“Anyway,” Sin went on, “I’ll let you get back to your husband.”

  Oh. Right. Him. Her husband.

  Of course.

  Sin’s eyes lingered on her face, her lips, and then traveled over the curve of her hips. He pulled in his bottom lip. Then he said, “I bet you taste like honey,” before licking his lips.

  And then he winked, before disappearing behind a wall of frosted glass, leaving Brenda nearly panting and her panties sopping wet.

  Tonight, she’d have to give Roselle some pussy after all.

  Maybe.

  Five

  It was nearly two a.m. when Krista heard what sounded like whimpers as she stepped out of the bathroom. She thought her ears might have been playing tricks on her. But then she heard the whimpers again. Someone had to be in the other bathroom across from the one she’d used, crying.

  There went the muffled sounds again.

  Krista thought to knock on the door, but stopped herself.

  No. Whatever was going on behind that door was none of her business. But then she heard grunting and what sounded like a low groan. So, the nosey part of who she was got the best of her and she quietly placed her ear flush to the door, and listened.

  No, no. They were cries of pleasure emanating from behind the door.

  Her eyes widened. And a hand went up to her chest.

  Lord Jesus . . .

  Nasty-ass heathens.

  “Ooh, yes. Fuck me. Mmm. Oh, yes. God yes . . . your dick is so big . . . yes, yes, yessss . . .”

  Krista blinked.

  Those nasty fools were in there fucking. But who could it be, she wondered. She flipped through her memory. When she’d gotten up to use the bathroom and freshen up, she’d walked by that loudmouth woman (she’d introduced herself earlier in the flight, but Krista couldn’t remember for the life of her, her name. All she knew was, it was ghetto!), stretched out beneath a quilt; her chair-turned-bed now the resting place for her snore-fest.

  Krista was glad someone could sleep on this aircraft. Luxurious or not, she was so over this flying shit. Sixteen hours and twenty-three minutes on somebody’s jet was a whole lot more than she imagined it to be. She’d traded in the book she’d been reading for the first few hours of the flight for her Bible, clutching it most of time, praying that she’d be able to make it through the remaining hours. Yes. They’d been in the air for more than ten hours already. And, although the accommodations were plush and the service was phenomenal, she was over it all already.

  So, when she sat up from her bed and decided to shower and use the bathroom before everyone else awoke, she hadn’t expected there to be much activity at this time of the night. Aside from Isaiah sitting up on the sofa (still awake!) watching some racy Showtime movie, she’d imagined everyone else would be asleep.

  So it had to be that thick-hipped woman, Brenda, who sat up closer toward the cockpit, with that light-skinned husband of hers. With his long lashes and all that pretty hair, he was simply too fine for Krista’s taste. She liked her men handsome, but they had to have rugged, manly features. But that one there was a pretty boy in every sense of the word. And obviously a real nasty one judging by what she was overhearing, although muffled.

  “Yeah, baby. This dick feels so fucking good in that deep, wet pussy . . . aaah, shit. That’s right . . . throw that pussy up on this dick . . . aaah, yeah, baby . . . just like that. Fuck this dick . . . make that shit disappear. I knew you had some good pussy . . .”

  Krista pressed the whole side of her face against the crack of the door to get a better listen. She squinted an eye and concentrated.

  “Mmm, yes. You like this pussy, daddy?”

  “Fuck yeah. It’s so fuckin’ creamy, baby . . . mmm, fuck . . .” He began pumping into her hard, nearly frantic. He felt his nut building, yet he was determined to hold out until her she came again.

  “Ooh, yes, yes, yes . . . you’re gonna make my pussy cum . . . ooh, yes . . .”

  “Yeah, baby. Cum all over this hard dick, so I can bust this nut before my wife wakes up . . .”

  Krista’s lashes rapidly fluttered. And then her jaw dropped again.

  Wait.

  What the . . .?

  On the other side of the bathroom door, LaLani was holding onto the handholds over the toilet with her skimpy black dress bunched up over her hips and her black lacy thong pulled to the side as Roselle’s condom-covered dick slid in and out of the back of her wet, pink hole. Her pussy lips flared open and sucked at his shaft with each pulsing thrust.

