Chapter 3

The pulsating bass from the main house was a distant throb here, in the private glass-walled conservatory. Adunbi’s hand rested on the small of his wife Quivina’s back, her sleek black dress cool under his palm. They had come to see, to be seen, to perhaps play. He hadn’t expected to see her.

Osa stood alone by a potted orange tree, a silhouette against the city lights glittering beyond the glass. His sister. Two years younger, and a vision he had trained himself not to see. Tonight, that training shattered.

The conservatory’s ambient light sculpted her. She wore a simple, backless crimson dress that clung to a figure that was all generous, swaying curves. Her hips flared from a narrow waist, promising lush, heavy flesh beneath the fabric. The dress ended high on her thighs, showcasing legs that were long and powerfully shaped, tapering to delicate ankles. Her black hair, usually tied back, fell in loose waves over smooth, ebony-brown shoulders. When she turned, the neckline dipped, revealing the deep, valley between breasts that were firm and pert. Her ass, rounded and high, filled the red fabric perfectly, a ripe peach ready for tasting. Adunbi’s mouth went dry.

“Go talk to her,” Quivina whispered, her voice a low purr in his ear. Her nails traced his spine. “She’s alone. I’ve seen you look. I’ve been looking.”

A knot of heat twisted in Adunbi’s gut. Quivina pushed him forward, a gentle, insistent pressure.

Osa turned as he approached. Her eyes, the same dark mahogany as his own, widened, then softened with a warmth that had nothing to do with family. “Adunbi. You’re here.”

“So are you.” His voice was rough.

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to where Quivina lingered, watching with a small, knowing smile. Osa’s full lips curved. “Your wife is beautiful. She’s watching us.”

“She knows what she wants,” Adunbi said, the words feeling dangerous and right.

Osa’s laugh was a soft, smoky thing. “And what is that?”

“To watch me fuck you,” he said, the vulgarity hanging in the air between them, stripping away pretense. “To watch me breed you.”

A visible tremor ran through Osa’s frame. Her breasts rose with a sharp intake of air. She didn’t look away. “There’s a room. Down the hall. Keycard on the table.”

It was that simple. A shared, silent understanding, charged with years of forbidden curiosity. Quivina fell into step beside him, her hand finding his, squeezing once in silent command.

The room was dim, lit by a single lamp that cast long shadows. The door clicked shut, sealing them in a bubble of quiet tension.

Osa faced them, her back against a heavy mahogany desk. Without ceremony, she reached behind her back, found a zipper, and let the crimson dress pool at her feet. Adunbi’s brain stuttered.

She was naked. Her body was a masterpiece of voluptuous womanhood. Her breasts were elegant puffs, dark areolas and taut, pointed nipples. A soft, flat belly led down to the stunning delta of her sex. She was completely bare, waxed smooth, her pussy a pronounced, lean mound. Her labia were prominent and beautiful—longer inner lips, a dusky pink-brown, peeking enticingly from between the outer folds, slick and glistening already. Her pussy was wet for him.