The Blacker the Berry (6 page)

“Done staring?” she asked, all without looking up from her task.

Her humor-laced voice pulled him back into the here and now, forcing Russell to shake his head to clear his wayward, wicked thoughts. “I wasn’t staring.” He lied with ease.

“No?” She looked up at him and cocked a brow. “What do you call it? Thinking?”

“Yes.”

“About?”

Russell glanced down quickly, then back up, looking into her amusement-filled gaze. “What I’m wearing, of course.” Well, he had been thinking about clothes…just not his own. “Is this fine?” He gestured to his outfit.

Tamara had asked him to wear something he’d wear to work on the ranch. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans, work cowboy boots, and a black shirt. In his opinion, it was pretty run-of-the-mill, but what did he know about it.

“Sure, it’s not like you’ll be in it for long.”

“Funny.” He hoped she was trying to be, at least.

She chuckled. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Trying to get me drunk?”

“No.” Even as she voiced the denial, there was something in her eyes that said differently. “I want you to look sexy in the photos, not intoxicated.”

“You think I need a drink to look sexy?”

“Honey, all you have to do is breathe and you look sexy. I’m just trying to get you to relax.”

“Wine won’t do it.”

“What will?” she asked as she poured herself a drink.

A blowjob
. The words popped into his head, but he had the good grace and enough common sense to keep it there and not voice it. “Not sure. Can’t we just do this and get it over with?”

“No, and this is why you need a drink.” As if he hadn’t spoken, she poured the wine, then set the bottle down and picked the glass up and offered it to him. “One glass won’t make you loopy, cowboy, but it might help to dislodge that stick from your ass.”

“I don’t like wine.”

“Well, what do you like?”

“Tequila.”

“I got it.”

“Then get it.” Russell decided ongoing protests were useless. As much as he’d like to deny it, he was nervous as hell, and he needed something to calm his nerves. “But if we end up in Vegas, married, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

She laughed as she retrieved a clear bottle from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. “Consider me duly warned.” After setting the bottle on the island she walked to another cabinet filled with dishes and pulled out two shot glasses. Looked as if he wasn’t drinking alone.

Feeling loads better about the way things were going, Russell picked up the short, squat-shaped bottle and glanced down at the name. “Patrón.”

“Only the best for the best, baby.”

“Was that in reference to me or you?”

“Me, of course. I didn’t know you were going to need a boost to get you to smile.”

She handed him his shot glass and nodded. Before he had a chance to even say “Cheers,” she downed her drink and refilled the glass. He quickly followed suit, holding out his glass for a refill.

“If you think it’s so easy, why don’t you get under the spotlight and let me take pictures of you?”

“I don’t take pictures fully clothed.”

“All the better.” He took a swig from his refilled glass in an attempt to forget the image of her, nude, that continued to pop into his head.

“You talk a good game, cowboy, but you couldn’t handle me.”

“You know, you keep saying that, yet you’ve given me no reason to think I can’t.”

“No reason but the apparent.”

“Which is?”

She swirled the clear liquid around in her glass before answering. “Fear.”

“Excuse me.”

“Fear. You should be afraid, cowboy.”

“Of you?” He shook his head and downed his shot. Without waiting for her to complete her hostess duties, he filled the glass himself.

“Yes, of me. Me and the power of the black vagina. Don’t you know the saying, ‘Once you go black, you never go back’? If you get one taste me of me, it will change your life forever. I’m talking wedding rings, babies, hair grease in your bathroom cabinet, and a silk hair cloth on the bedside table. Life-altering things here. You’re just lucky I’m strong of will and mind, buddy, or you’d be in some serious trouble.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. Tamara was certifiable. “What? I’m serious. Just look at your boy, Ty. He’s head over heels for Charlotte.”

“And that’s because she’s black, not because she’s Charlotte?”

“Well, there’s that too, but you know white boys like black girls.” Russell was beginning to see why. “It’s just fact. Look at your boy, Christian. He wanted me to go for a ride on his horse. I’m not talking about the four-legged one, either.”

“First, Christian is not now, nor will he ever be my boy. Second—wait, I don’t have a second. He’s not my boy.” He needed her to understand that point very clearly. There was nothing connecting him and Christian but Sandra, and she didn’t really count. “By the way, I wouldn’t ride his horse if I were you.”