  Ooh, he had some good damn dick.

  If he fucked his wife’s cunt as good as he was fucking hers—whew, yes, God. Have mercy on her horny soul—then LaLani knew his wife was one happy, well-fucked woman.

  She arched her back and reached in back of her, pulling open one ass cheek, giving Roselle more access, his dick slicing in and out of her wetness. She loved fucking the men who boarded The Pleasure Chest. Horny men, unhappily fucked men, cheating men all en route, with their partners, to Passion Island to work on their failing relationships/marriages.

  There was always one on every flight. And her pussy stayed ready. After all, that’s what she was here for. Pleasure. That’s what she got paid to do. To feed their passions. To cater to the whims of passengers. To quench their thirst for sordid, uninhibited pleasure.

  Roselle grabbed her hips, and watched his dick disappear inside the depths of LaLani’s silken valley. Fuck yeah. The pussy was good.

  “Aaah, yes, yes,” Lalani murmured. “Give it to me, harder, harder . . .”

  Krista couldn’t believe what she was hearing on the other side of the door. Lord, that man was a hot mess. Cheating-ass dog. She was so glad she wasn’t married to that.

  She wondered if his wife knew about his scandalous ass. Mmph. She probably did. She shook her head in disgust. Dumb-ass women staying with a cheating-ass man!

  There was no way she’d ever tolerate Kendall cheating on her. She’d leave his ass in a heartbeat. This plane was filled with negative energy, she thought as she kept her ear pressed to the door. Lord God. She needed to burn some sage to purify the air.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, baby . . .” Roselle was on the verge of an orgasm. “Here it comes . . . aaaah, yeah . . .” And then a guttural sound escaped him as the walls of LaLani’s velvety cunt clutched his dick, massaging his condom-sheathed shaft as his semen, hot and thick, shot out of his body like lava.

  Krista’s breath hitched.

  “Can I help you find something—or someone?” asked a sultry voice in back of her.

  Krista jumped, startled.

  It was Mocha.

  Krista’s face flushed, embarrassment spreading through her like a bacterial infection. She suddenly felt sick. She hadn’t expected to be listening for as long as she had been. And now she’d been caught with her ear pressed up against the bathroom door. Caught lurking like some, some, uh, well . . . she couldn’t think what to call it. But she was sure there was some twisted word for what she’d been caught doing, something dirtier than eavesdropping.

  Pervert. Deviant.

  “No, no. I, um,” Krista stammered. She averted Mocha’s curious gaze and the sly smirk that curled her luscious lips. Brenda straightened her body. Smoothed a hand down the front of her shirt. Then she simply stated, “I thought I’d heard someone crying.”

  Mocha’s brow furrowed, and then she smiled like a woman with a secret. “Does it still sound like crying?”

  Love cries. That’s what they’d been.

  Krista’s stomach tightened.

  “No. I was mistaken.”

  “Would you like something to calm your nerves?” Mocha asked, feigning concern. “You seem a bit shaken.” She stifled a giggle. “Shall I bring you some Advil? A sedative? A shot of something wet?”

  The way the words something wet rolled off Mocha’s lips made Krista feel dirty.

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Mocha smiled as Krista quickly made a beeline back to the front of the private aircraft. When she returned to her bed, Krista quickly crawled back under the thousand-count Egyptian sheets woven with 22k gold thread. She couldn’t even enjoy the way the exquisite linen felt against her skin.

  Fucking, fucking, fucking. She was surrounded by sexual energy. From the soft porn that played on the large flat-screen to the half-naked attendants, this plane was a den of iniquity. It was the breeding ground for sin.

  Krista shuddered. She could only imagine what lied in wait for her once they landed. She reached for her Bible beneath the pillow, and closed her eyes.

  My Father who art in heaven . . .

  Six

  LaQuandra rewarded her palate with a long swallow of some of the best champagne she’d ever tasted and pulled up the window shade.

  It was eight a.m., and the sun’s rays were already slicing through the clouds. The captain had finally announced that the plane was preparing for its descent.

