Page 9

OMIR

T he sharp scent of lemons from the polished bar lingered in the air as I walked through the club, clipboard in hand, making last-minute adjustments for the speed-dating night we had on deck.

Jazz and romance—that was the vibe. I wanted the club to evolve, stay fresh.

But no matter how polished the setup looked, my thoughts were off.

They kept drifting. . . to her.

It had been weeks since Lennox walked out of my life, and every damn day since, she lived rent-free in my mind. Her laugh, the way she used to roll her eyes before giving in, the scent of her skin when I kissed her shoulder in the morning. That woman? She didn’t just leave a mark—she branded me.

“Micah, make sure the lights shift to that low amber glow before the first round starts. We’re not killin’ nobody’s vibe with overhead fluorescents.”

Micah smirked and wiped the counter. “You got it. I’ll keep it smooth until the quartet starts.”

I gave him a nod, trying to lock back in. “And the food?”

“Trays are tight. Wine’s chillin’. Nicole’s running the pairings.”

Perfect. The club had always been more than just a business—it was my therapy, my creative outlet. But tonight, nothing was working to distract me. Because she wasn’t here.

Then Micah said it. “Yo, O. . . someone’s here.”

I turned toward the door and damn near forgot how to breathe.

Lennox.

She stood in the entryway like she owned the light behind her.

Fitted black skirt hugging every inch of those hips.

White blouse tucked in just right, heels clicking like a metronome to my pulse.

Hair up in that effortless bun with a few tendrils framing her face like she stepped out of a daydream.

And those eyes? Locked on mine, not a hint of hesitation.

No smile. No words. Just heat.

“Boss?” Micah’s voice sounded a mile away.

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna grab some things. Be back in a half.”

I didn’t even answer. My eyes were on her, and when I looked back, the door was already locked. Lennox stepped in. One click of the lock. One step closer.

And then her mouth was on mine.

No warning. No preamble. Just raw, hungry, soul-snatching need.

That kiss told me everything—she’d missed me too.

Her lips were fire, tongue tangling with mine like she needed me to survive.

I dropped the clipboard, grabbed her waist, pulled her so tight against me it was like I wanted to fuse us together.

Her hands threaded through my hair, her nails scraping lightly over my scalp, and I groaned into her mouth. “Fuck, I missed you,” I growled, already walking her back toward my office, never breaking the kiss.

Buttons popped. Clothes hit the floor. She was frantic, and I was just as bad. We stumbled into the office, the door slamming shut behind us. Before I could blink, she had my shirt open, her lips all over my chest, her breath hot and shaky.

“You gonna fuck me like you missed me?” she whispered, her voice dipped in sin.

I looked her dead in the eye. “Hell yeah.”

In one motion, I spun her, pinned her to the wall, and slid her skirt up past her hips. She wore the sexiest pair of black lace panties, already damp, clinging to her like second skin. I yanked them down and dropped to my knees.

“Spread your legs.”

She obeyed, breath trembling, back arched against the wall.

Her pussy was right in front of me—plump, juicy, glistening. That scent? That sweet, intoxicating aroma that could bring a man to his knees without effort? Yeah. I dove in.

I licked slowly at first, savoring her. Letting her feel every flick of my tongue as I slid through her folds, deliberately avoiding her clit.

“Oh my God, Omir,” she gasped, hands gripping my head. “Pleaseeee. . .”

I looked up and smirked. I sucked her clit into my mouth and hummed low, sending vibrations through her body. She jerked, legs trembling, but I held her steady—one hand gripping her thigh, the other sliding under her ass, pulling her forward so I could bury my face deeper in her.

Her moans were filthy. Desperate. She rocked against my mouth like her body didn’t know how to stop. I tongue-fucked her, let her grind on my face, let her ride it until her legs started shaking and her moans turned into sobs.

“I’m—Omir, I’m gonna—shit—don’t stop,” she cried.

