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  Dear Reader:

  What happens when two of the hottest and bestselling erotica authors team up? You get heat and more heat. The prolific Allison Hobbs and Cairo join forces with Sexual Healing for a fast-paced sexual journey of two lovers who by default end up on an unexpected romantic quest.

  Diva Arabia Knight, who has a penchant for married men and uninhibited pleasure, lives as an advertising entrepreneur by day and a freak by night as she peruses sex clubs. Cruze Fontaine, a former street thug turned suit-and-tie, carries dark secrets while maintaining his bachelor lifestyle with a wild desire for variety. The two connect and find that it’s more than passion between them as they fight the urges for a genuine relationship—something that has escaped them for years. Finally meeting their match, they become vulnerable and open each other’s eyes to limitless possibilities. They both take pride in their self-control but temptation leads to more than physical yearnings, a fact that is frightening but satisfying like they’ve never known.

  Get ready for the sizzling ride that’s sure to be one of summer’s steamiest reads.

  As always, thanks for supporting myself and the Strebor Books family. We strive to bring you the most cutting-edge, out-of-the-box material on the market. You can find me on Facebook @AuthorZane or you can email me at [email protected].

  Blessings,

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  “There is a force in the universe that can join together two vulnerable souls.

  And, in love, two hearts can find healing. And beat as one . . .”

  —ALLISON & CAIRO

  One

  Milk chocolate perfection, that’s what she was . . .

  Wet need stretched through her pussy in a slow-flowing river of heat as she stepped out of her Mercedes S600, handing her key fob to the tall, lanky, good-looking valet in his early twenties. Too young. But still worthy of a sly glance. Sure, she’d fuck him in a heartbeat had she’d been another type of woman, one smutty and unscrupulous. But he was just a horny boy in her eyes, one clearly mesmerized by her beauty. However, he wasn’t worthy to sniff her panties or lick around her cunt, so . . . no thank you.

  She needed someone old enough to know what to do with her and her never-ending curves. She needed a man who knew how to ride her body, and fuck her down into a mattress. She suspected the young valet would be a clumsy-fuck, at best.

  Still, it was flattering. His ogling, that was.

  A slight smile edged its way over her MAC-glossed lips as she caught his gaze sweeping over her body. Or maybe it was the backless dress with the plunging neckline—red, silky . . . and very clingy—that had him seemingly flustered, and stuttering out a hello. Whatever the case, she found him adorable.

  She slipped him a ten-dollar bill, then tucked her purse beneath her arm, and strutted toward her destination, her hips swaying, her ass bouncing, every which way. She felt her adrenaline surging through her veins as her strappy heels clicked over asphalt, then concrete, moving toward brick and mortar.

  Sublime pussy.

  That’s what Arabia Knight knew she had.

  Breath-taking.

  Heart-stopping.

  Toe-curling.

  Sweet, sticky slices of wet heaven that melted over a hard cock like warm honey. There was no mistaking it. Her juicy cunt was the crème de la crème. And she had a scandalously long list of lovers and past stalkers to prove it.

  And she had a few tricks between her smooth thighs that would drop a man to his knees, and have him eating out of the palms of her paraffin-soft hands. And she knew, the minute she slid down on his shaft, rolled her hips, and clamped her walls around his dick that he’d fall in love.

  They always did.

  Any time one of her many lovers cried out her name or sputtered out inaudible chants, she became keenly more aware, more empowered, more inspired. Each time her pussy spasmed, and she heard them call out to the heavens or whisper sweet nothings in her ear, she knew. Her pussy was some exclusive, platinum-plus-American-Express-Black-Card-type shit. She had to laugh to herself. Men never wanted to leave home without it. It was, what she liked to call it, that snap-trap pussy. Wet. Juicy. Steamy. Dick-clutching. Skin-sucking tight.

  And, tonight, she was looking to snap her trap around something good, something dangerously thick. She was a woman on a mission, a woman on the prowl. She’d worn the dress and sexy heels for one purpose and one purpose only: to seduce.

