Sensuality (4 page)

“Yeah, now you tell me,” Kendra threw back to the radio sarcastically. She couldn’t help feeling that it was her own fault that she was still out there. Had she not overslept, she’d be pulling back into the driveway with Zumbi beside her by now.

The cool satin negligee brushed against her sensitive nipples, bringing Kendra back to the present. She had no control over her body’s response to Zumbi’s favorite fabric against her skin. Suppressing the tactile memory of Zumbi’s satin hands stroking her breasts required more concentration than she could afford to divert from the road. The reason why she was out on the road during this storm came to the forefront of her mind—Zumbi was waiting for her.

She couldn’t believe she was going out in public wearing only her lingerie underneath her raincoat. It was a big step for her. However, she did have her panties stuffed into the glove compartment, in case she lost her nerve.

Zumbi was always trying to get her to experience the thrill of public sex. Hell, she had just overcome the public-displays-of-affection hurdle. But Kendra had never been in a relationship this serious before, so she had never felt moved to do it. And her parents had never been overly affectionate in front of her. Was it possible that she might not be able to hold out until they returned to the house? The thought dampened her inner thighs with a force that rivaled the intensity of the storm outside.

Images of the position they discussed flashed through her mind. Thoughts of wanton abandon remained during the rest of her cautious trip to the airport.

The reassurance that she’d soon be in Zumbi’s embrace made Kendra feel like she’d turned to liquid. She inhaled the earthy scent that was all Zumbi.

An airplane rumbled overhead. The road glowed orange as the streetlights became more abundant. The sign to the side read
NEWARK AIRPORT,
2
MILES.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Kendra turned her attention back to the storm-beaten highway.

“I hope you’re not too tired. You have promises to keep,
O Senhor Oliveira
,” Kendra purred into his collar. She looked around before sucking his plump earlobe. “’Cause I’ll ride you in your sleep if you try to break them.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll fuck you right on the baggage-claim carousel over there.” Zumbi reached inside her open raincoat and yanked her hips to his and ground his hard length against her mound. Kendra wrapped one ankle around his thigh before she gained any semblance of control over herself. All he had to do was drop his fly and he could stuff himself into her dripping wet nakedness right there.

Kendra shuddered out of pure need. His touch reactivated the good hurt pounding inside her body and caused it to rush to her nipples, even to her fingertips. Zumbi knew her spots well. Loud whispers assaulted her ears and the heat of intense stares burned into the back of her neck. It took an incredible force of will for Kendra to push her hand against Zumbi’s rock-hard chest. Kendra unwound her leg and smoothed down her raincoat. “Not here, Zu. Save it for when we have some privacy.”

“
Ah, mulher
, we’ll have plenty of privacy when we reach
the car.” Zumbi chuckled, causing the dimples to deepen in his dark chocolate cheeks. He shook his head as he bent to pick up his suitcase. Zumbi made sure his juicy ass brushed her front while he did it. He whispered, “Ah, Kendra. Always the Goody Two–shoes. One day I’ll get you so hot you’ll do whatever I say, while we’re out in the open for all to see.”

The lights overhead gleamed off his bald head. The sight made Kendra lick her lips. He grabbed a handful of her ass as she bent over to pick up his small carry-on bag.

“Hey!” Zumbi grabbed her booty while trying to blink away the lustful shine in her eyes. “I said not now.”

Her tight-lipped frown did not prevent the blush that stained her cinnamon-freckled face. She was embarrassed because the urge to grind her ass into his hand almost overpowered her sense of propriety.

“What’d I do?” Zumbi’s accented words were laced with lust. He held up his hands in innocence. He couldn’t hide his amusement, though. Zumbi’s silver-gray eyes sparkled with mischief. They both knew good and well how sensitive Kendra’s backside was and how much she enjoyed Zumbi grabbing it. “Tsk, tsk. It’s not like you to wear so short a skirt in public.”

