Love Redeemed, Book 4 (22 page)

“How about having him between your legs
—over you or behind you—plunging deeper than your depths have ever been known to exist?” I sigh after a short pause. “Do you, Dawn,” I enunciate her name fully and appropriately as I softly move one of her perfect bouncy curls behind her ear. “…know what it’s like to have Azmir Divine clawing at your hips, holding you to him as though he’s desperate to fuse with you? Having a man of his caliber so vulnerable and needy, trembling against your pelvis from sheer bliss is…intoxicating. Have you experienced the exhilarating feeling of having him shoot his hot, virile, and powerful seeds in your provocative uterus?”

I s
ee her chest rise and eyes slowly close as I move closer to whisper seductively in her ear, “Do you know that wielding force of having his seed implanted in your womb? The empowering sensation of carrying
him
inside of you?” I nod my head before sharing, “Mmm-hmm, we were expecting,” my whisper is softer.

Dawn audibly gasp
s. I lick my lips, suddenly aroused by my own torment, before whispering, “Yeah…he’s that potent.” She swallows hard.

I
’m hardly done with her. I have so many examples of intimacy with A.D. Jacobs. I want to be soundly and thoroughly comprehensive on her need to back off. I’m standing, staring at her rigid frame, contemplating my next move. You never want to reveal too much about your lover and his skillset to
any
woman, but most certainly not to your
standby
. And if what I decreed to Tara as she left my office some time ago about my wing days being over is true, then Dawn is, in fact, my understudy.  

I hear the door push open
, forcefully. I know it’s him, finally locating me, making my argument to her that much more credible. Azmir is good at finding me. But I don’t shift in my stance. Neither does Dawn. I’ve enraptured her in the fantasy of intimacy with Azmir.

“Brimm, let’s go,” his tone
is curt, commanding. If I didn’t know him so well—
us so well
—I’d be embarrassed by it.

I stay in my pose with Dawn, in her personal space with my mouth to her ear, appearing very…
intimate
. “That’s intimacy, Dawn. And it can only be experienced once you’re in his heart, not on his payroll. See, when you obtain his heart, you influence his payroll.”

“Brimm!
” Azmir calls again, this time with a little more urgency to his tone.

I slowly pull back, turn, and stroll over to
an impatient Azmir who’s standing erect with his hands resting on his tapered waist, pushing back his suit jacket. When I reach him, he laces his hand with mine, and tows me behind his lengthy frame, out the door. I manage to keep up with his hasty strides without stumbling, giving away my blotto. I’m damn near pissy drunk, but content being back with Azmir.

We le
ave Dawn alone in that room, meditating on intimacy with Azmir Jacobs.

There
are no goodbyes on our way out. No last minute potty breaks. No eleventh hour recollections of checking in with someone before our departure. Before I know it, we’re out of the venue and at the door of Azmir’s limo.

“
Good evening, Mr. Jacobs,” Ray greets. “…Ms. Brimm. I trust the event was successful.”

The scowl on Azmir’s face
tells it all, but I’m confused by his annoyance. Did he hear my exchange with Dawn?
Or is he upset that you left his party, Rayna?
I don’t know what’s incited his sour mood. My inebriated state won’t allow for a sound mind to reason.

I nod
to Ray, providing a polite smile, hoping to hide my drunkenness. I then duck inside the plush and spacious limousine, trying to provide a little decorum. It takes a few seconds for Azmir to join me. I can hear him murmur something to Ray. I’m sitting with my back to the partition, observing the mild sounds pouring from the speakers and smelling the fragrance of fresh leather upholstery while waiting to pull off.

From my peripheral, I c
an see Azmir yank off his suit jacket. He tosses it onto the bench across from me before getting in the car, planting himself center of the seat opposite of mine. His penetrating gaze sears right through me. It makes my mind fight for lucidity as it floats in liquor. What’s his problem? I don’t want to be intimidated. I’m sick of being a coward.
I did nothing wrong!
To express this, I lift my chin in the air. 

 
Azmir scoffs, unmoved by my assertion. “Gown. Off,” he enunciates and I struggle not to get caught up in the allure of his luscious lips stretching at each syllable.

