by Diana W.
“Tell me.” She placed her right leg on the bed, leaving him only inches away from her panty-less flesh. Cornell kept his hands flat on the bed, resisting the urge to slide her down onto his erection. “Do you think you deserve this?”
Roughly, she forced his head closer and rolled her crotch against his nose.
“Yes,” he replied breathlessly.
“I don’t think you do.” She attempted to back away from him, but his hands went to her ass to stop her. He was desperate to roll his tongue and face inside every square inch of her pussy. Realizing he’d fucked up, Cornell let her go, and Anastasia shoved him on his back.
“Someone is being defiant tonight.”
“Wasn’t my intention.” He gripped the bed sheets the same way he’d done her ass cheeks. “I just need—”
“You need what?” She cut him off and mounted him. Hands to his chest, she slowly sank down onto the girth that her body still found difficult to take in. It wasn’t in her plan to have sex with him tonight, but he seemed so wound up that she could selfishly use it for her own benefit. Mr. Q radiated sex from his smirk down to the thick muscles in his thighs. Working at Madam Sinclair’s didn’t give Anastasia the option to choose her members, and for once, she’d lucked up with Mr. Q instead of some old white man struggling to breathe on top of her.
“This.” He thrust upward, sending a volt of electricity throughout her body.
“Slow down,” she threatened with her hand back around his throat, but Cornell ignored it, choosing instead to thrust faster, deeper. The hands that Anastasia had spent training him to keep at his sides were now squeezing her ass. Cornell’s disobedience warranted lashes and at least a slap to the face, but Anastasia had broken character. Her desire for him had slipped from her veil. It wasn’t the first time she felt like they could have a connection deeper than memberships and role-playing. It was something beyond the unconventional arrangement they’d found themselves in.
Cornell, with his eyes closed, too far gone in his enjoyment, hadn’t noticed that Anastasia had slid her mask up past her lips. There was love in her eyes. Like a schoolgirl with a crush, butterflies had her giddy as she leaned forward and placed her lips on his. They were perfect and softer than anything she had imagined on the nights she would play with herself to memories of their time together. Cornell’s eyes popped open, and instead of embracing the moment as Anastasia thought he would, he forcefully threw her off him.
“The fuck are you doing?!” He rushed to stand up from the bed.
Panicked, Anastasia held her hands out. “I’m sorry, I thought—”
“You thought what?!” Cornell’s erection had deflated along with his desire. Anastasia crying on the bed looked like any other woman he could fuck off the street. She held that same hope that had her convinced she was unique enough to make him want her romantically. He enjoyed what they had because she was something unattainable to him. Something he couldn’t have.
“Allie, call manage—”
“Please don’t.” Anastasia rushed from the bed and begged in front him, hands against his chest. “They’ll fire me, and I need this job. I’m sorry. I swear it won’t ever happen again.”
“Oh, I know it won’t,” Cornell snorted in disgust. How could they continue in their current arrangement when the fantasy he had of her was ruined? He would only see her as whatever this crying mess was. “Allie, call management to my room.”
Anastasia held her head in her hands and continue to cry while Cornell got dressed. A few minutes later, there was a knock on his room door.
When he opened it, a woman dressed like the concierge downstairs walked in accompanied by a guard.
“Mr. Q.” Her eyes went to Anastasia who was holding herself on the edge of the bed and then back up to Cornell. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Your worker broke contract.” Cornell adjusted the sleeves of his shirt. “The first line in my stipulations.”
When he joined Madam Sinclair’s, he had a no forms of affection clause written into his policy.
The woman went to the device in her hands and pulled up his contract. After briefly reading through it, she looked towards Anastasia. “Is this true?”
Instead of replying, Anastasia balled into her tightened fists. She knew his contract like she knew her phone number, so it was pointless to deny anything.
The woman internally sighed and turned to the guard. “Please began termination procedures and have her removed.”
