Betrayal (18 page)

“What’s got your knickers in a knot?”

He looked up and realized that his office door was open. “What
are you doing up here? This area is private,” he said, putting down the receiver.

“Yeah, I know. I came to play, but it doesn’t sound like you’re in much of a playing mood,” Lexi said, walking across the threshold, and closing the door behind her.

“You’re right. I’m not,” he said curtly. Though Trey enjoyed their last encounter, he wasn’t in the mood for fucking. He had more important things on his mind.

“Oh, come on, Trey; it can’t be that bad.” Lexi took an uninvited seat in one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk, and crossed her long legs.

Trey didn’t say a word, as he watched her settle in. She wore a micro-miniskirt, which rose so high when she sat down that he could clearly see her silver thong. Her legs were shaved smoothly, and it appeared that she had on a coat of bronzing lotion, because her calves were glistening in the light. “Lexi, thanks for stopping by. I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to make an important call,” he said, picking up the phone.

“I don’t want to interrupt you, but isn’t customer satisfaction a part of your job?” she asked, swinging her top leg back and forth.

“Yes it is, but there are servers downstairs who can supply your every need.”

She took off her mask, and placed it on the edge of his desk. “I’m not in the mood to be with a masked, no-name hunk tonight. I want someone who’s familiar with what I like,” she said, looking him dead in the eyes. Lexi wanted Trey and refused to take no for an answer. She knew just what it took to sway him.

Trey watched as she uncrossed her legs, and threw her right leg over the arm of the chair. She then put her hand between her legs, lifted her butt, and took off her thong. She sniffed the thin piece of fabric before tossing it to him. He dropped the phone, caught her thong midair, and instinctively held it up to his nose. She had a tangy, sweet scent, like lilacs laced with ahi tuna. His mood began to change. The memory of the conversation with Michele was quickly fading with each whiff.

“You like the way my punany smells?” she asked in a soft whisper.

“Um-hmm.” He nodded his head.

His response was exactly the answer she was looking for; the way he was enjoying her thong told her that his mood had shifted, and he was now ready to play. She stood up, unfastened her skirt, and let it drop to the floor. Standing naked from the waist down, she walked over to the side of his desk, and put one stiletto-clad foot on the edge of his desk, and began playing with her clit. Lexi knew that most men loved to watch women masturbate, so she began to put on a show that he couldn’t possibly resist.

Trey could clearly see her clit emerge, since she had a fresh, Brazilian wax, and there was no pubic hair impeding his view. He swallowed hard, as he watched her knead the small piece of pink flesh with her thumb and forefinger. After a few minutes, she began to moan with the pleasure of her own touch. Unable to take the teasing any longer, he reached out and pulled her over to him. She was still masturbating, but he slapped her hand away, replacing it with his. He slipped his middle finger inside of her, while still massaging her clit. She was dripping wet, and he wanted a taste. Trey leaned down, and began sucking her moist triangle like he was drinking from the fountain of youth. Not only did she smell good, but she tasted heavenly as well.

“Ohhh, that feels so good,” she moaned. “You know just what I like, baby.”

He stopped, but only long enough to unbuckled his belt, unzip his jeans, and whip out his dick, which was only semi-hard. “Sit on my cock.”

Lexi did as instructed, and began rotating her hips around and around, until her pussy lips were kissing the head of his rising erection. Once he was totally firm, she reached down, gripped his pipe, and inserted the tip into her wet pussy.

Trey put his hands on her hips and began pushing her farther down on his erection. Once he was all the way inside, he held on to her ass, and stood up while holding her firmly in place.

Lexi wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for the ride of her life.

His jeans dropped to the floor, as he turned them around and pressed her back against the wall. He then began banging the fuck out of her.

