Interracial Mega Bundle (Interracial Urban Erotica)

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Interracial Mega Bundle (Interracial Urban Erotica) Page 39

by Asia Marquis

I can barely pay for food, and my loans are going to eat me alive. I need that money. Oh, God, I don't have a choice! I don't have a choice here at all!

  Ashanti's bottom lip quivered, but she forbade herself from crying. “Do I at least get to meet him first?”

  “Of course!” Ina smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling. “He should be here any minute, in fact.”

  Ashanti's grandma nodded. “Right. Why don't you head upstairs and shower, make yourself presentable. Do you still have that blue sundress I bought you last year? You should wear that when you come down.”

  Climbing up the stairs to her room, Ashanti could no longer hold back the tears and panic. She sobbed and heaved herself onto her bed, crying ugly tears into her pillow. She kicked and screamed, allowing herself to be childish. If ever there was a time that she could be childish without remorse, this was it.

  How could Grandma do this to me? This is barbaric! No one arranges marriages anymore! She wanted to go downstairs and tell her grandma how awful this idea was, to throw her out of the house. The house that wasn't even actually hers for another year.

  The one thing she could count on, the one anchor in her life, had just fallen through her fingers like grains of sand.

  It was becoming hard to breathe. Standing, she went to her window and opened it wide, looking out over the city. I need to get some fresh air. Just for a few minutes. I'll go for a walk.

  Climbing out of the window, she stepped onto the roof below it and skidded on her butt towards the edge.

  Troy

  One of the first things Troy taught Roman as a puppy was how to ride a motorcycle. It started with the pup strapped to his back, and as he grew Roman learned how to move with the bike, leaning against Troy and even holding onto his shoulders to keep from falling during hard stops.

  Even Troy would openly admit that the dog looked adorable with his red goggles on his face. He acts like he was born to ride a motorcycle. The longer ride from Michigan to Arizona was rough on him, but with regular stops he managed.

  Grandma doesn't really like Roman, but she knows I need him with me, Troy thought as he passed by a car. She doesn't know why, but she knows I need him. Troy was not exactly forthcoming with information about his problems. His flashbacks. They felt a lot like a weakness that he didn't want to admit to having. If other people knew, they could use it against him.

  The roads in Arizona were so different from Michigan. For instance, there were basically no potholes. Not anywhere near the extent of Michigan potholes, which could take up a hole lane during winter. Potholes like what they got during the Michigan winters were enough to wreck a car and send a motorcycle like his flying. Potholes like that killed motorcyclists.

  It occurred to him that Arizona would be a much safer place for Troy. He didn't have much back in Michigan that tied him there, but moving someplace new didn't thrill him. Especially if it meant always being near his grandmother, who had a habit of being a nag with just plain too much energy.

  He was also constantly impressed by how clean and shiny all of the cars were. That was definitely not something you would see often in Michigan, with the salt and crappy roads kicking up all kinds of car-destroying crap. Troy took good care of his motorcycle, a Harley Iron 883, but it was starting to get some salt-related problems.

  I should just move down here. Be closer to Grandma, be able to walk Roman during winter without putting boots on him to protect his feet. Dog boots are so not manly. I hate ruining his alpha male image for the bitches.

  He chuckled to himself, watching as a car swerved from one side of their lane to the other. Fucking nutjob, he thought, making sure to stay well away from the guy. That's the kind of driver that kills motorcyclists.

  Ina had a bad habit of making Troy jump through hoops to get the money that was technically his. Or, it will be when he turned 30 or got married. Riding across the country was just a minor hoop compared to some of the others.

  Getting married was a laughable thought. Troy couldn't be around most women without getting horrible flashbacks. No sex since before he left for Iraq. It was safe to say he had a lot of pent up sexual energy with few outlets.

  He wouldn't allow himself to hire a hooker, though. One, because there was no guarantee they were clean. Two, because women he didn't know obviously freaked him out. Three, because a gentleman doesn't hire hookers.

