I glared at my friend. She smiled at me.
“I think you can tell him all that yourself,” she quipped.
I slowly turned in my seat. There he stood. Narrowed gray eyes, curly cropped hair that had been tapered to perfection. Square chiseled chin that was decorated with a perfectly aligned goatee. He had golden tint to his skin that seemed to be attracting women like bees to honey. On his wrist sat his signature Rolex. Diamonds accentuated the time device. He was dressed down. Not in his signature Brooks Brothers attire. Still, it was clear to see the short sleeved black polo style shirt had been tailored to hug the muscles in his chest and arms. The tan dress slacks he had on had been outfitted for him as well. It took everything in me not to look at the obvious print of his dick. Seemed like I was the only one though. The other women in the room had no shame. On his feet were black loafers. The whole assemble clearly set him apart from the other men in the room. That wasn’t so much because of the outfit itself, but because of how he wore it. No man should be able to wear something overtly simple and make it look like it had been designed for the gods.
Or it could have been the fact that he stood there with an air that said he owned the moment. Even his posture showed his arrogance.
With one hand in his pocket and the other holding a leather carrying case, he stood regal. Broad shoulders that made him appear larger than life as he gazed down at me with a look of disinterest.
“For some reason, you’re always inviting me to kiss your ass like it’s something I would enjoy doing,” he spat. “How about you kiss my ass? I’m sure both of us would enjoy that more.”
I sighed loudly. Had been having a battle of the wits with the man since he and I first met. I was really in no mood to do it in that moment, but there would be no way he would tell me to kiss his ass and that would be that. Even if he did look like he had just walked off a GQ cover photo shoot, none of that had ever mattered to me when he decided to go there with me.
“I’m sure you have enough women kissing your ass, Jaylin. It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t make a woman feel like she was lucky to even be in your presence. However, I’ll pass. I’ve seen road kill that had a more appetizing appeal.”
I gave a snide smirk. I had to wonder just what in the hell he was doing in Baltimore at the exact hotel we were in. That brought my attention back to my friend.
I asked her, “You knew he was here, didn’t you?”
“You can say that.”
He wanted to know, “You have a problem with me being here?”
I ignored him and asked my friend, “Why is he here?”
She had a smile on her face that told me some sneakiness was afoot. “Had some business to handle. He was on his way somewhere else and decided to touch down and drop off something.”
“Uh-huh,” I answered.
I watched as Jaylin strolled around the table. He adjusted his pants before taking a seat. He sat like he had no worries, not a care in the world. Laid his carrying case on the table next to him. He took his time ordering, once the waiter walked over to ask him what he wanted.
“Make sure it’s top shelf. Don’t bring me any off-brand watered-down shit or your tip will reflect my dissatisfaction.”
I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes. My friend shook her head. The waiter nodded with a smile then walked off. Jaylin was known to only take the finest of things in life. So the fact that he was even in the Hilton was surprising to me. Why, you may ask? Jaylin had told people he didn’t even know what the store Big Lots was. He was known to not even want to step foot on the property of lesser known hotels. So his exorbitant behavior and ‘I’m better than you’ attitude wasn’t new to me.
I sat silently as he and my friend talked about his vacation to Italy. While they went back and forth, the waiter brought his drink over. After taking a few sips, he leaned over to my friend and said something that only the two of them could hear. Whatever it was caused her to blush red. She shook her head, again, as she crossed her legs. I could tell my friend was just as turned on by the man’s antics, as she was annoyed.
“You are so full of shit,” she told him. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have dissed me that time.”
“You hold grudges for years. Can’t a man make a mistake?”
“Not one like that.”
“So, you don’t miss us?”
She looked at him pointedly, “I miss you as a friend, yes. But you and I both know what you’re offering comes with stipulations I can’t deal with.”
I looked on curiously. Was Jaylin trying to woo her again? He was the only man I knew who could tell one woman about another and the other woman would still be at his beck and call. Even when he would give his ass to kiss, women still came crawling back. My friend had been one of two who appeared to not give in to him. Then again, my suspicions about them grew, every time we all got together. I found it all comical, so I chuckled lightly. I knew what it was to be a woman fighting the obvious attraction to the man.
