Filled with disgust, Nivea yanked out the green plastic bag, and secured it with a tight knot. She threw her big faux fur coat over her nightgown. She hated having to take the trash out. Times like this she wished the hardworking crew who took care of the grounds around her complex would handle some household chores, too.
The frigid cold had her pacing quickly to the Dumpster, which was situated in a semi-private spot behind visitors’ parking. A cold and sharp wind smacked against her back. Yearning for the warmth of her house, Nivea quickly flung the trash bag. It thumped heavily into the Dumpster.
Just as she was about to turn around, she noticed a looming shadow. Her muscles tensed and she instantly felt the sudden sensation of warmth.
Someone had crept up behind her, blocking the whipping wind. She sucked in a frightened breath.
Large hands pressed her against the Dumpster, preventing her from moving.
“Oh, my God!”
“Shh!” The utterance was husky and male.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she squeaked, trying to twist around and face her attacker.
“Be quiet!” the voice said in a whispered shout, forcibly holding her in place.
With the side of her face pressed against the cold Dumpster, Nivea shivered as the assailant yanked up her coat and flannel gown. He pushed against her bare backside, grinding and murmuring hoarsely, “You like it dirty, don’t you?”
She couldn’t speak. She shook her head, denying the accusation. She didn’t like it dirty! At least not like this, not outside in the cold…next to a trash Dumpster. Nivea trembled with fear and indignation.
From behind, he shoved a hand between her thighs, his four fingers journeying purposefully toward the slit of her vagina. His middle finger took on an unexpected tenderness when it reached its destination, burrowing into the sticky heat that had accumulated into a thick puddle of lust.
His finger delved deeper. A flood of passion swept through Nivea; she acknowledged that something dark and carnal had been awakened inside her.
The stranger withdrew his finger from her warm depth. Mounting her from behind, he replaced his finger with the swollen tip of his dick.
Like an apprehended criminal, Nivea widened her stance, arms outstretched, palms pressed against the metal surface of the trash bin. Inexplicably, she wanted every inch of this stranger’s pulsing flesh. She briefly wondered if she were being fucked by one of the Hispanic workers who shoveled snow and kept the grounds neat and clean.
His dick probe was harsh and unrelenting as it searched for her hidden treasure.
With each thrust of his heated shaft, he pulled her hair. “You like it dirty?” he demanded in a coarse voice, spoken close to her ear. The attacker wore a ski mask; Nivea could feel the rough fabric scraping against her neck and the side of her face.
“Tell me! Do you like it dirty, bitch?” he whispered in a voice that was so strangled with lust, there was no discernible accent.
“Yes,” she finally admitted after giving up on trying to detect an accent or place the voice. This ski-masked, night-fucker was bringing out her depraved side.
She moved in concert with the masked man, shoving back as she willingly accepted the hot and meaty dick that filled her. Nivea moaned and scratched at the metal trash bin, her pussy clenching around the base of the stranger’s dick as it pounded violently.
Then his strokes slowed, leisurely searching until her sweet spot was found.
“Ahh,” Nivea cried out as she tumbled to the edge of ecstasy. She went limp, murmuring and moaning with her head and torso drooping downward.
The stranger wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her inert body to him, as he hammered hard. Nivea’s pussy made squishy noises. “That girl juice feels nice and nasty on my dick,” he groaned.
Too spent to talk or move, Nivea smiled in perverted satisfaction.
“Damn, you look sexy taking out the trash…” His voice trailed off as he groaned and released a titanic explosion.
The stranger’s voice sounded suddenly familiar. Nivea whipped around and grabbed at the ski mask.
“Knox!”
“Miss me?” he asked, wearing a crooked smile. Before she could speak, he started turning her around.
“You crazy bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?” She raised her fist to hit him.
He caught her fist. “Chill out.”
“How could you do something like that to me? I was terrified.”
Knox looked stunned. “I thought you enjoyed getting freaky and living out your fantasies.”