“Oh
shit
!” she screamed, as his dick touched her G-spot. “Fuck me harder; fuck me harder.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m-a give you all of this dick.” He then swung her around and laid her on the desk. He grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs into a deep
V
. He stood between that
V
, pumping, and pulling her closer with each thrust. The pussy was so good that he could feel his army of men on the verge of charging. He wasn’t ready to cum just yet, so he stopped mid-thrust.

“Oh … shit … why’d … you stop? I was … just … getting ready to cum,” she said, between pants.

“Because neither one of us is cumming yet,” he said, like a man in charge. He licked his index finger and eased it into her rectum, to shut her up. The way he wiggled that finger around and around stopped her words cold. She shut her eyes, laid back, and enjoyed every second of the digital stimulation. “You like that, baby?” he asked, as he watched her squirm from side to side.

“Um-hmm.”

Once Trey felt that he had gotten his men under control, he slowly began pumping again. He kept his finger in her ass, while plunging her pussy. Her anus was so tight, and her pussy so wet, that the sensation felt good times two, and he was finding it hard to control his erection much longer.

“Damn, Trey, you know just what I like,” she said, again on the verge of cumming.

“And you know I can’t resist this pussy.” He picked up the pace, and fucked her harder and harder until they came simultaneously.

He slumped down on her, and held her tightly. “Damn, you got some good stuff,” he whispered in her ear.

“And the dick ain’t bad either,” she joked.

“Ain’t bad? Baby, you know this is the best dick you ever had,” he said with confidence.

Lexi smiled, because he was right. Out of all the lovers she had
had in the past, Trey was by far the best. She had become addicted to his dick and wanted it on a regular basis. But she wasn’t going to come right out and say that, for fear a true confession would scare him away. At this point she was more than satisfied fucking him at the club. It was better than nothing. A man like Trey would run for the woods if he thought she was trying to trap him.

Just as he was gearing up for round two, his cell phone rang. He thought about answering it, but was in a better mood now and didn’t want to break the spell. He knew he should have answered the phone, just in case it was Michele calling to reconsider his invitation to come to New York. But then again, she could have been calling to give him another earful of her ranting. He was now in a better place than he was fifteen minutes ago, and didn’t feel like listening to any more of Michele’s harsh words, so he let the call go to voice mail. Besides, Lexi had gotten him hot and horny, and he wanted some more pussy. “Since you think the dick is just all right, why don’t we go for two out of three,” he said in her ear. With the way Michele had treated him earlier, Trey didn’t feel any remorse for fucking another woman. In fact, he was beginning to feel a slight connection with Lexi. She was witty, and seemed to come to his rescue just when he needed to relieve some tension, and he was grateful for the distraction.

“Hmm, sounds good to me,” she said, wrapping her legs around his back, starting the beginning of round two.

THE WORKDAY
couldn’t go by fast enough for Michele. She had been in a dreamlike state ever since Preston invited her to the cocktail party in honor of the president elect. She could hardly sleep the night before, and floated through the morning and afternoon on autopilot. She couldn’t concentrate on mundane office tasks, since all she could think about was changing her clothes and accompanying Preston to the cocktail party of the year. Unlike the debacle that unfolded while trying to get into the VIP reception at the Congressional Black Caucus event, Michele didn’t have to worry about getting past security using someone else’s name. Tonight, she would be on the arm of a Supreme Court justice, and no one would dare deny her entry. She felt like Queen for a Day, and if her plan worked, she would not only be Queen for a Day, she’d be the new Mrs. Hendricks for a lifetime. With that thought permeating throughout her brain, she hummed a no-name tune until it was time to change clothes.

Michele shut down her computer, walked into the foyer, and retrieved her garment bag out of the hall closet. She went upstairs without permission, which was something she would have never done if the Mrs. was in town. Since Preston was in his office on a conference
call, she took her time and roamed slowly down the long hallway. She stopped outside of the master suite, opened the door, and eased inside. The room was larger than most New York studio apartments. The walls were painted a soothing robin’s-egg blue, with white trim. The drapes and duvet were in a matching combination of blue, chocolate, and white. The dark-brown furniture was sleek and modern. The room was neither overly feminine nor masculine; it was the perfection combination of both.

