Rachel (Women of Privilege Book 2)

by Bridget Bundy

  I take one last look at Lynn, who is now standing on the other side. She nods, and I get on the bed to straddle him. Instead of trying to take him in quickly, I go down slowly. At first, my walls sting from his girth, but it doesn’t take long for the pain to turn to pleasure. And when I’m fully seated, my body warms and tingles.

  “She likes my dick, baby. Look at her.”

  “Mmm, I can tell.” She gently rubs my butt and my leg. The sensation charges the thrill even more. “How does she feel?”

  “Like warm, sweet butter.” Dodge pushes up, and I moan in response.

  I roll my hips, slow and steady, not wanting that feeling to stop. My hands grip his chest. I close my eyes, and I let his dick and her tender hands drive me away to another place. A blissful haven of pleasure engulfs my whole body. I tune out the rotating lights and thumping music. I ignore Lynn and Dodge’s sexually charged conversation. This ride is all mine for the taking, and I’m going with it until my body can’t go any farther.

  The more I roll on him, the more it seems his dick gets bigger and deeper. My peak is arriving, and I begin to move faster. I rear back just as my body is about to explode, and Lynn’s wet tongue touches my nipple. That’s all it takes to tip me over. I scream and bounce harder, faster. I let the orgasm take over for as long as it wants, and when my sexual bliss dies, I keep doing that pleasure dance. I don’t want it to ever end.

  Lynn straddles him while facing me. She kisses me, and we moan and ride together on his body. My orgasms come quicker, and each one spreads through my legs and up to my breasts. I smile through all the warm inner bursts. By the time I reach my fifth blissful attack, Lynn is three deep into the height of passion, and Dodge is reaching his first. He’s yelling something into her pussy, but she remains on his face, using his voice to ignite another explosion. All the while, I’m watching Lynn, and she’s watching me. Both of us in a satisfied haze.

  Our sexual party ends after another hour of me being sandwiched between those two. Dodge was glad to get out of his restraints, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of us. I have a feeling those two love having sex with a third person, and I don’t believe that I’m the first. Still, during those moments of time, I did like being with them. The pure animalistic explosions of unhealthy sex did what it was supposed to do, and now that it’s over, it’s over. And it’s time to move on.

  My senses are back to reality, and I’m still drunk, newly numb, and back to feeling dead inside. Looking back, I know the satisfaction was cheap and meaningless. That’s how it is usually.

  I dress back into my too tight leather outfit. I’m sad, but I won’t cry. Fuck shedding tears. I won’t let anyone see how damaged I am, how miserable my life is. It does no good, anyway.

  Right as I open the front door, Lynn gives me cash. I try not to accept it, but she curls my hands around it with both of hers.

  “I know he doesn’t give you anything,” she says. “This is for you.”

  “He’ll take it from me,” I admit while looking at the hundred dollar bill.

  “Only if you tell him about it.”

  I’m too tired to even try and hand it back. I stuff it in my halter and hope that it won’t fall out while Grey is around. “Thanks, Lynn.”

  “No, honey, thank you. You performed wonderfully tonight.”

  I leave her house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How do you do it?” Andrew is driving on Highway 95N in the fast lane. The driver’s side window is cracked, and he’s holding a cigarette near the slit.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I keep my eyes closed and my head back. My alcohol buzz is in full swing.

  “You the only black woman I know that lets her husband pimps her out. Almost every night I’m driving you to some hotel or somebody’s house. I can’t believe you okay with doing that shit, for real man.”

  “Whatever it takes,” I flatly respond as I look over at him.

  “Whatever it takes, huh?” Andrew blows out smoke and turns on the signal to pass a car on the highway. “Slow ass drivers in the fast lane. They know they’re going too slow. Anyway, Rach, that’s some bullshit if you ask me.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Everybody got a choice.”

  I huff. He has a choice to walk away whenever Grey jumps on him. Not me. I have to take the ass whipping.