Kendra turned and winked before stepping into the revolving doors to the outdoor parking deck. “Who said it was a skirt?”

Kendra had just placed Zumbi’s carry-on bag onto the floor behind the driver’s seat. She turned to step away and close the door but wound up turning into Zumbi’s chest. Before she could blink, Kendra was laid out on the backseat and he was hovering over her. Her legs had landed spread
open. The only hair on her body lay in a wispy mess over her face. Zumbi’s cocoa-brown eyes gleamed as he gazed upon her naked, bare secret. She wore no underwear.

“
Meu Deus
, it is so wet!” Zumbi never looked away as he deftly loosened his belt and lowered his pants. His anaconda, born and bred straight out of the Amazon, flopped out at a perfect ninety degree angle. Her cunt winked in response. Zumbi stroked his length once. Kendra swore she heard the thing hiss as Zumbi aimed for his target. Her back arched like a woman possessed when he plunged balls deep into her hot, humid rain forest. Kendra groaned as Zumbi fed her desire.

It was on now. Zumbi got into his groove as he rocked his hips in a figure eight motion. Kendra pressed her hands against the closed door to keep from banging her head. She felt like the lower half of her body had liquefied. She leaned her head back and briefly opened her eyes. That’s when she saw the security camera scanning the parking lot from the ceiling.

“Stop, they can see us.” Kendra slid her hips away and then pointed toward the camera. She could feel her pussy scream in protest.

“Fuck them. Let them watch.” Zumbi rubbed his dickhead against her swollen pussy lips. “I don’t care.”

Kendra pushed him away again as her opening trembled. “But I do.”

She pushed herself out of the car and stood. Zumbi slammed the door shut. He stomped away but not before kicking the front tire as hard as he could. Kendra flinched but her pussy wept and shuddered at Zumbi’s violent action.
The motion further energized her libido. The throb between her legs pulsed worse than before.

“Don’t
ever
do that again!” Zumbi’s heated anger rippled off his body. “I should fuck your pussy raw next time.”

“Well, shit. Then I need to get your ass home!” Kendra started the car and backed it out of the parking space. But once they were past the cashier’s booth, Kendra couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. She didn’t know how she would make it home.

Even with the rain still pounding, the ride home was too quiet. Kendra snapped the radio on. Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” crooned out of the speakers. Her nipples perked up and stood at attention. It was the ultimate song for fucking, just the thing she didn’t need to hear right then.

Kendra was just about to snap it off when her side of the car suddenly slouched and the car violently rumbled. She took her foot off the accelerator and steered the car onto the left-hand shoulder.

“Dammit! Now we’ll never get home!” she cried.

“Baby, chill. You didn’t crash or get stuck out here alone,” Zumbi assured her through clenched teeth. “It’s all gonna be alright.”

“Is it? All I wanted to do was make tonight special. My hormones are driving me crazy. I’ve been horny since you called me from Atlanta. Even cleaning the toilet makes me want to fuck you.” Kendra began to gulp for air. Her rib cage constricted and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Never knew my pussy could throb this hard.”

“And you had the nerve to stop me because of some stupid security camera?” It didn’t help that Zumbi began to
laugh at her embarrassing outburst. Her frustration made the sides of the car seem like they were closing in on her.

“I gotta get outta here.” The rain drenched her bare leg the instant she opened the door. By this point, Kendra didn’t care. She wanted to be free from the car. She’d been stuck inside it all evening, holding her in, keeping her from relieving the diabolical ache that had been tormenting her for hours. She got out of the car and pressed her palms against the concrete highway divider. Kendra lowered her head and took a deep breath.

“You don’t understand how bad I want you!” she screamed back toward the car. Water cascaded down, plastering her hair to her face. The ache had her skin so sensitized that the very feel of satin now irritated her. She ripped the gown from her body in one motion.

