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The Build Up(49)

Author:Tati Richardson

After Paulo and Marina gave their kudos to the chef, we ended the night with hugs, more kisses on the cheek and an open invitation from the couple to come yachting in Marbella.

“You two are a great team. My secret weapon, no?” He enthusiastically patted Porter’s shoulder and kissed my cheeks fervently.

We waited outside for the car service. We were both full and extremely buzzed. Porter, just a few inches taller than me, had the perfect shoulder to rest my head. As I rested on his shoulder, I felt him lean down, his cheek resting against my temple.

“Private dining? Drinking $800 bottles of wine? I feel like Jay-Z and Beyoncé,” I whispered to Porter.

“You’re prettier,” Porter said, without a hint of sarcasm.

“Now, I know you’re lying.” Porter laughed and squeezed my hand.

“You were amazing back there. It was as if you dined with billionaires all the time,” Porter remarked, his nose grazing the side of my forehead. I heard him inhale deeply. The feeling, so small, so intimate, ignited tiny electric sparks against my skin.

“I could say the same for you,” I chided.

Porter laughed, a deep soulful rumble. “Well, a few. My grandfather and his pals shut down a place a time or two. But…that stuff doesn’t impress me. The way you treat people is what matters. You treat people like they matter, Ari. I love that about you.”

I shook my head, trying to fight off the heat that was quickening my pulse. “You’re right. People are people. And I love people. Besides, to quote Maya Angelou, I’m a sista who laughs like I have gold mines in my backyard.”

Porter took my face into his hands and looked into my eyes. “And you’re a phenomenal woman.”

I tried to hold in my snicker but failed, erupting in full-blown laughter. “That’s sweet. I appreciate the sentiment but that’s the wrong poem.”

Porter shrugged, sheepishly tucking his hands back into his pockets. “You know what I mean. I was never one for poetry, which is why I got a C in English Lit in college.”

I began laughing, then wrapped my arms around Porter’s neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. At first it was slow, as our tongues got reacquainted with each other, then sped up rapidly. His tongue met mine stroke for stroke. A tingle tickled the underside of my jawline as we kissed.

“What are you doing, Ari?” Porter whispered against my lips.

“It’s called kissing,” I replied. “I’m very good at it. Remember?”

Porter withdrew his warm, berry tasting lips. “I thought we both agreed to…”

I put a finger against his lips. “Shh. You talk too much, Harrison.” Then we found each other’s lips again.

We both pulled back from the scorching kiss just as the Escalade pulled up. The driver, an older blond gentleman, swiftly opened the door, and we both slid into the back seat.

Porter placed a hand on my thigh, the heat of his palm coursing through my skin. I could see the erection in his dress pants becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I buried my lips in the curve of Porter’s neck, kissing it softly. His moan quickly evolved into a low growl as my lips traced a pathway from his neck to his lips, and back again. Porter’s hands found their way under my shirt, feeling my nipples, stiff to the touch. It had been so long since someone touched me, my body responded hungrily. My panties dampened with each stroke of his thumb across my nipples. I moaned into Porter’s mouth, which encouraged his hands to dip from my nipples to the folds of my waist. I felt his fingers slip between the band of my skirt, inching closer to my pelvis. We were giving the driver a show, not bothering to care about the partition that was down. Between our kisses, the trippy jazz music the driver streamed were the only sounds we heard.

I pulled Porter’s hands out of my skirt. “Don’t go home, Porter.”

Surprised, Porter licked his lips slowly, as if to savor our moment. “Are you sure? Because it won’t upset me if you change your mind. I won’t do this…not if you’re not ready for this. I meant it when I said I would wait for you.”

Admittedly, all that tempranillo had made me bold as hell. “I want you to come home with me. Can you do that? Can we just focus on tonight and we think about the rest later?”

I gave the driver my address and watched as he input the information into his navigation system.

“With traffic, we will be there in twenty-five minutes, sir, ma’am,” he said with a slight grin as he finally rolled up the partition.

“Can you wait twenty-five minutes?” Porter asked, with a smile so sexy that I wanted to jump his bones immediately.

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