I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE THAT'S READING THIS BOOK,COLLEGE HAS BEEM HECTIC LATELY AND HENCE MY WRITING SCHEDULE HAS BEEN MESSES UP! PLEASE I DO APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY.
The next day, Brenda was setting the table with Mrs. Curtis. Potatoes, turkey, and pasta sprinkled with parsley were laid out neatly, filling the kitchen with warmth and aroma.
"Smells like Thanksgiving in here!" Mr. Curtis announced as he walked in.
"Where's Christian?" Brenda asked, peering over her papa's shoulder.
"Relax, he drove to the store!" Mr. Curtis dropped into a chair. The two women stared at him until he sighed. "He went to buy some beer!"
"Papa!" Brenda scolded.
"What? I didn't send him," Mr. Curtis said, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. "I just said it's hot and something cold would do!"
"You know you aren't supposed to be drinking. You indirectly sent him," Mrs. Curtis snapped, grabbing him by the ear.
"Nana! Let him go, you're hurting him!" Brenda rushed to her papa's rescue.
Mrs. Curtis released him just as Christian walked in, a six-pack of beer in hand.
Brenda marched over and snatched it from him. Christian bent down to kiss her, but she pulled her head back, denying him.
"Around here, you don't bring alcohol," she said, pointing at her papa. "He's not supposed to take any of this."
She placed the beer on the counter.
"But he told me—"
"What did I tell you?" Mr. Curtis cut in quickly. "He's trying to implicate me!"
"You see? He'll bail on you," Brenda chuckled.
"I didn't expect Mr. Curtis to turn on me that soon," Christian laughed, pulling out a chair.
They all sat, held hands, said grace, and dug in.
"This is delicious, Mrs. Curtis—really tasty!" Christian said between mouthfuls.
"Thank you. Would you like some more?"
Christian nodded.
Mrs. Curtis passed the bowl to Brenda. "Dish out for him."
Brenda obliged.
"Did you know Brenda bakes?" Mr. Curtis added casually.
"Brenda? Bake?" Christian asked, clearly intrigued.
"She's very good—especially pastries," Mrs. Curtis said proudly.
Christian looked at Brenda with fresh admiration, sinking even deeper.
After dinner, Christian and Brenda cleared the plates.
"Maybe one day," Christian murmured, stepping behind her and pressing his groin against her ass, "you could bake me something."
"Maybe," Brenda smiled, pushing him away.
VEGAS
Christian and Brenda were staying in one of the biggest hotels in Las Vegas—the Constantine Villa.
Christian sat on the bed wearing a vintage black long-sleeved shirt, black pants, and a silver chain resting against his chest. His hair was slicked back, sleek and shiny, one rebellious strand falling over his eye.
Brenda stepped out of the closet.
Christian's jaw dropped.
She looked like she'd just stepped out of a dorm room—but dangerous.
Silver heels. A silky, slightly loose silver mini dress. Her hair pulled into a high bun. Smoky eyes giving her a dark, femme edge. Her skin glistened.
Brenda walked up to him and whispered, "Enough gawking. Let's go." She winked.
Christian followed her, enjoying every second of the view.
When the elevator doors opened, Christian pulled her close and kissed her hard. His hand slid between her legs, creeping higher.
He broke the kiss. "No panties?"
Brenda nodded. Christian licked his lips.
She knew if she didn't redirect him, they'd be detouring for a quickie somewhere inappropriate.
"Are you sure you want to go to the strip club?" she asked. "I mean, I kind of coerced you. You can still change your mind."
"No," Christian said firmly. "I already agreed. But if it were up to me, I'd fuck you while everyone watches—so they know you're mine."
"A lot's going to go down tonight, babe," Brenda said, taking his hand. "You'd better be ready."
Inside the club, the first thing they saw was ass—ass and a lot of ass.
They bypassed the cheap dancers and headed straight to VIP.
A shirtless waiter appeared with a tray. "Tequila?" he asked Brenda, voice low.
Brenda winked and took two shots. Christian followed suit.
Soon, four female strippers surrounded them. One straddled Christian while the others ran their fingers through his hair. He laughed.
At first, Brenda didn't mind. It was fascinating—watching them compete for his attention.
Then a redhead reached down and grabbed Christian's groin.
He grunted.
Brenda stopped spraying cash and tossed it on the table instead.
Christian noticed her shift—and deliberately gave the women more access. He liked seeing her jealous.
Brenda signaled the waiter. More shots came—this time with a male stripper.
The man traced his fingers along Brenda's leg, straddled her, and started dry-humping. Brenda yelped, then laughed.
He lifted her chin.
"Uh-uh, boy," Brenda laughed. "My man will tear you apart if you keep that up."
She glanced sideways.
Christian wasn't enjoying this anymore.
His eyes had darkened—focused entirely on Brenda and the stripper.
Brenda ran her hands over the stripper's abs.
That was it.
Christian stood up, shoved the guy off her, and grabbed Brenda's arm.
"That's enough," he growled. "We're going back to our room."
"But we've only been here like an hour," Brenda protested, hand on her waist. "We came to Vegas to have a good time!"
"That wasn't a question. And it's not up for debate. Now."
Brenda didn't move. Just stared at him.
Christian pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around him—misreading the moment.
Without warning, he lifted her, wrapping her thighs around his waist, and started walking.
"Where are we going?" she asked, confused.
"Our room."
"Put me down!"
Silence.
She squirmed, trying to break free.
"Stay still," Christian warned in her ear. "If I drop you, you'll land ass-first on these cold tiles."
Brenda froze.