“Touch me.”
Like a kitten, she took tiny licks. Starting at the mushroom tip of Dejon’s cock, she then looked up to see Dejon’s face, seemingly more amused than aroused. Darn it.
“Go for my nuts.” Caressing between her legs, he commented again on her wetness just as she managed to get half of his sac between her lips. “Yes, that’s it. Such a hot mouth. It’s your second pussy. A tight little puss-puss.” Dejon’s body trembled when her tongue pressed down. “How’s that taste, babe?”
“Silky,” she managed to reply while he made himself more comfortable in her mouth.
“I can’t wait to make you nice ‘n’ nasty.” Dejon loved dirty talk.
Kiki had no clue what the heck ‘nice ‘n’ nasty’ meant. She took a mental note to ask her gay bestie Duckie Capri. A self-proclaimed pig, Duckie was her Greenwich Village roommate, Brill, Inc. co-worker and he always told Kiki what’s what.
Slowly, Dejon’s fingers danced in her wetness.
She pulled back, releasing a popping sound with her lips. “Don’t make me…you know.” Unable to even say it, Kiki swatted his hand away and went back to sucking. Never once had she orgasmed in front of Dejon. But Lord, did she want to. She came close a few times. Even when alone, all by herself, she didn’t. At least, she thought she hadn’t.
“You feel so good, babes. Let’s spend the day together in bed.”
Her face burned, shaking her head to say she couldn’t. A part of her figured why not…truth was her boss, more than likely, wasn’t back yet from the previous night’s media party to notice Kiki’s absence at the trade show. However, being alone in a bed with Dejon Turay, caused her nerves to skitter and scatter as never before. Too self-conscious, Kiki realized she’d used her upbringing as an excuse to take a slow pace, maybe even distance herself from Dejon. Regardless, she wasn’t ready for full-on deflowering.
Up on his shaft, she glided her tongue, getting him slick.
“Put both hands on it,” his raspy voice encouraged.
Tickling his testicles with her left hand, she jacked his veiny shaft with her right. It throbbed in her hands.
“Babe, I said both hands.” Holding her wrists, Dejon put one hand in front of the other. “Get me hard. That’s it. Follow your fingers, down with your mouth. That’s my girl.”
“Hmm.” I got this. Kiki noticed Dejon’s breathing quickened. Plus, his dick was as long as ever. It couldn’t get any bigger, could it? Freaky-deaky.
Just as she gained confidence, he rose up on his knees, over her. Oh…here he goes.
Holding on to the back of her head, he leaned down and kissed her passionately. The intensity of his thick tongue filled her mouth and loosened her jaw. “Open wide, babe.”
“Ahhh!”
Quickly, his fat, juicy cock wasn’t in her mouth, rather all the way down her throat.
Whoa! Kiki’s nostrils tickled from his groomed black pubes brushing against her sensitive face.
“Drop your hands. Let me fuck your sweet mouth. Now, suck in. That’s it. Now, release.” Pulling her face back, he kissed her again.
“My gosh.” Kiki felt buzzed.
Higher than that time she’d been fourteen and had tried Nitrous oxide. Her second youngest sissy, Marie Osmond, had worked at Provo’s only Dairy Queen. She’d gotten her hands on several whipped-cream chargers. Kiki had thought she flew then, but she was certainly flying at the moment. BJs are better than whippets.
Dejon brought her mouth up to his cock again. He instructed, “Suck in.”
I’m suckin’. Dejon, you’re effin’ my face into a stretched-out pink sherbet butterfly. The Europeans were right. This is sex. And I feel like I’ve inhaled a case of whippets.
He brought his pelvis up, pumping her mouth with fierce rhythm. “Take it deep. Hold it. That’s it. Like that. Ah-huh. Good. Now, release.”
“Mmm….”
“Babe, this is the best. You’re perfect.”
Maybe we should do it today. No, she couldn’t.
Out of all the family and friends who’d talked to her about sex in the past, it was her sister Sariah who’d said, “Staying pure ‘til marriage means you don’t tease a man on whether or not you’ll bed him before your wedding day. If you frustrate him, he’ll cheat, or leave you before you get to the temple.” So Kiki had stuck to her promise, and Dejon had set a date. She didn’t waiver.