My face m
orphs into a puzzled grimace.
What’s he hitting at?
I’m not sharp. I’ve drank way too much.

“Now, Brimm. Gown off!” he growl
s.

I fr
eeze…can’t move at his command. We’re in motion, in the back of his limo, on our way home.
Why is he asking me to take off my gown?
He hasn’t moved to take off
his
clothing.
Why would he—

My thoughts are abruptly halted by the swift movement of Azmir leaping across the car and flipping me two ways until he locates the zipper of my gown, then peels the fabric from my skin. His grip isn’t delicate. He’s too hurried for soft touches. Within a matter of seconds, I’m stripped down to my thong and heels as I lay awkwardly on the floorboard of the car, breathing rapidly. With incredulity, my eyes rake up to Azmir whose breathing pattern matches mine. His scowl is still in place. He
is
angry.

We stay locked in our positions, eye
s warring. I don’t know what it means or what his deal is, but I won’t lose. I’m on a winning high from destroying
Desperate Dawn
. I have the fumes of victory to take on the great A.D., too. I don’t know my next move; I also don’t feel pressured to make it because I didn’t start this mindless obstinacy.

From a side panel within his reach, he click
s a button and the volume of the music increases to a near blaring level. Funny how, Raheem DeVaughn, of all artists, croons. Then, Azmir slowly lifts his hand and crooks his index finger as he beckons me to him. I take a minute to contemplate my next move. I’m naked in the back of his limo, wearing only a thong and heels!

Hesitantly, I r
ise to my knees and shuffle over to him. As I approach his wide stretched legs, my eyes are immediately taken by his straining arousal. He’s swollen against his thigh, underneath his dress pants. My mouth collapses and I idly wonder if it pains him. My heart pounds and my belly jerks at the comprehension of his need.

With dubious eyes, I me
et his glare. He bends over and whispers in my ear, “You know you want it, Brimm,” he torments then sits back. I hear the smugness in his hoarse vocals. His chest rises and I can tell he’s holding back. And
now
I know what’s ahead, what mood he’s in. What
I’m
in for.

But now what?

He cock
s his head to the side and pushes his tongue into his molars contemplatively before slowly returning to my ear, “You talked your shit to Dawn about what it feels like to have me pour my soul into your mouth…down your throat.”

My breath cat
ches in my throat. He lifts a brow, knowingly.

He heard
. 

Returning to
me, his tongue trails the curve of my ear and he whispers, “What are you waiting for…I’m loaded tonight,” he sneers.

To any unknowing party, his command would
have a semblance of abasement…disrespect. But to me, it’s an invitation to empowerment. I know this realm of his being—his need. He’s trained me and I’ve taken it further in gaining the mastery of pleasing Azmir. I’m supreme in satisfying him. This I know.

With athirst
, I leap to undo his pants and push them down to his hard muscular thighs. The thumping from the bumps on the road makes it jerky, but we manage over it all. I’m drunk and unbothered by the disturbance. His wide-rimmed, thick, long, and glistening appendage plops up in the air. It throbs, matching the rhythm of my pulsating clitoris below. I feel nasty…dirty and ready to play lasciviously with him.

I lurch, taking him into my mouth, fe
eling a spike of adrenaline from the excitement of pleasing him. I wet him, using my tongue to sketch the long, thick, jagged vein that always catches my attention. Gloriously imbibed, I apply my soft chomps, fully awakening his thickness to be rewarded with Azmir, whistling air through his clenched teeth. I bob to a steady cadence in his lap, delightfully slurping him…on and on…on and on. I suck him in with gusto, relaxing the sphincter of my throat to let him in when he begins to pump into my face.

“Fuck, Brimm!” Azmir cries
, untamed. Then I hear another increase of volume on the music. And now I know he’s losing control.