The guard nodded in response and escorted an unwilling Anastasia through the workers’ entrance by her arm.
“Mr. Q…” the woman’s voice was apologetic, and Cornell knew she would attempt to smooth over the situation.
“Save it.” He tiredly held up his hand. He hadn’t released any of the pent-up energy he was holding onto and was now more frustrated than he was when he arrived. “Tell Madam Sinclair I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 4
Cornell punched in the six-digit code for the warehouse entrance and entered the dark and stale smelling facility. When he couldn’t find Clark at his condo uptown, the process of elimination led him there. Clark’s hacker skill set, along with his introversion, made him value and almost prefer reclusion. He’d spend more time with computers and monitors than he would with anything related to their family. Nothing wrong with that as far as Cornell and Mo were concerned, but anytime he became too distant, even from them, it was always a cause for alarm.
Cornell walked further into the building, using the flashlight from his phone to guide him, and slowed when he noticed the faint light coming from the small office situated at the top of the stairs in the back corner of the warehouse. The familiar pang in his gut made him move with a renewed sense of urgency toward it. Once he opened the door, he brushed his hand over his face at the sight of his baby brother sprawled out on the sofa. A small silver platter dusted with white powder was next to him on a TV dinner tray.
He rushed over to him and placed two fingers on his neck to check for a pulse. The first few thumps made him breathe a sigh of relief. Anger and disappointment suddenly possessed his hands, and he clenched the collar of Clark’s t-shirt.
“Clark, wake up.” He shook him violently.
Clark groaned and mumbled without opening his eyes.
“C’mon man.” Cornell became more aggressive, adding a few smacks to his face. “Wake. Up.”
When Clark didn't stir at the speed Cornell wanted, he reached for the half-full cup of whatever Clark was drinking before he decided to put himself in this state and poured it on his face.
Clark jolted with his unordered, thick locs swinging wildly as if he were drowning. When he locked eyes with his brother, he wiped his wet his face and groaned.
“What the fuck, bro?” Cornell shoved him in the chest. “I thought we were past this shit, man.”
“Man, c’mon, Cee,” Clark drawled, still battling with consciousness.
“C’mon what?!” Cornell dared him to even utter an excuse. He was still fuming from the situation at Madam Sinclair’s and decided to come check on Clark instead of going home to Mo and his sexually overzealous visitor. “Last time wasn’t enough for you? You thrill-seeking for another near-death experience?”
Clark’s naturally slanted eyes hung even lower as if he would fall back asleep at any moment while he struggled to sit upright. “It was only one line this time.”
“I don’t give a crackhead fuck what it was! You said you were done with it!” He restrained his fist from flying into his brother’s jaw.
When Clark didn’t offer any additional explanation or excuse, Cornell bit down his lip and shook his head. “I’m not doing this with you.” He looked up to the ceiling and dropped his gaze on the man he practically raised. “You wanna kill yourself? Then do it alone.” He made a turn for the door.
“I can’t sleep without it.” Clark’s strained voice interrupted Cornell’s exit.
"So you skip past over-the-counter medication or e
ven prescription—”
“They don’t work,” Clark abruptly sliced through Cornell’s sarcasm. “None of them, Cee. I’ve tried everything...It’s not just the sleep.”
"Then tell me what it is so I can help you fix it.” Cornell hated how desperate he sounded, but his brothers were his lifeline. All they had were each other growing up when their dad became obsessed with getting the company off the ground and their mother mentally checked out. Cornell, being the oldest, made sure that Mo and Clark were taken care of to the best of his abilities whether that was checking over their homework or throwing a canned food meal together. Their well-being was always his priority, a personal obligation.
“Nightmares.” Clark stared at Cornell. “Something keeps trying to kill me.” He knew it probably sounded crazy, but he hated seeing the disappointment in his brother’s eyes. “Like, I know I’m dreaming, but I can feel the hands around my neck. Squeezing.” He demonstrated with a shaky grip, almost afraid that whatever it was would manifest from the sky and finally finish him off. “It can’t just be in my head, right, Cee?” His eyes watered. “What’s wrong with me?”
