Nervous? Abso-fucking-lutely. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, but it wasn’t fear making her fidget—it was the thrill of having this fine specimen of a man so close.
One move, she thought, and I could climb him like a tree.
But for now? She held her breath, prayed to every saint she knew, and hoped to God he wouldn’t walk away. Because if he did, she might just have to chase him down like a bike man after his fare.
Kunle turned his whole body towards her, his thick thighs brushing against hers in the booth. “Njideka,” he said in that deep voice that vibrated straight to her core, locking her in with those bedroom eyes that promised both pleasure and punishment.
She couldn’t look away if she wanted to – and let’s be real, she didn’t want to.
“I told you to keep it 100 with me,” he continued, his accent making every word sound like a forbidden promise. “And I will do the same. No lies. No games.” His gaze dropped to her lips for a heartbeat before returning to her eyes. “Just real talk between adults…you get me?”
Njideka’s breath hitched. “I…I would like that,” she stammered, her plump bottom lip trembling like a leaf in harmattan wind. “I’m sorry about that Cynthia nonsense. I don’t even know why I—”
“Shhh.” Kunle waved it off like a billionaire dismissing small change. “I can see that you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be. I promise you, everything is going to be fine.”
When his big, elegant hands captured hers, Njideka nearly whimpered. Lord, have mercy – those fingers! Long, strong, and skilled-looking enough. As his thumb began tracing slow circles on her palm, she felt the tension drain from her body…only to be replaced by a different kind of heat.
Njideka’s breath caught as his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on her palm. “I-I don’t…understand,” she stammered, her pulse fluttering beneath his touch like a trapped bird.
Kunle’s lips curved.
“I know exactly why you’re here,” he said, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of her wrist.
Her throat went dry. Earlier, his gaze had felt penetrating. Now it felt violating in the most delicious way—like he could see every filthy fantasy she’d ever had. “W-why am I here then?” she challenged, hating how her voice trembled.
His grip tightened just enough to make her gasp. “Honesty for honesty,” he reminded her, that deep voice dropping to a rumble that vibrated straight through her. “Do we understand each other?”
Njideka swallowed hard. The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a test. One she suddenly burned to pass. “Yes,” she breathed, leaning unconsciously closer. “No more games, Kunle. Just…truth.”
The approving glint in his eyes sent heat pooling low in her belly. This was the real game—and she was only just beginning to learn the rules.
“Good,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with the kind of confidence that came from years of reading people—and winning. “Like I was saying, I know why you’re here. I might be a little off, but…” He let the pause linger, his eyes locking onto hers with the precision of a Lagos businessman closing a deal. “I don’t think so.”
He watched her—the way her shoulders had relaxed, the slight part of her lips. She was ready. Or at least, she thought she was.
“Let me be blunt—no games, no shakara,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I made that clear the moment Cynthia walked in.”
Njideka nodded, heat creeping up her neck. Shame? Curiosity? She wasn’t even sure anymore.
Then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Listen, I’ve been around. I know that look. I know what it means when a woman watches me the way you’ve been doing since you walked in.” A slow, knowing smirk. “You’re here because you want to know what it’s like to be taken by a real man.”
Njideka’s gaze stayed fixed on him—wide, unblinking. Trapped.
He didn’t blink either. “Am I wrong?”
The air between them crackled like a live wire
“Let me break it down for you,” Kunle said, his voice dripping with the kind of confidence that came from years of reading women—and fucking them just right. “You’re here in Lagos for some conference or some big-big corporate event? It’s Friday night, all your colleagues have scattered to their boring lives, but you? You booked an extra night. Why?”
He leaned in, his smirk knowing. “Because you’ve been fantasizing about this for a long time—wondering if a real man can fuck you as hard as your imagination has been begging for. Am I lying?”
Njideka’s face burned. Every word hit like a slap—raw, undeniable truth.
“No need to shy now,” Kunle chuckled, watching her squirm. “I can see it in your eyes. I’m right?”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. All she could do was nod, her body betraying her before her mind could catch up.
“Easy, easy,” Kunle murmured, his fingers trailing over her wrist before letting go. “No shaking. Drink something—it’ll calm those nerves. Because trust me… you’re gonna need it.”
Njideka grabbed her glass and gulped, the sharp tang of the cocktail doing nothing to cool the fire between her thighs.
“Now, where’s home, sweetheart?” His voice was like melted chocolate—smooth, rich, and just a little sinful. “And don’t worry, my lips are sealed. You know how we do. What happens in Lagos, stays in Lagos.’”
Njideka felt a thrill shoot through her. Exactly the kind of discretion she needed. “I’m… from Anambra,” she admitted, her voice softer than she intended.
“Anambra? Damn, baby, you came a long way just to bless Lagos with all this fine-ness,” he chuckled, his eyes roaming over her in a way that made her skin prickle with heat. “So where you posted up at? Let me guess—some bougie spot where they charge 50k for a bottle of water?”
“White Orchid Hotel,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.