  Thank God.

  This shit was almost over. It hadn’t been a bad flight. In fact, LaQuandra had found it quite exciting, being surrounded by so much lavishness. Still, she was ready to land already. The farthest she’d ever been was the Bahamas. And she’d been there twice.

  She’d always wanted to travel more. See more. But Isaiah seemed to always have an excuse as to why they couldn’t afford getaways. They both made good damn money. Between her salary as a principal for a private boys school and Isaiah’s job as an IT manager, combined they grossed close to a hundred-and-fifty grand.

  So there was no reason why they couldn’t travel more. She didn’t expect anything lavish, just a yearly trip—somewhere. Anywhere. But Isaiah’s cheap-penny-pinching-ass would rather drive down to Baltimore harbor or Busch Gardens with his bastard son—Lord, help her—in tow rather than spend any quality time with her—alone.

  But she wasn’t going to let her mind take her there. She was grateful for this all-expenses-paid trip, and the fact that Isaiah and her would finally be alone, away from distractions, like his son and his ghetto-ass baby mother.

  Goddamn it.

  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t give thought to that bitch while she was away, and already that trashy whore was invading her headspace. She couldn’t get away from her. Everywhere she turned, that bitch was there.

  Haunting her. Stalking her. Tormenting her. Stealing what was hers.

  Her man.

  His dick.

  And probably his heart, too.

  Isaiah always vehemently denied being in love with that trifling bitch, and LaQuandra wanted so desperately to believe him. But Cassandra had given him a child—a son—something she still had been unable to do.

  And there was no way she could ever compete with that.

  She sighed, shaking the thought from her mind before she ended up throwing her flute across the aircraft. She’d gulp down the rest of her drink, first, though.

  Wasting good liquor was a no-no.

  She took another sip of her drink as she forced her attention back to the panoramic window view. She caught a teasing glimpse of the most beautiful turquoise water she’d ever seen. It nearly stole her breath as she soaked it in.

  She sighed, then glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Isaiah as he sat on the sofa in the same spot she’d seen him sitting last night before she’d finally dozed off.

  She’d already showered and had had her breakfast in the dining area with Brenda way before the sun’s rays pierced through the sky. The two of them had been able to get acquainted. Brenda seemed nice enough. A bit braggadocious for her liking, though. My salon this, my salon that, but LaQuandra had managed to smile and nod and push through breakfast while Brenda prattled on about her ambitions to open more salons across the Tri-State Area. She’d been kind enough to invite her to her salon for a free mani-and-pedi when they returned to the States.

  LaQuandra, however, didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was loyal to Nappy No More body and hair salon, so she most likely wouldn’t see the inside of Brenda’s salon to get her hands and feet done. Still, LaQuandra had thanked her for the kind invitation.

  Isaiah walked over, pulling LaQuandra from her thoughts. Mmph. He’d finally made his way back to his seat after staying up all goddamned night doing only God knew what. LaQuandra rolled her eyes.

  “Were you on the phone with that bitch all night?” LaQuandra said to him.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Isaiah said, glaring at her. No. He hadn’t called Cassandra. In fact, he hadn’t even touched his phone. He’d sat up most of the night indulging himself on the continuous porn movies that had been showing on the television. Soft porn. However, it was still capable of making his dick hard.

  He’d been tempted several times through the night to walk back here and brush the head of his dick over LaQuandra’s lips until she opened her mouth for a feeding. But his pride and the fact that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to remain married to her had stopped him from busting his nut in her throat. So he’d bust a quick round in the bathroom, then eventually fell asleep on the sofa.

  When he’d awaken this morning, he found himself under a blanket someone had covered him with sometime in the middle of the night. Surprisingly, with only a few hours of sleep, he’d slept like a baby.

  “I’ve been over here not even four seconds, and you’re already on your shit.” Isaiah shook his head. His first thought was to snap on her. She wanted confrontation, then motherfuck, he was going to give it to her ass. But then he glanced around the aircraft’s cabin and decided to let it go.

  He leaned in, and then took her drink from her hand. “You’ve had enough.” She opened her mouth to say something and he shot her a hot glare. “You heard what the fuck I said.”

