Sweet Giselle

by Karen P. Williams

  The door was slightly ajar. I barged inside without knocking.

  I scanned the room for him. He was seated in the corner, on the floor, drinking from a Hennessy bottle. He was wearing a wife beater and a pair of jeans.

  He looked up when he saw me and said nothing. I walked over and kneeled in front of him. He wouldn’t look at me.

  “Bryce.”

  “Get out of here,” he growled in a low tone. I didn’t let it affect me. I knew he was upset over his sister’s death.

  “I understand.” I stepped closer.

  He shoved me away.

  I lost my balance and fell back. I regained my balance and repeated, “I understand.”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  But I wouldn’t. I knew why he was angry. And he was hurting. That was why he was lashing out. But I wasn’t going to bend.

  I tried to hug him. He pulled back, as if I had burnt him. But that didn’t stop me. I pulled the bottle out of his hands, set it aside with tears in my eyes. I hugged him. His body felt rigid at first; then slowly it softened, and he let me embrace him.

  “I’m sorry, Giselle,” he said in a low tone. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby—”

  “It’s okay. I understand, Bryce. I’m not mad. I understand!” My voice was shaky. The rape was his way of dealing with the pain of losing his sister. He was trying to inflict on me what had been inflicted on his sister, despite not wanting to. I knew deep down he didn’t want to do me that way.

  He held on to me and kept repeating, “I’m sorry, baby,” and then he sobbed on my shoulder. I rocked him like he was my baby. I provided him with comforting words and kept rubbing his back until his sobbing stopped.

  I pulled away and wiped the tears off his face. Then I kissed him on the lips with a sense of urgency and a need to feel his mouth on mine. He kissed me back, matching the intensity. He grabbed both of my breasts in his hands and squeezed them until my nipples hardened. I moaned against his mouth. He started licking them through my dress. I threw my head back in pleasure.

  When I tried to lift my dress over my head, Bryce stopped me. “No, not after what I did to you.”

  I took my dress off anyway, and slid out of my underwear. “I want to give myself to you.”

  “But I hurt you.”

  “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

  He gripped my thighs with his hands while I was sitting on his lap, then leaned down and started eating my pussy. I moaned loudly; and his tongue lapped up all my juices; and he kept slipping multiple fingers in and out of me, then rubbing against my clit.

  When I was screaming in agony and couldn’t take any more, he yanked down his pants and lifted me right on his big dick. I felt him inch by inch slide into me.

  “Ahhh!” I moaned. The shit felt so good.

  He gripped my hips with his hands and shoved me up and down on him all the way. His tongue bathed my breasts with his saliva. Then his lips met mine again.

  I ground my thighs into his lap and continued to ride him, feeling incredible sensations brought on by his dick entering and exiting my pussy.

  He pulled out shortly to eat my pussy again, and it drove me insane. “Fuck me again please!” I yelled.

  He lifted me back into his lap, entered me again, and slowed the motions down. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn’t look away. His face had a hooded expression, and he would not look away, either. I bit my bottom lip from the pleasure, and he gripped my waist and one of my breasts possessively, all the while continuing to look in my eyes.

  “You gonna cum for me, baby?” He jerked in and out of me with a quick motion.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Bryce,” I said weakly.

  “I’m gonna cum with you, baby.” He speeded up the rhythm. I wanted to ride it out with him, so I wrapped my hands around his neck and held on as he jabbed me in quick spurts, so quick you could hear our thighs slapping against each other.

  When I felt myself cumming, I let out a loud scream, and he bit down on one of my nipples, telling me that he was on the verge of cumming as well.

  When I did come, it was a feeling unlike any other. It seemed that Bryce felt the same way.

  Bryce collapsed on me, and we both fell to the floor. He held on to me, telling me silently that this was much more than what it was supposed to be.

  I silently wiped away tears, because I knew my future was filled with so much fucking uncertainty. But for some reason, being a part of Bryce’s world made the uncertainty worth it. There was no way I would ever go back to my husband, and I had no desire to leave Bryce’s side, either.

