A Black Door Novel


St. Martin's Griffin

Chapter One

"PLEASE LET me just look at it," Jessica pleaded, tugging on Chad's arm.

Chad pulled away, and moved his body over to the edge of the sofa. "No," he said adamantly.

Jessica was a woman with determination, and wasn't about to take "no" for an answer, she wanted him badly, and would do and say anything to get her way, especially tonight. She hadn't seen Chad in months, since they had broken up, and was desperate for some much-needed sex. She had lured him over to her apartment under the guise of being a damsel in distress, telling him that there had been an attempted break-in, and that she needed her locks changed. He had insisted that she call a locksmith. She told him that she did, but couldn't get anybody to come out on a Sunday. She feigned tears, saying that she was afraid and pleaded with him to change her locks. Being the kindhearted guy that he was, he finally agreed. Before he got there, Jessica jimmied the locks with a screwdriver and cut the security chain. She then drank a few glasses of red wine to get in the mood, and waited for Chad to arrive. Now that he was there, her plan wasn't going as smoothly as she had hoped. During their relationship, their sex life was explosive and they fucked at least three times a day. Jessica missed Chad's dick, and wanted to relive old times. "Oh, baby, don't be like that. All I want to do is have a look and say hello," she purred, scooting closer to him and resting her hand on his thigh.

After Jessica had abruptly ended their relationship, Chad swore that he would never fall back into her arms. She had said at the time that she wanted her freedom, and didn't want to be committed anymore. He was deeply in love with her, and the breakup broke his heart, but he had walked away like a man. Now she was trying to lure him back, and he was confused. "Look, Jessica, you're the one who said that you didn't want a relationship, so what's with this attempted seduction?"

She ran her hand up to his crotch area and rested it on top of his full mound. "I was wrong," she began, gently massaging his package. "I want you back. We were so good together," she said, increasing her pace.

Chad couldn't deny their chemistry. She had one hell of a tight pussy, and he missed filling her up with his rod. He didn't want to give in to her so easily, but she was making his dick hard. He hadn't been laid in weeks, and was horny as hell. He unzipped his pants and took out the head of his penis. "Is this what you want to see?"

Jessica looked down and swallowed hard. The tip was big, and beautiful. Just looking at it made her mouth water. She didn't say a word, but leaned over and licked him. She flicked her tongue back and forth, the way he liked it.

Chad began rotating his hips. She was driving him crazy. He wanted to fuck now. He knew that she was manipulating him, but didn't care. All he cared about at the moment was getting laid. He took the shaft of his dick all the way out so that she could deepthroat him. She was an expert at giving head, and he missed her mouth. "Yeah, that's it, baby, don't stop," he moaned with pleasure.

She bobbed her head up and down, faster and faster. She could feel the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat, but she didn't gag. She just continued sucking until she tasted his sweet pre-cum.

"Stop," he breathed. "I want to be inside of you," he said, laying her back on the sofa and pulling down her jeans.

Jessica wiggled out of her panties, kicked one leg over the back of the sofa, and gapped her legs wide open, inviting him in.

Chad quickly dropped his pants to the floor and eased in between her thick thighs—

The phone rang before Naomi could finish reading the spicy love scene. She dog-eared the page and picked up the receiver. "Hello," she said in a breathy voice.

"Were you exercising?" Kennedy asked, picking up on her friend's lack of oxygen.

"Girl, I was reading Auld Lang Syne, and the phone rang as soon as I got to the juicy part," she explained, sounding slightly upset.

"I see you're living vicariously through the pages of a book again," Kennedy teased. Naomi's husband, Jacob, usually worked late or was MIA on an overnight business trip, which translated to a love life that was also MIA.

"Unfortunately since my husband spends more time making money than making love, I gotta get my thrills where I can," she said with a chuckle, trying to make light of her loveless marriage. "But it's not like you're getting any either," she shot back defensively.