Bzz! Her work cell chimed.
The ring was one specifically reserved for her self-made millionaire of a boss, Miss Taddy Brill.
Crap!
“Don’t stop.” Dejon’s grip tightened. “Touch my balls with your tongue. Babe, that’s it. Right there! Look up at me. Let me see your beautiful eyes. That’s my Kiki.”
Miss Brill is gonna kick my butt all the way back to the JFK airport. Blonde locks fell, blocking her view as he fucked her mouth. “Hmmm.” Forgetting about the call, she started touching herself. She couldn’t help it. Dejon wound her up and turned her on just by his very presence. Tasting his beautiful dick was a gift, sufficient to make Kiki come enough buckets to fill the Great Salt Lake.
“Keep your mouth open. Make my cock disappear. Get it all the way in there.” Grunting louder, he impaled her and said he was getting close—whatever that meant.
Salty flavors covered her tongue. Pre-cum.
Ring! The hotel phone rang in unison with her cell. Bzz! Great, Taddy was really trying to track her down.
“Watch those teeth!” Dejon snarled but kept thrusting on.
Yup. I’m dead. Miss Brill will be pounding on my door any minute now. Kiki figured Taddy went straight from the nightclub to the trade show floor.
“Sooo close. Yessssah. Almost.”
Kiki’s cell buzzed. Again, the hotel room’s phone rang.
She pushed him back, withdrawing. “Dejon! Sorry.” A warm tear fell down her cheek.
Kissing her apologetically, he stood off the bed, grabbed Kiki’s cell phone, and handed it to her.
The smile she plastered on to put a sound of excitement in her voice contrasted with the lusty chaos in her mind as she answered, “Morning, Miss Brill!”
“Darling. Where the Hail Mary are you? You were supposed to be—”
“Sorry, Miss Brill. I had a surprise visitor stop by. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Visitor, my Kim Kardashian ass. Is your tall, hot-as-fudge Dejon Turay here again?”
“Maybe….”
“Sweet baby Jesus on a candy cane. I swear to Christmas. Every single time we travel for one of Paloma’s jewelry shows, Dejon pops out as if he were Santa Claus.”
“Hmmm. I guess so. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“Honey, he must love you because wherever you go—Rio, Monte Carlo, and let’s not forget Dubai—he’s spinning his records to see you. Now…are you serving up cherry pie in your room?” Taddy cackled at her own jokes.
Oh, brother. “No cherries, Miss Brill.” Kiki glanced up at Dejon who had no clue what she’d just been asked. For as rich, Ivy League-educated and fiercely decked in Chanel as Taddy was, she spoke with a truck driver’s mouth. She also had absolutely no professional or personal boundaries.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes. Let me get dressed.” Kiki hung up and went to the closet. She pulled out a khaki pants suit with a pair of ballet flats her boss had bought her to wear.
Strawberry creams!
Gobsmacked, Dejon licked his fingers, tasting Kiki. Damn, he was close to making her come, without having a panic attack, as he did the last time when they were in Monte Carlo. He’d kept his erection, too. With Kiki around, that was never the problem.
Fuck. Today would’ve been his first at making a girl orgasm, without Dash in bed with him to assist. He’d tried over the years to do it, all on his own. However, Dejon’s fears always caught up with him. The new medication he’d been taking helped. Close to a full recovery from the Hanzfeld Experiment, he wasn’t quite there—yet.
Screw those horrific t
elepathy tests they’d undergone as kids. Scientists had jacked up the frequency of light and sound to stimulate his nerves, in hopes the other twin would sense excitement or pain. Dash hadn’t felt shit, only Dejon. As an adult, this caused a severe anxiety disorder. When in bed with a lover, she’d often sense his unease, and neither of them would be able to enjoy themselves. Wound up tighter than any girl he’d ever met, he loved Kiki, and he wanted desperately for her to have fun with him, in and out of bed.
That’s how he’d gotten into spinning trance music. The control over the songs had allowed him to be more at ease. He’d often wondered what would happen if he ate Kiki out on top of his DJ booth. Would he be in tune with her body as well as his own? Would she orgasm then? He loved the control of the music and lights. He didn’t have that as a child at the Telepathic Institute.