  She stared at Isaiah as he raised her flute to his lips and guzzled down the rest of her champagne. Bastard! She felt her cold pussy suddenly heating. She needed some attention given to the slow-throb pulsing between her legs. Right now. Her thirsty, wilting pussy needed a burst of Isaiah’s man cream to coat its walls. God, yes, she needed her pussy stuffed with his dick. This was so goddamn ridiculous—him not fucking her.

  “Please take your seat, Mr. Lewis,” LaLani said, interrupting LaQuandra’s sordid thoughts. The color of her hip-hugging dress was now a crimson red. And her shade of lipstick matched perfectly. “And secure your seatbelt. We’re preparing for landing.”

  Isaiah couldn’t help but smile at the flight attendant as he complied. She was a stunner, for sure. Aside from fucking his BM from time to time, he’d never cheated on LaQuandra with any other woman. But if the opportunity presented itself, he thought, he’d slide his dick deep in her cunt and fuck her lights out.

  LaQuandra eyed Isaiah. Then LaLani. Then Isaiah again.

  She noticed the gleam in his eyes as he grinned at LaLani. And suddenly the slow throb in her pussy went still. She bit her tongue from going off on him. She felt hurt and disrespected. Again. But right now wasn’t the time to dredge all that up. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to curse him the hell out, maybe even lay hands on him, for treating her so fucked up. That’s exactly what he needed, she reasoned. Her nails slicing open his goddamn skin.

  She sighed.

  Yes. Shit definitely needed to change between her and Isaiah or she was sure she’d be going to jail for murdering him in his sleep.

  Frustrated, she pressed her legs shut and turned her attention back to the window. All she saw was miles and miles of clear blue water. And right in the center of it all was a heart-shaped island—three-thousand acres of languorously leaning palms and powder-soft sands, but she couldn’t even enjoy the view.

  Her mind was on Isaiah.

  And her aching cunt.

  Seven

  “Welcome to Passion Island,” said a long-lashed woman with doe-shaped eyes and skin the color of rich creamy fudge as she took the circular stage. She was dressed in a long, chic white dress with billowy sleeves and scalloped neckline. Her hair was cropped stylishly short and framed her oval-shaped face perfectly.

  Red lipstick made her sumptuous lips pop.

  She was obnoxiously pretty. Effortlessly.

  Her gaze swept over the couples. “I am Dr. Gretchen Dangerfield. And for the next six weeks, you will embark on a journey like no other. One that will, hopefully, tantalize your senses, tempt your libidos. Indulge your desires. And stretch your imaginations to newer heights.”

  Brenda grinned. She was all for trying new things, and she was so looking forward to the experience.

  “During your stay, you will be tested, challenged, and dared,” Dr. Dangerfield continued. “As your packets stated, you will be put through a series of relationship building exercises and be required to participate in individual, couples, and even group sessions.” She paused.

  “Are there any questions so far?” Dr. Dangerfield asked the couples.

  Roselle’s gaze roamed all over her body, trying to imagine what was underneath her dress. Thong or G-string? That was his question.

  Yeah, baby, Roselle thought, can I kiss your pussy lips? He licked his lips as he imagined her sweet chocolate pussy opened, wet and ready for the taking. He could almost see its pretty pink center glistening. Fuck, yeah. He’d siphon the juices out of her cunt, swirl his tongue all up in her. I bet she tastes good as fuck. He felt his dick thicken and had to force himself to look away, before he ended up with a full erection.

  As if on cue, Brenda glanced over at Roselle. He glanced back and winked, then placed his hand on the inside of her thigh.

  Sneaky bastard was probably thinking about fucking her, Brenda thought, peering down at his lap. She thought to grab his crotch to verify if his dick was hard or not, but decided against it. Let him fantasize. Brenda had a few fantasies of her own. None of which included him or her.

  Brenda turned her attention back to Dr. Dangerfield just as Krista raised her hand.

  “Yes. I have a question.” Kendall looked over at his wife, and braced himself. “Why exactly do we need six weeks here? I mean, six weeks seems like an awful long time.”