  “A time will come when Grey is going to cut ties with you and your mom. You’re going to be out in the street, and she’s going to be out there with you. Or worse yet, he’s going to kill you both. You know, he’s insane like that.”

  “As long as I keep hooking, I got nothing to worry about.”

  “Shit, girl, pussy is a dime a dozen, for real, and when you ain’t making more than that, your ass is gone.”

  What Andrew is saying scares me half to death. I can’t even deny or counter what he says.

  “When he caught you cheating, you should have picked up your shit and walked out with your shit and took your mom with you. What you doing now is gonna kill you if he doesn’t do it first. Mark my words now.”

  “There’s no place I can go, Andrew. I don’t have money. Grey controls it all, and then there’s the prenup. I wouldn’t get anything because we’ve been married for less than two years.”

  “Why the fuck you sign a prenup like that in the first place?” He glances at me like I’m crazy.

  “Because Grey wanted me to, and I would have done anything to marry him. I wasn’t thinking about the terms of the agreement.”

  “I ain’t trying to hurt your feelings, Rach, but that’s some dumb shit, for real.” Andrew takes a long draw and blows out the smoke. “My brother has always been ruthless. He can hold grudges better than any bitch any day, and talking about getting back at somebody. He takes it to a whole ‘nother level.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you ask me, you better off living in a cardboard box, anything is better than living with that crazy muthafucka.”

  “It’s not about me, Andrew. I have to think about my mom. I have to think about her safety and her health.”

  “The fuck it ain’t about you. Your mom ain’t doing it. Grey definitely not doing it. You are.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. He is so right, but what can I do? I’m trapped with no way out.

  “I’m telling you the first chance you get, you need to leave. I know you looking out for your moms and stuff, but shit, even your mom wouldn’t do that shit for you. She’d tell Grey to fuck his own ass before she opens herself up to some crap like you doing.”

  “Why are you so full of advice all of a sudden?” I ask curiously. “Up until now, you’ve been quiet, not wanting to be involved, not really interested. What’s changed?”

  “Ain’t nothing changed,” he answers. “Just giving you ten cents worth of my opinions, that’s all.”

  “Andrew, you talk like walking out is easy to do, but it’s not.”

  “Okay, Rach, I get that.”

  “Like I said before, my mother and I will be homeless. We won’t have any money.”

  “I hear you loud and clear. For real, I do.”

  “Her meds are very expensive, and she must take them every day. Blood pressure pills, meds for her fibro. I can’t pay for them if I leave Grey. She can’t pay for them, either. My mother and I can’t survive without Grey’s help. We just can’t.”

  “Damn, Rach, is that the lie that’s holding you back?” He shakes his head.

  I look straight ahead. Andrew doesn’t get it. I’m tired of trying to explain myself when the bottom line is, he doesn’t care. Don’t know why I entertained this conversation in the first place. For the rest of the ride, Andrew is quiet.

  But I will admit, the longer I’m in the car with him, the more I contemplate his words. God, is this man right? Am I living the realest lie ever? Can my mom and I really make it without Grey?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Andrew finally makes the last turn into the driveway. A car is parked in front of the ho
use. It’s a late model Impala. It’s probably Detective Lucas Parker, updating Grey about the Montgomery family. Maybe, that crazy girl that tried to burn down their house is out or has escaped from prison.

  I get out, nearly stumbling to the asphalt, and drag into the house. The alcohol is still with me and going strong. All I want to do is take a shower and go to bed. Hopefully, Grey is in the living room speaking to Lucas, but then again that wouldn’t make sense. It’s after midnight. Maybe, they’re having drinks together. I don’t see them in the living room, nook, or kitchen. Whatever. I’m too drunk and tired to care. I head to my bedroom and turn on the light, and what I see not only confuses me but makes me wonder if I’m in the right house.

