Tainted Love (Book 1)

by St. James, Ghiselle

  “Ok sweetie, go wake your guy. Ryan Baylor,” I mock his name.

  I turn the stove off, not wanting tea anymore. Something about that guy just rubs me in the wrong way. He seems dark and mysterious in every sense of the word, but as long as Rachel is keeping him as an occasional fuck, I have no problem. Anything deeper and I may have to investigate.

  I prepare cheese and crackers with grape soda instead. Crossing my legs on our couch, I start flipping through channels and munching down crackers. I stop it on cartoons. I love cartoons.

  As I sit on the couch watching Timmy Turner try to gain Trixie Tang’s attention, I can feel Dark and Mysterious’ presence.

  “Good morning.” I turn to stare up at his statuesque figure. He has his hands in his pockets and stands by the wall of the kitchen.

  “Good morning.” His voice is rough, matching his rugged appearance.

  He looks like trouble, I know it, and I know Rachel is clueless.

  “So, you’re taking Rachel out for a countryside drive,” I say, turning my attention back to the TV.

  “Yes, I am.” I can hear him shuffle into a different stance.

  “Keep her safe,” I command.

  I hear him chuckle and I cast a swift gaze upon him, my brows knitting in annoyance. “You’re laughing at me? You think I’m joking?”

  “I just think it’s cute how protective you are of your friend.” He shrugs his shoulders, amusement marring his face.

  He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket with a lighter, lighting it up. He puffs up and I have a sudden itch. Haven’t smoked in years and I don’t plan on starting back any bad habit.

  Stone-faced, I re-focus my attention to cartoons. As I speak to him, my tone is icy. “If anything happens to Rachel, you won’t find me cute.”

  He bristles. I know he’s frowning. “Excuse me?”

  “I know you heard me.”

  Rachel breaks the icy atmosphere as she enters the living room. “Ready, Ryan?”

  I turn to see her looking stunning, as usual, in tight blue jeans, tight white t-shirt, and white platform heels.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” Mr. Dark and Mysterious answers, circling Rachel’s hips then pulling her in for a hard kiss on her lips. He stares at me as he massacres her mouth and rubs his palms over the cheeks of her ass.

  I scoff, turning around. Already I know that this guy and I won’t be getting along.

  “Have a great day, Rae,” I bid as Rachel leaves with Ryan. He gives me a curt nod and I respond with pursed lips and darkening eyes.

  I swear to God if he lets anything happen to her, I’ll be on his ass like flies on dead carcass.

  Silence fills the apartment, despite the cartoons running on the TV. I am alone. I have to busy myself before I start thinking. I hate being left with my thoughts. My past always resurfaces and I’m always left feeling lousy. I turn the TV off and carry the empty plate and bottle to the kitchen. I stare at the living room from the kitchen as I drain a half bottle of water I had taken from the refrigerator.

  I think I’ll do some cleaning.

  Pushing off from the kitchen counter, I go in search of my iPod. If I am going to clean this place, I’ll need some tunes. I find the iPod already in the dock, so I turn it on, boosting the volume on the speakers. I select my 60s playlist, my usual Sunday tunes. It’s all Motown.

  “I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go,” I sing as the music comes on. I strut into my room, bopping my head to the beat, to start my cleaning spree there.

  After an hour and a half I am through cleaning the entire apartment and, as tired as I am, I resolve to do some laundry.

  “I’ll be there. With a love that will shelter you,” I croon, taking the iPod from the dock and plugging in my earphones.

  I grab my cell phone and the duffle bag with Rachel’s and my dirty laundry, as well as laundry detergent and fabric softener. I head to the elevator, locking the door behind me – the Laundromat across the street being my desired destination.

  The Laundromat is uncharacteristically empty. Thank God for small miracles. I load a few washing machines with clothes, slipping my tokens in. That way I’ll be done quicker and will be able to sleep the rest of the day. I perch on one of the washing machines close to the entrance, flipping through a Seventeen magazine I’d seen on a chair when I first came in.