“Getting raped is not one of my fantasies.”
“The way you were slamming that pussy back at me, seemed like you were into it.”
Nivea opened her mouth to protest.
“Shh!” Knox said. “Feel my dick; I need some.” He pressed hand against his hardness. “Ooo, come on, baby. Bend over for me. Let me get up in it one more time.”
She looked around nervously, wondering if any of her neighbor’s had witnessed the whorish exhibition. “Let’s go in the house, Knox. It’s cold out here.”
“I can warm you up.” His dick pulsed inside her hand. He nudged Nivea into the side of the Dumpster.
“Someone might be watching, Knox,” she murmured.
“Let ’em watch,” he replied, pushing his dick inside her creamy warmth. “Don’t you like being watched?”
Sopping wet and writhing with desire, Nivea responded with a shuddering whimper.
CHAPTER 48
Being alone on New Year’s Eve felt like crap. Yuri was with his father, and Vangie had no one to celebrate with. She’d planned on spending New Year’s Eve with Harlow, but Drake came to town unexpectedly, and Vangie couldn’t blame Harlow for dropping their plans to spend a quiet evening with her man.
So here she was, absolutely alone, guzzling cheap champagne, and gazing at the TV and waiting for the ball to drop at Times Square. When the clock struck midnight, Vangie felt panicked. She didn’t like bringing the New Year in by herself. It was ridiculous for her and Shawn to be apart. Ridiculous!
She thought about the way Shawn made love to her. Pictured his hot chocolate body, and she wanted him more than ever. It seemed unfathomable that while they were together, she had become annoyed by his sexual advances.
After another glass of champagne, Vangie became emboldened. She called Shawn, pressing his number quickly, before she lost her nerve.
“Yeah,” Shawn answered gruffly.
“Is Yuri awake? I wanted to wish him a Happy New Year.” Despite being tipsy, her voice came out in a steady and even.
“Nah, Yuri’s out cold.”
“I was thinking about you, you know…thinking about us. Maybe we acted too hastily. I miss you, Shawn,” she admitted timidly.
Shawn didn’t say anything. The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening, causing Vangie to instantly regret calling Shawn. “Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied dryly.
“Well, say something.”
“Nothing to say. I spoke my peace. You spoke yours. We don’t see eye-to-eye. No point in beating a dead horse.”
In desperation, Vangie swallowed her pride. “I really want to try and work things out. Why don’t you and Yuri come to the apartment tomorrow?” Nervously, she cleared her throat. “I’ll fix dinner,” she said with forced joviality. “I want to start the year off right.”
Once again, Shawn went mute, and Vangie felt compelled to fill the silence. “I’m willing to work with you, Shawn. You know, compromise,” she rambled. She heard herself agreeing to compromise, but she knew in her heart that she hadn’t changed her viewpoint on marriage. But she intended to change Shawn’s. Once she got him back in her clutches.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“What do you mean, you’re good?”
Shawn paused for a long moment. “I’m good!” he insisted. “I’ve already moved on.”
“Meaning?” A blaze of hot jealousy had he
r nostrils flared and her chest heaving up and down.
“I’m with somebody,” he said emphatically.
“Already!” she screeched, losing her cool. That she’d been so quickly replaced left her feeling cheap, undesirable, and in significant. “You’re such a fucking whore, Shawn. Always have been. I don’t know why I let you back in my life. How can you hook with a new bitch in a matter of fucking days?”
“You finished cussing me out? Got it all out your system?” Shawn said calmly.
Vangie detected a trace of smugness in his tone that she found absolutely infuriating. “I didn’t get a damn thing out of my system. I’m just getting started.” She grabbed the flute and downed the rest of the champagne.
“Vangie,” Shawn said in a tone that was tinged with pity. “You sound like you’ve had too much to drink. Why don’t you call it a night and get some rest?”
“Why don’t you bite my ass?” she snarled.
“Aye, look. I don’t have time for this. I’m hanging up.”
“Don’t you fucking hang up on me, Shawn.”