“What’s so funny?” Jaylin asked me.
“You. You’re so not used to a woman saying no or walking away that you don’t know what to do with yourself,” I answered then picked up my watered-down Martini to take a sip.
His face was stoic. I could garner his reaction.
“Oh. Thought you may have been laughing at the fact your husband had finally left you.”
My spine stiffened. Eyes clouded over as they turned to slits. He smirked. I shot daggers at him with my eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
“You must have been a horrible wife to make the man just leave you like that.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. So why don’t you shut up?”
“Now, why would I do that? Figured I could speak on the ins and outs of your marriage like you so diligently did mine whenever you saw fit. So tell me something,” he inquired with furrowed brows as he leaned forward. “How does it feel?”
I bristled as my mood continued to sour. “How does what feel?”
“How does it feel to have your husband walk away? I find the shit comical, actually. You know, kind of like you did when Nokea walked away from me.”
“You were a cheating asshole who didn’t know what you had until it was gone.”
“I knew what I had, which is why I fought so hard to keep it.”
I smirked. “You’re right. But you wouldn’t have had to fight so hard to keep it if you would have just done right in the first place. You knew what you had, but you just didn’t expect her to walk away, did you?”
Jaylin gave a rare chuckle then sat back. “Now, look at this,” he said then looked at my friend, who had smartly remained mute during the whole thing, like Beyoncé did when Solange was kicking Jay-Z’s ass. “I knew what I had and fought to keep it. She knew what she had and still tried to fight to keep it. One of us is smart and the other is stupid. Nokea was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Shelia’s husband has always been an asshole. Yet she stayed and waited until he left, instead of leaving his ass a long time ago.” He turned back to me. “You knew he wasn’t shit.”
The drink in my hand started to shake. I had a good inkling to toss the shit in his face, but judging by the way his brow raised and the way he glanced down at his drink, it would be safe to assume that I’d have a face full of his drink too. I remembered the last time I threw a drink in his face. He’d returned the favor and tossed his back in mine. My eyes watered at the thought of the burning sensation that sent me blindly rushing to the bathroom to wash my eyes with cold water.
Penniless. Husbandless. Loveless. Careless. And damn near homeless. That was what my life had turned out to be after my husband decided to pack up and run off with the nineteen-year-old girl he had been cheating on me with. Did I know he was a nothing-ass Negro when I married him? Not really. Did I know he would run off and leave his kids while he chased random pussy clear to an island in New York named Staten? No. If anything, that was the one thing he’d done in the whole
situation that caught me completely off guard. So Jaylin could fuck off. While I knew he’d only been paying me back for the countless times I’d passed judgments on his relationships, it still didn’t take away the bitterness left in my mouth from his taunting. I excused myself and walked outside to catch some fresh air.
“Jaylin, why did you do that?” I heard my friend ask as I walked away.
I didn’t hear his answer, as I had rushed through the sliding doors of the exit as fast as I could. The night air chilled me as I only had on a sweater. I took a look at my reflection in the glass. To be pissed off, I looked pretty upbeat, which was surprising. Usually when Jaylin and I went tit for tat, I was left with a scowl and the urge to pour hot grits on his dick. My jet black curly hair blew around in the wind. I was still a plus-sized diva myself, but just like my friend, I, too, carried my weight well and wore my clothes just the same. Black tights, a black and white sheer top that fishtailed in the back, and black and white wedged sneakers. I pulled my sweater tighter then took a seat on one of the wrought-iron benches in the front of the place. Cars passed back and forth as valets took keys and handed out numbers. Drunken and loud guests walked in and out of the hotel. The wind blew and slapped me in the face a couple of times.