  The Supremes drones on in my ears singing about their love and wondering where it went, making me wiggle my bottom, ready to dance. I just love Oldies soul. Rachel would always say that that was the black in me. Before my birth mother got arrested, she had told me that my father was black; Jamaican actually. He was a drug dealer and was shot and killed by the police as he tried to escape being arrested. It had been his third strike, so they’d have put him away even longer that time.

  I shake off the memories of my past, not wanting to drudge up anything that would spoil my Sunday alone, and step outside the Laundromat to get the morning paper from the newsstand, declining to get a gossip magazine. Mr. Farzani always tries to get me to see who’s on the latest cover, who’s dating who, who’s cheated on whom. I tell him the same thing every time, “Not interested.”

  I’ve found myself in those magazines a few times too many as a socialite, and I don’t intend to make any further appearances. Those were dark times; times where I’d brought my family much shame. So I give him a smile and walk away, reading my newspaper as I go, and head back into the Laundromat.

  Just before the door closes, I hear the screech of tires. My eyes pull up from the paper to see a sleek black Rolls Royce Phantom. Everyone’s attention is staked on the beauty. Throwing the door open and springing from the luxury vehicle is Ben Hayes. My stomach does a nosedive as I realize he is heading straight for the Laundromat.

  My mind seems to register everything seconds after they happen. I can’t even move, though my brain is telling me to run and do it fast!

  Stopping as soon as he enters, green eyes pierce through me. I am his target, no doubt. That’s why the Rolls Royce had made such a sudden stop. He’d spotted me. Holy shit.

  He looks delectable. I can see his chest heaving in his white tee and leather jacket. He looks every bit the bad boy in his worn blue jeans and black Timberland roll tops, his tousled hair falling to his face. My lips part as I drink him in from head to toe. I swallow, my mouth watering at the sight of him. Jeez.

  Walking stridently over to me, he grabs me close to him, cupping my ass and gripping the back of my neck. Before I can form a coherent thought, he dips me and seals his lips over mine. He inhales at contact, breathing deeply. When he grabs my hair, tugging it almost painfully to send sinful pleasure zipping down between my thighs, my mind finally catches up with reality, registering what is happening.

  Running my hands through Ben’s hair, down to his neck, I moan eagerly into his mouth. His tongue invades, intertwining with mine and igniting fire through my bones, turning my legs to jelly. Holding my face in place, he licks inside my mouth like he’d found something sweet inside. The soft whimpering sounds he makes causing my legs to further weaken. Damn it.

  “What are the odds?” he whispers breathlessly against my lips.

  “Huh?” My brain has checked out again.

  “God, even in sweat pants and oversized sweatshirts you look hot.” He circles my behind and grips it firmly. Pulling away from me, he grabs my wrists to him. “Come. Have lunch with me.” It isn’t a request.

  “I’m doing laundry, Ben,” I answer weakly.

  “How long will that take?” He looks down at his watch.

  “I just started.”

  “Damn it,” he curses. “What if I came up to your place when you’re through here?”

  “Ben…” I sigh.

  As electric as the chemistry is between us, I really don’t want to do this with him. I was hoping to never see him again.

  “Just so you know, I don’t take no for an answer.” And I believe him.

  I sigh yet again, try
ing to think of something. I was always good at ditching guys but I see ditching Ben will prove to be a challenge.

  “Fine,” I concede.

  “Wonderful.” He is fiddling with his cell phone. “I’ll just swing by the country club to see my parents then come back here. How does half an hour sound?”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll be finished by then.”

  “Good.”

  Ben steps to me, brushing a hand down my cheek. “Please don’t run off. We have some things to discuss.”

  He leans in and plants a chaste kiss on my lips, making me yearn for more. He then leaves the Laundromat and boards the waiting car.

  “‘Things to discuss’?” I bite my lip thinking about what those “things” can be.

  What if he found out who I really am? Or worse, what if he found out about my past? Shit. My heart is pounding a death rhythm. Shit!