The empty highway had no streetlights, no passing car headlights to illuminate the way. The pitch-black darkness hid Zumbi’s approach. He reached out his hand at the same moment lightning flashed through the sky. Startled by the sight of the approaching hand in her peripheral vision, Kendra screamed again.

Zumbi enveloped Kendra in his arms. “Shh, baby. It’s just me. It’s just me.” Zumbi breathed into her ear, holding her tight. “Calm down. It’s alright.”

Zumbi’s arm rested on her already alert breasts. Kendra’s unsatisfied lust drove her backside into Zumbi’s snug groin. She clutched the arms holding her with one hand, the other providing support against the concrete. She rubbed herself against him like an affection-starved cat. Kendra felt him stiffen as he backed away a step.

She understood his hesitation, especially after the stunt
she pulled in the parking garage. Suddenly it didn’t matter anymore that they were stranded on the empty road. The ache had taken over every part of her body from the cup of her ears, to the tip of her nose, and even to her toenails.

The moment had come. The ache ravishing Kendra’s crotch had won. “Do it, baby. Fuck me now.”

Kendra clutched her torn garment to her front, protecting her skin from the highway divider’s rough concrete exterior. She spread her legs wider and lifted the back of her raincoat, guiding his hand between her legs.

Zumbi, recognizing what the invitation meant, quickly lowered his still unfastened pants and released his equally aching, solid member. He teased the thick sensitive head across her slick ass cheek. It felt good, causing her labia to spasm, greedily reaching out for more.

“Don’t play with me, Zu. Put it in now!” Kendra demanded.

Zumbi’s belly laugh shook the air between them. “Woman, I always knew you’d beg like this one day.”

Seconds later Zumbi was once again balls-deep inside her. Kendra’s flowing juices mixed with the downpour of rain facilitated his entry. His penetration jolted through her body like electricity. Tears welled in the inner corners of Kendra’s eyes. A jagged sob ripped from her throat.

Zumbi’s furious stroke rhythm rammed Kendra’s hips against the highway divider. Her breasts bobbed against the highway divider’s resistance. The drenched, crumbled satin caressed her nipples, creating a tingle that cupped both breasts. The Sade song continued to blare out of the open car doors. Kendra pushed out a long moan that originated deep from within the core of her being.

She braced herself against Zumbi’s forceful thrusts that threatened to catapult her headfirst over the divider. Kendra’s moan coincided with the drawn-out, agonizing pleasure of her release. What started out as sporadic twitches quickly transformed into full-blown convulsions.

The torrential rain showed the couple mercy by quickly easing its fury. Her body continued to spasm until she felt the ache no more.

Zumbi gently pulled himself out of her spent canal. Kendra clutched her raincoat closed as she began to shiver. The chill air threatened to ruin her afterglow. Kendra pushed her wet, plastered hair away from her face. Then she returned to the car.

“You should relax while I deal with this blowout.” Zumbi popped the trunk open with his key and retrieved the spare tire. “I still have to punish you for teasing me in the parking garage.”

Kendra shivered again, but out of anticipation this time. She leaned back in the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. Zumbi jacked up the car and began removing the blown tire.

Kendra’s mind ran rampant with imaginings of Zumbi’s threatened discipline. She wound up not getting the rest she needed. For, once again, her insides began to ache.

Marisela’s muscles clenched Quinton’s dick. Her wetness saturated the sheets as he stroked in and out of her. The smell of sweat, sex, and strawberry-scented candles filled the bedroom. She looked into his gray eyes and watched his face contort with effort and pleasure. An Isley Brothers’ slow song drowned out the loud smacking of his balls against her slippery wet pussy. She felt light-headed as he banged into her. The champagne she had consumed at the New Year’s Eve party had nothing to do with it. She met him thrust for thrust, in tune with the music.

Quinton moved his hands down her body to massage her clitoris. The sensation of his hand and his shaft pleasuring her was too much. She bit her tongue in an attempt to suppress her screams. She had her best friend, Francine, who was visiting from out of town in the next room.

