Addicted 2 Moni

His & Hers

Moni's POV

The elevator hums quietly as I ascend, each floor ticking by like the beat of a clock before a storm. The air inside smells faintly of lavender and clean steel—Wayne always insists the building be spotless. Typical Capricorn. I smile to myself, clutching my Michael Kors tighter against my side.

By the time I reach his floor, my heart is already racing. Not from nerves—but anticipation.

I slip the spare key from the inner pocket of my purse, my fingers brushing over the ridged edge as I reach his door. The hallway is dimly lit, the kind of warm, expensive low lighting that says: "I have money, but I whisper it."

Click.

"Baby," I call softly, stepping into his condo. A slow, sensual beat hums low from somewhere inside—R&B, sultry, rich like dark wine. The air is cooler than expected, chilled just enough to make goosebumps chase down my arms.

I step in, turn to lock the door—and bam, a wall of heat presses into me.

A hard, familiar body pins me against the door. My purse slips to the floor with a soft thud.

"Wayne! Baby—damn! You scared me." I let out a half-laugh, half-gasp, my pulse kicking up like it's late to something.

"My bad," he murmurs, voice thick and low, curling around my ear like smoke. "I just missed you."

His arms snake around my waist with a hunger I haven't felt in weeks, pulling me in until I feel every line of him. His lips find the side of my neck, and the graze of his tongue makes my knees wobble. I melt into him, exhaling a shaky breath.

"Mmhm... Work was good, baby. The office staff seem to like me." I grin, linking my hands around his neck. "Word is I'm sexy."

He pauses—just a beat—then kisses down to my collarbone.

"How you hear that?" he asks, voice calm. Too calm.

"A man told me. Helped me to my car." I let the words drip slow, teasing, knowing exactly which button I'm pressing.

His lips halt at my chest. When he lifts his head, the warmth in his eyes sharpens just enough to cut glass.

"You got two legs," he says, tone edged with something territorial. "Why you need an escort?"

"Aw, baby," I purr, brushing my lips against his cheek, "it wasn't like that. Have you looked outside lately? It's pouring."

He studies me like he's deciding whether to accept the explanation. He hasn't blinked.

"No," he finally says. "Ain't been outside all day. I've been waitin'... on you."

And just like that, he scoops me up and pins me against the wall.

My breath catches as my dress rides up around my hips. His grip is confident, firm, like he owns every inch of me and doesn't plan on sharing. My fingers find the soft buzz of his fade and slide down to the back of his neck, heat pooling fast between my thighs.

"All day?" I ask, a little breathless. "Baby, did you eat something?"

"Nah. Was gonna order in," he murmurs, hands full of my ass like it belongs to him.

"Oh, hell no. Let me make you something—" I start to wriggle free, but he laughs and kisses my forehead, his eyes softening only slightly.

"Later."

He kisses me again—deeper this time, like he's trying to swallow the distance that's been between us. His tongue tangles with mine, and I moan low in my throat, pressing against his chest. He groans when I drag my nails down his back, the hunger between us sharp, unspoken.