“That’s good to know.” She laughed.

“That’s not what I meant.” He flushed.

“Sure it wasn’t. Woo.” Tamara looked down at the shot glass in her hand for a second before carefully setting it down. “If I keep on drinking like this, I won’t be able to take a picture.”

“That’s okay with me.”

“Nice try, cowboy, but I’m not letting go of you that easy.”

He was of two minds about her comment, pleased to know she was interested in having him around, although not so happy for the purpose.

“Take a seat on the stool.” Tamara gestured to the chair. “I’m going to talk you through the first few shots. We’re not going to do anything fancy or too overposed. I just want you. Natural. I’d also like to get some photos of you working around your place”—when he opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand—“but if you don’t feel comfortable with that, Ty’s already agreed to let me photograph him. He also said he’d talk to some of his hands to see if they’d be okay with me taking pictures of them.”

Well, shit. Now that Ty had agreed, Russell couldn’t very well bitch and moan at him. That bastard. “Let’s just see how these go.”

“Fair enough,” she said as she walked around the island and over to the tripod. After bending down to check something, she stood and gestured for him to have a seat. “I’m ready when you are.”

A sense of dread filled Russell when he looked at the camera. No matter how much he’d had to drink, he was beginning to realize he was never going to be
ready
. But a deal was a deal. “Where do you want me?”

“Is that a trick question?” Her playful response stopped him in his tracks. She was cruising, all right. And if she kept this up, he was going to feel a strong need to prove her wrong. “Just teasing. Have a seat and we’ll work from there.”

Before picking up the camera, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small remote control, then pointed it at a stereo system in the corner. Soft, bluesy music poured out of the speakers and filled the room. The music, although mellow, only managed to make him more nervous, something that, from her low chuckle, must have been more than obvious.

“Relax, cowboy, and tell me about your ranch.”

“My ranch?”

“Yeah, what are your plans for it?” As she talked, she began to take pictures. Posing he knew nothing about, but talking about his home, was something he could do. He settled back on the stool, hooking his fingers into his belt loops, and answered her questions.

While they talked, Tamara continued taking pictures. She was casual at first, simply snapping away from different angles, all the while keeping the conversation as smooth as it had been on the ride to Ty’s. Her informality put him at ease, and after a few minutes, the alcohol kicked in, and he began to relax. A bit. It was hard to be completely comfortable knowing she was capturing his every move, but it wasn’t as bad as he initially made it to be.

He couldn’t help but think it was the photographer, though, that made the situation palatable. As he became used to her and the camera, Tamara became more instructional, coaching him through moves and stances.

“Russell, why don’t you loosen the top buttons on your shirt?” she asked in a casual way.

Okay
. That was a bit surprising. Russell glanced down at his shirt, then back up at her. “How many?”

She moved the camera down so he could see her laughing eyes. From the silly, loose grin that drifted across her lips, Russell began to wonder if he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the tequila. “All of them. But leave the shirt on. I’m going to turn the fan on low so it will rustle it a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see your sexy chest.”

“Sexy?”

“Oh yeah.” She walked over to a small fan and turned it on, before turning around to face him once more. “Now don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not shy. I just think you’re taking an awful big chance that I actually have a nice chest.” He unloosed the buttons and slowly pulled his shirt from his jeans. She moved around him, snapping more pictures. Russell felt like a piece of meat on display, yet titillated, all at the same time. “For all you know, I could have manboobs of Meatloaf proportions.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

As she moved back for a moment, the fan caught the edge of his shirt, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

“Meatloaf never looked like this.” For the first time this evening, Tamara wasn’t smirking. Her gaze ran rampant over his exposed skin. Her eyes had become heavy-lidded as she continued to stare. She licked her lips, and Russell had to push down the urge to lean forward and explore her mouth with his own. He knew when a woman was interested in him, and Tamara was, without a doubt, and he was interested right back.

“You think?” His voice was thick with desire.

“Oh yeah…” Tamara cleared her throat and shook her head for a moment as if trying to wake herself from a daze. “Umm…let’s get started, shall we?”

