Chapter 1: The Deal and the Desire
I’d always been the guy who played by the rules. White-collar, white-skinned, white picket fence dreams—until I met Jamal. He walked into the boardroom of our Chicago high-rise like he owned the damn place, and hell, maybe he did. Six-foot-three, skin like polished ebony, and a suit that hugged every muscle like it was custom-made for sin. I’m Ethan, 38, a senior exec at a tech firm, and I thought I’d seen it all. But Jamal, a consultant from a rival company, was a whole new kind of deal.
‘Ethan, my man,’ he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey, extending a hand that could’ve crushed mine if he wanted. ‘Heard you’re the guy to close a deal. Let’s see if you can keep up.’
I smirked, shaking his hand, feeling the heat of his grip linger a little too long. ‘I don’t just keep up, Jamal. I set the pace. Question is, can you handle it?’
His dark eyes glinted with something dangerous, something that made my pulse kick up a notch. ‘Oh, I handle everything, Ethan. You’ll see.’
The meeting was a blur of numbers and projections, but the real negotiation was in the air between us. Every glance, every sly comment—he was testing me, and I was eating it up. By the time we broke for lunch, I suggested a private chat over drinks at the upscale bar downstairs. Business, I told myself. Just business.
‘So, Ethan,’ Jamal said, swirling his bourbon, leaning back in the leather booth with a predator’s ease. ‘You always this intense, or am I just lucky?’
I laughed, sharp and quick, sipping my scotch to hide the way my throat tightened. ‘Intense? Nah. I just know what I want. And I go for it.’
He raised a brow, lips curling into a smirk that could melt steel. ‘Is that so? And what is it you want right now?’
The question hung there, heavy as the tension coiling in my gut. I’d always wondered, fantasized even, about crossing that line. About the weight of a man like him, the power, the rawness. I leaned in, voice low, daring. ‘Maybe I want to find out what’s behind that confidence of yours. See if it’s all talk.’
Jamal’s laugh was deep, vibrating through me. ‘Careful, Ethan. You’re playing with fire. I don’t do half-measures.’
‘Good,’ I shot back, my heart pounding. ‘Because I’m not here for games.’
He stood, towering over me, and nodded toward the hallway leading to the private lounges. ‘Then let’s take this somewhere quieter. Unless you’re all talk.’
I followed, the thrill of it buzzing under my skin. The lounge was dimly lit, all velvet and shadows, and as the door clicked shut, Jamal turned, his presence filling the room. He stepped close, too close, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.
‘Last chance to back out,’ he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.
I looked up, meeting his gaze, my voice steady despite the storm inside. ‘I don’t back out. Show me what you’ve got.’
His hand gripped my jaw, firm but not rough, tilting my head as his lips hovered over mine. My body was already betraying me, hard and aching, and I knew he could tell. The thought of dropping to my knees, of finally tasting what I’d craved for so long—a thick, black cock, pulsing with power—had me damn near trembling. But I held my ground, waiting for him to make the next move, knowing that when it happened, it would be explosive.
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