Phylicia lifted her hips, seeking more, and he readily gave in to her demands, immersing himself in the soaking-wet sanctuary between her legs, over and over.
“Oh, God. You feel so good,” she screamed, digging her fingernails into his back.
The painful glide of her nails coalesced with the pleasurable sensation of her tight, wet body closing around him. Jamal clutched her ass in his palms, holding her steady as he relentlessly drove deeper and deeper into her.
Phylicia clamped her hand behind his head and buried her face against his neck just as she exploded around him. Jamal felt her teeth graze his skin, and it sent him over the edge. He came hard and fast, his entire body trembling with the force of it.
He rolled over and collapsed on the bed, his chest hurting with the force of the breaths he was required to take.
“Oh, God,” Phylicia said with a satisfied sigh. “That was so much better than Bob.”
Jamal pushed up on one elbow and pinned her with a dark glare. “Are you kidding me? You bring up your ex-boyfriend now?”
She let out a breathless laugh. “Bob isn’t my ex-boyfriend. He’s my vibrator,” she said. “And you just put him to shame.”
Jamal shook his head. “A woman who names her vibrator. Could I get any luckier?” A wicked smile broke out over his lips. “Actually, I think I can.”
Phylicia peered up at him. With the sexiest smile known to mankind, she relaxed her legs and gestured toward the nightstand. “Bob’s in the top drawer. Go for it.”
No. He really could not be luckier.
Chapter 9
Even the swathof sunlight that traveled across her face, waking her up, couldn’t erase the smile that tilted up the corners of Phil’s mouth. A delicious ache throbbed between her legs. She smiled at that, too. It had been a long time since she’d experienced that kind of ache.
“God, I needed this.” She sighed. Her body still hummed with the pleasure of being good and properly fucked by a man who knewexactlywhat to do with the tools he’d been given. And those she’d purchased through an erotic online store.
She lifted her head and tilted it toward the bathroom, listening for running water or some other indication that Jamal was in there.
Nothing.
Phil pushed up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. It was empty.
“He left?” she said with disbelief.
She unhooked her bathrobe from behind the door and wrapped it around her, tying the satin sash at her waist. When she went into the living area, she immediately noticed the door to the spare room off the kitchen slightly ajar.
A shimmer of disquiet rolled down her spine.
She stalked over to the door and threw it open. “What are you doing in here?” she asked.
Jamal whipped around. In his hands was the unframed canvas of the pond on the edge of Gauthier. She’d started the painting months ago but had not found the time to finish it yet.
“Are these your mom’s?” he asked, nodding toward the nearly two dozen paintings leaning against the walls, all in various stages of completion.
Phil propped her shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed her arms in front of her. “They’re mine,” she answered.
His eyes widened. “Damn, Phylicia. Whatcan’tyou do?” He looked back at the canvas in his hands. “How long have you been painting?”
“Most of my life,” she said.
“These are”—he shook his head—”amazing,” he finally finished.
“That’s Ponderosa Pond. Have you ever been?”
“No,” he said. “But if it’s half as nice as this painting, it’s somewhere I definitely want to visit.”
“Thank you,” she said. His praise triggered a warmth that spread throughout her body. Phil was still unsure how she felt about his snooping around her house while she was asleep. Though, after the way she’d opened her body to him, he probably felt as if her home was open to him as well.
