“I really can,” Anya argued. “Not right now, but—”
“Not right now is exactly what I thought,” Brick said sarcastically. He gazed at her with disdain. She was desperately grasping at straws. Lying and coming at Brick like he was on some kinda sucka shit.
Brick was actually relieved Anya had let down her guard, showing her true self. He no longer felt sorry for her. With a clear conscience, he could roll out.
“You should call that shelter, and make some arrangements for yourself,” Brick said in a cold tone, and then sauntered toward the door.
“When my mother got killed…” Anya paused.
Brick stared at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence.
Anya’s eyes began to water, and her body trembled. “There was a lawsuit. My father was awarded a lot of money. My father. He…he…”
“He what?” Brick said impatiently.
“Started messing with drugs. He blew all the money. Lost everything. Sent me away,” Anya said, talking fast. Brick tried to make sense of her words, but her staccato bursts of information didn’t make sense or add up. From what he gathered, seemed like she was telling him that her pops blew some lawsuit money, and lost everything.
She didn’t have a pot to piss in, so where was she going with this? She damn sure didn’t have enough dough to finance his mission.
Brick gave Anya a long look. It seemed like she was falling apart. Shaking and carrying on…unable to speak in a complete sentence. Shawty might be missing a screw or two.
“You need to chill out. For real.” He shook his head in disgust. “Why you tryna play me?”
“I wasn’t. I get upset when I think about what happened to my mother.”
Brick wrapped his hand around the doorknob. I thought she said that she didn’t even remember her mother. Shawty got issues.
Forcing patience into his voice, he said, “Maybe you need to talk it out with a professional. Look, shawty, I’m outta here. And you’re lucky that I’m not kicking you out. The way you acting makes me think twice about leaving you here. Something could spark a bad memory…cause you to black out and start tearing up shit. If you tear up a bunch of shit, the hotel’s gon’ come at me—try to hit me with some vandalism charges. I got enough on my plate; I don’t need any more problems.” Brick rubbed his forehead, wearily.
“I’m not crazy. I don’t go around damaging property. I wouldn’t do anything like that,” she said, tears sliding down her face.
“Aye, cool. Have a good life.” Brick turned the knob, opened the door.
Anya grabbed his arm. “Please don’t leave me. I need you.”
Brick felt all his resolve melting away. There was something in her voice, a pitiful note of panic that resonated within in. Many times in his life, he’d begged someone not to leave him…pleaded not to be kicked out. Starting with his mother. Then his foster parents. Then Misty. And now, Thomasina.
Brick knew all too well the pain and the fear of being all alone in this world.
“Aye. We gon’ ride this out together. But you gotta stop crying. Please.” Brick reached out to wipe her face.
Anya tumbled into his arms.
Comforting her, Brick held her close, his hand unconsciously stroking the middle of her back.
“I need you, Brick. Need you to make love to me.”
He stilled the movement of his hand. “Come on, shawty; it’s not even like that between us.”
“My name is Anya—not shawty.”
“Anya, no offense, but I’m not tryna go there with you. “
She wiggled out of his embrace. “Why not?” The lush curve of her lips twisted with defiance. She pulled her top over her head, removing it before Brick could stop her.
Stripped down to a black bra and a short skirt, Anya was more than appealing. Her bra was basic black. Nothing lacey…no pushup cups. But that black against her caramel skin was seductive as hell.
Yet Brick was able to maintain his composure. “You’re at a weak point, shawty…I mean, Anya.”
“You don’t find me attractive?”
“That’s not the problem. You’re a pretty girl. But, I’m not tryna get into any emotional entanglements.”
“Entanglements?” She scoffed. “There’re no strings attached.” She reached for his hands. “Touch me.” Her dark eyes challenged him, lured him to move closer.
She took his hands and guided them to her hot skin. Her body felt delicate beneath his touch. So fragile, he feared that she’d easily break if he didn’t handle her carefully.
“Hold me. I need you so much.” The look in Anya’s eyes was hypnotic, pulling him in like a magnet.