  Slowly, I look up the hallway right when Andrew goes into the living room. Then I look back into the bedroom. Okay, so I am in the right house. I see Grey with a woman, and he has her bent over the bed. He’s pounding into her, and she’s moaning. Then I remember I found a condom wrapper earlier that day, and I left it on the nightstand right next to the bed. It’s still there.

  From out of nowhere, I start laughing. I don’t know why or where it comes from, but that’s all I can do. I’m not angry. I don’t even give a shit. Both of them stop, realizing they’ve been caught, and look at me. Then they start clamoring for clothes. It’s a freakin’ comedy show. They even bump into one another, and she falls on her butt.

  I can’t even take it anymore. I simply go back up the hallway. I reach the kitchen, where there’s an opened bottle of chardonnay on the counter. Two empty glasses are beside it, and one has lipstick stains. I take the nearly empty bottle and drink from it. While the liquid dumps down my throat, I close my eyes and try to imagine that I’m in another world. I finish the contents, gasping for air afterwards. I throw the bottle across the room. It nearly hits Andrew and lands in the fireplace.

  “What the fuck, man!” Andrew yells, looking at me in shock.

  Then he sees Grey and his mistress. The woman doesn’t stop as she’s heading for the front door. Grey rushes into the living room, looking pissed off and out of breath.

  “Okay, that’s the fuck.” Andrew dips his way out quickly, leaving me and Grey alone. “I’ll catch ya’ll later.”

  “Where you going?” Grey yells at him. “You’re supposed to call me when you were bringing her back home. ANDREW!”

  He’s gone, front door slamming behind him, car revving up and driving away. Damn, how I wish I could leave. I bend over to search for another liquor bottle in the island cabinet. That’s all I want is to consume more alcohol, and it doesn’t matter what kind it is. I plan on drinking until I can no longer function. When I do find something that suits my taste, I straighten up, only to find Grey standing on the other side of the counter in full view. I can’t help but to notice his dick is making a tent, and I start laughing all over again. All I can think about is how he had that woman bent over the bed. Grey’s face was all contorted like he was the man. She had to be faking it because his dick is sorry as hell.

  “What are you doing back here?” he asks with his hands on his hips.

  When I finally calm down, I reply, “Unfortunately, I live here.” I unscrew the top to the bottle and bring it all the way up.

  “Why the fuck Andrew didn’t call me?”

  I shrug my shoulders. Honestly, I didn’t know Andrew was supposed to do that.

  “Stupid, he’s just stupid lately.”

  That’s how trifling Grey is. He sends me off to jobs while he’s screwing another woman, and to ensure that I don’t know about it, he has Andrew call him whenever I’m coming home. Then he can get her out of the house before I come back. I should be red hot mad. I should be so pissed off that I’m breathing fire, but I’m still tickled as can be and far beyond giving a shit.

  “Next time you see Andrew you should definitely ask him,” I respond. I turn up the bottle, but I only manage to get the liquid down the front of me. “You know, honey, your fuck-toy didn’t have to leave. I would have loved to meet her. Perhaps, we could have been friends.”

  Grey doesn’t know how to react. I can tell he wants to hit me, but he can see that I’m so inebriated that it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

  I try to take another drink, but the bottle slips out of my hand before it reaches my lips. It doesn’t break when it hits the floor, but the alcohol spills everywhere. I try to bend over to pick it up, but I end up slipping and falling instead. The floor feels cool and very wet. I lay on my back, relishing in the comfort the floor and alcohol is giving me.

  “Crazy ass,” Grey mumbles as he walks away.

  As far as concerned, I’m not crazy enough, or I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A hangover greets me the moment I open my eyes. The sunlight is only making it worse. I sit up from where I slept on the floor and try to breathe through my spinning head and nauseous stomach. Standing up is almost impossible. My back is hurting badly. I’m stiff and achy. And why am I laying in alcohol? What in the world did I do? Or rather what did Grey do to me? I don’t remember him hitting me or throwing me on the floor.