  Then get fucked.

  She always wore red when she wanted to be wild, when she wanted to fulfill her wanton urges. Tonight was the night. She was a huntress, on the hunt. She knew the drill. All she had to do was use her womanly wiles to lure her prey to her. Then strike.

  Luckily, she wasn’t on a hunting expedition for another lover this evening, just a one-night stand. So there’d be no need for formalities. Not at this establishment. Just hot, naughty—hopefully dirty—sex.

  Mmm, yes.

  This was a sex club. Her secret rendezvous place to lose herself to temptation.

  Sure she was engaged to . . . three different men.

  And?

  Monogamy had nothing to do with fulfilling her dark desires. She was a woman with insatiable needs. Needs her three lovers oftentimes fell short on fulfilling, which left her cunt weeping, aching, to be skewered by a long thick—

  Her cell rang inside her crystal-studded purse, slicing into her salacious reverie.

  She ignored it.

  It rang again. Then buzzed that a message had been left.

  She rolled her long-lashed eyes. Whoever it was could wait. Talking on the phone was the last thing on her mind. She was on a quest for some good hard, anonymous dick. And nothing was going to distract her from the quest at hand.

  Her gaze honed in on the thick mahogany doors that led to the club’s entrance and her clit pulsed. Fierce passion and seduction awaited her, and she couldn’t wait to get bathed in its heat. The mere thought of being awash in pleasure excited her. She felt the fire roiling along the walls of her cunt, and her breath almost caught in her throat.

  Her ten-thousand-dollar-a-year membership fee afforded her access to her share of freaky fun. Shamefully, it’d been months since she’d frequented the exclusive For Adults Only club. But, tonight, she’d make up for lost time. She wouldn’t squander any opportunities. She’d be the naughtiest of them all.

  Filthy and wild and indiscriminate.

  Her nipples tightened as she stepped inside the marbled foyer and was greeted by a tall, chiseled, bare-chested hunk wearing a silken mask. She eyed the prominent bulge beneath his loincloth, imagining her hand reaching out and languorously stretching over its girth, then caressing it. She could tell, fully erect, it would be a deliciously long, thick dick.

  She imagined herself holding his dick in her hand like an ice cream cone, licking at the tip, flicking her tongue over the precum she imagined already gathering there, before swirling her hot tongue around the whole engorged head. Damn him. She felt herself on the verge of dropping to her knees and begging him for his cock.

  As if reading her scandalous mind, he smiled, his gaze flickering over her swelling breasts. “Welcome, beautiful,” he said in a deep timbre, his voic
e melting over her body like hot fudge, thick and rich. A fresh burst of heat shot through her cunt. She bit her lip. Then slid her hand into her clutch and handed him her gold membership card. Her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth, imagining her clitoris and nipples being sucked into its wet heat. She let her eyes linger on those sweet lips longer than she probably should have feeling her clit vibrate with want.

  He caught a glimpse of her cleavage, again, before reaching for her card. Then he glanced at it, and she wondered what he did for a living. Perhaps he was a suit-and-tie guy by day, or . . . maybe a professional athlete. She quickly dismissed the thought. How he made his money really didn’t matter. Whether or not he was a good fuck did.

  Boldly, she allowed her gaze to roam his muscled body. She felt her body heating and wondered if her nipples could be seen through her dress. His smoldering brown eyes met hers as he handed back her card, and she felt her pussy rapidly warming to the possibility of fucking him.

  He smiled again. “Enjoy.”

  “Oh, trust me,” she said saucily, reaching out to touch him. “I plan—”

  Before she could get the rest of her words out, or her hand on his cock, he surprisingly grabbed her by the arm and quickly spun her around, the heat of his muscular body pressed into hers, then—oh, God, yes . . . mmm—his growing erection nestled against her ass as he snaked his strong hands up under her arms and cupped her breasts. The sudden act caused her to drop her clutch, her membership card, and moan. She leaned her head back, surrendering to his touch, suddenly oblivious to the onlookers.

