My Husband’s Mistress:
Renaissance Collection
Racquel Williams
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
My Husband’s Mistress: Renaissance Collection
Copyright © 2017 Racquel Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6228-6536-9
First Trade Paperback Printing October 2017
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Submit orders to:
Customer Service
400 Hahn Road
Westminster, MD 21157-4627
Phone: 1-800-733-3000
Fax: 1-800-659-2436
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I give all praises to Allah. Without him, none of this would be possible. I am forever grateful and definitely blessed.
To my Mom, Rosa, thank you for being there through everything.
To Carlo, you know words can never explain how much you mean to me. I appreciate you.
To my sister Papaya, thanks for having my back. I love you.
To Chris Lee, thank you for being there through the rough times. I love and appreciate you.
To Danielle Marcus, I am so blessed and grateful that our paths crossed. I look forward to many more years of success and laughter.
To Stacey Thomas and Ebonee Abbey, I appreciate the love and support I get from you ladies. I am forever grateful.
To Ambria Davis, even though you drive me crazy, I love you, LOL.
To Kiera Northington, thank you. You’re a great editor and friend.
To Tasha Bynum and Sharlene Smith, thanks for the constant promotion of my work. I appreciate you ladies.
To my readers that have been rocking with me no matter what I’m going through, please know I appreciate y’all. Rhea Wilson, LaTanya Garry, Barbara Morgan, Dawn Jackson, Cherri Johnson, Mary Bishop, Kendra Littleton, JoAnn Hunter-Scott, Toni Futrell, Priscilla Murray, Joyce Dickerson, Nola Brooks, Beverly Onfroy, Erica Taylor, Yvonne Covington, Evelyn Johnson , Johnne Johnson, Akia KiaBoo Porter Dessiree Ellison, Qiana Drennen, Donica James, Cherita Price, Redgirl Pettrie, Jane Pennella, Lisa Borders, Muhammad Alexis Goodwyn, Mellonie Brown, Tonya Tinsley, Pam Williams, Tammy Rosa, Venus Murray, Shann Adams, Nancy Pyram, Tina Simmons, Patricia Charles, Temmiyyia Davidson, Nicki Williams Kenia Michelle, Jenise Brown, Kysha Small, Suprenia Hutchins, MzNicki Ervin, Trina McGuire, Rebecca Rogers, Rita King, Stephanie Wiley, Stacey Phifer Mills, Tera Kinsley-Colman and Kesia Ashworth-Lawrence.
CHAPTER ONE
Destiny Clarke
I’d put over ten years of hard work and dedication into my marriage and I’d be damned if I was going to let one of these lower-level whores mess up my happy home. See, I wasn’t your regular stay-at-home wife. I’d busted my ass, working side by side with my husband to get his firm started and I had every intention of reaping the benefits that were to come.
In order to understand how I thought about men and their whorish ways, you had to first understand how it all started. First, let me introduce myself: My sperm and egg donors named me Destiny. I was born in the early eighties, right around when the crack epidemic hit hard. My parents were crack addicts and their sorry behinds didn’t want me around, so they gave me up for adoption.
Shit, that was cool with me. My new parents were everything that a child needed—or so I thought. Unfortunately, my mother couldn’t conceive so I was their only child. The love I got from her was real. I’d never felt like we weren’t blood and to this day, she is still the most beautiful person I knew. My parents weren’t wealthy; we were what most people considered “middle class.” But, I could honestly say I’d never gone without and for that, I was forever grateful.
My mother was one of those old-fashioned women that stayed at home while the husband worked. My father was a military man and by the time I got older, he was retired with honors. I thought it would be good to have him around full-time, but I was soon proven wrong when his attention turned to me. By this time, I was a teenager with the body of a woman. This must’ve caught Daddy’s eyes because I unwillingly became his personal whore. Every night after Mama went to bed, he’d sneak into my bedroom, cover my mouth with one hand, and get on top of me, sliding his cock into my virgin pussy. I used to cry, but eventually I stopped. I would just lie there and take it until he would pull out and bust all in my face. I remembered the first time that bastard forced his cock into my mouth. I bit it so damn hard that he slapped my face.
“Bitch, if you ever say a word I will kill you,” he often warned me.
“Shit, that would be so much better than you fucking me,” I snarled.
I thought about suicide, but I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to tell Mama out of fear that she wouldn’t believe me and that they’d return me to foster care. I dreaded that place, so I kept my mouth shut and he kept on having in-house pussy. The entire time, however, I was planning his murder.
I thought I had it all figured out. Mama went to bed early, as usual; I knew the bastard was going to be in my room shortly. I didn’t wait for him to come. Instead, I got up and went to the kitchen to make him and myself a cup of tea. I walked over to the den where he spent most of his time. He looked up and smiled as he saw me approach.
