Baby Momma 2 by Ni’chelle Genovese

area. The lighting was dimmed and the speakers in the ceiling played the club music overhead. There was an actual sitting area with small palm fronds and soft chaises longues. There was even an actual walk-in toilet like you would use in someone’s house, not a stall like you’d expect to find. I handled my business and walked out, washing my hands and straightening my dress. I looked toward the chaise longue where I’d left Lania and didn’t see her. I had just barely opened my mouth to call out and ask her where she’d disappeared to before her lips were on mine. She wore J’adore Dior perfume and she tasted like rosé and fresh cherries and yes—I noticed all of that before I broke myself out of the spell I was in. Pulling my lips from hers I began shaking my head no. I was in such a complete shock, I couldn’t make a sound.
    I hadn’t realized how beautiful she actually was, completely dismissing my initial judgment of her at the house when I’d first seen her. Her eyes were a light golden brown and in the dim lighting it looked like they were aglow from the inside. Like the reflection you see from a flame in the glass when you burn a candle in a hurricane jar. We had a complete conversation without saying a single word, her eyes boldly telling me, “I want you.” I backed up a step, shaking my head again, silently saying, “I’m married—this cannot go down.” Biting her lower lip, eyebrow raised, she narrowed her slanted golden cat eyes, soundlessly telling me, “I get what I want—and I want you now.” My eyes widened in an utter look of “Oh shit.” I’m such a punk. I mentally slapped myself for this one, because she had me.
    I wasn’t used to being challenged or pursued by a woman, not since Ris, and it caught me off guard when she came at me again. I shouldn’t have had so many tequila shots. The liquor is definitely my damn alibi and I’m sticking to it. My eyes closed in anticipation. I was completely ready for the sensual assault of Dior and cherry rosé to consume me—and it did. My hands had a mind of their own and I let them roam freely until I felt warm, smooth, baby-soft skin.
    I slid my hand upward, raising her dress as I went. I gently caressed her left breast in one hand, lightly teasing her nipple until she moaned and playfully bit the corner of my lip. The sound she made was low, sultry—every hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. I explored with my other hand, allowing it to slide down the soft, muscled outline of her stomach to the soft lift of her ass. My eyes opened and I gasped in shocked surprise when I stroked her hairless wonder, amazed at how smooth, soft, and wet she was. Shit.
    Mental note number 543: get a damn Brazilian wax. No matter how much they say that shit hurts it’s damn sure worth it. To be so thin and frail looking, Lania was strong. She had somehow backed me up against the sink and had lifted me up onto it in one solid movement. She roughly wrapped one of her hands around my neck, gently choking me while lightly digging her nails into my skin at the same time. I couldn’t take it; it had to be the sweetest torture I’d ever felt. Ris didn’t have nails because she’d bite them off, but damn she needed to grow or buy some.
    Lania took complete control over everything: my body and my senses. I could feel her fingers burning a trail of heat up my inner thigh and her mouth left mine to take advantage of the deep, plunging neckline in the front of my dress and the fact that I wasn’t wearin’ a bra. The pressure building in between my thighs was so much it was becoming damn near painful. She was slowly sliding my panties to one side, teasing me at first, letting her finger trail ever so softly across my already throbbing lips. I was about to be extremely embarrassed because I was entirely too damn wet to just be on some second base–type