I
’m so drunk, I don’t feel the discomfit of accommodating him, only the increasing desire to have him lose it…in my head. I feel the impressions from the pads of his fingers pressing into my lower skull. My fists jerk him firmly over the secretions of my mouth. His elongated thigh muscles flex against my elbows. When I finally think to peer up at him for an evaluation, I see his smoldering eyes, fighting for sobriety. My widely-respected, well-endowed, and authoritative mogul is empowering me once again.

After a while, I
’m ready to unravel him. I know he’s ready. I remove one hand and lower it against his sac, intermingling my fingers alongside his fullness rhythmically.

His eyes fl
y open. “Gahhhhhhh!” he groans without reservation. “I’m about to blow,” he warns.
As if I’m going to decline the most stimulating part of pleasing him.

I reposition myself against the floorboard, preparing to vacuum everything he sho
ots into me. This is where I want to be, theoretically, with Azmir. I want the ability to weather every storm that’s presented. I want the resiliency of resolve to remain through dark times.

As he sh
oots his warm, intimate specimens into my belly, I inhale every morsel with pleasure. But before I can relish in his completion, Azmir flips me across the opposing leather bench, rips my thong off, and push my legs in the air as he buries his face in the apex. Azmir laps his skilled tongue over my sex as he breathes with urgency, summonsing my release. I grab his head, feeling the pricks of his hair against the pads of my fingertips. I hold him close to me, not wanting to lose a moment of his diligence.

In my alcohol-induced emboldened state, I wish Dawn
were here, privy to our tryst. As his big hands are splayed over the back of my thighs, pressing them toward the leather I wish she could observe
our
intimacy. Understand the intensity this man engages in with and for me. I so badly wish she knew how solid we are so that she can stay away.
Far away.
With Tara, it freaked me out learning she watched Azmir and me have sex. But for Dawn, it would be remedial. She needs to learn. To know.

My back arche
s off the bench. The thought of Dawn being away and having Azmir bobbing between my thighs, sparring at my pearl, takes me over the edge and clawing up the wall adjacent to the partition. The grasp of my clammy hands slips down the window before Azmir quickly grips my hips, pulling me back down to ride out my release. And I do, with shaky extremities and air violently soughing from my lungs.

Azmir flip
s me so that I’m upright against the back of the bench and my legs are stretched over his broad shoulders and scoots my pelvis against his. He’s on his knees before me, with the wide bulb of his erection positioned at my lips. Next thing I know, he plunges forward, searing me in two with the girth of his manhood.

“Uh
hhh!” gushes from my tried lungs at his fullness.

His eyes flutter
and mouth collapses at the sensation, then within seconds, I see determination just before he rocks his pelvis into mine. He holds me at the waist first and eventually takes one of his big hands and clasps my shoulders. My diaphragm is pushed into my spine, leaving me little room to breathe. But when Azmir’s inside of me, this deep, I don’t want to breathe. I want to
feel
…to communicate with him on a level where words are not appropriate. He brings his mouth down to mine and I feel the coolness of his tongue and draw my hands to his face to pull him closer to my mine. A sheen of sweat layers the skin on his face and his shirt is completely sodden. I grasp he’s still fully clothed other than his pants being lowered to knees.

He pull
s back then he continues to pound me. His long fingers probe at my nipple, pulling it to a nearly painful length, further melting my core. I feel my belly stirring in pleasure. His left hand clutches my thighs against his chest as he moves powerfully in and out of me. Azmir then trails his luscious lips up my calf and grabs the diamond ankle bracelet he gave me in Vegas. I lose it. Unable to control my vocals, I scream insanely as I feel his sacs smack into my rear.

When he
recognizes I’m done, he pulls me into his chest. Cupping me at the chin, he pulls me into an impassioned kiss that doesn’t allow me to catch my breath from the earth-shattering orgasm I’ve just succumbed to. But again, I don’t want to breathe around Azmir, I only want to
feel
him. And that’s exactly what I do as he throws his tongue deep into my mouth. He doesn’t do his usual butterflying effect. No, he’s too caught up for that. He’s pouring into me in a different way. His lips move swiftly as they turn firm against mine. I feel his heartbeat viciously through his shirt. Even in my woozy state, it isn’t lost upon me how he’s
still
clothed while I’m in just my stilettos.