“Hey, honey, you look amazing.”
I smiled and handed him his cup of tea. I watched as he drank it. I sat across from him with my legs wide open, showing off my fresh young pussy. I knew he couldn’t help himself as he started to lick his lips, saliva dripping down his mouth.
He then got up and approached me. My heart raced, but I remained cool. When he tried to touch me, I grabbed his hand.
“No Daddy, you relax. It’s my time to show you what I’m made of.” I looked at him in a seductive manner.
“That’s my baby. I knew you’d eventually see things my way.” He grinned wickedly.
I didn’t respond. I pushed him on the couch and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his wrinkled, smelly cock. I closed my eyes and started to lick the tip of it. His groans became louder and that motiv
ated me to suck harder. I took his full cock into my mouth and devoured it. About five minutes later, his moans quieted down; I raised my head and saw that the fool had fallen asleep from Mama’s sleeping pills that I’d crushed earlier and put in his tea. I got up off my knees and wiped my mouth. I pulled out the big butcher knife that I’d taken out of the cabinet earlier and stood over him. I put it to his chest, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Tears filled my eyes as I turned to leave, but rage developed inside of me. I turned back around, grabbed his cock and made a clean cut. He woke up screaming bloody murder as he lunged toward me.
“You little bitch! Come here, I’m going to kill you!” he yelled.
I dropped the lifeless cock on the rug and ran as fast as I could. Mama heard the commotion and came out.
I locked myself in my room until I heard the police banging on my door. I opened it, still shaking from seeing all that blood. Deep down, I was happy he was cock-less and that he wouldn’t be forcing that shit inside of me anymore.
The police questioned me. That was when I broke down and told them about how Daddy had been fucking me for years. I was only twelve years old and had no charges brought against me because Mama surprised everyone and backed up my story. The authorities ordered me to undergo mental health counseling, however. I heard they were not able to put his cock back into place, so it was safe to say that that bastard wouldn’t be fucking another helpless child.
Mama divorced him and we moved from White Plains to Mount Vernon, a neighboring city.
I graduated from high school and went on to nursing school, eventually getting my license as a registered nurse.
My life as a woman would never be the same and men would soon realize that I, Destiny Clarke, was not to be fucked with. Welcome to my world, where you will respect me or get the hell out.
Hassan Clarke
Man, I wasn’t goin’ lie—ever since I was born, I’d felt like I was God’s blessing to these bitches. I wasn’t conceited or nothing like that, but I had the looks, my tongue game was fire, and God blessed me with a big dick that most women would kill for. I learned early on from my pops that if you eat that pussy up and lay the dick on her, she would appreciate you and do whatever it is that you wanted her to do. I watched as Mama washed, cooked, and cleaned the house every day and all Pops had to do was fuck her good. I knew that when I grew up I wanted to be just like my pops.
I’d always kept a bad bitch by my side. Don’t get me wrong when I say bad: she had to have her own place and her own damn money. I wasn’t into the business of tricking on no ho. My dick game was so mean, these bitches always had to pay me to come over and fuck them.
See, I wasn’t no bum-ass nigga, I kept a job. I knew that I had to have a backup plan, just in case one of these bitches got to tripping. I was happy when I landed the job at the hospital. Shit, a year earlier I had taken a certified nursing assistant class and got my certification. I didn’t mind cleaning up after a muthafucka because my goal was to save up enough money to pay for law school. Yes, you heard right—law school. I’d always had a mouthpiece that could get me out of any situation. Mama always said I would make a great lawyer. I agreed because I done talked myself out of many sticky situations before, especially when I got caught cheating.
* * *
I was tired of fucking the bitches around the way. Don’t get me wrong, these hood bitches kept a wet pussy and had a mean head game. Shit, most of the bitches I fucked with could cook up a good meal, the kind of meals that kept a nigga coming back for more. But all that shit wasn’t enough.; I wanted more. Matter of fact, I wanted a “professional woman.” The ones that owned their home, drove a nice car, and had a degree in some kind of shit. Yes, that was my definition of a bad bitch. I didn’t even care if she had good pussy or not. I had some hood bitches with that wet-wet.
God must’ve been listening to me because as soon as I started working at the hospital, I laid eyes on one of the nurses. Man, bad little bitch. Nice shape, fat ass, and cute face. At first, I kind of blew it off. I thought there was no way I could pull this one off. That feeling soon disappeared and I was back to my usual self.
I started slowly. I didn’t want to seem too thirsty. I gave her little nods here and there. I smiled at her and was always polite. I was reeling her in before I went in for the kill. At first this bitch behaved like she was too good for this kid, but I paid it no mind. I knew it was only a matter of time before I got up in them panties.
