by Risqué
“Excuse me.” There was another knock on the door, but they ignored it.
Kenyatta looked toward the door and back at Monday. He quickly slid his dick in and back out again. “Maybe I’ll give this good dick to your friend out there, since you don’t appreciate a niggah.”
“No.” Monday swallowed as jealousy pricked her pride and she tightened the grip on his waist.
“What?” He teased her with the expanding head. “I know you don’t want no dick ’cause you haven’t even told me this was my pussy yet.”
“It’s yours,” she said as her legs shook. “It’s yours.” Monday rotated her hips, giving him full access to her sweet pinkness.
“You gon’ do this shit again? Acting all crazy?”
“N-n-noooo…,” she stammered.
“You gon’ act right?”
“Yes…”
“Always stressin’ a niggah and shit. Told you I love you and to stop worrying about these bitches out there.”
Monday’s breathing sounded as if she’d run a marathon as his hard dick thrust against the back wall of her pussy, pushing it back farther and farther until she could feel it start to collapse. Her orgasm was building in her stomach as she started to pant. “I’m—I’m sorry, baby.”
Kenyatta locked gazes with Monday. “I know you ain’t cummin’.” Kenyatta bounced her up and down on his dick. “Don’t cum until I tell you to!”
Monday did her all to hold out, but she could feel the butterflies in her stomach preparing to take flight. “Baby…”
“What?”
“I’m—I’m cummin’, I can’t help it.”
“You cummin’, baby?” Kenyatta quickened his pace, and just as if it were fate, they both came, holding on to dear life and even tighter to each other.
Once they were done Kenyatta backed away and began fixing his clothes. Monday continued to sit on the vanity, feeling the high from having twirled her hips, clapped her pussy across his dick, and screamed his name floating away.
She knew it was only a moment before the essence of feeling fucked-up presented itself again. She was slowly withering into being insane. Especially since all of her intelligence was abandoned when it came to this irrational and unstable motherfucker.
Monday was tired. Tired of being the wife but treated like a nagging-ass mistress. Tired of being dismissed, and when she reminded him of who she was by cussin’ his ass out and threatening to leave, instead of doing better he fucked her into forgetfulness.
Monday looked around the bathroom and realized Kenyatta was completely dressed and ready to go while she sat there in disheveled clothes.
“What are you waiting on?” he asked her.
“Nothing.” Monday eased off the vanity, fixed her dress, and then looked in the mirror and patted the stray and loose strands of hair back in place.
“Ready?” Kenyatta asked her as he approached the door.
“Yeah.” She said, stepping out of the bathroom, and as Kenyatta headed in the direction of the gala to give his speech, Monday walked toward the lobby and out the door.
The hot asphalt crackled beneath Collyn’s tires and the summer breeze flew behind her as she whipped her candy-apple-red BMW Z3 roadster into her personal parking space at her Upper West Side art gallery. Although she was a purveyor of pussy, she was also a connoisseur of fine art: paintings, hand-carved statues, and one-of-a-kind furnishings from all over the world. The clients who bought her art pieces were just as elite as those who were serviced at her underground business.
As she pushed open the glass door, the jazz sound track playing inside provided a soothing welcome into the gallery, given all that she had on her mind. Along with being uneasy about Kenyatta and his scheming, she’d been unable to shake thoughts of Bless. Just the thought of him caused her nipples to protrude through her sky-blue sleeveless rayon blouse. The hem of her matching wide-leg pants swayed over her three-inch ocean-blue Manolos as she walked over to Taryn, her assistant and cousin, who handed her a stack of mail and said, “The mayor is in the back to see you. I had him sit in the private lounge until you came.”
“Thank you, Taryn.” Collyn smiled. Her heels clicked across the Italian tile floor as she walked to the back of the gallery, where her office and private lounge were located. This was where she usually met with her top Red Light Special clients.
Collyn nodded at Kenyatta as she opened the lounge’s door and then led him to her office. As she closed the door behind them, Kenyatta grabbed the remote to the electric miniblinds and closed them.
“Ms. Bazemore.” Kenyatta slyly looked her over.
Collyn arched her eyebrows. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for weeks!”
“Excuse me, do you think I run the city by appointment? I have a twenty-four-hour position.”
“Spare me, please. All I wanna know is what the hell is going on, and what is this shit with Eve missing?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. When’s the last time you saw her?”
“The night before I paid for her plane ticket to California.”
“And when was that?”
“The night before Sag Harbor.”
“And what happened that night?” Kenyatta pressed. “Did you argue or something?”
Collyn frowned. “And who the fuck are you, 007? The question is when’s the last time you saw her?”