Cornell’s icy demeanor melted, and his heart pounded at hearing Clark’s explanation. There was no way they could be experiencing the same thing, but they were. His brother looked more like the boy he fought bullies over for teasing him about his awkwardness than a twenty-nine-year-old man. Clark’s fascination with electronics started from the time he could pronounce the word television. Always taking things apart and putting them back together, including their dad’s favorite radio system, which earned him a redder ass than the one he was born with. His interests made him an oddity amongst kids his age, and Cornell lost count of how many times he came home from school crying because of the hurtful names they’d call him. He would always ask Cornell why he had to be born “that way”, and Cornell would always tell him that God finally figured out where he messed up with him and Mo, so Clark was created to prove that perfection was possible.
He took a seat next to Clark and wrapped his arms around him.
"There is nothing wrong with you. You hear me?” Cornell's embrace tightened, hoping Clark believed him. He needed him to so that it could ring true in his own head. Cornell weathered through his nightmares, but he knew Clark wasn’t as resilient and couldn’t expect him to do the same.
“I hear you.” Clark sniffled back some of the tears that were threatening to spill.
“We’ll figure this all out, ok? Just promise me you’ll go to the doctor and see if there’s anything else they can do.”
Clark sighed, knowing he’d already exhausted all options but would give it another go to keep his word. “I will. I promise.”
They broke apart and sat there silently for a minute, staring at the six monitors on Clark’s workstation. Each was filled with numbers and letters that might as well have been written in Chinese in Cornell’s eyes.
“Dad is set on going after Rowe Industries.”
Clark snorted. “No surprise there. Good thing I already started digging into their finances.”
That took Cornell by surprise even though it shouldn’t have. Like him, Clark didn’t have to be told to be thorough. He was always ready to dish out intel when called upon. “Anything good yet?” He looked over his way.
“Not yet.” Clark wiped his nose. “But there’s always something. A business that successful always has a stain.”
Cornell nodded in agreement, recognizing the diarrhea equivalent their own business carried.
“Clark, about your nightmares,” Cornell shifted uncomfortably, “do you ever... see who’s choking you?”
“No,” he thought about it briefly, “never. Just darkness.”
CHAPTER 5
“I’mma snatch one of those diamonds off her neck and shove it up her sagging, refined twat.” Harley paced the room. “And which of those whey-protein injected gorillas did that to you?”
“Harley,” her younger sister’s strained voice broke through, “I broke protocol. I knew what I signed up for. You don’t just get escorted from the building when you break the rules at a place like that.”
“Then they should’ve sued. We would’ve found a way to pay them,” Harley pushed. “But this? Grown-ass men beating up on a woman? Fuck that!” She right-hooked the large, tattered stuffed teddy bear that sat on Gianna’s desk.
“Hey!” Gianna rasped, making Harley recoil with remorse. The one-eyed bear was practically family. It had been around for more than twenty years now.
“Sorry. You know I can’t let this go unchecked. I refuse to.” Harley took a seat at the edge of the bed and whipped her waist-length faux locs to one side. “We’re supposed to take care of each other, and I failed you.”
“Come here.” Gianna patted the spot next to her.
After a moment of reluctance, Harley sighed and crawled up to the unoccupied pillow. Her stomach soured at the up-close sight of the bruises covering her sister’s beautiful face and arms. She kept imagining Gianna being subjected to unrestrained blows in an unfair fight.
“Harley, I know you and I know what you’re going to try and do. And I'm telling you now to let it go.” Gianna grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“Why should I, G? Look at your face.” Harley bit her lip to keep her anger at bay. She knew Gia valued her looks more than any tangible possession, and it was justifiable. Harley always thought that her sister was gorgeous and not just because they shared features. She had those enviable doe eyes that men mistook for innocence and a button nose that she must have inherited from far down their bloodline, unlike Harley, who possessed their parents’ wide but rounded noses.