Brick linked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer while telling himself that he would hold her—console her—for only a moment.
The past few days had been emotionally charged…draining him. Having a woman in his arms was surprisingly soothing. He could feel his resolve weakening. “This ain’t right,” he murmured, fighting with his own urges. Anya was a pretty girl, but she wasn’t the woman he wanted. Thomasina still had a place in his heart. And so did Misty. He loved both mother and daughter…in different ways. He was bereaved—in deep mourning over the loss of both of them.
“Life threw us together,” Anya said softly. “Let it happen, Brick. We need each other. Don’t fight it.”
As his hands began to roam her body, wandering beneath her skirt, Brick’s mind was telling him to get his shit together and get the hell out of the hotel room. But Anya felt so soft and sensual, her body was purring for him. A temptation that was hard to resist.
Before common sense took over, he scooped her up in his arms, striding toward the bedroom, his gait long and rapid, his jaw clenched as if to control his savage urges.
CHAPTER 21
In the bedroom, Brick was barely out of his clothes. He must’ve been taking too long because Anya was all over him, tugging on his shirt, covering his back and his neck with her lips. Her passion was palpable as she covered his upper body with her heated kisses. Hot sparks that burned and tingled raced against his skin. He murmured…moaned. He was close to groaning out loud, but he sealed off his impassioned sounds by clamping his lips onto hers, his tongue stroking deeply into mouth, licking and tasting with primal intensity.
Anya circled her arms around his neck, fastening their bodies together. Brick’s fingers were busy, unclasping the snaps of her bra. Urgently, his hands worked their way around to her front, massaging her breasts until her nipples tightened and pushed against his fingertips.
Brick pacified each hardened knot with puckered lips that sucked softly and gently licked.
“Fuck me,” Anya pleaded, no longer able to restrain her raw, carnal hunger.
His boots were still on his feet, his jeans and briefs hung at the middle of his thighs. Giving her what she wanted, and taking what he needed, Brick entered Anya. His thickly muscled body rose and fell as he spiraled into her depths. Her skin was hot with desire, sending off a whiff that was arousing and intoxicating.
Anya’s female scent, uniquely her own, incited a dry thirst that only a sip of her nectar could quench. He pulled out, leaving her gasping, leaving her pussy moist and puckered with need.
He repositioned her so that her flower petals were flush against his mouth.
But one taste was not enough; Brick hadn’t realized how much he hungered and yearned for a woman’s flavor.
With Anya’s legs secured around his neck, Brick drank from her fountain of pleasure until Anya reached a screaming climax.
Now it was his turn. Swiftly, he rid himself of his boots and clothing. Naked, Brick stood over Anya. His powerfully muscled body was moist with perspiration. His heart pounded with desire. Instead of jumping in the pussy the way he wanted to, he remained standing, admiring and taking in the triangle of loveliness between her legs.
Anya spread her thighs for him. Her eyes, bright with desire, urged him to join her.
Transfixed, Brick gazed at Anya’s n
aked beauty, his palm fisted around his massive dick. Petite and achingly beautiful, Anya suddenly reminded him of his first love…Misty.
Bending slightly, his stomach was laced with tight muscles. As his dick hardened in his hand, his powerful biceps bulged and flexed. He squeezed tightly, fisting his dick as if to subdue the growing throbbing. A sudden sting of tears burned his eyes. In a confused state of mind, Brick was dizzied by the combination of anguish and lust.
Blindly, he lunged for Anya. Feeling and sniffing his way to her luscious feminine part. He roughly pulled her legs apart, fitting the head of his dick between the petals, pushing into the snug interior, panting and desperate to plant himself deeply inside.
“Do you know how bad I’ve been wanting you? How hard it was to sleep by myself with you in the next room? How could you torture me like that…denying me the pleasure of this thick, pretty dick.”
“You got it, now, baby. It’s all yours,” he said in a thickened baritone.
