Maneater by Mary B. Morrison Page A

bitch. Wait until Deuce showed up at his office. We’d see who was the bitch.
    â€œI told you the computer was left in your limo yesterday. Danté has it.” I hated lying on Danté but had no problem lying to Maverick. “I believe Seven said there’s a hard copy of your wedding plan somewhere in the library at your house.”
    â€œZena Belvedere, do not fuck with me. I will shut your little agency down overnight. Get over here tonight,” Maverick demanded.
    I played along. “Mind if I stop by tomorrow? I can bring your PR contract with me. Can I suck your dick?”
    â€œSuck my dick? Tomorrow? Sure. Can’t wait. See you then,” he said, ending the call.
    Maverick was about to have his nuts blown off if he kept playing mind games with me. I wouldn’t dare let him stick his dick in any part of me. He was either scheming or borderline schizophrenic.
    Not me. Not this time. Crazy or sane, no man would use me to justify ending his relationship with my girlfriend. Been there before. Refused to betray another friend. I had to regain access to Seven’s laptop. There was something more important on her hard drive than those pictures. More important than her leaving town to lose weight. I felt a chill, then shivered.
    I draped three strands of elegant pink pearls around my neck; the longest strand discreetly tapped the area in front of my pussy. The other strands outlined my cleavage. Easing my toes into my leopard slip-on heels with pink trim, I stood before the full-length mirror, admiring myself. It’d been months since I’d invested three hours in preparing for a date. I prayed Danté didn’t show up at my house, driving his limo. When I released the clamp from my hair, silky curls flowed over my shoulders.
    Puckering my moist lips, I brushed on strawberry and cream glitter gloss seconds before my home phone rang. Eagerly I answered, “Hello.”
    â€œIt’s me,” he said in the sexiest voice. “I’m at your gate. Let me in.”
    Damn. I exhaled, entered my code to open the front gate, then peeped out my window, waiting to see what car would arrive in my circular driveway. “Damn.” My hopes went unanswered when I saw that limo.
    â€œOh, well…Wait. Being chauffeured on a date could make for interesting role play.”
    After returning to my bedroom for a final overview of my attire and to get my handbag, I strolled to the door, my bright smile leading the way. When I opened it, Danté stood there, with a gorgeous bouquet of yellow and pink roses, which widened my smile.
    â€œFor a lovely woman, with gratitude and appreciation for allowing me to share your company this evening,” Danté said, standing outside my door.
    No gesture from him for a hug or kiss. Maybe his driving the limo wasn’t so bad. I could sit in the front with him. Close to him. Close enough for him to have one hand on the steering wheel, the other touching me. Regardless, I’d have a great time. It’d been too long since my last date and humanly assisted orgasm. In case we didn’t get together again, I’d fuck him tonight. Why not?
    â€œCome in,” I said, leaving him the foyer.
    I went to my bedroom, arranged the flowers in a tall purple vase, and then we walked outside. A driver got out of the limo, opening the door for us.
    I smiled. What would sex in the back of a limo feel like cruising seventy miles per hour on the freeway, with the top open?
    â€œAfter you,” Danté said.
    Hopefully, that applied to everything we’d do tonight.

Chapter 15
Zena
    D anté looked like the type of man who could fuck me ruff and hard, then nice and slow. He probably didn’t want kids, but he’d make beautiful chocolate babies. He was probably like me, married to his job. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he had several women in his life, whom he’d fucked right here in his limo, on these black leather seats.