Read Online A Weekend Affair by Noelle Vella - Free Book Online Page B

sex in a while. Probably more so my fault than his at this point. But that was only because Malik had forgone the foreplay part of sex. His idea of asking me for sex was asking me to “handle his dick.”
    As the night progressed, Carl and I kept the conversation light. The flirting crept in occasionally. The alcohol was getting to me. My breasts had swelled, nipples hardened, and my lotus had definitely bloomed. I crossed my legs to stave off the crippling feel of needing to release. I hadn’t had an orgasm in over a year. Carl moved closer to me once the group started singing again. His eyes never left mine as the pad of his thumb traced my lips. I could feel every pressure point I had burst alive. His touch made me feel like I was the only woman in the world and the only one who mattered.
    I remembered a time when Malik had made me feel that way. Remembered when he would take his time to kiss me like he didn’t want to forget my taste. Over the past year, his idea of foreplay had been a quick lick on my pussy and a tap against my clitoris. I missed the days when Malik used to take his time with my body. He used to lick me from the front to the back. There hadn’t been a place on my body that Malik’s tongue hadn’t been. Hell, his favorite pastime used to be tossing my salad. These days we barely kissed.
    I couldn’t get past the nicotine and the smell of smoke to kiss him like I wanted to, and he didn’t seem to care whether I kissed him or not. And now I knew why . . .
    Kissing.
    Damn, it had been a long time since I had been kissed so thoroughly. Malik hadn’t taken the time to let his tongue trace the outline of my lips before nibbling on the bottom one, then sucking it into his mouth. He placed one hand on my waist to ease me closer to him while the other one gently caressed my face as our tongues danced the night away.
    Nah, Malik didn’t let his tongue hit the roof of my mouth and send chills back down my spine. Malik’s kisses had been a question mark, while Carl’s kiss was the exclamation point to my arousal.
    Oh shit, my mind cried. Shell, you’re kissing another man, and he’s not your husband. You’re kissing another woman’s husband, my mind screamed, but for the life of me, I wouldn’t be able to stop if I wanted to. Carl’s kiss was slow, steady, and deliberate. It was clear he was set on sampling me one way or the other.
    His kiss had been a prelude to passion, a rapport enacted physically with the promise of something more erotic to come. I was in trouble. The thrill of experiencing something I hadn’t in over a year, a mind-numbing orgasm, and something I’d never experience . . . a man with length and girth. I’d already started praying to the sex gods that Carl knew what to do with all he was packing. I was so heated, my nipples had started to push through the fabric of my bra causing a slight tingle of pain that stimulated me more.
    When Carl’s hand moved down my waist to roam over the curves of my hips, I didn’t stop him. That same hand gripped my thigh and when he moaned into my mouth, I was pretty much his to do with what he wanted. Damn, bitch, you’re easy, my conscious screamed. You’re a whore just like the woman screwing your husband, my mind yelled once more.
    I tensed when Carl’s hand gripped the back of my braids. Something about that aggressive move made me feel more alive. I got brazen in my dance with the devil. Allowed my hands to travel up his thighs. One hand fondled the length I felt behind his zipper, and the other mapped the muscles in his chest. I could feel what made him a man anatomically swell so regally under my intense scrutiny.
    Carl pulled back from the kiss, growled low as he looked into my eyes, then said to me, “He doesn’t matter to me, if she doesn’t matter to you.”
    I knew what he was asking. Knew what he wanted. I held the answer to his