by Shelly Ellis
Paulette’s hand shot up, too.
Leila could see that several of the women hesitated, looking between the mayor’s wife, whom they wanted to stay in the good graces of, and Charisse, who looked utterly furious at the change of events.
Ever so slowly, another hand pointed to the ceiling, then another. They gradually increased in number. Leila fell back into her chair, shocked to see how many hands were up.
Lauren smiled. “That looks like majority of the vote. Good! Now let’s get back to the agenda and focus on what we’re really here for.”
Leila grinned, basking in the afterglow of victory, using it as a shield to fend off the arrows Charisse was now mentally shooting at her from across the table.
* * *
“Well, I guess we covered everything,” Tilda said more than an hour later. “This meeting of the Chesterton Country Club fund-raising committee is adjourned!”
“Thank God,” Paulette whispered as several of the women at the table began to rise from their chairs and the swell of conversations filled the reception room again. She tiredly rubbed her temples. “I need a drink after that debacle, but I’m breastfeeding Nate, so I guess I’ll have to settle for an aspirin instead.” She turned to Leila. “Well, we survived! Ready to get the hell out of here?”
Leila nodded and tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Sure, right after I do one quick thing, though.”
“Okay. While you do that I’m going to call home to check on Nate,” Paulette said, reaching into her purse for her phone. “I haven’t gotten any panicked calls from Tony or my mother-in-law, but I just want to make sure.”
Leila nodded then walked down the length of the table, ignoring the frigid glares some of the women shot her as she passed. She tapped Lauren on the shoulder. The other woman was gathering her things and whispering something to Tilda. When she saw Leila, she rewarded her with a stunning smile.
“Hello, Ms. Hawkins, how can I help you?” Lauren asked.
“Oh, you’ve helped enough!” Leila gushed. “Please call me Leila, and thank you so much for doing what you did. I wasn’t expecting it at all!”
“Don’t mention it,” Lauren said, shaking her head and waving her hand. “My husband and Evan are friends. Evan helped Crisanto during his mayoral election. Plus,”—she stood on the balls of her feet and leaned toward Leila’s ear—“I know what it’s like to be the odd girl out around here. I still am some days. These sanctimonious, hypocritical bitches can put you through the ringer, girl! But don’t let it get you down.” She leaned back and chuckled.
Leila joined her in her laughter. She watched as Lauren glanced down at her waist.
“Congratulations on the baby, by the way. I bet Evan is so excited,” Lauren said. “It’ll be his first, right?”
“Yep!” Leila nodded. “And excited is putting it lightly. He’s ecstatic to become a dad.”
“I bet he is! Is it a boy or a girl?”
Leila dropped her hand to her stomach and cradled the burgeoning lump growing there. “We don’t know yet. We find out next week at my next appointment.”
“Well, congratulations again and welcome to the committee, Leila!” She offered Leila her hand for a shake.
“Thank you,” Leila said, shaking her hand. She then watched as Lauren waved and turned to head across the room. Leila turned also to walk back toward Paulette, feeling a lot better now than she had when she strode into the country club. As she turned, she ran smack into Charisse, who stood behind her with her arms crossed over her chest and a sneer on her lips. When Leila saw her, her smile faded. Her bright mood darkened.
“What do you want?” she snarled.
“So it seems you’ve got an ally now,” Charisse said. She shrugged. “I’m not surprised. With the reputation Lauren has, you two should be like two peas in a pod. She comes from a family of gold-digging whores, after all, and she was one for many years until she managed to latch onto Mayor Weaver.”
Several women were staring at them again. The added attention made Leila even more furious.
“Look, I’m going to keep it classy because of where we are,” Leila whispered, “but don’t keep coming at me like this, Charisse. I know what you are and everything that you’ve done! You keep throwing around that word, calling people whores, but I’d be careful using it if I were you. If I’m a whore, then so the hell are you!”
“That may be true. But you see, Leila,” she said, taking another step toward her, “I’m a married whore and you’re just the whore who managed to get knocked up by a very rich man—and that’s all you’ll ever be. He’s never going to marry you.”
“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself? That he’ll never marry me?” Leila shook her head in disgust. “I hate to break it to you, but Evan does want us to get married, Charisse. He wants it more than anything!”
“Really?” She chuckled.
“Yes, really! He’s done with the lie that you guys called a marriage, and as soon as you sign those goddamn divorce papers—”
“Oh, Evan didn’t tell you?” Charisse raised her brows with mock innocence. “I’m not giving him a divorce. I told him in unequivocal terms that whatever settlement he offers me, I’m dismissing it. I did it more than a month ago.”
Leila paused. Her stomach dropped. Evan hadn’t mentioned a damn thing to her! She knew Charisse was dragging her feet, but he hadn’t told her his wife had outright refused the divorce.
“I’m going to hold out as long as I possibly can, filing motions and counter motions, and if a judge finally decides to grant Evan a divorce, I’ll simply file an appeal with a higher court. You will never be his wife, Leila. You will never take my place. Either he’ll give up on the idea or you will. I’ll make sure of it. I will make your life a living hell, and I’m only getting started.”
