Layover Tease: Her Black Stranger Finally Claims Her

Chloe shifted in the stiff lounge chair, the low hum of the international terminal pressing against her like a dull headache. Twenty-eight, married six years, business suit still crisp from the morning flight that had dumped her here for an eight-hour delay. Her phone sat face-down on the table. Texts from her husband could wait. She crossed her legs, the silk of her blouse pulling tight across her full tits, and scanned the room out of boredom that was already turning restless.

That was when she saw him.

Malik stood near the window, six-foot-four of solid Black muscle filling out a dark travel shirt and slacks that did nothing to hide the thick outline of his thighs. Thirty-two, easy confidence in the way he rolled his shoulders and checked the departure board. Their eyes locked. His were dark, assessing, and he didn’t look away. Chloe felt the first hot pulse between her legs, the forbidden kind that made her wedding band feel suddenly heavy on her finger. She held his gaze a beat too long, then let her lips curve in a small, shameless smile.

He walked over. No hesitation.