  CHAPTER 6

  Twenty minutes later, I am done with Rae’s and my laundry, and within five minutes, I have them folded and packed in the duffel. I can very well ditch Ben now since he doesn’t know where I live, I think to myself. Sounds like a good plan.

  I pick the duffel up and set out to leave. Exiting the Laundromat, I step onto the curb, ready to cross. Crap.

  He’s already waiting for me.

  “Were you running again?” He steps from the car and takes the duffel from me.

  “Um, running?” I squeak.

  “Maybe,” I confess, looking away.

  He cups my chin and brings it to face him. “Why do you insist on never seeing me again?”

  I nibble my bottom lip and knit my brows together, evaluating his question. I really have no reason to not want to see him again. My entire Saturday night was spent fantasizing about him. I need a replacement benefactor and, to top it all off, he seems really interested in me. What is scaring me at the moment, though, are those “things to discuss”. What on earth are they?

  “What “things” do we need to discuss?” I ask, avoiding his question.

  “Come. We can’t discuss that out here. Please, lead the way,” he commands, straightening away from me. I’m not your employee, Mr. Hayes. I scowl at him, and like a petulant child, he scowls right back. It makes me smile, thawing me a bit.

  As we enter the lobby of my apartment building, all eyes turn to Ben. Susie, the receptionist, is in complete shock; open-mouthed. Get a grip Susie, jeez. I wave to her and she barely raises her hand in response. I see her finally release the breath she had been holding when the doors of the elevator we’d entered start closing.

  I am hyper-aware of Ben as he stands next to me. I fiddle with the back of my sweater to distract me from his obvious gaze. Why am I so nervous? Oh, “things to discuss”. Damn it! What does he know?

  “So, what things do we have to discuss?” I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels, trying to get something out of him. Anything.

  Instead of answering me he spins me to him and ravages me with a kiss. He drops the duffel to the floor and encircles me in his hands. The elevator dings, signaling that we’ve arrived at the 11th floor; giving new meaning to the saying, saved by the bell.

  I pull away from him, both of us heaving, both of us in desperate need of the other. We step out of the elevator and I approach the door to my apartment. I can feel him in my space as I fumble for my keys. An unbidden nervousness overshadows me. I am letting him into my space, into my inner sanctum. Mark you, many a men have passed through my inner sanctum – pun intended – but this…this feels bigger, so much more significant.

  Ben presses against me in my flustered state and I can feel his desire against my rear. I flush and pause.

  I push back against him and grind into his pelvis. I hear his light groan and smile. Maybe I’ll let him wait a bit longer and carry on with a bit of teasing. I press one hand to his hips and the other I brace on the door as I rub my ass into his erection.

  “Open the door, Sullivan,” he demands, but I continue my teasing.

  He braces against me, swearing under his breath. I am enjoying this more than I should.

  He leans in and whispers through gritted teeth, “Open…the damn…door.” He nips my right ear gently, sending shivers down my spine.

  Finally, I open the door and he scoops me up and brings me inside. He kicks the door shut, drops the duffel on the ground then throws me in the black couch as he steps into the living room.

  Circling to the front of the couch, he begins undressing. First his leather jacket and shirt, then his shoes and jeans, until all he stands in are his boxer briefs that his erection is straining against.

  I reach for his throbbing member but he steps away.

  “Undress. Now.”

  “No,” I refuse. I need to know what he knows. If he knows anything.

  His brows knit in frustration. He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder.

  “Ben, stop it!” I slap his hard back in protest, but he doesn’t flinch. “Put me down!” I scream.

  My room door had been open so, barging in, he throws me down, crawling atop me. He kisses me madly, groaning as he finds my tongue. I can’t help my hunger for him. I run my hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. He lets out a moan that makes my body quiver beneath him.

  He rises from me and drags my sweatpants off. Ben is animalistic. His carnal desire for me makes me putty in his hands. I gasp as he tugs the hem of my shirt over my head and I reach forward, rubbing his erection through his underwear. Seizing him in my hands, I watch him unravel under my touch.

