Onyx Mafia: Insatiable - Episode 2: (Lia and Meghan) (Onyx Mafia: Insatiable Book 1) by Nova Black Page A
Authors: Nova Black
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to wave goodbye.
The woman extended a slow manicured finger, jabbing explosively at the elevator button.
Heading down the plush carpeted hallway and the endorphins started wearing off. Ow, I thought, sliding the keycard in my door. My legs were feeling less like rubber and more like a sun–dried stretch Armstrong.
I needed a bath.
A few minutes later and I lowered myself in, warm and full of lavender scented bubbles. Screaming muscles muffled themselves in 36 inches of oils and bath salts. Heavenly.
My mind wandered to this afternoon with Lia. Without the afterglow to temper my thoughts I tried to sort my feelings for her. Why did I want her so bad? She made it clear she had no particular feelings for me. Even after I knew she set me up for that bogus position on the panel I still went to her, let her do all the horrible, delicious things to me.
And, my god, the spotlight… Who does that?
I sunk deeper into the bubbles. Who let’s someone do that to them?
My brain tried to skitter away from that thought but I brought it back. Why did I let her do those things? There’s attraction and then there’s something else. And tonight, I firmly stepped into the realm of ‘something else’.
The skill that woman had, though. She could lick a scoop of ice cream off a flea.
My hand lowered and I felt the sore slickness between my legs. Even now, I’m not sure I could resist her. The mathematician in me started rating the orgasms: number one was the most jolting, and number four I felt in every corner of my body, even in the webbing between my toes. By number six I was pretty incoherent, don’t remember much about that one… and of course there was orgasm number eight. Hot. Damn.
Maybe I should find Lia’s number and call her, just to see if she made it home ok? I nodded sleepily.
As soon as I get out of the tub.
A door pounding room service woke me.
Shit! I jumped awkwardly out of the cold tub, which had, thankfully, slowly drained in the middle of the night.
“I’ll be right there!” I called, searching frantically for something to throw over myself. Fuck it. I grabbed my blazer from last night and cracked open the door, standing with my waist hidden behind it.
“Yes?”
“Good Morning, Ma’am. You ordered the Wake Up breakfast special?”
“Um… no. I don’t think I did.”
“I did,” said a gruff voice, barging past the poor maître-d. “I need something in my stomach before our… meeting.”
“Agen– uh, Mr. Eagleton!” I tried to bend a little, cover as much as my nethers as possible with my poor blazer.
“Jesus, Wallace, put something on! This isn’t motel 6, they have robes you know.”
“Yes sir. I just, couldn’t find one quickly.”
He looked at me. Walked to the closet and opened it.
I closed my eyes. “Thank you, sir. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agreed.
“How are you feeling, Wallace? You look like shit.”
“I feel like it. Sir.”
He took a step back. “Is it the flu, you think? There’s a nasty bug going around.”
“Maybe, sir. I do feel under the weather.” I held my stomach, conscientiously trying to keep my blazer closed.
He stood there, glaring at me like a disappointed father.
Just give me the robe, fucker. Don’t make me walk over there.
He pursed his lips, torn between accusing me of faking and getting the fuck out of here in case I wasn’t.
He pulled the robe from the hanger and extended his arm to me. I made a small heaving motion and he blanched, skirting quickly past me to the door. “Keep the breakfast, Wallace. We can reschedule for this afternoon if you’re feeling better.”
He paused, touching the handle. “I’m sorry, but I knew we shouldn’t have picked another woman for this team. Something about this assignment makes you all go batty.”
I bit my lip. “Sorry sir, I’ll try harder.”
A curt nod from him and the door clicked shut.
I stood there,
The woman extended a slow manicured finger, jabbing explosively at the elevator button.
Heading down the plush carpeted hallway and the endorphins started wearing off. Ow, I thought, sliding the keycard in my door. My legs were feeling less like rubber and more like a sun–dried stretch Armstrong.
I needed a bath.
A few minutes later and I lowered myself in, warm and full of lavender scented bubbles. Screaming muscles muffled themselves in 36 inches of oils and bath salts. Heavenly.
My mind wandered to this afternoon with Lia. Without the afterglow to temper my thoughts I tried to sort my feelings for her. Why did I want her so bad? She made it clear she had no particular feelings for me. Even after I knew she set me up for that bogus position on the panel I still went to her, let her do all the horrible, delicious things to me.
And, my god, the spotlight… Who does that?
I sunk deeper into the bubbles. Who let’s someone do that to them?
My brain tried to skitter away from that thought but I brought it back. Why did I let her do those things? There’s attraction and then there’s something else. And tonight, I firmly stepped into the realm of ‘something else’.
The skill that woman had, though. She could lick a scoop of ice cream off a flea.
My hand lowered and I felt the sore slickness between my legs. Even now, I’m not sure I could resist her. The mathematician in me started rating the orgasms: number one was the most jolting, and number four I felt in every corner of my body, even in the webbing between my toes. By number six I was pretty incoherent, don’t remember much about that one… and of course there was orgasm number eight. Hot. Damn.
Maybe I should find Lia’s number and call her, just to see if she made it home ok? I nodded sleepily.
As soon as I get out of the tub.
A door pounding room service woke me.
Shit! I jumped awkwardly out of the cold tub, which had, thankfully, slowly drained in the middle of the night.
“I’ll be right there!” I called, searching frantically for something to throw over myself. Fuck it. I grabbed my blazer from last night and cracked open the door, standing with my waist hidden behind it.
“Yes?”
“Good Morning, Ma’am. You ordered the Wake Up breakfast special?”
“Um… no. I don’t think I did.”
“I did,” said a gruff voice, barging past the poor maître-d. “I need something in my stomach before our… meeting.”
“Agen– uh, Mr. Eagleton!” I tried to bend a little, cover as much as my nethers as possible with my poor blazer.
“Jesus, Wallace, put something on! This isn’t motel 6, they have robes you know.”
“Yes sir. I just, couldn’t find one quickly.”
He looked at me. Walked to the closet and opened it.
I closed my eyes. “Thank you, sir. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he agreed.
“How are you feeling, Wallace? You look like shit.”
“I feel like it. Sir.”
He took a step back. “Is it the flu, you think? There’s a nasty bug going around.”
“Maybe, sir. I do feel under the weather.” I held my stomach, conscientiously trying to keep my blazer closed.
He stood there, glaring at me like a disappointed father.
Just give me the robe, fucker. Don’t make me walk over there.
He pursed his lips, torn between accusing me of faking and getting the fuck out of here in case I wasn’t.
He pulled the robe from the hanger and extended his arm to me. I made a small heaving motion and he blanched, skirting quickly past me to the door. “Keep the breakfast, Wallace. We can reschedule for this afternoon if you’re feeling better.”
He paused, touching the handle. “I’m sorry, but I knew we shouldn’t have picked another woman for this team. Something about this assignment makes you all go batty.”
I bit my lip. “Sorry sir, I’ll try harder.”
A curt nod from him and the door clicked shut.
I stood there,
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