“You are beautiful.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
Aware of Kiki’s self-consciousness, he couldn’t resist watching her dress. Her body amazed him. The first woman ever to hold his attention for more than a few months, Kiki was intelligent and viewed the word in a refreshing way. He loved her. “Why don’t you wear a dress?”
“I didn’t pack any.” Innocent and sweet, on the rare occasions Kiki sported a skirt, the hemline touched her adorable knees. Her conservative ways turned him on all the more.
Long, blonde hair flying, perfume spraying, Kiki seemed completely unaware of the hold she had over him while getting dressed. In two short years, Kiki Izatt, soon to become Mrs. Turay, had become Dejon’s everything.
“You smell good enough to eat.” He loved the perfume she dabbed on her tiny wrists.
“We’re testing it for Baden Cosmetics. Their office sent it over. You really like it? Or are you just saying that to be nice?”
He never said anything ‘just to be nice.’ “What’s it called?” He hoped she’d stock up.
“Vanilla ummm…lab sample number five.” A giggle escaped her lips.
“You are vanilla, babe. That’s why I love you. Still, it smells rumpy pumpy.” Regretfully, he stepped back into his boxers.
“Say what?” Her eyes squinted, in the cutest way possible, every time he said something British. Then she’d mock his accent and make herself sound more like Miss Marple than the fetch young virgin she was. “American English, please, Sir Turay.”
“Sexy! It smells S-E-X-Y on you.” He gave her a thumbs-up for the fragrance client. Brand marketing and client networking consumed Kiki’s life. She possessed the ideal personality for her people-person industry but wasn’t pretentious about it. He admired that about her.
Her cell phone chimed.
“Yes, Miss Brill.” Setting it on the dresser, Kiki pushed the speaker button and continued with her hair.
Dejon slid into his jeans then came up from behind and massaged her shoulders, taking in more of her yummy ‘I can’t wait to marry you’ smell. Soon, they’d be one. Maybe then he could have a normal life without his brother Dash telling him what to do every five minutes. Wouldn’t that be nice? No clue how it might feel, but he was ready to break out from Dash’s shadow, and soon.
“Darling, you hung up before I got a chance to tell you our fierce news,” Taddy boomed from the speaker.
“Sorry, Miss Brill. I’m in a rush to get to you. But if this can’t wait, let’s hear it.”
“Give me a drum roll, honey.” Taddy’s voice irked Dejon. He didn’t know how Kiki worked for a diva. Nice and quiet, Kiki wasn’t anything like the motley crew she hung around.
When Dejon had pried as to why Kiki worshiped them, she’d defended her over-the-top Manhattanites, explaining they helped her make it in the city. And Taddy Brill was their pack’s leader. She’d suggested Dejon spend more time getting to know them. Slowly, they’d won him over. Underneath all their Louis Vuitton, he’d discovered they had heart.
Kiki made a drum roll noise as if the two of them did this all day long. Dejon covered his mouth to stifle a snicker. Bloody New Yorkers.
“Twenty minutes ago, Brill, Inc., that being me, secured the The Style Gala contract for their New York City extravaganza.”
“Yay!” Kiki shouted.
Ughhh.
“And to kick off the largest gemology show in North America, we’re giving Y-O-U this project, along with our current Paloma Gems client, as your first two campaigns to spearhead.”
Fuck no!
“All on my own?” Her feminine hands shot into the air.
“Make your fellow Brill girls proud, darling. Both accounts are all yours.”
Blimy.
“Miss Brill!” Kiki’s body shook excitedly. Jumping, she dropped her hair brush and turned into Dejon, hugging him above his waist. “I’m so happy. I’ve been waiting since I started working there to get my own publicity portfolio.”
This wasn’t the news he wanted to hear. The Style Gala was his next heist.
Her glassy blue eyes looked up at him, waiting to catch his shared enthusiasm.
“I’m proud of you, babe.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. She wrapped her legs around him as he lifted her up. Holding her close, he hoped she wouldn’t notice the panic swelling in his throat.
His disc jockey cover had worked so well for the last few months. He and his brother had stolen the blood diamonds to give back to his people in West Africa. It was a modern day Robin Hood scenario. They couldn’t get caught. Not when they’d worked hard and had come so close to fulfilling the promise made to their late father. After the night’s event, all of the stones will have been retrieved.