  I woke up to find myself in Bryce’s bed. I moaned instantly when I felt someone licking me. I moaned even before I could get my eyes open. When I did open them, I saw the top of Bryce’s head and his shoulders, as he was in the crook of my thighs, tasting me.

  “Ooh. Shit.” I gripped his head with my hands as he went to town. Didn’t know what it was, but he was adding an extra something I had never had before.

  He started prodding the inside of my pussy with his long, thick fingers. He leaned up and watched the ecstasy take over my face before he reached up and mounted me. I spread my thighs as wide as I could. He reached for my breasts and massaged them, as if he was trying to tease me by not touching my nipples. He dabbed his fingers with my tongue, then rubbed them along my nipples so they were as hard as rubies. He worked his dick inside me in a certain rhythm, where with each stroke I would get less, then more, driving me insane. I thrashed my head from side to side, feeling heat rush through my body.

  “You cumming for Daddy?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  He stuck his dick in to the hilt.

  When we heard strange noises in the house, Bryce pulled out of me, stood to his feet, and quickly stepped into a pair of boxers. He snatched his gun out of the drawer.

  I sat up in the bed nervously.

  “Stay here.”

  He rushed out of the room.

  I wondered who the intruders were and wondered if it could be my husband. I feared what he had in store for Bryce. I now did not want him to get hurt.

  I waited a few seconds, got up, and yanked on one of Bryce’s shirts. Then I snuck out of the room. I tiptoed toward the staircase and hid in a corner.

  Bryce was on the middle step, with his gun pointed. I recognized his brother walking through the living room.

  “Angel, what the fuck are you doing, popping up without calling? I could have shot you!” Bryce lowered the gun.

  “I tried to call, but you not picking up your phone.”

  Bryce lowered the gun. “What is it?”

  Angle paused near the bottom of the stairs. “I’m being followed.”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “By who?”

  “I’m thinking her husband is finally on to us. I dumped my car and rode out here in another one, just in case they are still following me. But, Bryce, that ain’t the worst part of it.”

  I took a deep breath and waited to hear what his brother was going to say.

  “When I went to Mom’s, she was gone. But her purse was there and her keys.”

  Someone knocked on the door. I jumped at the sound.

  Bryce aimed his gun at the door.

  “It’s okay. That’s probably my boy Pooh. He was waiting outside.” Angel walked to the door.

  Bryce lowered his gun again.

  Before Angel could open the door, someone kicked it in, knocking Angel into the wall. I gasped as two men rushed inside the house with guns pointed and started firing rounds into the living room.

  I ducked down, screaming.

  Bryce looked back at me, then at his brother. “Angel! Get down!” Before returning fire.

  But it was too late. Several bullets pierced his brother’s chest. Angel flew back from the impact.

  I watched, horrified, as Angel went down. I prayed he wasn’t dead. But something about the force of those bullets to
ld me that he was.

  “Angel!” Bryce started busting shots at both the men as they scattered around the living room, trying to hide from his bullets.

  Bullets were going everywhere. Busting out windows, knocking pictures off the walls. I covered my ears and tried to stay as low as I could. The gun smoke was making me choke.

  One of the gunmen was hit by Bryce’s bullets as he fired fiercely. He fell to the floor. The other one continued to shoot from behind a couch. I watched one bullet pierce the love seat that matched the couch and then fly toward the staircase, causing one of the wooden balusters in the staircase to explode.

  Bryce backed up the steps, still firing. When he reached me, he pulled me up. “Come on!” We ran back toward Bryce’s room. Bullets were still coming.

  Once inside, still holding on to me, he rushed to one of his drawers and pulled out another gun. He then hid in the corner of the door. “Get behind me,” he whispered. The door was slightly ajar.

  Shots continued to be fired; then, suddenly, they stopped. Then we heard nothing. Then footsteps.