Quinton bent his head down to suckle her Hershey’s Kisses nipples. His cool tongue licked her areola. Then his teeth scraped her already hard peak. The contact sent rip
pling sensations throughout her body. She pierced his back with her nails. He shoved deeper inside of her. Her back arched in response. This time she could not contain herself.

“Quinton! Quinton!” she panted frantically, chanting his name. “Don’t stop!” she breathed.

Her lips became dry from all the panting. She licked her lips. Quinton’s salty pre-cum still lingered.

Francine stood in the doorway, peering inside the partially closed door. She should have been quietly sleeping off her alcohol consumption. Although Marisela and Quinton tried to be quiet, the seductive music was a dead giveaway to their “activities.” Francine couldn’t lie still in the bed, knowing what was happening in the next room. She wanted to watch. Actually, she really wanted to join them. She sauntered from her guestroom and opened Marisela’s door. She moved it just a crack, enough to enjoy the free sex show.

Francine had met Marisela’s boyfriend earlier that week. He was tall, muscular, and handsome, with a smooth coffee complexion. He was exactly the kind of guy Francine liked. She and Marisela had always had the same taste in men.

Quinton seemed like a nice guy. Francine had only met him that week. However, Marisela talked about him all the time. From what Francine had observed, he was an attentive boyfriend. He listened, opened the doors, and made love to Marisela like he cared first about her enjoyment, then his own.

Marisela seemed to like him. That was all she could talk about lately. Francine was happy Marisela had found happiness. She was also a little jealous that Marisela could attract such a good-looking, nice guy. There was no real difference between her and Marisela. They looked similar enough.
Francine thought she looked better, even more exotic, with her mixed heritage.

Francine continued to watch them fuck. They did not have the gentleness of “making love.” Her nipples hardened, her breathing became shallow, and her pussy wept with neglect. She reached down to touch herself. She simply wore her normal bedtime attire—panties and bra. She rubbed her hand down her belly, reached inside her panties, and let it travel to her clit. She was already drenched. She moved her hands in the same circular motion as Quinton’s hips. She imagined it was her, instead of Marisela, beneath him. She slid her middle finger inside her wetness as she massaged her nub of pleasure with her thumb. She let out a slow, silent, contented breath. Though her body wanted Quinton’s fingers, she massaged the need.

Quinton abruptly stopped and withdrew his still-hard member from Marisela. He flipped her over and drove into her from behind. Francine bit her lip to stifle the moan. Francine enjoyed watching Marisela’s new position.

Marisela’s hands clenched the sheets. Her head was buried in the pillow, muffling her screams. When Marisela turned her head, Francine saw a tear of sheer ecstasy roll down Marisela’s face. Francine froze. If Marisela opened her eyes, she’d be staring dead at Francine. Thankfully Marisela’s eyes remained closed.

Francine closed her eyes, imagining she was in the bed with them. She slipped another finger inside her dripping cunt. The intrusion caused her eyes to roll back and flutter open. She didn’t want to miss any part of the show. From the grunting noises and the constant screams of “I’m
coming…” Francine knew their session would soon come to an end.

Quinton and Marisela were both close to their final climax. Francine wanted to cum with them. She ferociously dug in and out of her wetness, bending her fingers, massaging the spot she knew would bring her over the edge. A tingling sensation crept through her body. She continued to watch them, but could no longer support herself. She slid along the opposite wall, until she was seated on the floor. She could still see their love play through the crack in the door. She spread her legs, giving her better access. She then took her fingers out of her slick folds, and focused solely on her sensitive spot. She couldn’t help moaning, but it blended with the music. The lovebirds in the next room did not notice.