“Kiki, you still there?” Taddy asked then shouted at someone in the background to go through the next traffic light, and drive faster. Her directive followed many curse words. Dejon could’ve sworn it sounded as though Taddy puffed on a cigarette. Kiki said she’d quit.
“Yes, I’m here.” Her svelte figure slid down Dejon’s torso ‘til she touched the floor.
“I’m not at the conference but on my way to the airport. Lex called after our dinner last night. Appears Vive escaped Hampton Horizons’. Warner sent his jet to come pick me up. He’s so sweet. It should be at the gate any minute. When I land, I’m off to search for her.”
“Oh, no!” Kiki gasped.
“What’s Hampton Horizons?” he mouthed to Kiki, so Taddy couldn’t hear him.
“Rehab,” she whispered.
Dejon noted this drama as another day in the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Escaping from rehab. “Who does such a thing?” he asked.
“Viveca Farnworth, that’s who! She drinks too much.” Rolling her stormy blue eyes, Kiki showed her disappointment in Taddy’s friend.
“At the concierge desk, I left your notes for the day. Paloma is at her booth. When you see her, she’s got news of her own to share with you about her upcoming jewelry collection, so act excited. Paloma thrives on your enthusiasm. You’re both on the red-eye tonight. I’m sorry you’re flying commercial, honey. It leaves after the dinner with that HerSay magazine editor.”
“Got it.”
“Get that journalist loosened up, would ya? She’s been a nasty b-i-t-c-h this entire press trip to Stockholm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Remember, it’s our job to make the media love our clients, while enjoying themselves in the process.”
“I’m on it.”
Dejon rested his chin on Kiki’s forehead, wrapping her tight in his arms while she talked. Eyes shut, he tried to think of what to do. Quitting the blood diamond missions was a must if he was ever going to marry Kiki. I want my life back.
“Darling, assuming I find Vive and soon, I’ll see you back in the Big Apple. Come straight to my office after you land. We’ll go over The Style Gala, okay?”
“Will do. Please, tell Mr. Truman I said hello.” Her body straightened, “Ah…and Miss Brill…please, let the customs agents know you have a gun when you land at JFK. If not, you’ll be detained. Again.”
He laughed, thinking back
to when Kiki had mentioned Taddy carried a handgun in her purse with her at all times. Said it had something to do with Taddy’s teen years, and her needing to feel protected.
“No worries. I got my Fendi right here. Bye, kids. Ohhh, and hello, Dejon. You love-sick puppy!” Taddy snorted then hung up.
Relieved to have Kiki to himself, he inhaled deeply, trying to think about how to handle this disaster. How does one tell their fiancée they’re going to steal from their client? Should he tell Dash that Kiki stepped even deeper into their blood diamond territory? He couldn’t. Dash didn’t even know Kiki was in Stockholm, let alone working at the exhibit. Stay calm.
“Sounds as though you’re on your own today. No one to boss you around. We could order room service and snog, yeah?”
“First shag now snog. Ha!” Turning around, she zipped up her brown roller bag then pushed it to the door. “You don’t let up, do you? I have to attend to Paloma. With Miss Brill gone, this means my day will be spent filling her shoes, as well as walking in my own.”
“I love your walk, regardless of what shoes you wear, babe. But you work too hard.” Dejon couldn’t believe Kiki was representing Paloma Gems and The Style Gala. When they’d met, she didn’t have anything to do with the diamond industry. Hell, neither did he—until a few months ago.
At the time, Dejon had mixed records as one of the world’s best disc jockeys. He still was, but he also spun conveniently at private parties honoring trinkets and baubles, to get in the door of famous jewelry designers. And once there, he’d put Banja’s disarming instructions into action, busting into safes, stealing stones, and replacing them with crystal duplicates. It had fooled security for a few hours ‘til he and Dash could fly off to the next soirée.
Banja had left behind cutting equipment to reshape the stones before bringing them back to Africa. It had become pretty clear to him and Dash that Banja had been retrieving blood diamonds for years.
“My schedule is only going to get more intense, but in a good way. To think, I’ve been assisting on the Paloma Gems account, and now I get the reins of the industry’s hottest jewelry brand. Every celeb wears Paloma.”