Kennedy hadn't been on a date in several months, not since she broke up with Lance the cop. They met one night when she was speeding down the Long Island Expressway. He pulled her over and instead of giving her a ticket, he gave her his telephone number and made her promise to call. Checking out his pecs through the blue, city-issued uniform, she thought, why not? Lance was five feet eight inches of solid muscle and his face wasn't bad to look at either. He was chocolate brown with ripe, succulent lips. She was weak for a brother with a delectable, kissable mouth. After her first call a few days later, it didn't take long for her to taste those lips. Their sexual chemistry was sizzling. On her days off, Lance would come over at night and ignite a .re within her that would last until the wee hours of the morning. But the flame began to fizzle when she tried to move their relationship beyond the bedroom. Kennedy was an international flight attendant who traveled the world for mere pennies. She had companion passes and invited Lance on trips to Paris, Tahiti, and even to a four-star resort in South Africa, all of which he declined, saying the only place he was interested in traveling was south of her navel. Kennedy wanted more than sex, but as usual she had fucked him too soon, and now all he wanted to do was screw. Realizing that she was never going to get a commitment out of Lance, she ended the relationship as quickly as it began and vowed to reclaim her virginity until the proverbial Mr. Right showed up with the key to her chastity belt.

"Have you started reading Auld Lang Syne yet?" Naomi asked, referring to their current book club selection.

Kennedy hadn't even cracked the spine of the book. She leaned over, picked up the novel from the nightstand, and dusted the cover with the sleeve of her robe. The jacket looked interesting enough; an attractive couple dressed in black tie was locked in an intense embrace. The title was scrolled in gold foil. In smaller script the words "shall old acquaintances never be forgotten" was written across their bodies. "I haven't had a chance yet. I've been flying so much that when I do have extra time, all I want to do is sleep."

"Speaking of flying, was Mr. Cutie Patootie on your flight tonight?"

Kennedy had completely put the Mystery Man out of her mind. The first time she had seen him was a month ago when he boarded a flight from New York to Johannesburg. He had sat in first class, which was her station. With the pastel pink pages of the Financial Times covering the lower half of his body, she barely caught a glimpse of his face as she asked his beverage preference before they took flight. Once the plane reached a cruising attitude of thirty thousand feet, she returned to ask whether he wanted veal with rosemary and chive risotto or salmon on a bed of field greens. When he looked up from the newspaper to answer, what greeted her was a pair of sexy, smokey hazel eyes on reddish-brown cinnamon skin and a goatee framing a pair of lips that were even more succulent than her last lover's. "Salmon, please," he answered in a deep voice. Her knees almost buckled. She knew it wasn't the air pocket they had just passed through but the sexy sound of his baritone voice. Giving no indication of attraction, she remained professional and returned with his meal. The rest of the flight was uneventful as he read one newspaper after the other and she serviced the other passengers. Kennedy had seen him once thereafter but he never even looked twice in her direction. Today's flight should have been his usual bimonthly trip, but he hadn't been on board.

"No," she answered with disappointment dripping off the one and only syllable.

"Did he ever say anything to you?"

"You mean besides, 'Excuse me, miss, may I have another pillow?' "

Naomi cracked up laughing. "You know what I mean," she said, after recovering from her laugh attack. "Did he ask for your number?"

"He probably thinks I'm a fixture of the plane. Most first-class passengers have that sense of entitlement."

"You're right, they are an elitist bunch," Naomi agreed. "But I'm sure he's checked out how you rock that uniform," she countered.

"Girl, I'm not thinking about that man," Kennedy said, picking up the Boiler Room DVD. The movie was old, but she didn't care. "I've got to go because I have a date with Mr. Diesel."

"Who's that? Did you meet him at work? Was he on your flight tonight?" Naomi quizzed, anxious to know who this new man was.

Kennedy chuckled, and then said, "Diesel as in Vin, the actor." She absolutely loved looking at the man.

"Oh. It's going to be another Blockbuster night, huh?" Naomi asked, finally catching on.

"Yep," she replied, sliding the disc into the player. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," Kennedy said before hanging up.

"Okay, enjoy your movie." After Naomi hung up, she looked at the clock on the nightstand, wondering where her husband might be.

Excerpted from Naughty by Velvet

Copyright © 2009 by velvet

Published in March 2008 by St.Martin's Press

All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.