  Though he wasn't much of a gentleman at that point, he would like to one day be one. Getting married would be nice, too, but he would have to find a woman that wouldn't make his hands shake. Maybe he just needed to give the right woman some time.

  Pulling off of the main road, glad to be away from the insane driver, Troy pulled onto a quiet and beautiful side street. Almost every house had a huge cactus in front of it, which struck Troy as kind of hilarious.

  He looked for the house with a gate in front of the door and a blue star hanging over a window. When he found it, he pulled into the driveway just in time for a woman to fall from the roof and right in front of him.

  She totally ate it, probably scraping her knee and palms as she fell harder than she expected with a great, “Oof.” The woman stayed like that for a while, just breathing through what must have been quite a bit of pain.

  “Hey, you alright?” He called as he undid his helmet, but stayed on his idling bike.

  The woman stood, her black hair shining in the sun, and her body started to shake. At first he worried that she was crying, but then she threw back her head and laughed out loud, wiping away a tear and brushing dirt off of her knees.

  “Yeah, I'm fine!” She turned to Troy and her face fell.

  Oh, boy. Ashanti. Her eyes narrowed with a furious glare. “Why are you here?”

  “My grandma? She said she's here with a friend.”

  Ashanti groaned and leaned against the house, covering her face with her hands and taking deep breaths. “Keep calm, Ashanti, maybe he's at the wrong house,” she muttered quietly.

  “What's wrong?” Troy asked, but she just shook her head. Kicking his bike into place, he helped Roman down and took the dog's leash. “Seriously. Is Grandma okay?”

  Roman sniffed Ashanti's hand, giving it a tentative lick.

  “Well, I guess this is all perfectly fitting.” She gave Roman a gentle pat on the head, then motioned for Troy to follow her. “Come on, let me welcome you to my own, personal living hell. It's about to collide with yours.”

  He cocked his head to the side, terribly confused, then followed her. He watched her heart shaped ass as it swayed up the steps to the gate that barred her front door. She unlocked the gate and held it open for Troy as she went on ahead.

  The way her ass moved just begged for a squeeze, but she seemed irritated enough already. He didn't need to make things worse with a sexual harassment charge.

  Why was he even being so awful about Ashanti? He didn't know her, and he was still uneasy around her. He had to stop being such a pervert.

  It is fun though, he admitted to himself with a smirk.

  Chapter 3

  Ashanti

  Perfect. Wonderful. I should have expected that this was the next step in my slow climb down to hell. What did I do to deserve this punishment, again? She looked behind her, at Troy following her with his eyes right on her ass, and rolled her eyes. That jackass, beautiful though he is, is about to be forced onto me as a husband.

  Even though she knew it was inevitable, it still didn't feel real to her. Being forced to marry was never even on her radar as one of the possibilities for her life.

  It didn't help that she actually never had a boyfriend before. She didn't have many friends in high school, and never even made the attempt to talk to men because of how they teased her as a kid. She thought that, one day, the right man would sweep her off her feet and claim her.

  Someone strong and handsome, that would protect her and provide for her while never treating her like a burden or a piece of meat. That was the kind of man she wanted.

  Turned out, i
t was going to be the wrong man instead. The absolute wrongest man it could ever possibly be. A perverted, asshole whose dick she had already seen by accident.

  It was a pretty big dick, though. The kind of dick she wouldn't mind losing her virginity to.

  Ugh! She thought, shaking her head at herself. Get a grip! This is exactly the kind of thinking that got me into trouble in highschool! He's not into me. He'll never be into me. I'll think of some way out of this, somehow.

  There was always the possibility that he could say no, she realized. Maybe he was independently wealthy and didn't need the money, or he was too proud to take it and wanted to make it on his own. Surely Ashanti's grandma couldn't hold that against her.

  Roman sniffed around at her couches, but was swatted away by Ina when he tried to lick her hand. She already didn't like the woman before, but anyone that didn't like dogs had to have a black heart.

  “Troy! My favorite grandson,” Ina said, standing up to hug him.

  He returned the gesture and helped her to sit back down. “Grandma, I'm your only grandson.”