  He moved against her, sliding the length of his now-hard dick up the crack of her ass. “I should fuck the shit out of you,” he rasped near her ear, before biting into her neck.

  God, yes.

  It was a threat, but felt so, so promising.

  She heard herself panting as his arm came around her torso, anchoring her to him as he cupped her right breast. She swallowed back a moan as he ran his right hand down over her hip, while his left hand kneaded her right breast, and then . . . mmm, yes, yes, yes . . . his right hand eased under her dress, up her bare thigh.

  She purred low in the back of her throat, losing herself to his sizzling touch. She rocked into him now, grinding her ass deep into his crotch. She felt herself on the verge of an orgasm, especially when his thick fingers slipped into her panties, from the back, beneath her ass, and into her wet, sticky folds.

  “Unh . . . mmmm, yesss,” she breathed—and then he used his other hand and flicked his thumb over her turgid nipple, peaked with lust, then pinched it over the flimsy fabric, making her whimper. And then—yes God—he slid two fingers up inside her as he teased her nipple. And, as he began thrusting those long, thick, dick-like fingers up in her, he nibbled on her neck, and she cried out.

  He rasped near her ear. “You like me finger-fucking this wet pussy?”

  “Mmm, yes. Uh, fuck me . . .”

  “You want me to ram this dick in your ass, don’t you?” Her pussy clenched around his fingers. She hadn’t had anal in several years—well, not the kind that involved a man’s dick fucking into it—but she was open to the possibility of having her ass fucked to shreds. “Oh, fuck yes!” she cried out, breathless now.

  “You have a hot little cunt, baby.” He rocked into her, then pinched her nipple again, while his fingers curled into her heat, stroking over her sweet spot.

  Mmm, God—his dick felt so big and long and hard up against her ass. She wanted desperately to get on her knees and suck him into her mouth, taste him, savor him, swallow him whole.

  Then take him deep in her ass.

  But that wasn’t his plan.

  Teasing her, taunting her, toying with her desires, preparing her for what awaited her on the other side of the club’s walls . . . those were his intentions.

  Her breath came heavy, hot. She was on the edge of an orgasm. Within a few heated seconds, she would come. Oh, God—yes! She moved her pussy in rhythm to his fingers, greedily clutching them, wetting them; drenching them in her cunt’s hungry need.

  “Yes, yes, yes . . .”—she licked her lips—“mmm . . . fuck the back of my pussy,” she breathed, rocking her hips with the sudden ache to have him inside her, his dick wedged deep between her folds.

  She dug her nails into his arm in response to the sensations sizzling through her core. She didn’t know him. Didn’t know where his fingers had been—probably buried in tons of wet, horny cunts—before her. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was . . . right here, right now—his fingers plunging and probing her pussy, his cock raking over her ass.

  White-hot bliss rolled through her body in heated waves, spilling out of her body, and splashing out onto his hand. “Ooh . . . ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh . . . oh God! Oh, fuck. Yes, yes, yes . . .!”

  When the pleasure ebbed and she was finally able to stop moving, he pulled his fingers from her body, leaving her empty and wanting. This was a start. A very good one, but she needed something more. This was merely an appetizer that hadn’t quite whet her appetite. It left her voraciously starved for more.

  Catching her breath, she gathered her things from the floor, then turned to him as he slid his wet fingers into his mouth. He sucked them in deep, tasting her, then pulled out and licked his lips. “You’re ready, baby,” he told her with a wicked grin.

  And ready she was.

  “You owe me some of that big dick,” she warned teasingly. “I’ll be back for a taste.”

  He smiled at her. “It’ll be here, baby. Waiting.”