Started, hell, he was already out the gate, and from the hungry way she watched him, Russell was willing to bet his ranch Tamara was too.

“It’s getting a bit hot in here,” she said as she walked back to the camera. Her hips swayed with every step, drawing his attention to her full, thick ass.

Oh no, it wasn’t getting hot. It already was hot.

Chapter Six

Somewhere along the line, Tamara stopped taking pictures for her show and started taking pictures for herself. The original idea she’d conceived was The Cowboy in the New Millennium, but the second Russell opened his shirt, she started shooting Hot, Sexy Man in Her Apartment. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was just as sexy.

Moving away from the tripod, she circled him like a lion circled its prey, photographing him at every conceivable angle she could. She got up close, then moved far away, taking time to focus on his entire frame, then edging closer to get just the circled areolas of his nipples. Gone from her mind were images of him as a cowboy; she could only focus on the fact that he was a red-blooded man, with a body built for sin.

After a few minutes of silent movements, her camera clicked loudly, alerting her to the fact she had used all of her memory space. Irritated at being interrupted, Tamara took a deep breath, lowered the camera from her eye, and stepped away from Russell.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as she moved her head from side to side to work out the kinks.

“Nothing. Memory’s full. I have to download the pictures I have.”

“Are we done, then?”

As if she was going to let him go that easily. “Not even close. Just taking a little break.” Tamara walked over to her computer and plugged in her camera. “You want to grab something to drink? It only takes a few minutes.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Yes, you are
. As she watched the screen flicker briefly with every shot she’d taken, she smiled with pride. These were going to turn out wonderful.

“From the way you’re smiling, I’d say you like what you see.”

“In more than one way.” She glanced back at him, trying to put a teasing hint in her voice. This would work out so much better if she kept him off guard. If he was too busy laughing and smiling at her jokes, he wouldn’t be able to detect the truth in her words. “The camera loves you.”

“I think you’re just talented.”

“That too.”

As she continued to watch the pictures load onto the computer, she was struck with inspiration. “I’ll be right back.” Before he could respond she sprinted to the bathroom, grabbed her bottle of baby oil, and returned to his side.

“What’s that for?”

She smiled and reached up, slipped his shirt from his shoulders with an ease she didn’t recognize. “I thought we could oil you up for the next set of shots. Not so much that you look like some stripping beefcake, but just enough to give you a slight glimmer.”

Instead of the protest she half expected, he helped her take off his shirt and stood silently before her. Popping open the top, she poured a small amount of oil into her hands and let it warm for a moment before touching him. Her fingers glided over the toned and taut muscles of his chest as she began to rub in the oil. Moving lower, her fingers skated across his abdominal muscles. When his body jerked in reaction, she stepped back in shock. Oh my God, she’d been feeling him up like he was her own personal boy toy.

“Um, let me just wash my hands, and we can start.” She rushed into the kitchen to clean her hands and wipe them dry.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” She was more than ready. Returning to the living room, she hefted her camera, covering her face from his piercing gaze.

“Could you unbutton your jeans, just like you might have just pulled them on?”

“Unbutton…”

Even as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Despite all her teasing earlier, she had no intention of asking him to disrobe, mainly because she knew she would like it way too much. Why, then, did she just open her mouth and do the one thing she said she wasn’t going to do? She was losing her damned mind, that’s why. And it was all Russell’s and her libido’s fault. The way her hormones were taking over, one might think she’d never photographed a handsome man before. Then again, there was handsome, and there was ride-your-washing machine-until-you-come-screaming-hallelujah handsome, which Russell was. Fuck it. If he was willing, she was going to ask. “Yes. Unbutton.”

Russell slowly unbuttoned his pants before lowering the zipper down a tooth or two.

Her mouth went dry as he parted his pants. “Perfect. Stay just like that.” Tamara snapped away, trying to capture every emotion flittering across his face. She wondered how far he would be willing to go, and how far she wanted to go, all the while not deviating from clicking away with the camera.

“Lower your zipper a little farther…” Russell did so, but unfortunately rather than seeing more mouthwatering flesh as she’d hoped, dark material came into view instead. “Well, shit.” Talk about a mood breaker.

“What?” He froze in midact.