  When he heard the footsteps, Bryce aimed his gun at the door and fired again. The shooter fired shots into the bedroom, hitting walls and busting out windows.

  I kept my hand over my mouth and clutched Bryce’s back in fear. I watched Bryce use the mirror on his dresser to see the position of the shooter. He was trying to hide outside the door. He was close, so close to both of us, and it scared me.

  Bryce waited and allowed dude to fire more shots.

  As soon as he poked his head in the door, Bryce aimed the gun at the door hinge and fired, hitting him directly in his skull. He fired four synchronized shots. The gunman froze. His head split open like a watermelon. And brains splattered everywhere. I looked away quickly. Bryce ran outside the room and rushed up to him. He fired several more shots into his chest.

  He ran down the stairs. I followed him. He rushed up to his brother’s body. I watched him hold his brother’s dead body in his arms and saw his shoulders rack with sobs.

  I thought quickly and rushed back up the stairs. I put on my dress and flip-flops, grabbed Bryce’s clothes, shoes, keys, and wallet. I had to get him out of the house before more gunmen or maybe even the cops came.

  “Bryce, come on!” I yelled. He didn’t budge. I walked up to him and used my free hand to pull at him with all my strength, until he finally released his brother.

  I helped him into his clothes and out of the house. But it was a struggle.

  Chapter 16

  We drove to San Diego and got a hotel room there.

  Over and over again I replayed what had happened. Angel was now dead. Like really? All Bryce did was stare into space and say how this was all his fault. What made matters worse was the fact that my husband had sent a video to Bryce’s phone with Bryce’s mother on it.

  It sickened me. And most of all, it showed me that my husband and Bryce were both at war. It made me hate my husband more than I already did, and hope that he died because of how dirty he was. No doubt about it. Despite all the riches and years of happiness my husband had provided me, I wanted no part of him. None at all. Easily and carelessly, he had taken two lives.

  All I could do was try to provide comfort to Bryce and tell him that I wasn’t going to leave his side. I meant it. While Bryce slept, I cried for Angel. Not only did I empathize with Bryce—because what would I do if my brother was killed?—I also had cared for Angel. He was so sweet, and he didn’t deserve to lose his life. He just didn’t. Now more than ever I was so confused and worried about this situation. And worried about what Bryce planned on doing about it.

  After four days of staying in the hotel room, Bryce finally turned to me and told me, “Giselle, we need to talk.”

  “Okay.”

  He was silent for a moment. So I took the opportunity to ask him something I had been wanting to ask him since he found out his sister was dead.

  “Bryce?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you find out that your sister was dead?”

  “When I first found out my sister was missing, I made my mother fill out a missing person’s report. I didn’t think it would do shit, because there are so many missing people that are never found. And when they are found, they are found dead. I didn’t want to face that. But it was the best thing to do. I couldn’t not have my mother file the report, because I would have a hard time dealing with the outcome. I mean, we needed to know. We needed to exhaust all avenues. They bullshitted, though. Took their time. In the meantime, Percy was on it.

  “Anyway, they called my mother and told her that they may have the body of my sister. The day I took you swimming, I went to see Percy and dropped by my mother’s crib just to visit her. Imagine that shit. Then she told me the police had called her. Funny thing was, they had called her weeks ago to come and identify the body. But she was so high out of her mind that her only focus that day was getting another blast. Imagine that. Your own child could be dead, and getting high is more important to you than finding out. So during those weeks that passed, they performed an autopsy. That day when I went over there and my mother told me, I forced her to go with me to identify the body, praying it wasn’t my little sister.”

  He took a deep breath. “It turns out it was her. She was beaten to death. Struck in the head so hard, she ended up having a seizure.... And, well, you saw the video. She was raped and sodomized. They gave her no medical attention. They found my sister’s body in a fucking Dumpster at a park in Westwood. The muthafucka was so cocky about his shit, he didn’t even bother to dump her body farther out. Like he knew no one would care and he wouldn’t get caught.” He shook his head. “They just threw her away. Like she was a piece of garbage.” Tears slid down his cheeks. “I guess I should have known that I’m not powerful enough to battle your husband. And now they have my mother and my brother is dead.” He covered his face with his hands.