“Oh, shit!” Quinton’s deep rumble vibrated throughout the room and out into the hall. She vigorously rubbed her clit. Her body shook. Her leg convulsed involuntarily. Her head bent back and she whispered their names. As Marisela and Quinton came, she felt her liquid ejaculate rush from her
punani
and onto the plush blue carpet of Marisela’s apartment. This was the hardest she had cum since she had started masturbating only five years ago at the tender age of sixteen. She was too spent to get up and return to her room.

Quinton had just had the best fuck of his life. After he came, he slapped Marisela on the ass and she collapsed onto the bed. He followed suit and collapsed on top of her, careful not to put the full weight of his body on hers. Damn, she was so tight. He loved fucking her. Although she was a virgin when they first met, she was a quick learner with very few
inhibitions. He liked being the first and only one inside of her. Her pussy was molded for his dick. When he gained enough energy, he moved off her. He spooned Marisela’s back into his front. Quinton watched the slow rise and fall of Marisela’s chest. Her light snoring sounds were the ultimate compliment to his already large male ego. He smiled.

Quinton thought he heard a whimper. He got up, careful not to wake Marisela. He padded naked across the room. Marisela had company, but he didn’t care. He opened the bedroom door and saw Francine on the floor. Her hand was down her panties. She leaned her head against the wall. Seductive eyes looked up at him and she smirked. She smelled of sex. His member rose and he responded with a devilish grin. He bent down to her level, helped her up, and escorted her out of the hall.

Marisela awoke alone in the bed. She heard the shower running. Immediately she knew Quinton was in there. Already her body craved him again. She decided she would join him. She picked up his discarded polo shirt off the floor. She put it on and walked to the bathroom. When Marisela opened the door, she was torn between vomiting and committing acts of extreme violence.

The shower muffled the sounds of Francine and Quinton’s panting. Francine’s long slender leg was hitched on top of the sink, the other planted firmly on the floor for support. She was slightly hunched over, hands bracing the wall. Quinton’s hand was wrapped around her waist. He was bent over her, his chest pressed into her back. As he moved in and out of her, he licked and nibbled her neck. Only moments before, he had made love to Marisela. Now he made love to Francine with the same intensity.

“What the fuck is going on?” Marisela’s voice trembled.

Quinton quickly withdrew and moved away, causing Francine to lose her balance. She stumbled.

Marisela looked down at the used razor on the shelf. She grabbed it and lunged toward them.

Quinton caught her arm. “Stop!”

Tears streamed down Marisela’s face. She had just experienced the ultimate betrayal. “Get out of my house now, or I’m calling the police.”

They clothed and left the house. Marisela, hurt and betrayed, swore vengeance.

Seven years later, present day

Though on the surface it appeared that Marisela had moved on with her life, she had not. Marisela had followed Francine’s life for the past seven years, waiting for the perfect opportunity to collect on her vow of retaliation. Outside of close family Quinton and Francine were the only two people she had trusted. She had shut them out of her life and hardened her heart. How could one trust again, after an incident like that?

Getting vengeance on Quinton had been easy. A couple of years ago, she had discovered his penchant for laundering money. One tip to the FBI and his freedom was lost. As for Francine, the opportunity had yet to present itself.

In the interim, Marisela had devoted her time to her private investigation agency, Broken Hearts. She had managed to make a very good living off the lies and infidelity of men. The elite of Dallas society made up her clientele. Ninety percent of her business came from referrals. Marisela picked
up a folder off of her mahogany desk. She read through the latest information on Francine.

Apparently, Francine had also become rich off the lies and infidelity of men. Francine would marry older rich men and sign a prenuptial agreement. However, in the agreement there would be an “out clause” that awarded her ten million dollars upfront and one hundred thousand dollars a month in alimony payments if the husband was found having an affair. If she cheated first, she was entitled to nothing, not even communal property or money earned during the marriage. She would leave with the clothes on her back.

