison was unnerved because she didn’t know him. Not really. “Yes, I would, make no mistake. The way you’re trembling tells me you’d love what I’ll do with you.” His mouth perched next to her ear, even as his arms wrapped below hers, supporting the lower curve of breast.

“Is this the airbrush kit?” Jamie looked over at the bed, where the bag waited.

“Uh, yes it is.”

“Sit on the edge of the bed for me.” Jamie let him lead her to the corner of the bed.

She watched as Marq expertly screwed together the various nozzles and mix paint.

“The color should be okay.”

“Yes, but you want it perfect, right?”

Jamie shut her mouth and let Marq proceed. He first wiped over the skin with an alcohol wipe to ensure she was totally free of natural oils. Next, his fingers trailed over the head of the snake at her left shoulder. When the airbrush touched her, the spray mist chilled against fevered skin. Jamie felt goose bumps pebble over her, nearly head to toe. Occasionally, he would stop and mix more paint before beginning the application again. When he finished, Marq helped her stand and walked her to the mirror on the wall and let her look in a smaller hand mirror to check his handiwork. “Thanks, you did a great job.”

“My pleasure. It will be about a half hour before you can put on the dress though.” And he would like nothing more than spending the time with her. There were several positions they could try out and not mar the finish of her freshly covered skin.

“I have some powder to finish it off right here.”

Marq stuck his hand out for the brush and compact.

He took the large puff and used it to jab at the compact. Jamie giggled and took it from him.

“Swirl it gently, like this.” She showed him, rubbing the brush in a sweeping circle over the translucent powder. She only had one arm to secure her breasts, and Marq swallowed. He had to get a taste of the nipples she barely concealed from him. “Then pat it on like so.” She showed him, using her clenched forearm for demonstration.

Marq’s temple throbbed as the brush lovingly caressed her upper swell of breast and arm. He wanted nothing more than to latch his lips on the dusted spot and suckle the powder from her skin. But he instead took the brush and used it on her freshly painted back. He couldn’t wait to take off the paint for her tonight. His teeth ground together as his jaw clenched tightly, need riding him hard. When he finished, Marq skimmed his hands over the supple skin of Jamison’s back, wishing he could touch more of her, all of her.

* * * *

Jamison was still shuddering against the dresser when Marq left, the door snicking closed the only hint of his exit. Getting the dress on only should have taken a few minutes, but Jamie found her fumbling fingers hindering her. She wasn’t even fully dressed, and she needed to be above board in ten minutes. Finally the quaking in her hands ceased, and Jamie pulled the dress around her and zipped up the garment. She slid on the flat, jeweled, thong sandal and fluffed her hair. It was time to make nice with the wedding guests.

The event was lavish, with gilded tablecloths and sparking table settings. There was a soul-train line that started compliments of the bride. Jamie couldn’t dance, not one lick, and had no desire to shimmy her stuff. Even if she was the only black woman without rhythm in America, that was best kept to herself. But the devil was coming for his due, and Jamie found herself holding up a ship wall watching as usual. She saw many things while observing. She saw wives who drank like fishes, never seen without a glass of some stiff liquor in hand. She saw dissatisfied men, eyeing their next conquest. There were single socialites all hoping to snag the attention of the last single Moreland brother.

Marq’s countenance seemed stiff, so unlike the man she glimpsed over the last days. He appeared to keep everyone around him laughing at pithy retorts and witty ripostes. The quintessential gentleman, he transformed into a man of leisure after sucking the world of all its pleasures. She tried her best to look at him with a distanced eye, almost as if seeing him as a reflection and not standing before her in the flesh. It didn’t work. If anything, he was more attractive to her. His looks were debonair, just as at home in the tux as in his own skin. Her thighs quivered as she remembered his hands over her skin just an hour ago. She tried to forget the way he mapped her flesh with the touch of his skilled hands.

Jamie tried not to look. She really did. But he drew her gaze like a magnet, and she couldn’t help coming back toward the pull. It seemed like he was watching her, too, at least when she looked in his direction, he was looking in hers. Nah. He couldn’t be, could he? The question was answered shortly after when he made his excuses from the small group that flocked around him. Jamison looked away as quickly as she could, hoping that her “don’t see me” trick worked. Now. Before anyone else had the opportunity to notice her and engage her in unwanted conversation.

“Dance with me.”

Jamie felt her cheeks pinken and ducked her head slightly. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to let you disappear. If you don’t dance with me now, you’ll regret it.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say I owe you something that you won’t get if you don’t dance with me.”

Ohh.
Jamie remembered now. She was so flustered that she forgot he owed her a peek of the ink striping his back.

“But I can’t dance.”

“I don’t believe that, not one bit.”

“Why should I care if you believe me?” How dare Marq think he was going to egg her into this.

“You do. You just won’t admit it. Plus, dancing is all about leading and following. It’s simple.”

“For a person with a right and left foot maybe. Not to mention a dash of rhythm.”