  Finally, I get to my feet and carefully walk over to the nearest chair in the nook. While I’m taking off my shoes, I try to recall what happened last night. I slept with a man and his wife. I can’t be doing that again. That was insane. Andrew brought me home afterwards. I caught…Wait? Did I catch Grey with another woman?

  “What was that shit last night, Rachel?”

  He startles me. I didn’t know he was in the living room. How could I have missed him?

  “What was what last night?” I ask with confusion.

  “You came home high last night.”

  “I wasn’t high, Grey. I was drunk. There’s a difference.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “You don’t drink with the client, Rachel. They’ll give you some shit you can’t recover from.”

  That’s all he’s concerned about is making money. My health doesn’t count. Matter of fact, I see what he’s trying to do. Grey wants to avoid the subject of the other woman by berating me for drinking. He fails to see that I really don’t care that he had sex with another woman. And actually, I clearly remember laughing about it now. It’s still funny.

  “You need to get up and get yourself together. You have to go by Jack’s house today.”

  “I know what I’m supposed to do, Grey. You never have to remind me about going to his house.”

  “And I want the alcohol and that broken bottle cleaned up over there before I get home tonight.”

  “It’ll be clean.”

  “Did Andrew tell you where he was going last night?”

  I shake my head. Doing that makes my head swim.

  “He ain’t answering his phone. I’ll catch up with his ass later. Look, don’t do pull that crap from last night again.”

  “That’s all I did was come home, Grey. What shit am I not supposed to do again?”

  “Don’t get smart with me,” Grey says, coming closer.

  I get up and back away from him. I hold up my hands, letting him know that I’m not going to say another word. Every part of my body is hurting, and he’ll only make me feel worse.

  “Tell you what,” he says. “This is what you’re going to do. After you leave Jack’s house, you are to come back home. Do not go to Pooler to see your mother.”

  “Fine.” Glad he doesn’t know she’s in Hawaii. “But I have to stop by the grocery store to get a few things for Jack.”

  He glares at me before reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He throws thirty dollars cash on the table and walks out. Like that much would get me anything. Cheap ass. Good thing I really don’t have to stop by the store for Jack. I just used him as an excuse to make another stop.

  It’ll be a huge risk for me to take. Grey claims he can track me with the GPS in the car, but I’ve never had him come back and tell me anything about how long I’ve been at any stops I’ve made. Still, I may cat
ch an ass whipping for the stunt I’m about to pull, but the risk I plan on taking will be worth it. I hope.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Russell’s five star restaurant is in Midtown, Savannah, next to a grocery store. Of course, I park in that lot, hoping that Grey will think that I went shopping like I said I was. Russell’s restaurant isn’t open to the public at ten in the morning, but I have a feeling he’s there today. Probably, helping the cooks prep the food. I’ve been to his place several times. He has perfected recipes for everything from simple hamburgers to filet mignon. I’m biased, of course. Anything and everything Russell does I love. I just wish he feels the same about me.

  My hopes today is to see where we really stand. Over the phone conversations are easy. He can say what he wants and not deal with the emotions that comes with saying those things to my face. I want to see his eyes when or if he tells me we’re really over, and if they are dead, then I’ll completely leave him alone.

  I go inside through the employee back entrance. Immediately, I’m greeted by a chef, and just as he’s about to put me out, a young man stops him.

  “She’s not supposed to be back here,” the chef says irately.

  “It’s okay. I got her.” The young man is Rocco Wolfe, Russell’s son.

  He looks just like his father. Handsome features, rounded face, beautiful skin tone, perfect teeth, and thick lips. He has the body of a football player, broad shoulders, thick chest, walks like an overstuff teddy bear. His youth makes him irresistible, just like his dad.

  “Can I help you?” he cordially asks.

  “Um,” I chuckle, feeling embarrassed. “I’m looking for Russell.”

  “My dad knows you?”