CHAPTER TWO
Destiny Clarke
I met Hassan when I was working at Westchester Medical Center as a registered nurse. He was a nurse’s aide on the floor that I worked on. He was a handsome brother, but definitely not the type I would’ve dated. Nothing stood out about him to me; besides, his occupation was to clean shit. This meant he got about ten dollars an hour—pocket change that could barely buy one of my purses. My pussy was high maintenance, so he needed more than that little job to keep me satisfied. I worked every day to make sure I maintained a certain lifestyle, so I wasn’t a gold digger, but I wasn’t a fool, either. I wanted a man with a big cock and some damn money in his pocket.
Nevertheless, I could tell he was flirting with me, always complimenting me on my looks. I remained polite, making sure I never crossed that line with him. But he was persistent and I had an idea that this fool wasn’t going to give up anytime soon.
One day, while walking to my car, I heard some fool hollering my name. I turned around and saw it was Hassan.
“Ms. Destiny, hold on a minute. Lemme rap with you real quick.” He jogged toward me.
I stopped in my tracks and mumbled under my breath, “What the fuck does this fool want?” I wanted to get the hell home after working a twelve-hour shift. My damn feet were killing me and I was not in no mood to entertain a man.
“How may I help you?” I tried to sound polite.
“Ms. Destiny, you know I’ve been feeling you. You know, you are everything that a man could ever want in a woman.” He grinned, displaying his set of pearly whites.
I placed my hand on my hip and gave him a look that said, “Cut the bullshit out. What the fuck you really want?”
“You just goin’ stand there and not respond? Dang, give a brother a break.”
“Hassan, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four, but I’m a grown man.”
“I bet you are, but I’m not looking for a man. Furthermore, you’re still a baby and I am no damn babysitter. You know what I mean?” I said and proceeded to walk off.
“Damn. That was harsh. You must’ve been with the wrong kind of man. I am a different breed. Trust me. You’ll see. I promise, I’m going to show you.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t have a man nor am I looking for one. I am fine just by myself.”
“Damn Ma, I just want to take you out on one date. If you don’t like it, then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.” He looked at me with his big brown eyes.
I felt something inside of me shiver. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and definitely not with a boy, but here he was, asking me for a date. Shit—I might as well, I thought. I was tired of always being alone in the house. I was a workaholic and when I wasn’t at the hospital, I was home. Every other weekend my childhood girlfriend Amiya and I would usually go out for dinner and drinks. That summed it up for my personal life. I hadn’t had any cock in a while and I was getting tired of fucking myself.
“All right, we can go on one date. But trust me, if you step out of line, I will fuck you up. You hear me?” I warned.
“Hold up! It’s only a date. You behaving like we about to get hitched or something,” he said, and we busted out laughing.
We exchanged numbers and scheduled the date for the following weekend, my day off. He walked off in full speed like he’d just hit the jackpot.
I shook my head as I walked off, entered my Chrysler 300, and drove off. I smiled to myself, I see I still have it, I thought. Boy, this little nigga didn’t know what I had
in store for him.
* * *
Our date night was approaching and since I hadn’t been around a man in the past year, I was a little excited. I couldn’t lie—I missed getting fucked on the regular, but I preferred to fuck myself, rather than settle for these low, lying-ass men running around NY. I deserved to be treated as a queen.
I heard my phone ringing while I was cleaning up. Hassan was on the line when I picked up.
“Hello Hassan, how are you?”
“Hello Ms. Destiny. I just wanted to know if you could pick me up?”
“Huh?” I asked to make sure I heard right.
“My cousin was supposed to give me a ride to the diner, but he cancelled at the last minute. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. Give me your address.” I took the address and hung up the phone.
I lied. I did mind. This nigga didn’t have a car. What the fuck! I wondered if he lived with his mama too. Oh hell no, he definitely was not my kind of man. I wasn’t a taxi service and I won’t be driving this fool around. I should’ve cancelled our date, but something about him seemed intriguing.
* * *
I drove to Fourth Street to pick him up. I was shocked to see him walk out of a house with the paint almost gone on the outside and that appeared to be abandoned. I watched as he walked toward the car. He had cleaned up pretty well. I guess he was trying to impress me and it paid off because when he got in the car and sat down, I wanted to reach over and tongue him down. I was a lady however, so I contained myself.
Our first date went well. I thought I’d have to pay for our meal, but he covered it. He was also a gentleman, opening the car door for me and everything. These were small things, but they meant a lot to me.
I pulled up in front of his building and stopped. I noticed he sat there, looking at me.
My Husband's Mistress Page 1