She then primly raised her nose into the air and walked around Leila with hips swaying and the hem of her dress swishing around her long legs. She strode toward the door, leaving Leila stupefied.
“What the hell did she have to say to you?” Paulette asked, snapping Leila out of her daze.
Leila turned to Paulette and sighed, rubbing her belly again. “Oh, nothing,” she muttered. “Nothing short of saying she’s starting a war with me.”
Chapter 3
Terrence
Terrence awoke to the sound of pounding thunder and the chime of his doorbell followed by a wall-rattling knock at his front door. He frowned as he raised his head from his pillow. He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared out his partially drawn curtains at the torrential rain outside his window. Terrence turned, bleary-eyed, to look at the alarm clock on his night table. It was a little after one a.m., way too late for a visit and for someone to be making such a ruckus.
“Who the hell . . .” he grumbled as he threw back his sheets and staggered to his feet. He reached for his eye patch that sat adjacent to his alarm clock and quickly put it on. His new prosthetic eye shield floated in a solution on his bathroom counter.
The doorbell rang yet again, this time in quick succession, like someone was holding their finger on the button.
“I heard you!” he shouted irritably, though his voice was drowned out by the chimes.
Terrence took unsteady steps out of his bedroom and down the hall. His wobbly gait wasn’t due to the bad leg that he had injured in his car crash. With the exception of a barely discernible limp, he walked perfectly fine. No, it had more to do with the veil of sleep that was still hanging over him. He stumbled into the edge of his coffee table at one point, cursing to himself and grabbing his shin.
Finally, Terrence reached the front door. The person on the other side of the door was now knocking and ringing the bell simultaneously.
“This better be goddamn important!”
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it had something to do with Dante again. Did someone try to kill that bastard a third time? He undid the locks and threw the door open. “What the hell is . . .”
His girlfriend waved at him timidly and gave a small smile. “Hi, Terry.” She glanced down at his pajama bottoms and then raised her gaze to his bare chest. Her smile faded. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey! Were you sleeping?”
He chuckled in exasperation and tiredly wiped his hand over his face. “Of course I was sleeping, babe! It’s one o’clock in the damn morning! The way you were ringing my doorbell I thought something was really wrong! I thought you might be the cops.”
She squinted at him in confusion. “Why would I be the cops?”
“Forget it.” He waved his hand dismissively, not wanting to get into what had happened that day with Detective Morris at his brother’s home. “It’s a long story and not one worth retelling.”
“Well, anyway, I’m sorry if I scared you,” she said, shrugging out of her raincoat.
“You don’t have to apologize.” He gestured her inside his condo. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I thought I might surprise you. The thing I had to do today in North Carolina ended a lot earlier than I thought it would. I thought I’d drive up here . . . you know . . . stop by and visit you for a few hours since we haven’t seen each other in days.”
She stepped through the doorway, set down a small overnight bag on the floor, and handed him her coat, revealing a prim gray suit and pink blouse underneath. Her hair was done in a simple bun at the nape of her neck.
Terrence tried not to cringe at or comment on her conservative look. Instead, he turned and opened the coat closet door. The truth was he much preferred C. J. in a tank top and jeans or negligee and a thong, but she wore her church lady clothes all the time now to appease her family, or, more specifically, her father, the esteemed Reverend Pete Aston, a.k.a. the sanctified hypocrite.
“I thought I could make it here by nightfall,” C. J. continued, facing him after he hung up her coat. She stared at him sheepishly. “A bad traffic jam on the interstate and the rain kinda shut down those plans, though. Sorry.”
“I told you, you don’t have to apologize.” He closed the front door and locked it. He grinned. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby,” she whispered.
They gazed at each other. He made a move to reach for her, to give her the kiss and the hug that he had been longing to give all week, but she lunged forward, spun him around, and shoved him back against the door before planting her lips on his.
“Goddamn,” he murmured against her hungry mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and seared him with one heated kiss after another. She tore her mouth away then licked his ear before nipping his ear lobe.
“Goddamn,” he moaned. She took a step back and began to unbutton her suit jacket. She tossed it aside, then yanked open her blouse, sending pearl buttons flying in all directions and landing on Terrence’s rug and hardwood floor.
He stared at her in amazement—and with sheer lust.
“I missed you a lot, Terry,” she said as she kissed him again, “so, so much.”
This time, he kissed her back just as fiercely, helping her take off her shirt while pulling down the zipper of her skirt.
“Let’s finish this in the bedroom,” he ordered huskily as he tugged her skirt over her hips and down her legs. It pooled at her feet and she kicked it aside.
“No, I can’t wait that long. Let’s finish it here,” she whispered back before tugging his bottom lip between her teeth. She then took his hand and led him toward his leather sofa.
Terrence cocked an eyebrow and allowed himself to be steered across his foyer and through his living room.
It was hard to believe that a little more than a month ago C. J. had been a timid, twenty-six-year-old virgin.