“Can you tuck your boxers down a bit in your pants? They’re showing through, and I think it would look a lot hotter if we made it look as if you weren’t wearing any.” Hotter for her at least.

“No male in their right mind would go riding in jeans without any underwear on.”

He was trying to be logical. How male of him. “This isn’t about the male mind. It’s about the female one. And we like cowboys commando-style.”

“Co—what?”

“Sans boxers.”

“This is stupid.” He frowned. “I’m telling you, if you’re wrestling a bull or riding for a long time, you want to make sure your boys are tucked up against you.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” She was not going to let him mess up her fantasy, damn it. Tamara set her camera back on the tripod and walked over to him. “You don’t really have to take them off. Just tuck them in like this.”

“Wait.”

“Just look.” Without thinking, Tamara pressed her hand down his pants, trying to move his boxers out of the way. Unfortunately, soft material wasn’t the only thing she touched. Her fingers brushed against his rigid cock, stilling her movements as nothing else would have. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he said drily.

This was one of those awkward moments she was forever getting herself into by barreling in first, asking questions later. Frozen, hand still in his pants, she wondered what to do. At last check, Emily Post didn’t have a rule of etiquette on what to do after you molest the object of your desires. “Umm…” Nervous now, she took in a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent in the process. Damn. This was a really bad time to notice how good he smelled.

“Tamara?” His voice was low and smooth.

“Yes?” she replied, barely able to get the word past her parched lips.

“Do you want to move your hand?”

“Want?” Now that was the question of the hour. “Okay.” She turned her hand, but instead of removing it from his pants, brushed her finger back and forth along his ever-hardening cock.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Oh.” Still she didn’t remove her hand. She was too close to heaven now to agree to go back to hell.

Russell let out a deep chuckle that had her knees trembling and her pussy flooding with cream. “Let me rephrase. I’m going to count to three, and by the time I get to three, if you haven’t removed your hand, I’m going to assume that you know exactly what you’re doing.”

He could assume right. “One. Two.”

“Three,” she said, finishing for him. The words had barely passed her lips when she was hauled into Russell’s arms. One hand was on her ass as he pulled her tightly against him, pressing his erection, and her trapped hand, into her soft belly. Without any gentle exploration, his mouth descended to hers. Much like the man himself, his kiss was anything but soft and easy. To put it quite simply, he took her breath away. Just when she thought she’d never get enough of his sweet lips, he broke away from her mouth and pulled back a bit. “We on the same page here?”

“Oh yeah, but just to be fair, if you get addicted, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Consider me warned.” He drew her close to him once more, this time moving his lips lower to her neck.

She tilted her head to the side as he kissed the sensitive area of her collarbone. Holding on tight to him, she trembled under the feeling of his wind-roughened lips. “I…have…another prop I want you to look…at.” Tamara was having a difficult time talking. A first for her.

Russell’s teeth grazed her skin before he kissed his way up her neck to the soft shell of her ear. “What’s that?” His voice was thick with desire.

“My bed.”

“It’s about time. Lead the way.”

Although she didn’t want to leave the circle of his arms, she didn’t want to fuck him here in her studio when a comfortable bed was only a few feet away. She stepped back and smiled seductively before taking his hand and leading him down the hall.

Never before had Tamara been grateful for her lack of space, but tonight, the tiny apartment was heaven-sent. She didn’t want to wait a second longer than she had to, to get him in her arms. Once they were in the bedroom, her hands picked up where they’d left off earlier, deep inside his open pants. She cupped his erection as best she could, desperate to feel his rigid length sans clothes. When the tight denim didn’t budge, she growled low in her throat and pulled her hand out. “Off.”

“Greedy much?” he teased as he dropped onto the bed and pulled off his cowboy boots. Once he was barefooted, he stood and moved his hands to his hips, pushing at the waistband of his jeans, until they slid down his lean hips. Tamara took a step back to enjoy the view of the very muscular man standing before her dressed only in his boxers and a wicked seductive smile. Right now, Tamara would have given her right arm for her camera, especially when her gaze ran across the very large bulge in his boxer briefs.

She could feel his heated gaze on her as he kicked off his pants, but hers was fixated on the one area still covered. “Maybe I’m not the one who should be warned about being ad-dick-ted.” His cocky words brought her gaze up.