  Too drunk with yearning, there was no need to pull her dress down over her hips. It would be off in a matter of moments. She simply glanced up as she stuffed her gold card back into her purse, then proceeded toward the threshold to decadence. Her cunt clenched, and she grew wetter, hotter, as she read the sign overhead.

  PLEASURE AWAITS YOU...ENTER IF YOU DARE...

  Two

  The central air was on full blast inside the apartment, yet the place felt muggy and stifling. Sitting at his old friend, Moody’s bedside, it was difficult for Cruze Fontaine to keep up his end of the conversation with his friend coughing and wheezing and struggling to choke out every word.

  It had been thirteen months since Moody had narrowly escaped death. Caught in a hail of bullets, several had ripped through his chest and pierced both his lungs. Since then, his respiratory health had rapidly declined. And so had his finances.

  Moody’s wife, Ramona, interrupted the visit, telling Cruze it was time for her husband’s oxygen therapy. Eager to escape the desolate environment, Cruze quickly rose to his feet. “It’s time for me to bounce, man. We’ll kick it again, soon.”

  “When?” Moody rasped.

  “Soon, man. Real soon.”

  Cruze hadn’t seen Moody since the fateful day of the shootout, and it wasn’t likely he’d see him anytime soon. It wasn’t easy witnessing his once-energetic friend lingering at death’s door. But Cruze was grateful that Ramona had stuck it out with his boy. But it was obvious that being an around-the-clock caregiver had taken a toll on her. Ramona used to be one of the hottest and best-dressed chicks in Brownsville; now she looked haggard and drained.

  Cruze cut an eye at her right arm, which was riddled with bullet wounds that zigzagged from her wrist to her forearm. Her pants covered the rest of the scars that trailed down her right thigh and leg. The bullet that shattered her ankle had left her walking with a limp.

  Moody and Ramona had suffered tremendous losses in a single tragic day.

  Within the narrow confines of the cluttered sickroom, Cruze squeezed past a set of oxygen tanks, a wheelchair, a portable commode, and other depressing medical equipment. When he reached the front door, he gave Ramona two bundles of cash, more than enough to cover household expenses for a while and afford them a few luxuries, as well.

  “This should hold you and Moody for a while. Make sure
you buy yourself something nice.”

  Ramona’s eyes darted downward as if it embarrassed her to have to accept money from the man who used to be her husband’s second-in-command. “Thanks, Cruze. This really helps.”

  Cruze nodded. “Take care of yourself, Ramona.”

  “You do the same,” she replied.

  Outside the building, Cruze threw up his hoodie and lowered his head. Security cameras were everywhere nowadays and he didn’t want to end up on any of them—not in this neighborhood where he was very much a wanted man.

  He took a deep breath, but the air he inhaled seemed as stale and oppressive as it had been inside Moody’s apartment. It was the location—a section of Brooklyn where crime and concentrated poverty seemed to have suctioned out the oxygen. Crisp, cool air didn’t travel to the ’hood. And like the flow of fresh air, Cruze also avoided his old stomping grounds.

  Overly cautious, he’d parked near a deserted factory, about a quarter-mile from Moody’s place. Walking swiftly along the uneven pavement, he appeared to look neither left nor right, yet his watchful eyes were carefully taking in his surroundings. On high alert, Cruze became keenly aware of the sound of footsteps that suddenly crept behind him.

  He cursed at his stupidity for thinking he could slip in and out of Moody’s crib without detection. No matter how much time had elapsed, his enemies were ever vigil. Hell, for all he knew, Ramona could have tipped someone off. In the world of crime, no one could be trusted.

  Adrenaline flooded his system. He could take off running and risk a bullet in his ass or turn around and try to reason with the muthafucka who wouldn’t let go of an old grudge. But Cruze knew better than to believe he could negotiate with a killer.

  Surrendering to his fate, he slowed his stride, and he wasn’t surprised when the footfalls behind him sped up. His luck had finally run out. Surprisingly, instead of fear, he felt an odd sense of relief. And acceptance.