“Happy New Year,” he added and then hung up.
Hurt feelings took a back seat to furious indignation. And the desire for revenge. With one eye narrowed, Vangie shook her head, envisioning the many ways she planned to make Shawn’s life a living hell.
CHAPTER 49
Tickets to the 12 Midnight New Year’s Eve bash at the Crystal Tea Room were hard to come by. Expecting to ring in the New Year with Eric, Nivea had bought six months in advance. The party was advertised as a night to remember. So far, it was a night she hoped to forget. Here she was, inside the grand ballroom with its hand-carved columns and crystal chandeliers that acted as a backdrop to the gala event.
Mixed in with over twelve-hundred revellers atop the old Wanamaker building, Nivea was dressed to impress, wearing a stunning black sequinned mini-dress. Instead of flaunting her long shapely legs, she shrank in the background, fidgety and ill-at-ease as she waited impatiently for Knox to join her.
Knox swore that he was going to make it to the gala event. He said that he told Courtney that his study schedule was too intense for him to party that night, and she’d agreed to go out with friends while he stayed home and studied.
Hanging out at one of the specialty bars, Nivea craned her neck, looking for Knox. She was starting to feel panicky and wished he’d hurry up. She’d asked him to pick her up so they could arrive together, but he’d claimed that it was more convenient to meet her here.
He was supposed to arrive at nine, but it was now ten o’clock, goddamnit! Where is he?
She pulled out her BlackBerry for the zillionth time and texted Knox. It seemed as though every happy couple that came up to the bar looked at her pityingly. Their sympathetic looks were driving her to drink. “Another vodka,” she said to the bartender, slamming down her empty plastic cup.
Feeling conspicuous, she walked away from the bar and meandered over to one of the numerous buffet tables. There was a bountiful display of attractive cuisine, but she didn’t have an appetite. Needing to occupy her time, she inched along the long buffet line, allowing smiling servers to plop food on her plate.
Trying to stay occupied, Nivea had made numerous trips to the ladies room and she was getting disgusted, feeling hatred for Knox and all mankind.
By eleven o’clock, Nivea was blind with anger as she imagined Knox and Courtney enjoying drinks and celebrating together. She wondered what ploy Courtney had used to get Knox to sacrifice his studies. She downed another drink. Needing a refill, she approached the bar for another.
“You might wanna lay off the hard stuff for a while,” the well-meaning bartender suggested.
“You might wanna fuck off,” she said sneeringly and then staggered over to another bar that was a few feet away. She was surrounded by over a thousand people, but they were all total strangers. Nivea had never felt so alone, or more in need of a friend.
“Absolut,” she said, making sure that she didn’t slur the word. If this bartender tried to cut her off, there was a strong possibility that she would get rowdy.
He offered her a friendly smile, which she interpreted as flirtation. She looked him over and decided she liked what she saw: medium height, the angles of his face were nice, and his eyes were a luminous baby blue. Though skinnier than she preferred, he had a certain male sensuality that stirred something inside her.
“Happy New Year,” she said seductively.
“Same to you,” he replied with another friendly smile. “How come you’re not wearing a party hat?”
Nivea shrugged. “Didn’t want to ruin my ’do.” She fluttered her eyelashes, and patted her hair enticingly.
The bartender looked at her with a baffled expression. He gave Nivea her drink and then beckoned forward the next patron in line.
Nivea moved out of the way, but lingered to the side. Giving the bartender a furtive glance, she decided that his lean physique was actually kind of sexy. He was a cute white boy. Blond spiked hair. Two earrings glittered in his lobes. Visible tats on his neck, and probably more hidden beneath the suit he was wearing. Urban, with a touch of thug—like his name should have been Slim Shady.
When the crowd thinned, Nivea approached again. “Do you take breaks?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“How do you relieve yourself? Is there a urinal behind the bar?” she wisecracked, which brought a chuckle out of Slim Shady.