“I have to be eased into this,” she had told him then, and Terrence had thoroughly enjoyed doing just that, introducing her to every carnal pleasure that came with foreplay and eventually sex. Watching her now take the reins made him a proud teacher. It also made him a horny one.
She had stripped down to a black lace bra, thong, and thigh-highs, finishing the ensemble with prim high heels, a simple string of pearls around her neck, and her bun, making her look like a naughty librarian. His eyes focused on her plump brown ass as she walked, and he reached out and squeezed it, but she quickly batted his hand away while giving him a saucy wink.
“Ah-ah! Not yet. Sit down first,” she said, motioning toward his leather sofa.
This time he raised both eyebrows. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
Instead of answering him, she stepped forward and kissed him again, letting her tongue slide enticingly across his lips and inside his mouth. “What do you think?”
“I think I don’t care either way,” he said as she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him back onto the couch. He landed with his arms outstretched and with an audible oomph.
Her brow wrinkled with concern. “I didn’t hurt your leg, did I? Do we need to stop?”
“Hell no!” He reached up and pulled her down so that she fell on top of him, making her giggle. She straddled his lap and evidence of his arousal jutted eagerly between her thighs.
She kissed him again. “You know I’ve been fantasizing about doing this all day,” she whispered as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. “I’ve played it out over and over again . . . the things I wanted to do to you . . . and for you to do to me.”
She languidly tugged her bra straps off her shoulders, removing the lace cups with a slow ease that was almost torturous before finally tossing the entire bra to the other side of his living room, where it fell near his coffee table. She sat in front of him, glorious, beautiful, and topless, and it took all Terrence’s will power not to throw her back on the leather cushions and shove his dick into her at that very moment.
“I thought about it even during the meeting at church,” she said as she ground her pelvis against his erection, subjecting him to yet another form of delicious torture. “Sister Walters started staring at me. I started to get paranoid that she could read my mind.” She held his face and lightly kissed his nose, mouth, and cheeks. “I was worried she’d put her healing hands on me to get the devil out.”
He gazed at her breasts, leaned forward, and flicked his tongue across one of her hardened nipples, making her moan. He grinned. “Well, I guess we better do everything you fantasized about so you don’t have those kinky thoughts in church again.”
He then took the entire nipple into her mouth and began to suckle her. He eased aside her thong and used his expert hand and fingers to make her wet between the thighs, massaging her clit with a mix of brisk and slow strokes. She let out a guttural growl that sounded almost like a purr, telling him he was definitely on the right track.
Terrence shifted his attention to the other breast, this time lightly clamping the nipple between his teeth, making her subdued moans become even louder.
C. J. may have been reserved in other aspects of her life, but she certainly wasn’t in bed. He figured his condominium neighbors had heard her screams enough times by now that they weren’t fazed by them anymore.
He felt her hips begin to move rhythmically against his fingers, much like they did whenever she made love to him. C. J. closed her eyes and arched her back, enjoying every second of what he was doing.
He was enjoying it just as much as she was, feeling her tense and squirm against him, watching how he was pushing her to the edge. Even from the early days when he first started tutoring her about lust and desire, checking off the long list of sexual pleasures they could enjoy together, he had always loved watching her face and her body at moments like this, seeing her lose control just before she came.
And he had every intention of letting her come, of seeing her ride the wave as he guided her to climax, but she turned the tables on him. She reached down, pulled back the waistband of his pajama pants, wrap
ped her hand around his dick, and began to stroke him. The move caught him completely by surprise.
Terrence’s breathing deepened. His heart began to thud wildly in chest and his blood started to whistle in his ears. He stopped massaging her, no longer able to focus on pleasing her anymore. Instead, he sank further and further into the haze of pleasure she was giving him.
“I thought about this all day, Terry,” she breathed into his ear. “Show me what I was fantasizing about. Don’t hold back,” she urged before nipping his ear again, then trailing her wet tongue along his neck. “I can take it.”
And that’s when he lost it—lost the measured control he had been tenuously holding on to.
He shoved her back onto the adjacent cushion and sat himself between her legs, kneeling on the carpet in front of the sofa. He tossed one of her calves over his shoulder and wrapped the other leg around his waist. He then roughly tugged the crotch of her thong aside before plunging inside her over and over again.
Instead of being taken aback by his roughness, C. J. grinned with naughty delight. She began to move her hips again, meeting him thrust for thrust, lifting her bottom so that it was almost completely off the couch cushion. She keened and moaned.
“Is this what you wanted, baby?” he asked, driving even harder, grabbing onto her hips and pounding into her, loving the warm, wet feel of her around him. “Huh? Is this what you wanted?”
She couldn’t answer him. She could only respond with another strangled moan and a shout that made him smile.
He could see she was almost there, and thank God she was, because he didn’t know how much longer he could hold this pace before he came. Her back began to arch even more and her thighs began to wobble. Her calf fell off his shoulder and her leg dangled limply to the side. He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as her mouth went slack before she shouted his name.
He came seconds later with a euphoric rush. He lowered his lips to hers as he did it, and she captured his groan of bliss and agony with her mouth. After a few more pumps of his hips, he wilted on top of her.