“Watch.” Marq swept Jamie up, using one hand at the small of her back and the other clasping her at the wrist. He looked her in the eyes, and Jamie felt her knees loosen. He swayed with her at first, just acclimating her to the feel of him. She felt herself moving along, almost naturally. Then his left hand skimmed over her spine, the path he took as if he felt the ink under the body makeup. She began shuddering, her breaths choppy and harsh. The stuttered pant was audible and even to her own ears sounded labored.

Marq maneuvered his head lower and whispered, “You feel me? The way we move together is so sweet, feels better than fucking.”

It did. The sway of their bodies was that of two lovers sated with sex but needing the contact of their bodies to affirm they were awake. That the sensations were real and not imagined. Jamie was so hot all over her skin felt tight, like a sausage casing under pressure. The hand Marq clasped hers with wrecked devastation. The thumb stroked idly, rubbing the creased skin at the wrist, then in tight circles inside her palm.

“So good, to watch you tremble for me. Do it again.” Jamie’s mouth was dry, and she felt him stroke her at the base of the spine and palm simultaneously. The circles rubbed over her skin were maddening, and Jamie felt her nipples clench tight, rubbing holes in the gown she wore. Marq had to feel them through his jacket, the nubs of flesh painfully erect. The sensation was akin to being rubbed with ice then let thaw, only to start over again. Jamie felt herself ready to lose control and knew if Marq didn’t stop, she would embarrass herself in a public venue.

“Please M–Marques.” The words were a susurrated begging so low, Jamie couldn’t hear herself, only hoped he could.

“Ahh…please what, Jamison?”

“Please stop. I’m close.” She hated with every fiber of her being to be so weak, but she couldn’t come in front of hundreds of people she didn’t know. On the deck of a megabucks yacht at her friend’s wedding nonetheless.

“Then why stop now? I want to see you come for me.”

“Please, Marq, don’t make me. Not like this.”

“So shy now? The woman wearing a snake tattoo wouldn’t let a little thing like location bother her.” But he steadily danced her backward until they reached the small alcove leading to the hallway. Jamie was shocked to see they were in a semiprivate setting. With the way she felt, she didn’t know or even care if they were in the midst of the throng of dancers. Jamie ducked her head lower, tried to control the quickening of her slick sex and the shaking of limbs. But she couldn’t. She was gone.

“You need it, Jamie, need to come for me?” The tone was still a whisper, but the words were harsh.

“Yess–ss,” Jamie hissed. His hands were back with a vengeance. Instead of the innocent caresses from the dance floor, he now was a man on a mission. His hand slid into the hollow at her spine and clenched a buttock. The right hand plucked a nipple, leaving the other wanting and even stiffer as if pleading for attention as well. He cocked his head to the side, using his nose to nuzzle her neck free from curls. When she was left on display for his lips, Marq latched on. He bit her gently at first, digging deeper as she went further under. When she heard herself stutter uncontrollably, Jamison knew she was his for the taking.

“G–gg–ggood god–dd!” Jamie was in turmoil. She wanted to scream, and the effort to keep her pleasure secret cost her. Robbed her of any sense the lord gave her for life. Marq took his hand from her nipple and put the fingers over her quivering lips. When she opened her mouth, he slid the fingers inside and stroked his fingers over her taste buds. What he did next sent Jamie into orbit. Marq turned his fingers upward and stroked the pads of his fingers over the roof of her mouth. She started convulsing, jerking uncontrollably as she sucked his fingers dry to keep the groans of pleasure from emerging to the light of day.

“What about you?” Jamie knew enough to know his needs were unmet.

“Later. After this is over, I’m going to suck the ink outta that tat while I take my fill of you.”

Jamie was still shaking when he walked away, headed into the throng of guests. Not one hair was out of place, Marq appeared nearly unaffected by their impromptu indiscretion. But she felt…disconcerted, adrift. Her back was still propped along the wall when Makenzie ducked inside the small alcove head first.

“You alive back here? It’s about fifteen minutes till showtime.”

“Y–yeah.” Jamie wasn’t composed. Not at all.

“You look—frazzled.” But Mak must have taken a closer look as she gasped.

“Whoa! That is one big-ass hickey, girl.”

“Where!” Jamie couldn’t believe it. He gave her a hickey?

“Hold your horses, I’ll show you.” Makenzie handed her a small antique compact mirror from her clutch bag. Jamie angled it and gasped. It was more than a hickey. It was a bruise with teeth marks. No wonder she came so hard. Shuffling her hair forward over the shoulder, Jamie smiled at the reminder of his hands on her.

“Who was it, Jamie? Was it Marques?” Mak’s face spoke that she understood with a grin that curved her lips smugly. Jamison knew that smile well, and she smirked back.

Jamie shook her head. The cat was out of the bag.

“I bet he fucks like rock star, Jamie. Have you seen the tattoo yet?”

“No I haven’t.”

“Ohhh…girl, you have no idea. Its sex on a stick.” Makenzie was damn near drooling.