“I don’t want you to think about that other woman right now. Concentrate on me,” she coaxed. “In this moment, it’s all about you and me. Pretend I’m your woman… and you’re my man. Take this pussy, Brick. Own it. Treat it like it’s really yours!”
Anya’s lustful words incited Brick to release a strong, masculine groan.
Brick thrust into her. “Oh, shit,” he blurted as he drove himself unmercifully deep. He thrust in and out at a feverish pace. He was fast-fucking and unable to slow his stroke. “This is how I treat my pussy,” he growled, as he plunged and pummeled without tenderness.
“Beat it up, baby! Your pussy loves to be punished!” Anya shouted. Her crude words intensified Brick’s pleasure.
Goddamn, this chick is talking mad shit! I can’t hold back much longer.
Uncaring if he split her in two, Brick widened Anya’s legs as far apart as he could stretch them. Going in for the kill, Brick pumped dick until the friction scorched his skin. He felt blood rushing through his veins. He was close to cumming.
Anya seemed to suddenly vibrate. He looked down and realized she was shaking violently beneath him. Her pussy spasmed around his dick. She whimpered and cried out his name as she climaxed again.
And this time, with a great roar, Brick joined her.
“I don’t usually lose control of myself like that…did I hurt you?” Brick asked Anya as they lay together in bed.
She shook her head. “The only way you can hurt me is when you leave me. Notice that I said when you leave me...not if.”
Brick propped himself up and stared at her in surprise. “I’m not tryna hurt you. But you did say that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.”
“I know. Can’t help it if I caught feelings.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
She stroked the vein on his muscular arm. “Yesterday, you had on a wedding band. Today, you don’t. I don’t know what your situation is, but my intuition tells me you’re very much in love with your wife.”
He let out a long sigh. “It’s true. I love her, but I took the ring off because the marriage is over. My wife wants a divorce.”
“Do you want a divorce?”
“No. But there’s nothing that I can do to change her mind.”
Anya looked off in thought and frowned. “How’d she ask for a divorce…I mean, isn’t she in coma?”
“Misty’s in a coma. She’s my wife’s daughter.”
“Her daughter?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story.” Brick dropped his gaze as he pictured poor Misty lying in the hospital, caught between this world and the next. “Things don’t look too promising for Misty; she’s not gon’ make it,” he confessed, leaving out his involvement in her current condition.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She used to be my girl…we were together since we were kids.”
“How’d you wind up marrying her mother?”
“It’s real complicated; hard to explain.”
“Try. I’m a good listener.” She caressed his arm again, coaxing him to talk.
“When things began to fall apart between Misty and me, her mother, Thomasina, was there for me. I fell for her.”
“Because she reminded you of Misty?”
Brick smiled. “Nah, Misty and her mother are nothing alike. Totally different personalities and they don’t physically resemble each other at all. The reason I fell for Thomasina had nothing to do with Misty.
“At first it was only sex.” He laughed a little. “And I dug her maturity. Then I think I fell in love with her because she loved me. She treated me good; you know what I’m saying? I had a hard life. Nobody ever cared about me or showed me love the way Thomasina did.”
“Not even Misty.”
Brick smiled sardonically. “I guess she did. In her own way.”
“Are you still in love with Misty?”
Brick paused. He let out a sigh. “I’ll always love Misty. She’s got a place right here…forever.” He touched his heart.
“Well, I’m not asking for forever, Brick. All I want is right now,” Anya said sincerely.
“Right now is all I can give you, baby. Somebody tried to take Misty out. I don’t know who. But whoever it was, they fucked her up real bad. Misty wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t deserve to be beaten beyond recognition….paralyzed…her body shriveled.”
“Damn. That’s horrible,” Anya said.
“I can’t rest. I won’t have any peace until I get revenge.”
“Let me help you.”
“I know you mean well, but all you’re doing is distracting me.”
“How?”
He looked over at his crumpled clothes on the floor and chuckled. “Do you even have to ask that?”
“I’m not trying to be your girlfriend. But we’re adults. And having sex is what adults do.”