  I scoot sexily to him and he tugs my chin to come closer. I yank his underpants down his impressive length, sighing at the sight. I lick my lips, hungry for his cock in my mouth and kiss the tip of it, slipping the head between my plump lips.

  He hisses looking down at me and I take him deeper, tightening my suction, watching his reaction. I feel his hand at my head urging me to go further, urging me to take all of him. I push away, taking a deep breath, and then I swallow him as far as he can go. I feel the tip of his dick at the back of my throat and he lets out an erotic cry that forces me to swirl my tongue along the length.

  He pulls away from me, chuckling to himself as he stares at me with wonder. He cups my chin and plants a rough kiss on my lips.

  “You are a treat,” he breathes against my lips.

  Lightly shoving me on my back, he spreads my legs open and falls to his knees. He massages my swollen clit with his thumb over my panties. My hips shamefully start swaying to his ministrations. I want him madly.

  He quickly slips off my underwear, amused that I am so wet for him – to the point where my inner thighs are damp with my juices. Ben starts licking my inner thighs and placing soft bites that I feel in my groin.

  “Ben, please,” I beg, not liking where things are going. I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of cunnilingus. I enjoy and much prefer giving head and that’s as far as oral sex goes for me. Besides, none of the hell-of-a-lot-of guys I have had sex with ever did it right.

  Kissing my clit, my core clenches and my stomach does this sweet fluttering that surprises me. Is that anticipation?

  “All in due time,” he whispers as he blows on my opening.

  My body goes limp with want. I am helpless. He parts my folds and before I can lift a hand in protest, he covers my clit, sucking ever so gently. I arch my back at the sensuous assault, my eyes doing a weird turning in my head and my mouth doing an odd parting to accommodate my lustful sounds. I dig into the sheets, thrusting my hips up to meet his mouth. Oh. My. Oh…

  “God!” I scream in delight, pounding the bed at the ecstatic feel of his mouth on me. This is what it feels like! A girl could get used to this.

  Ben continues to suckle me, slipping his tongue inside and licking me deep. I almost fly off the bed with all the sensations attacking me, but he holds me in place. Confusion swirls around my head as pleasure overtakes my body. Incoherent words explode from my lips and I dig my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to the strands. He i
s a man on a mission as he sucks harder at my sensitized clit and I feel like I am about to explode, my orgasm creeping up on me and startling me.

  “Fuck! I’m coming, Ben,” I wail, my body stiffening, ready to explode.

  He slips two fingers inside my warm, soaking wet core and crooks them repeatedly inside me. It is almost like he is calling – no, commanding – my orgasm to come forth. And just like that, I shatter around him with a fierce cry; my body vibrating with an earth-shattering climax.

  He pulls away from my clit and blows gently on it. I squirm away as I am much too sensitive for any kind of touch or clitoral attention.

  He holds me in place and coos, “Shh…”

  But I feel like I’m in another dimension. I’ve lost it. My body is vibrating still, carnal electricity pulsating through me. I am reeling in the aftermath of my orgasm. I am not even aware when he gets up from the floor, or when he puts on a condom. All I feel is him piercing me slowly.

  “Ahh,” I moan hoarsely.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re still so tight. I love it.” He begins to rub my clit and as much as I try to fight him off, I am too weak from his touch.

  I delight in the feel of him inside me, gyrating my hips to meet his powerfully slow strokes. He leans over me inhaling my scent and filling me deeper. I dig into him with my nails willing him to go harder and faster, but he doesn’t.

  “Did you have another man in your bed last night?” The chill of his question startles me, but I am too wrapped up in the way he’s making me feel to argue or lie.

  “Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

  “I smell him on this bed. On you,” he grumbles. He thrusts hard into me, taking me so much by surprise that my breath hitches loudly in my throat. “Why?” he asks menacingly.

  “I don’t know.” My voice squeaks in reply as I undulate beneath him.

  He begins pounding me mercilessly. It’s like he is deranged with desire; like he is punishing me. I scream and moan, calling his name as though it is a mantra. My vagina squishes at the repeated touching of my sweet spot. Oh, I am loving this!