“I’m working for tips, so I try to hang back here as long as I can,” he said, laughing. His laughter held a rich, masculine sound, which aroused Nivea.
She’d noticed that there were only ones and fives in his tip cup. She checked her BlackBerry one last time to see if Knox had texted her, but there wasn’t one word from the lying creep.
Frugal by nature, Nivea hated to part with her money, but desperate times…She slid two fifties from her wallet and pushed them in the cup. “Why don’t you take a break?”
Taken aback, he asked, “What are you getting at?”
“I’m trying to have a good time with you, and I don’t mind paying.” She smiled alluringly. Nivea was the kind of drunk whose mood could switch from mean to amorous in seconds. Right now, she desired the attention of a man. And any man would do under the circumstances. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she considered it ominous to bring in the New Year alone. And she wanted to get even with Knox.
“I guess I could use a smoke.”
“Ready when you are,” she said.
“Why don’t you wait for me over there by the exit sign?” he said, pointing.
“Sure, but don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Leaning against a column, Nivea checked her messages. Nothing! She felt justified in luring the bartender to…Hell if she knew where she was going to lure him. Her car? She shrugged, deciding to play it by ear.
Nivea’s mind wandered back to Knox. Clearly, it was time to move on.
While absorbed in thought, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. “This way,” the bartender whispered, steering her down a corridor, away from the noisy crowd.
“Where’re we going?”
“The break room.”
“I guess that’s better than the backseat of my car.”
The bartender smiled and kept moving. He definitely had some swag, his long legs moving in a confident glide.
The break room was a dreary place. Small and stuffy. There were only a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs, and a scratched-up wooden table.
Nivea disregarded the appearance of the room and turned her gaze on the bartender. “Do you have a name, Slim Shady?”
He chuckled at the nickname. “You can call me Slim.”
He didn’t ask her name, and Nivea didn’t volunteer the information. Her tongue felt too thick and lazy to take on the task of forming any more words, so she used her eyes to talk dirty.
Acknowledging that he understood her language, the bartender moved in closely, trapping her in a corner as he
groped her body. Breathing fast and hard, he slid his hand under her dress. “You got some pussy for me?” he whispered fiercely, forcing his tongue between her teeth before she could answer.
Nivea was excited by the way Slim Shady was taking control. His kiss was fiery. His hands moved urgently over her body. He pulled the stretchy fabric of her dress down past her shoulders, and expertly removed her bra. He cupped her breasts in his palms as if weighing them, and then clenched each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling until the flesh swelled into an aching knot.
She dropped her head back, moaning as Slim drew a plump nipple in his mouth. Nivea wrapped her hands around him, pulling him so close, her breast smashed against his face. Slim worked on the right breast and then the left. Nivea groaned in delight as he sucked and savaged her nipples like they were ripened fruit.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” he whispered. “Suck my dick and then I’ll take care of you.”
Slim undid his pants, and let them fall around his ankles. His body was like a canvas, tight and taut and splattered with beautiful body art. Nivea caressed the tattoos, wishing she had enough time to outline each tat with the tip of her tongue. “Get on it,” he said in a rumbling voice.
She shivered with excitement, and sank to her knees. She couldn’t resist stroking the blond hair that curled above his groin. She fondled his dick, enjoying the warmth and the heaviness of his thick erection. Fingernails digging into his hipbone, she pulled him into her mouth, taking him as deeply as she could.
“Make me cum,” he demanded.
She didn’t want him to cum, but his dick felt so good inside her mouth, tasted so juicy and flavourful, like she was sucking on brined meat. She sucked hard, her tongue swirling against his hot and sensitive flesh.
Slim gripped a handful of her hair, keeping her head in place as he pumped dick inside her mouth, delivering long strokes that made her eyes water. Impaled by the dick that was embedded in her throat, Nivea could no longer work her jaws or pucker her lips around his juicy meat. With her mouth wide open, and her eyes bulged, Nivea was helpless to stop him from mercilessly driving dick down her throat.
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