“I know what I look like, and I also know that I took that job because of you.” Gianna’s eyes went to Harley’s now ashamed ones. “I’m not saying to that to be a bitch, I'm just giving you the real.”
Harley looked away from her sister’s gaze. That reality check stung more than any swarm of bees could. Having her twenty-eight-year-old sister take a job because of her was still painful to accept. At thirty-one, she was the one who was supposed to have her shit together.
“Hey.” Gianna squeezed Harley’s hand to bring her attention back. “No more jail. No more scams. No more nothing. Just leave everything alone, ok? These aren’t the type of people to play tit for tat with.”
Harley swallowed hard, knowing how difficult that would be to do. “Ok. Under one condition, though.”
"No, you tell me what the condition is first.”
“Doesn’t work like that.” Harley shook her head.
Gianna rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine. What is it?”
“Tell me what rule you broke.”
Harley could see her sister’s shift to one of discomfort and it further sparked her curiosity.
“I...kissed a client.” It made Gianna embarrassed to think about how careless she behaved that night.
“What?” Harley thought she was trying to be funny, but when she didn’t give any indication that she was, it ignited a newfound rage. “I’m sorry but I’m confused. You can beat them with whips, shove dildos up their asses, fuck them, but you can’t give them a vanilla-ass kiss? Help me understand this, G, because....”
“The client didn’t do intimacy.” Gianna looked to the ceiling, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “It was written into his contract.”
Harley sat up on hair elbow. “But if you knew that, why’d you do it anyway?”
Gianna didn’t want to tell her sister, but Harley would know if she was lying. She always did.
“I thought...I thought I saw something different with him. Like maybe he really liked me, you know?”
“Oh, Gianna,” Harley sympathized.
“I know. It was stupid. I was stupid for even thinking that.” Gianna shook it off. “And the way he reacted. He didn’t even give me a chance to try and explain myself.”
“Because he’s a dick, G! Most men with that kind of money are.” Harley felt sorry for her sis
ter who seemed to still be holding out for a prince to come and whisk her away.
Even as a kid, Gianna found happiness watching Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. Fairytales that promised perfect endings with perfect men, creating a false narrative of the real world. And while Gianna chased white rabbits, Harley found her calling charging double, sometimes triple, for the candy she stole from the corner store. They needed money, and their mother thought working two shitty jobs would do the trick alone when all it did was force Gianna and Harley to raise each other in her absence. Harley gave their father, who made guest appearances in their lives when he wasn’t in jail, credit for at least teaching her how to survive. How to hustle. She refused to rely on anybody, especially a man, to take care of her or her family. Thanks to the Dupree family genes, they were never without men trying to do exactly that, but it always came with a price. Both Gianna and Harley possessed legs that stretched to the heavens, breasts that could nourish the entire seventh ward, and curves deeper than the Mississippi River trail. They differed in hue like dying brown leaves in the autumn air with Harley being the darker one of the two. Whereas Gianna wore her natural hair long and straightened, Harley kept hers in protective styles, mostly faux locs or braids, to avoid having to put a comb through its thickness. They had grown accustomed to lustful looks and empty promises that carried from boys to men. It was why they always did the necessary to make sure they were good on their own.
“I mean, I know that now, but he seemed different at first. Like he had demons he couldn’t shake.” Gianna stared at the wall ahead of her. Despite everything that had gone down, she secretly wished she could have found a way to have a candid conversation with the eldest Gaines son. Keeping the secret of his identity was agonizing but also a privilege in her eyes. She got to experience an intimate part of him that no one, not even his brothers probably knew about, and if she had more time, she was certain she could've made him realize that she was somebody he could have entrusted with his secrets. Yet, she ruined everything by coming on too strong and breaking the cardinal rule.