“You think you have what it takes?”

He cocked a brow as he pushed his underwear down and off. Unable to resist the draw, Tamara lowered her gaze once more, taking in her first view of his thick stalk. “Oh.” The word came out more like a whisper than an exclamation.

“I think I might.”

She blinked up at him, realizing he was answering her earlier challenge. This war of words was too much for her brain right now. She needed him, now. Grasping the hem of her shirt, she pulled it over her head and stood proudly before him. A size 6 she wasn’t—heck, she wasn’t even a size 12—but she wasn’t going to cower and hide her full frame. If Russell was going to make love with her, then he needed to see exactly what treasure he was about to delve into. From the way his eyes smoldered, she could tell he wasn’t disappointed by what he saw, and if she had any doubts, they were quickly squashed by his next words.

“Beautiful.” Russell moved closer to her and lowered his head to the full crest of an exposed breast and lightly ran his lips over bared flesh, as he worked his hands quickly behind her back to unbuckle her bra. He paused long enough to mutter, “Let me help.”

Under his masterful ministrations the bra quickly came undone and soon hit the floor. Her breasts weren’t bare for long, though. Russell wasted no time cupping her full, heavy mounds in his hands. Her nipples hardened under his touch, something he ardently took in as he looked on with pride.

Tamara closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Who would have thought you were a breast man?”

Smiling, Russell moved his hands down and around to her ass to give it a good squeeze. “I’m an everything man.”

“Then I guess it’s good for you that I have a lot of everything to offer you.”

“Damn straight and there’s no time like the present.” As he talked, Russell reached down and unfastened her shorts, lowering her zipper. Hooking his fingers into the cloth, he pulled the denim down her legs, bringing her cotton panties along for the ride. When they puddled around her ankles, she kicked them, along with her panties, off her feet.

Once free of her clothing, she sat on her bed and scooted back until she was leaning against the headboard. She crooked her finger at him and gestured for him to come to her.

“I have a better idea.” Russell climbed up on the bed, grabbed her legs, and pulled until she was lying on her back. Laughing, Tamara tried to sit up, but was waylaid by Russell, who pressed her back down. “Where are you going? Stay still.”

“Damn, you’re bossy.”

“And you love it.” Before she could utter another comeback, Russell parted her legs, kneeling between them. He moved his hands down her body slowly, caressing her heated flesh as if he was familiarizing himself with every inch of her body. It wasn’t a smooth downward motion, because she had curves, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. When he came to the apex of her legs, he pressed her thighs farther apart and lowered his mouth to the juncture of her sex. Then slowly began to show her that his mouth wasn’t good for just quips.

Much to Tamara’s orgasmic delight, he teased and lapped at her pussy as if it was the last supper. His talented tongue quickly had her body trembling and her pussy aching to be filled with his shaft. Tamara arched her back and gasped. Damn, he was good at getting in the last word.

With a guttural groan, she buried her fingers in his silky straight hair and tried to bring him closer to her overheated sex. She wanted to come so bad, she could taste it. “Please,” she begged, out of her body with pleasure. “Please.”

And just like that, he answered her prayer, sucking hard on her sensitive clit. She came, screaming his name, from an intense orgasm that wrung her out. Whimpering, she released her death grip on his hair and tried grabbing the quilt instead. She held on with all her might as her body rocked with aftershocks. “That was…amazing.”

“Just wait, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, as he moved off the bed.

“God.” If this was just the appetizer, Tamara wasn’t sure if she had room for the whole damned meal.

This wasn’t what he’d been expecting when he’d hesitated to knock on her door just an hour or so ago. Not that he was complaining. After the brief taste he had of her, he wasn’t willing to leave tonight until he had his full measure. And thankfully, she seemed to feel the same way.

As he slipped his bottoms to the floor, Tamara watched him with hungry eyes. Her intense stare only added fuel to his desire. Russell couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with so much naked passion. It fed his ego, making him feel as if he could soar. Russell couldn’t wait to sink his cock deep within her pussy. Of course, thinking of fucking her brought home a very real fact. He didn’t have a condom. He never had sex without one, so either they were about to be real creative or real unhappy. “I didn’t bring anything.”