  “That doesn't mean you're not my favorite!”

  Giving her a lopsided grin, he looked to Ashanti's grandma. “And who is your lovely friend?”

  “Oh, this old bat! This is Rosalinda, Ashanti's grandmother.”

  “You can call me Rosa, everyone does, dear.” Rosa stuck her hand out and Troy took it, kissing it with a charming smile. Rosa's face went pink as she gave a small sigh of satisfaction.

  Then, turning to Ina, “Grandma, I'm having some trouble and –”

  “No, I don't want to talk about that yet. Take a seat. I have some news for you.”

  Here we go. We're going to see him freak out, maybe even storm out. And then Grandma will tell me I can keep the house and my trust, and we all live happily ever after, far away from each other. Ashanti smiled and stood near the door, watching the conversation from afar. Roman sat next to his master, laying his muzzle on his leg.

  “We have a stipulation for your use of your money. As you know, you must get married.”

  “Grandma, you know about my problems with that.”

  “Yes, but in this case you'll have to suck them up.” She took a deep breath, raising her chin. She must have been where Troy got his stubborn chin. “You see, you've been promised to that young lady behind you since you were both very young. You are to marry her within the week, and stay married for a year.”

  A week?! They didn't tell me that! She watched Troy closely for his reaction, but she was disappointed when he sat back with a thoughtful look on his face. There was no explosion, no snide remarks about his pride being more important than money.

  “I accept,” he said, and Ashanti felt her eyes bug out, her mouth drop open. “On one condition.”

  “Oh? What is your condition?” Ina asked, leaning in. She clearly didn't expect that, and the change had piqued her interest.

  Troy sighed, leaning against the arm of the chair. Ashanti wanted to kick him right out of her house, and preferably kick his ass, too. The lawyer excused himself, leaving out the front door and driving away.

  “Grandma, my bills are getting out of control. I need some help.”

  Ina's eyes watched Troy's face, her expression stoic. Then a nod, and a smile. “I know that you've had a hard time since you got back. Once you two are married, all of your expenses will be taken care of for a year anyway. If you marry, I will make sure part of your trust goes to your medical bills.”

  Troy's face looked relieved, then went back to that same stoic expression he shared with his grandmother. Ashanti wondered exactly what kind of bills he had. Had something happened to him? He seemed perfectly healthy, but then he did have the papers for a therapy dog.

  Then reality set in. She was going to be forced to marry Troy. “I can't believe you're fine with this,” she hissed, crossing her thin arms across her chest. “This is ridiculous! Do you just have a hard time getting girlfriends or something? Find someone else to marry!”

  Troy turned to her, his eyes half-lidded and his lips thin. He wasn't showing it, but she could tell she had hit a nerve with him. “As a matter of fact, I do have a hard time getting girlfriends. And lady, you got no idea how many problems this solves for me.”

  “You have no idea how many problems this causes for me!” She cried, starting to grow flustered. If she wasn't careful about how emotional she got, she would break down crying. There would be nothing more humiliating at that point.

  Ina asked, “Oh, do you have a boyfriend?”

  Her face burned red, her eyes falling to the floor. “No, not right now.”

  “Then I don't see a problem here. Rosa, I think we ought to get to our hotel for the night.”

  “Grandma, wait, I only have my hotel room for one night. Where am I staying?”

  Ina huffed. “I told you not to get a hotel room. You're staying here. Cancel your reservation.”

  Rosa kissed Ashanti's cheek, and then both of the older women left. Ashanti stood perfectly still, watching the door as it closed. Troy went out and came back in, holding a backpack he had left on his motorcycle.

  “So, where do you want me to stay?” He asked.

  “Out in the streets would be preferable to me,” she answered, then turned and walked up the stairs. “I have a guest room up here.”

  Troy

  On the outside, Troy was doing his damnedest to keep a calm mask on. He didn't want Ashanti to see him as weak. She might use it against him.

  Internally, however, Troy was shaking worse than ever before. Having to sleep in the same house as a strange woman could utterly destroy all the good that his psychiatrist had done for him, especially since he had no medication because he couldn't afford it. It was going to be a night of really bad nightmares, and he was not prepared for it.