Two marriages and two infidelities later, Francine was a very rich woman. Marisela wondered why the men would agree to such a deal if they knew that they were cheating.
Also,
Marisela mused,
is it possible that all the men were set up by Francine so she could take their money?
The biggest piece of the puzzle lay in front of her—a small society page announcing Francine’s third marriage. She’d had a very un-Francine-like, small ceremony. She had married a Panamanian professor, Javier Dominguez. They met while she was vacationing in Panama. A year later they married.

What was her motive?
Marisela deliberated. Javier was not a rich Columbian
hombre de negocios
(businessman), or an upper-class American from the Canal Zone. He was not famous, nor was he part of high society. He did not fit the mold. Like a thunderous boom hitting on a stormy night, the answer suddenly came to Marisela.
Love!
She had actually married for love.

The time had finally come for vengeance. According to her sources, Francine had moved to Panama City, Panama. Francine also had a trip planned to visit her family in New
York that upcoming fall. That gave Marisela three months to brush up on her Spanish, and contact her favorite
prima,
Carmen. Her cousin Carmen also taught at the University of Panama. Hopefully, Carmen would help her figure out a way to get close to Javier.

Marisela flipped through the file on Javier. It was important to study all of her subjects. She examined his pictures, stopping at the one taken on a beach. He was beyond handsome and very photogenic. Standing on the shores of a white pristine beach, in blue swim trunks that clung to the contours of his body, he reminded Marisela of a Hershey’s chocolate Adonis. Chocolate was Marisela’s favorite flavor. She wondered what kind of treat lay underneath his blue swim briefs. She couldn’t wait to taste it. The photograph froze the tiny droplets of water that outlined his lean muscular physique.

His almost bald head made him sexier. From his stats, she knew he stood an even six feet. His large pecan-brown eyes captivated her. He appeared to be looking directly at her. She felt the temperature in the room rise, especially in between her legs. His face was perfectly angular with a neatly trimmed goatee.

Scrumptious.
Marisela’s erect nipples strained against the satin fabric of her bra as she stared at Javier’s picture. She grew wet as her mind filled with images of revenge. Her instant sexual attraction to his picture was alarming. She was being silly, it was only a picture. Her palpitating pussy told another story. However, she convinced herself that she would not lose focus. She would lick him, suck him, and fuck Javier’s brains out. Then she would make sure Francine knew about it.

She gave Javier’s picture another glance. She debated on pulling out her emergency office “toy” to douse the flames
that burned between her legs. She knew that she shouldn’t. She had business to handle and a seduction to arrange.

Fuck it!
She reached for her key chain and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a pink vibrator. She turned it on and propped her left leg on her desk, exposing her nether regions to the cool office air. She stared at Javier’s picture and put the pink pleasure pole in her panties and massaged her throbbing nub. The pulsing sensations on her clit caused shivers to run up her spine. Her head rolled back and her eyelids drifted shut. Gently, she directed the vibrator in between her slick folds and nudged it inside. She imagined it was
El Profesor
inside of her. The pulsing beat of the pink intrusion matched the pulsing of her sex. Her liquid seeped out and she gasped for air. She came quick, shuddering and shaking in her leather chair.

She took a moment to collect herself before returning Javier’s picture to his file. She wiped her pink pleasurer, placed it back in the drawer, and locked it. She picked up her office phone and began making calls.

“A man can only take so much temptation before he says to hell with it and succumbs.”
The excuse that Quinton had given for sleeping with Francine echoed in her mind. She would make sure that was the same excuse Javier gave to Francine.

Three months later

Marisela sat in the oversized seat afforded to the first-class passengers, drafting a fake résumé on her laptop. The final step before arriving in Panama was to have a résumé with a list of references. Thanks to Carmen she had found a way to not only get close to Javier, but live with him while Francine
was in New York. As it turned out, he needed a live-in cook. Francine had fired the old one before she left. Marisela, coincidentally, enjoyed gourmet cooking as a hobby. With a lovely recommendation from Javier’s colleague—Carmen—she was set to start work in a week.