I didn’t. I ate her like she was my last meal, licking up her wetness like she was sacred. Her pussy clamped down on my tongue, and she shattered right there against the wall, cumming so hard her knees buckled. I had to hold her up.

When she came down, her breath was ragged, lips parted, eyes glassy with lust. “Damn,” she whispered. “I forgot how dangerous your mouth is.”

I stood, licked her taste from my lips, and kissed her hard.

Then I scooped her up and carried her to my desk, laying her back and unbuckling my belt with one hand.

“Take it off,” I said, nodding to her blouse.

She tore it open, her bra following, tits spilling out, nipples dark and hard.

She reached for me, but I caught her wrists and pressed them above her head. “Let me look at you first.”

That body? Still undefeated. Curves for days. Her pussy was still glistening, her thighs slick, breath shallow. I released my dick, thick and hard, and guided the tip to her entrance. “You ready for me?” She nodded, biting her lip. “Nah. I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “I want all of it.”

I slid in slow, inch by inch, her walls gripping me like velvet heat. She moaned loud, back arching off the desk.

“Shit, you feel better than I remember,” I groaned, hips grinding into her. “You miss this dick, baby?”

She nodded, panting. “Yes. So fucking much.” I started slow, deep strokes that had her eyes rolling back. I watched her unravel—watched every twitch, every breathy moan, every plea. “Harder,” she begged.

I gave it to her. Gripped her hips and pounded into her, deep, dirty, deliberate strokes. The desk rocked beneath us, and she clawed at my back like she couldn’t handle it—but I knew better. She loved it.

“Say my name.”

“Omir,” she cried.

“Louder.”

“Omir!”

She came again—body locking up, pussy pulsing around me like she didn’t want to let go. And I lost it. I pulled out quick, stroking myself fast and hard until I exploded, thick ropes of cum splashing across her stomach and thighs.

She lay there, chest heaving, a dazed look in her eye. I leaned over her, kissed her lips, her forehead, her shoulder. “So,” I began, my voice low, “what now?”

Lennox stiffened slightly, then shifted to sit up, pulling the edges of her blouse back together.

Her eyes flicked to mine briefly before she looked away, her fingers fumbling with the buttons left on it.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, climbing off me.

Her voice was calm, but there was a tension beneath it that I couldn’t ignore.

“You don’t know?”

She sighed, running a hand down her skirt. “Omir, we both know what this is. It’s just. . . sex. Amazing sex. But?—”

“But,” I echoed, feeling the weight of that single word like a punch to the gut.

She glanced at me, her gaze hesitant. “Nothing has changed. I still don’t want. . . anything serious or complicated. What we’re doing is just fine.”

Complicated. That’s what this was to her. What I was to her. I adjusted my clothes, trying to keep my frustration in check. “You think I wanna keep doing this shit, Lennox? I told you from jump it’s more than just sex for me. You think this is all I want? I want you .”

“No,” she said quickly, her tone almost apologetic. “It’s just. . . my life is so structured, so planned out. I don’t even know where something serious would fit.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I hear you.” I walked to the door, neither of us speaking. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Lennox.”

She followed my movements with her eyes, biting her lip like she wanted to say more but didn’t know how. “Omir. . .”

“Take care, Lennox,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

As she stepped into the hallway, she turned back, her expression conflicted. She didn’t respond, and I didn’t wait for her to. I shut the door, leaning against it as I exhaled a long breath.

The space felt emptier now, colder somehow. I couldn’t lie to myself—Lennox was under my skin, in my head, and the fact that she couldn’t or wouldn’t let herself admit there was something between us was frustrating as hell.

The frustration bubbled inside me, but it wasn’t just anger. It was disappointment. I wanted more with her—so much more. But I wasn’t about to beg.

I rested my head in my hands, letting out a deep sigh. “Lennox,” I muttered to myself, her name tasting bittersweet on my tongue.