Free Maneater by Mary B. Morrison

themselves, not only because of what I do, but because of what all the men here do…We adore each and every woman. We respect you. We treat you like the queens you are.”
    â€œIs that because we get what we pay for?” I asked.
    He nodded. “True. And because you are beautiful inside and out. I tell you, every woman that comes here loses at least ten pounds if she stays for just one week.”
    My lips tightened. Impossible. How could that be? “Now you’re straight lying.”
    Frantically, he shook his head. “No, seriously.”
    â€œHow?” I asked.
    â€œYou arrived two days ago, right?”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd when was the last time you thought about food? I mean a full-course meal, like breakfast, lunch, or dinner,” Jagger asked, kissing the back of my hand.
    Silence consumed my thoughts. Not once had I thought about food in that way. I had reflected on my life a lot, had spent way too much time imagining what my fiancé was doing with my best friend, had read a book, had talked to my mom’s spirit, and had slept.
    â€œYou see, Seven. When our worries turn into happiness, when we are happy like the Creator intended, food sustains and vitalizes us. Food does not consume or console us. Punany Paradise is about connecting with the chi energy in your womb that feeds your soul. Your creative energy. Chi drives your passion. I guarantee you, by the time you leave here in six weeks, you will be a sizzling size six.”
    The smile on my face could not be erased with a Brillo pad. “No way,” I said, cheesing ear to ear. “I haven’t been a size six since high school.”
    â€œI want to make you feel like you’re in high school again. Let me please you, Seven,” Jagger said. “I know you don’t know me, not yet, anyway. All I ask is that you trust me.”
    Unwrapping my sarong, Jagger laid it over the sand.
    â€œLie down,” he said, guiding me to a horizontal position, parallel to the waves washing ashore.
    â€œOoh, nice. I love your punany. You have a beautiful pussy, Seven. Your shaft is thick, and it’s protruding,” he said, lightly kissing my clit. “Yes, she’s excited for me. I like that.” He kissed me again.
    Oh my gosh, I thought. What am I submitting to?
    Lightly grazing my pubic hairs with his teeth, he massaged me, softly stroking my nipples.
    â€œIs this okay?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” I agreed, breathing rapidly.
    Spreading my outer lips, he knelt between my legs, twirled my hairs with his fingers, then his tongue. Licking his fingers, Jagger teased my clit. I wanted to scream.
    â€œRelax,” he said. “Don’t hold it in. Let it out. Release yourself. That’s why you’re here. We will never recapture this moment. Let go for me, Seven. It’s okay to be vulnerable with me. I won’t hurt you.”
    I heard a few women screaming in the distance, giving me permission to join them. “Yesss!” I yelled, releasing the energy.
    Jagger placed his wet, hot lips on my shaft, then whispered, “ABC,” licking the capital letters. With each letter, he passionately grazed my clit.
    â€œOh, God,” I moaned, cuming just a little with each stroke.
    Light flutters and gentle, subtle licks pleasured me. The sea breeze swept against my skin, nudged my hair. The moonlight stared into my eyes when Jagger traced the letter E , ending with that middle stroke, then passionately sucked my clitoris into his mouth.
    I swear, by the time Jagger got to Z , easing his middle finger inside of me, stroking my G-spot while sucking my clit, all I could do was cry a river of tears, which cleansed my spirit.

Chapter 11
Maverick
    O vercast.
    Dark clouds swept down on the Windy City. Rain poured down in the middle of the workday, drenching the unsuspecting, the ill prepared. A funnel of darkness swirled, skating along North Michigan Avenue, snapping umbrellas inside