Maybe the reason you don’t look upset is because you know Jaylin is telling the truth, my conscience whispered to me. I sighed and shook my head. I hated to admit, but it was the truth. The man I’d married had shown me time and time again that I wasn’t where he wanted to be. I chose to ignore it for the sake of the children. I didn’t want to be a single black mother so I chose to stay until he made me a single black mother anyway.
Exactly, so why are you out here sulking? I’m cold, bitch, my conscience roared again. I shook my head and decided to walk back in the building. Besides, letting Jaylin know he had gotten to me would surely make him more arrogant than he was already. So I put on my best fuck-you face and decided to not let the man see me sweat.
A few hours later, after he and my friend wrapped up their conversation, she and I made our way back to the tenth floor to our room. The new room we were in was much better. Two pillow-top queen-sized beds. A forty-inch flat-screen TV sat atop the wood grain dresser against the wall. Next to that was a desk with two chairs. The big bay window had the curtain drawn closed with a chair next to it. The light blue carpet was clean and the room smelled fresh. We’d had a long day and even longer night. So we chatted for a bit. She made a few comments about me and Jaylin always verbally fighting. Our war of words had become famous in some settings. I chuckled to myself at the thought. After a while, I’d gotten in bed. Didn’t take long for the alcohol to lure me into the land of snoring.
At first, I thought I had been dreaming. A woman’s sensual moans serenaded me. I saw Jaylin’s face then cursed myself for still having freaky thoughts about the man, even after he’d insulted me. I cursed him in my dreams then turned over to try to go back to sleep. I couldn’t, that was how I knew I wasn’t dreaming and what I witnessed was real. The muscles in his back coiled like steel cables while succulent thighs wrapped around his waist.
“Jaylin, we can’t do this in here,” I heard.
“Why not?”
“Shelia’s in here.”
“So. She already knows what this is.”
That gave me pause. So he would just fuck another woman in my presence? Even in my dreams, Jaylin was an asshole. In the flesh, he was one too. The fact that he would be fondly massaging another woman’s breasts and kissing her neck while I was in the room showed that he didn’t care that he had an audience.
That woman, whoever she was, moaned again. Her auburn hair fell haphazardly around her shoulders. The night shirt she had on was in a messy heap around her waist. Jaylin still had his tan dress slacks on, but obviously that wasn’t hindering him. He was mid-stroke when the woman’s thighs started to quake.
I had gone from being annoyed that he was sexing another woman with me in the same room, to being curiously intrigued about how he was handling her. When he dipped his knees and scooped her from the table beside the TV, then brought her to the bed I was lying in, my eyes widened. Damn, a front row? I thought. The woman was beyond the throes of ecstasy. Jaylin pulled back after laying her down. His dick was hard and purposefully aimed through his zipper and soaked. He unbuckled his belt. Next came the button on his slacks then his pants came down revealing powerful thighs. If it could be possible, he’d gotten even more toned with muscle from the last time I saw him.
Jaylin’s abs clenched as he kneeled down and brought his lips to the woman’s swollen vaginal lips. There was a wedding band on her finger. As I sat up, the woman grabbed a pillow and tried to hide her face. I was so caught off guard by the whole thing, it took me a minute to close my mouth from the shock of seeing my friend’s face. While Jaylin showed his expert skill in the art of cunninglingus, she was either trying to hide her embarrassment or the love faces she was making with the pillow. Either way, Jaylin didn’t like that she was covering her face, so once he came up for air, he frowned. Snatched the pillow away from her face and swiftly entered her with a hard thrust.
My mouth was in the permanent shape of an ‘O’. He gripped her wrists. Held her hands above her head while he pushed in and out of her. I didn’t know what was more interesting . . . the fact that her moans had started to get deeper, more sensual, and louder, or the fact that I was actually watching it all go down.
Jaylin had a determined look on his face. The kind that said a man was intent on bringing a woman the pleasure she would never know from another man. The muscles in his arms flexed as he peered down at her.
“Bet you won’t wait this long again to give me some pussy,” Jaylin taunted her. “I can tell by how tight it is, somebody ain’t been hitting it right,” he kept on.