The vaulted ceilings and ivory marble fireplace gave the bedroom a romantic feeling. Michele walked over by the French windows. The setting sun was casting a radiant glow throughout the room, and she couldn’t help but fantasize about making love to Preston in the king-sized bed. She wanted to lie across the bed and pretend that they were in the throes of passion, but was afraid of making an imprint in the fluffy comforter. Instead, she strolled over to Ariel’s dresser, and ran her hands across her personal belongings. Michele picked up a bottle of perfume and spritzed her neck, wrists, and between her boobs with the expensive scent.
Pretty soon, all of my things will replace hers
, she thought.

With time ticking by, Michele left the master suite, and went down the hall to the guest room, which was much smaller, but also well-appointed. She took the gown out of the garment bag and laid it across the bed. She had showered earlier that morning, so she took a bird bath instead. She put on a strapless bra—something she hadn’t worn in years—before slipping into her evening gown. She sat on the edge of the bed and put on panty hose and a pair of black silk pumps. Michele walked over to the mirror.

“Ugh.” She grimaced at her reflection. “This dress ain’t me,” she hissed. Her mother had bought that gown when she graduated college. And she hadn’t worn it since.

Michele wore a black gown with a moderate neckline. The front was cut so high that she could hardly see any cleavage. There were no thigh-high slits or dazzling bugle beads to make her stand out from the crowd. The dress had no redeeming features to accentuate her assets, but she knew that Preston would approve.

She combed her hair up into a pompadour with loose tendrils framing her face. Michele dusted her face with translucent powder to get rid of the sheen on her nose and forehead. She then clipped on a pair of small rhinestone earrings. Satisfied with the look she wanted to portray, she gathered her belongings and headed downstairs. Unlike Ariel, she was ahead of schedule, instead of behind.

Preston’s office door was still closed, so she tapped lightly.

“Come in.”

Michele opened the door and entered with a little hesitancy. She was nervous. She wanted this night to be special, but didn’t want to tip her hand. Her cards had to be played with the skill of a Monte Carlo pro, not an Atlantic City amateur. Her future was at stake and she couldn’t afford to make any clumsy mistakes. “It’s almost time to go; are you finishing up?” she asked, in a professional manner.

Preston looked up from the document in his hand, and did a double take. “Wow!” he heard himself say. Michele looked stunning. The classy way in which she was dressed reminded him of his wife. Her outfit was something that Ariel would have definitely worn; it was conservative yet sophisticated. For a split second, she brought to mind Audrey Hepburn in the opening scene of
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
. He cleared his throat. “Michele, you look stunning.”

“Thank you, Preston.” She looked at her watch. “The party starts in forty-five minutes, and we don’t want to be late,” she said calmly, pretending to brush his comment aside, but was dancing a Scottish jig in her mind.

“You’re right. Let me go upstairs and quickly freshen up. I’ll be right down,” he said, heading out of his office.

Once he was gone, Michele jumped up and down and clapped her hands like a kid whose parents had given her a surprise birthday party. “My plan is working; my plan is working,” she sang in a soft whisper.

Michele was standing in the foyer when Preston came walking down the stairs fifteen minutes later. A knot formed in her throat as she watched him strut toward her. He wore a black tailored suit, a crisp white shirt, and a steel gray silk tie. Michele knew that Preston
had started working out again, but hadn’t really noticed the effect until now. Most of his work shirts were a little loose, but he must have had this shirt tailored to fit his new, improved physique, because it hugged his pecs ever so slightly. And the pudgy midsection she was accustomed to seeing was gone, replaced by a taut middle. If she didn’t know any better, Michele would have thought that Preston had gotten one of those extreme makeovers, taking years off of his appearance. He looked more like Trey’s older brother, instead of his father.
He looks so good, I could fuck him right now on those stairs
, she thought.