“So, you wanna be my fuck buddy? That’s all?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
“I wanna be your friend.”
“That’s cool.”
“Your confidante,” Anya added, her voice taking on a softer tone.
She touched herself, parting the lips that glistened with Brick’s lust. “And I want this to be your personal pussy. The hole you cum in when life gets to be too much.”
Brick should’ve been out of the hotel over an hour ago, and yet he was still lingering in bed. Anya’s words stirred and aroused him; had him seeking out the pleasure between her legs once again.
CHAPTER 22
“Do you realize how much your lawyer cost us?” my mother hisses in the phone. She’s been griping about my legal fees ever since I got popped. After ten years, I know that bill has to be paid in full.
“Mom, all I’m asking is for you to let me hold a couple hundred. I’ll pay you back.”
“Kaymar, listen to me and listen to me good. I put a second mortgage on this house to pay for your legal defense, and that’s the only reason why you’re walking around free today. Theodore’s family had to use the public defender, and he’s locked up for life.”
“I know, Mom,” I say irritably. I hate it when she keeps pounding in my head what she did for me. Shit, she’s my mother. Parents are supposed to look out for their kids.
“Mom, just let me hold a hundred,” I ask, reluctantly bringing down the amount of money I want.
“I’m not letting you hold one measly dollar. Boy, what’s wrong with you? You should be trying to pay me back all those thousands of dollars I wasted on your defense.”
“Wasted?” I repeat, offended.
“That’s right. If I had it to do all over, I’d let you sit in jail and pay for what you did to that poor woman.”
“I ain’t do nothing. You heard what my lawyer told the jury. I was a minor… following the lead of an eighteen-year-old adult.”
“Theodore is slow. Everybody in our neighborhood knows you talked him into doing that crime. You’re wicked, Kaymar, and I can’t be bothered
with you anymore. I have to make peace with Jesus and you need to do the same.”
“Mom!”
“Don’t call here again, Kaymar. You’re a grown man now and I’m not responsible for you.”
My mother hangs up on me. I stand in disbelief as I listen to the dial tone. Red hot fury shoots through my system. I look around Evette’s outdated kitchen. The wallpaper is decorated with roosters, and that shit is starting to really irk me.
Evette is at work, and therefore out of the reach of my wrath. I have to release my rage on something, so I go on a rampage inside the fucked-up kitchen. I use the receiver of the old-fashioned wall phone to bash a hole in the kitchen wall. In the midst of the act, I convince myself I’m killing roosters. I have to kill something after the callous way that my mom has dissed me.
I hang the phone up and then begin to knock stuff off the counters: the toaster, salt and pepper shakers, napkin holder…all that shit. Then I hurl a teakettle against the canisters, toppling them like bowling pins. I karate kick a dent in the refrigerator. I pull a wooden cabinet door off the hinges; break dishes and glasses. I dump forks and spoons out of the drawer and onto the floor.
After I finish trashing the kitchen, I stumble into the living room, preparing to wreak havoc in here. But I’m stopped by the ringing phone.
Figuring my mother has had a change of heart, I run back to the kitchen. I know she loves me. No mother will allow her son to suffer if she can help it. The phone is lopsided on the wall, and I’m relieved it’s still working. I lift the receiver off the hook.
“Hello!” I say breathlessly.
“Yo, man. What’s good?” It’s Blake on the other end of the phone. I’m very disappointed.
“Whatchu been up to?” he asks.
“Ain’t shit,” I reply with a sigh.
“I’m chillin’ at the crib, watching this flick, but it’s kind of boring…”
Is this nigga for real? Why would he call me to tell me about his boring day? I’m not feeling this shit at all, so my eyes wander around the kitchen. I get a small amount of satisfaction as I observe the damage I’ve done. The calendar on the wall is miraculously in place. I notice the red circle I put around Evette’s next payday. It’s in two days. Yes! I’m somewhat uplifted by the fact I’ll have some money soon.
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