“I hate you so much,” she responded.
He bit down on his bottom lip, dipped his hips, and caught the motion of her rising hips. I could tell that even though my friend was fighting to keep control of her senses, she, too, was giving the man with the back arching deep stroke a run for his money.
He grunted. “I like this kind of hate. Keep hating me. Pussy is better when you put a little hate in it.”
As bad as I wanted to stay in the bed and keep looking, I felt that I should, at least, get up. And so I did . . . well, I tried to. Jaylin grabbed my ankle.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“Err . . . giving ya’ll some space. Looks like ya’ll need that,” I murmured.
It was the best answer I could come up with. To be honest, I was hoping that maybe I could get to the bathroom where I’d hidden my Hitachi wand and stave off some of the swollen moist heat pooling between my thighs. I’d watched plenty of porn, but what was happening before me was anything but porn. It was live action erotica and something about it tickled my fancy.
To make matters worse, I didn’t know how to feel after seeing my friend spread eagle, pussy wet, nipples hardened, breast swollen . . . all in the name of Jaylin Jerome Rogers. Every time Jaylin stroked in and out of her, the sight of his creamy wet nine inches—looked to be more now—made me tense.
Jaylin yanked my thighs, pulling me down to the edge of the bed. Now, I probably could have prevented that, you know. But somewhere deep within the recesses of my dick-deprived, pleasure-starved mind, I really didn’t think I wanted to. He let one of my friend’s wrists go. His big hand snaked up my thighs. Since I’d only had on some ass-crack riding boy shorts and a sports bra, it didn’t take much for his fingers to pull them to the side.
“I always knew you had another side to the freak in you. Seeing my dick in her made you wet, huh?” He teased.
While he taunted, his fingers slid between the folds of my pussy, then slipped inside of me. It had been so long since I’d had anything from a man inside of me that all it took was one come-here motion with his fingers to get me going. It was my turn to be embarrassed. I wanted to reach for a pillow to cover my face, but all
I had were my hands. While they covered my face, my hips rolled against his fingers involuntarily. It was the effect of an oncoming orgasm.
The pad of his thumb circled my clitoris and I all but passed out at the sensation. One of my hands left my face to grab his wrist. He snatched his wrist from my hold.
“You want me to stop?” he asked.
God knew I didn’t. So against my better judgment, I shook my head.
“No,” I answered.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he said.
I opened my eyes to see that he had my friend caged between his arms. I fought off my embarrassment and watched on in anticipation of him fingering me again. But it was clear by the scowl on my friend’s face that Jaylin’s teasing ways was about to get him hit. She was on the brink of an orgasm. It was evident by the way she kept trying to move her hips. However, Jaylin had placed his hands on them to stop her movement. He was controlling the moment, was controlling her. He held her orgasm for ransom and there was little she could do about it.
“Jaylin, you need to stop playing,” she stammered.
“No, you need to stop playing with my dick. Why you keep denying me what we both know we want?”
“Because I’m married.”
I guess he didn’t like that answer. He gave her a swift short stroke that made her eyes roll to the back of her head. She made an ugly come face. All women knew what that was. That was the face we made when a man had hit the right spot. It was sweet torture. Painful pleasure. That point between insanity and death. Le petite mort.
“You’re married now, right? But whose dick is inside of you?”
“You’re not playing fair.”
“I’m not playing to be fair. I’m playing to win.”
He stood up straight, pushed my friend’s knees back until they touched her ears and proved that he was indeed playing to win. He pushed in and out of her, worked his hips like a man who had island in his blood. Shamefully—I’m lying—unabashedly, I watched as she coated his dick in her satisfaction. She glazed him over while he used his sex to get his point across. The veins in his arms sat out strong, muscles strained against the pressure he put on them. He’d worked up a sweat. Skin glistened in the dimly lit room as he cupped her thighs in the crease of his elbows, lifted her supple ass from the bed and made her cry out to the sex gods. If anybody had been in the rooms next to us, they heard it all.
If Only for Another Night Page 11