Maceo (Filthy Rich Alphas): (Illustrated Interracial Romance) by Kenya Wright

Author:Kenya Wright [Wright, Kenya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-11T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Pipe Cleaner

I woke up inside of my office. At least I thought it was my office. This four walled room was so clean I couldn’t contain my glee.

“Oh my God.” I sat up and stretched my arms.

What was once a room of disorganization was now the neatest office I’d ever been in. Where had all of the papers and files from my desk gone? My shoes and clothes hung behind my door on some new rack organizer. Pencils lounged with pens in a jar at the edge of my desk.

Boxes rested near the door, full of labels on the front and stacks of things inside. One box proclaimed to be Business Items. Another said, Unsure. The last one read, Things My Lady Loves.

I laughed at Maceo’s audacity.

Really? Your lady? I don’t think so.

Yet, butterflies fluttered within my chest as I walked over to that box and wondered what he’d figured that I loved.

Oh great! He found my porno.

Stacks of magazines with naked men littered most of the box. Several Wall Street journals were in there, too, as well as my secret addiction. Crossword puzzles. I didn’t know what shamed me the most, that my crossword puzzles were hidden with my porn or that Maceo immediately knew all of the things I did in my free time.

I must look like some degenerate home body to him. Not that I care. Do I? No.

A knock came at my door.

“Glad to see you’re up.” Maceo walked in, carrying a bag that reeked of yummy food and a cup of what I hoped to be coffee in his other hand. “How are you feeling? Headache? Hung over? Horny and in desperate need of a pipe cleaner?”

“Pipe cleaner?”

“Some women call that sweetness between their legs a pipe. Usually when they just want a man to give them some and go home, they call him a pipe cleaner. You know? A handy man to clean out the pipes. I could elaborate and provide more graphic descriptions if necessary.”

I covered my mouth and giggled.

“Stop covering that beautiful laugh.”

“Tone it down, lover boy.” I grabbed the coffee from him. The cup warmed my palm. “Thank you … for everything.”

“Everything?”

“You know what you did.”

“I do?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You cleaned my office.”

His voice lowered to that seductive tone. “I may have.”

“You did. And thank you for the picnic?”

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’ll even say thank you for not mishandling my body last night on the roof.”

“Hmmm. You don’t remember?” He guided his gaze down my whole body. In that moment, I realized I no longer wore my clothes from yesterday—no St. Patrick’s Day shirt, jogging pants, and sneakers. It was all gone. Instead, I wore the sky blue shirt that he’d had on and nothing else.

O-kay.

“Why do I have your clothes on?” I asked.

“You tell me.” He placed the bag on the desk, took his time removing the food, and set it in two pairs. “Are you really trying to say that you have no idea what happened last night? None at all?”

“No.

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