“Ah! A woman with taste!” He grinned, flashing teeth so white they could blind a man. “So what’s a fine Anambra babe like you doing all the way in Lagos? You here to network… or to naughty-work?”
Njideka bit back a laugh. “A telecom conference. Mobile growth, digital penetration—all that.”
“Penetration, eh?” His smirk deepened. “So you’re one of those tech women? Engineer? Coder?”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Marketing manager, actually. I run digital campaigns, social media engagement—make sure people stay glued to their screens.”
Kunle flashed her a grin that dripped pure temptation. “Me? I specialize in…deep engagement. Very deep.” His voice dropped to a sinful whisper as his fingers traced lazy circles on the table. “The kind that makes a woman forget her own name. Maybe I’ll demonstrate just how thorough I can be…later.”
Njideka’s thighs clenched under the table. That voice—smooth like aged cognac, hot like peppered suya—wrapped around her senses. Oh, she wanted that demonstration badly. But first…
“Alright, Mr. Deep Engagement,” she said, tilting her head. “Since you’re interrogating me, what’s your hustle? Besides obviously being a professional heartbreaker.”
He leaned back with the easy confidence of a man who knew his worth, muscular arms flexing under his fitted shirt. “Talent management. Mostly celebrities based in Abuja, but I handle some Lagos heavyweights too.” He said it casually, like he wasn’t basically admitting he moved in elite circles.
Njideka’s interest shot up like a stock market graph. Definitely not some roadside agbero. This was the caliber of man she’d hoped Victoria Island would deliver.
“Oho! Any names I’d recognise?” she asked, curiosity dripping from her words.
Kunle’s smirk turned mysterious as he took a slow sip of his drink. “Plenty, my dear. But…” He tapped his lips playfully. “My clients enjoy their privacy. And unlike some things, I know how to keep my mouth shut.” The wicked glint in his eyes suggested other things he was spectacular at not keeping shut.
Njideka nearly choked on her wine. This man was danger wrapped in charisma—and she wanted to unwrap every inch.
Njideka’s lips curled into a mischievous grin as a delicious thought struck her. “Sooo, Kunle…” She purred his name like a forbidden incantation, letting it hang in the air between them. “With all these fancy clients, I’m surprised you don’t have a Nollywood A-lister begging for dick appointments on your speed dial.”
Kunle’s eyes darkened with amusement as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “First of all—that smile of yours should be illegal. Second…” He leaned in close enough for her to catch his intoxicating cologne—something expensive and dangerous. “Let’s just say when certain award-winning actresses call me, it’s not for career advice.”
Njideka nearly spilled her drink as heat flooded her veins. This man was trouble—the kind that made bad decisions feel like winning the lottery.
“And these ladies you manage,” she pressed, voice dripping with playful suspicion, “they pay you in millions…or in favors?”
Kunle threw his head back and laughed—a rich, throaty sound that vibrated straight to her core. “Baby, I get paid in cash, respect, and unforgettable nights. But right now?” His finger traced the rim of his glass suggestively. “I’m here for an artiste who’s headlining a show in Eko Convention Centre.”
“Oho! Big man!” Njideka fanned herself dramatically. “So you’re staying at some overpriced suite, charging it to the client abi?”
He smirked, flexing the Rolex on his wrist. “Please, I own a penthouse here in the island—same building where governors keep their side chicks. Abuja is home, but Lagos?” His eyes raked over her like he was memorizing every curve. “Lagos is where I come to play.”
“So tell me something,” Njideka purred, eyeing Kunle with renewed interest as she swirled her wine. “How old are you?”
Kunle’s grin was pure mischief as he leaned in, his cologne wrapping around her like temptation. “34, sweetheart. Young enough to still have energy, old enough to know exactly how to use it.” His gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, leaving no doubt what kind of energy he meant.
Njideka felt a flush creep up her neck. Younger man alert. And damn if that didn’t send a thrill straight through her.
“And what about marital status?” she asked, trying to sound casual even as her pulse kicked up. “Or are you one of those Lagos fine boys with a wife at home and three girlfriends on standby?”
Kunle threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. “No wifey, no shackles. Just me, my freedom, and a very discerning taste.” His eyes darkened as they raked over her. “Which, right now, is very…very interested.”
Now it was her turn. “And you?” he asked, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “How old?”
Njideka hesitated. Fuck it. No more games.
“45,” she admitted, lifting her chin slightly.
Kunle didn’t even blink. Instead, a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. “45?” He whistled low. “Damn. You are ageless fine.”
Njideka nearly melted into her seat. “Thanks,” she murmured.
“It’s true. I bet your husband’s still counting his lucky stars. How long have you been married?”
She blinked. “How did you know I’m married?”
His knowing smirk returned as he reached across the table, tracing the faint indentations on her ring finger with a calloused thumb. “Pro tip, sweetheart – if you want to play bad girl next time, don’t forget your wedding ring. These marks are saying a lot.”
His touch sent electric currents up her arm. The way this man noticed everything – it should frighten her, but instead it made her pulse race.
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