  “Bryce, you know what I was thinking? My husband is friends with the police chief, Hank Chisym. He has been over to our home so many times. We can go talk to him. Bryce, I know he will listen to me. We can take that DVD and have Hank search Giovanni’s office for others.” I thought back to that day I first met Giovanni, when I was in his office, and how he had locked his cabinet up. I just had to find a way to get his keys and find out what was in there. Percy had said that that was where he kept the other films. “After he sees what we saw, I know he won’t hesitate to do something about it. Giovanni will spend the rest of his life locked up!”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t you think if I was going to go to the cops, I would have done that long ago? Giselle, I’m a street dude. I don’t handle shit by going to the cops. And I don’t know a real nigga that do.”

  I shook my head, confused. Giovanni had raped and murdered his sister, and I knew he was behind his brother’s death, and he didn’t want to go to the police? They had all the power Bryce needed to get the ultimate revenge on Giovanni. I tried to talk him into it. “Bryce—”

  “Giselle, I’m not going to the police. I’m gonna handle this shit on my own.”

  “So you do plan on going after my husband alone?”

  He refused to answer that question. “That’s not what I need to talk to you about. And saying this shit is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. But shit has gone too far.”

  I closed my eyes at his next words.

  “Giselle, you have to go back.”

  I gasped. I couldn’t go back to Giovanni. I didn’t want to go back was because of what I knew now about my husband. How sick he was. I wanted no part of that lie anymore. Some other chick could have it. And it wasn’t just that.

  “I don’t want to, Bryce.”

  “Why, Giselle?”

  Did he really not know? What woman in her right mind would go back to someone like Giovanni, knowing what he had done? She would have to be as sick as he was to want to. Like Wingo’s wife.

  I swallowed. “With what I know he
has done, I can’t willingly be his wife. I don’t want any parts of that man anymore. He is disgusting to me. And ...”

  “And what?”

  I was scared to say what was on my heart. What if Bryce didn’t feel the same way? What if he shot me down? I ignored those voices in my head and went for it. “I also don’t want to be with him, because I ... I want to be with you.”

  Bryce’s eyes got wide, and he gave me a soft smile at my revelation. Then it was back to the severity of what we were going through.

  “Bryce, don’t send me back.”

  “That shit sound so good coming from your lips. Makes this harder, though. I don’t want to send you back, baby. But I have to. This shit has to end. My brother is dead because of me. I can’t have anyone else I care about on my conscience.”

  “But—”

  “Listen. Your husband wants you back, and he ain’t willing to stop the bloodshed until you are back with him.”

  I got choked up. Tears slid down my face.

  “I understand why, Giselle. You make me actually want to do right. Other women I was with before I met you applauded me in my wrong and worshipped me for being this bad guy. The money, cars, and shit had them thinking I was the man, while inside I knew it was blood off others’ backs. Made me feel like I wasn’t shit. And I’m pretty sure that if you had truly known what your husband was doing, you would have had no part of him.” He chuckled. “Here, I planned on doing whatever I could to you to hurt him through you, and I ended up falling for you.”

  He stroked my face and looked so sad. “And that kills me, because I want to see where this can go. I want to spend more time with you. Be your man. The way you used to speak on your husband with so much respect, love, and loyalty, I want to make you speak on me that way, Giselle, and really feel it. If the way we had met was different, we could have done all of that without a problem. But it wasn’t. I have to send you back to him.”

  “Bryce, no! We can go away somewhere, both of us, and not ever come back here!”

  “I can’t leave my mother with him, Giselle. Baby, you gotta go.”

  “Well, I’m not going back!” I got up from the bed and tried to run away from him, but he caught me and pulled me into his arms.