The blindfold was the last to go

The blindfold was the last to go. Adunbi’s fingers were at the back of her head, untying the knot. The velvet strip loosened, and light—soft, golden, from what looked like salt lamps—flooded her vision. She blinked, her eyes watering, trying to focus.

She was on a low, wide bench padded with black leather. The room was his study, she realized, but transformed. The desk was pushed against the wall, the bookshelves dim. The lamps cast everything in long, sensual shadows. And standing before her, dressed only in low-slung grey sweatpants, was Adunbi.

Her breath caught. Not at his nudity—she’d seen him naked countless times since childhood, in baths, showers, lazy mornings—but at the evidence. His cock, now soft but still impressively thick, lay against his thigh, glistening with her wetness. A streak of milky white smeared near the base. His. Inside her. The sight sent a fresh, hot pulse through her spent core.

Her gaze flicked to Quivina, who sat perched on the edge of the large, plush bed that had been moved into the center of the room. She wore a silk kimono, deep red, hanging open to reveal the lush, magnificent curves of her body. Her deep brown skin glowed in the low light, full breasts swaying gently, nipples dark and peaked against the silk. Her expression was one of tender, predatory curiosity.

“There she is,” Quivina smiled, patting the space beside her. “Come here, Osa. Let’s get you warm.”