  Roman followed them both up the stairs, whining quietly. The dog could sense Troy's emotions as if he were an empath or something. Having him nearby would at least make the night easier. If Roman wasn't there, he would have already been a sobbing mess on the ground.

  “Hey, I do have a night at the hotel that I already paid for. I can go back there, if this makes you uncomfortable. Or I can give you the keycard and let you stay there.” He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the card, holding it out to her as she turned to face him.

  “No,” she huffed. Troy could see her throat tighten. “We have to listen to our grandmothers. Come on.”

  Troy was becoming very irritated by her attitude. He didn't sign up for this crap any more than she had. If this actually happened, and wasn't just some cruel joke by their grandmothers, he hoped that her bitter attitude would eventually go away. He didn't want to be married to some harpy, not even for just a year.

  Cocking an eyebrow up, he smiled. “So, gonna set me up in your bedroom then? I think I know something that could help us both relax.” He hoped that she would laugh.

  She didn't.

  “No, and don't expect a ring and fake marriage to change that. We are never, ever having sex. Got that?” She pointed a finger and shoved it into his chest. It hurt, a little.

  His mind started to race when she touched him, but he didn't curl up into a ball and fall into flashbacks. Ashanti was starting to seem less like a threat, and more like a challenge. He would take that over PTSD any day, so he went with it. He'd have his fun with her, and maybe convince her to fuck him. Yeah, that sounded good.

  “Is that so?” He stepped closer to her, purposefully invading her personal space. She reacted just how he wanted her to. The carefully crafted wall of anger she put up around herself started to crumble, and she showed just how fearful and small she really felt. She was beautiful with a slight wobble in her bottom lip.

  “I have to imagine that you have your own reasons for agreeing to this marriage. What is it? Bills? School? This house?” She let out a short gasp that told him that was his answer. “Ah. So you do have a weakness. Why all of this hostility? I'm not forcing this on you.
In fact, don't you think you owe me, since I'm helping you keep this house?”

  “Owe you?!” She screamed, raising her hand to slap him. His withering look made her think twice about it. She stepped back again, crossing her arms. “You said something about medical bills. I think you are the one who actually owes me, dick!”

  He chuckled and stepped right into her space again, dropping his voice to a growling whisper. “Oh, so I owe you dick now, huh? I think I can agree to that.”

  “Oh my God!” She yelled, throwing up her hands as she spun away from him. “That's the guest room! You're staying there, and far away from me. Got it? I'm locking my bedroom door, so don't even try to come in.”

  “Wait, Ashanti,” he tried to stop her, but she was down the hallway and closing her door already.

  “Just leave me alone!” Her voice told him he had better listen.

  Troy felt bad for exactly thirty seconds before he had to laugh. She was going to be fun, but he hoped she wouldn't hate him forever. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her.

  Still, if being a prick made it easier on him to live with a woman, he had to take it. He couldn't risk hurting himself, or even worse her, during a flashback.

  A flashback to that woman with the golden-brown skin, her blue scarf blowing in the night wind. The way she stepped closer to them haunted him, the slightly erotic, seductive nature of it. He remembered the sound of his friend's voice, speaking in Arabic, asking if she needed help. She only smiled as she cried.

  Troy fell to the floor, the breath completely gone from his lungs. Oh, fuck, he thought, crawling into the guest bedroom. He opened his backpack and pulled out the sleeping pills he hated taking. He hated how they made him feel the next morning, the way they blocked out any dreams at all, leaving him only with blackness.

  But blackness was better than red against yellow sand. Blackness was better than visions of a missing hand and a half-gone face. Blackness was better than the orange, yellow, white of the explosion. He would prefer blackness over the memories.

  Crawling up into his bed, Roman following closely behind, he kicked off the covers and wrapped his arms around the second pillow, shuddering into the lingering memories. The only thing that took his mind off of them, for just a moment, was thinking about Ashanti's face. She was the only distraction he had.

 

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