Trembling, he pressed his lips to the delicate flesh of her neck, licking and nipping while his hands slid over her smooth warm skin––her stomach, her hips, between her thighs—to find the silky fabric of her boy shorts and her, damp and hot against his fingers.
Feeling the distinct dangerous pressure coiling tight in his core, Kyree scooped Zuri off the floor and right out of her slippers, her breath catching in a soft sigh against his neck, and her legs locking around his waist as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom.
He dropped them both on the bed, and in the tangle of limbs and desperate hands, fabric tore away in frantic swipes of need––her robe, her panties, and his trunks hit the floor.
The fire in her sweet cocoa eyes sent a frantic rhythm rolling through Kyree’s chest. Needing to please her, to give her all of him and not hold anything back, he dipped his head and trailed kisses down her throat, over the delicate curve of her shoulders, and the sweet swell of her breast, mapping her with his mouth.
“I need you now,” she groaned, clawing at his shoulders, and pulling him up.
He dragged his tongue up her chest, over her chin, and hovered his lips over hers as she reached for him, guiding him with a bold hunger that unmoored him completely. Mad with lust, Kyree entered her in one swift stroke, hissing at the sweetness of her.
A hoarse mix of shock and pleasure escaped her, the sound vibrating through his bones as her heat wrapped around him, tight and perfect, the sensations threatening to undo him completely. He sucked in his breath and forced control through his system. He would not disappoint her.
Zuri wound her limbs around him, locking his body to hers. She claimed his mouth and began moving beneath him with demanding urgency, pulling them both into a frantic rhythm of pure carnal indulgence. Every fierce roll of her hips, every sharp gasp of pleasure drove him closer to the edge of insanity.
“Is this what you want, Zuri?” he rasped between ragged breaths as he filled her over and over again. “Is this what you came for?”
“Oh God, yes, Kyree,” she cried, her voice rife with passion. Her legs tightened around his waist, her heels pressed hard into his hips, and her nails raked down his back, making him hiss at the delicious sting they left in their wake as they rode the tumultuous sea of ecstasy together, hot skin against hot skin.
Without breaking their connection, Kyree gathered Zuri into his arms, and rolled onto his back, settling her firmly on him. “Show me,” he urged, gripping her hips. “Show me exactly how you want it, baby.”
A salacious smile curved her lips, and she surged upward, her thighs trembling around his hips as she took ardent control. She let her head loll back, and began to move on him with bold, sensual ferocity, her lips parted in rapture, her hands caressing her breasts as she showed him exactly how she liked it––deep and hard and fast.
Watching her like that—lost in blissful pleasure, claiming him with every fervent roll of her hips, every sensual brush of her braids against his thighs—increased Kyree’s desire to fulfill her need. He worked his hips, matching her cadence, thrust for perfect thrust.
Her chin dropped on a sensuous, tremulous moan, and when their eyes met and locked, they simultaneously slowed the pace to a complete stop.
Her hands fluttered down to his belly, her fingers splayed against his damp skin, and in that heart-stopping moment, something inside Kyree shifted as he gazed at her. She was mesmerizing—her chest rising and falling with each labored breath, her braids cascading around them like silk ropes, her parted lips swollen.
Her body trembled above him, her beautiful cocoa eyes shimmering in the dim lamp light, as if the moment terrified and thrilled her in equal measure, as it did him. Kyree cupped her face, his thumbs brushing tenderly across her cheekbones, before sliding his hands, slowly and reverently down her slender body, from her shoulders to her hips as a new wave of ecstasy pierce straight through his core. He circled her waist and pulled her gently down on him, her pebbled nipples pressed against his damp skin.
She threaded her arms around his neck, and when their mouths met in a deep soulful kiss, the world and all its cares ceased to exist. The raw, primal lust, the mutual physical craving that had brought him into this room, had disappeared––replaced by a need to fuse his soul with hers, to look beyond the cocoa-skinned beauty to the woman who, in the space of a few hours, had managed to massage that sacred space none other had even come close to touching.
Together, they set a new rhythm, one that was less about urgency and more about connection, intimacy, and a communion of bodies and souls. This was more than just sex. They made love now in blissful synchronicity, consumed by the passion burning between them. Kyree wrapped his arms around her back as she moved with him, their hearts beating as one, while they danced to an ancient beat––fluid, sensual, timeless…
And in the midst of that tender, unguarded closeness, Kyree felt her body tense, the muscles in her sex contract, tightening as the first tremors of her climax coiled low and fast. “Kyree,” she whispered, drawing her head back, her lips parting in a silent plea, her breath catching, her body drawn tight like a bowstring, suspended in that exquisite moment before release, and then she shattered––crying out his name in a voice raw with wonder and surrender. Her body pulsed around him in waves, each passionate contraction pulling him deeper into the chasm of ultimate delight––wild, sweet, divine.
Only when Zuri’s entire being yielded to the pleasure coursing through her did Kyree let himself go, joining her in a crescendo of exquisite bliss.
His release was a dizzying, earth-shattering surrender. His vision whited out, every nerve ending igniting as he poured himself into her, his hoarse cry mingling with her sharp, keening wail of pleasure. Their cries echoed around the room, merging, harmonizing, before fading into the space of blissful, weightless satisfaction.
He rolled onto his side, and they lay utterly satiated and spent, a tangle of damp limbs and sweat on the cool sheets. They didn’t speak. There was no need for words, only the comfortable silence of shared exhaustion. He simply watched her, marveling at her beautiful face, flushed with lingering passion, her lips, swollen from his kisses, her eyes, hazy with emotions that mirrored his own. She was breathtaking—every curve, every line––simple perfection, and Kyree was filled with an aching need to know her in every way possible, know what caused that ugly bruise on her backside, but for now…
Settling onto his back, Kyree pulled Zuri against his chest, tucking her head under his chin, her heartbeat steady against his ribs, the lingering musk of sex, cocoa butter, and vanilla on her skin. He molded her soft curves to the hard contours of his body, and inhaled the sweetness of this beautiful stranger whose essence was now inextricably tangled with his own, and felt a peaceful, primal contentment settle over him as her breathing deepened into sleep.
* * *
A sharp knock on the door tore Kyree from a deep, dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes, his vision adjusting to the soft glow of the bedside lamp, as he became aware of Zuri’s weight on his chest. Reluctant to leave the cozy, post-lovemaking bubble so soon, he drew her closer, closed his eyes, and hoped whoever was at the door would realize they had the wrong room and go away.
But when the knocking persisted, he carefully slid out from under her, and quickly pulled on a pair of boxers lying on the bench at the foot of the bed. He walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, through the main room, and into the foyer, his bare feet squelching on the damp carpet where Zuri’s ice had spilled.
He opened the door to find three hotel security guards in dark uniforms standing in the hallway, their expressions stark and intimidating. Their gazes moved from his face to the overturned ice bucket on the floor. An unreadable look passed between them, then before Kyree could ask what the matter was, the oldest of the three stepped forward, his intimidating expression hardening to barely concealed suspicion.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Johnson.” He unlocked the screen on the tablet he held, turned it toward Kyree, and said in a flat, measured voice that brooked no argument. “Sir, have you seen this woman?”
The image on the screen was unmistakably Zuri. She was sitting on the steps of an apartment building. Her smile was bright, her eyes sparkling, and a black French bulldog sat happy on her lap.
Kyree’s mouth went dry, the warmth of the bedroom vanishing as dread flooded his system. Damn! Was she in some kind of trouble? Running from the law? His stomach twisted as scenarios spiraled through his head. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