Kenyatta paused as he walked around Collyn’s office. “I haven’t seen the bitch…in months.”
“What?” Collyn looked at him strangely, then grabbed her BlackBerry. “Eve had an appointment with you a few weeks ago. As a matter of fact…” her voice trailed off as she scrolled her electronic calendar, “she had an appointment with you since July Fourth weekend.”
“So what are you implying, Collyn?” he spat defensively.
“I’m not implying anything.”
“Then what do you call it? Besides,” he smirked, “if you saw her the night before Sag Harbor, then it seems to me you were the last person to be with her, so where is she?”
“Good question. You tell me. Because she was supposed to have been in California finishing up some of her last parties with my company and she never made it.”
“Look, I don’t know anything about California or anything else. All I know is that the last time we were together was months ago.”
“Where’d you meet?”
“Ah…the Wyndham.”
“I usually schedule you at the Hilton.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“What are you talking about? You know I did!” Collyn paused. She watched the side of his jaw twitch. “You think I’m stupid? Do I look like a fool to you?”
Kenyatta stared at Collyn. He thought about telling her the truth, but then he quickly changed his mind for all he knew Collyn could have killed Eve or had her killed. “All I know is that we had an appointment and that was it.”
“And all I know is that yo’ ass is lying. Which leads me to this, did you do something to her?”
“Hell, did you?!” Kenyatta spat. “Especially since everyone knew she wanted to start her own business and you were upset about her leaving.”
“Do you really think I cared? As far as I’m concerned all is fair in cash and dick. I was helping her to set up her own business in California. I didn’t give a damn.”
“Yeah, right. And who do you think would believe you’d be so willing to have your top girl start her own business? Everyone would see right through that lie.”
“And why would I have to lie to you Mayor Smith?”
“You tell me.” He shrugged. “I mean really, who do you think would buy it? Everyone would know you’re lying. Come on…what do you think the police will say about you? You ever think of how you will look in orange once they see that this art gallery is a front for the state’s largest prostitution ring?”
“Interesting.” Collyn smirked.
“Hey.” He lifted his hands. “I’m just telling you what I think.”
Collyn laughed. “Let me tell you what I think. I think Eve is more easily tied to you than to me. Also, I think that you are a fuckin’ sex addict, a weirdo who can’t control his desire for prostitutes. You’re worse than a crack fiend ’cause there’s no rehab for you. What happened, Kenyatta? Did your uncle, your cousin, your mother’s boyfriend play with your prick and make you feel inadequate, so now you think paying for pussy gives you control? Aw, poor thing. You’re still not controlling anything. Not even your own part of the government, because as quiet as it’s kept, the City Council does that. So what do you control? Pussy? The hoes? When they cum? Well, let me tell you a little secret.” She leaned in close to his left ear and whispered, “You don’t even control that. It’s the money that does. They get paid to cum—”
“Bitch, I’ll—” Kenyatta raised his hand in the air.
“Do it.” Collyn sat on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs. “Please.” She slammed her purse on the table, and the bottom hit with a solid thud. Kenyatta knew that Collyn was never without her piece. “’Cause that will be just the excuse I need to lay out a niggah. Now, I get it that you all paranoid and shit about where the hell this chick is, but don’t try and pin no shit on me. I’m done with your ass. If you want a ho, you better skip down to Hunt’s Point with the rest of the perverts.”
Kenyatta leaned against the desk, “You think you’re the only pussy service in town?” He gave her half a smile. “You really think I’ma go without because of you?” He laughed. “I don’t think so. So I tell you what—if you fuck with me, we’ll just see how long it’ll be before you’re on the run.”
“My dear, I ain’t never run from a damn thing, and I damn sure ain’t going to pick today to start running. So do what you need to, because trust and believe, I am not the bitch you wanna get in the mud with!”
“So I guess we’re done.” He straightened his collar.
“Pretty much.”
Collyn opened her office door and Kenyatta walked out.
Although she did her best to play it off, she knew that the mayor had the ability to convince the police of a lot of things, and she prayed that foul play concerning Eve’s disappearance wasn’t one of them.
Collyn closed her gallery for the evening and on the way home bought bottles of Patrón and Coke in hopes of clearing her mind of Kenyatta’s antics and her growing desire for Bless.
After pulling her car in front of the building for valet parking, she waved to the doorman. “Ms. Bazemore,” he said, “would you like me to carry your bag?”
“No, thank you, Bradford.” She smiled as she sauntered into the glass elevator, swiped her electronic key, and headed up to her penthouse suite.
Collyn’s penthouse was exquisite: her living room had twenty-foot-high cathedral ceilings, one-of-a-kind works of art hanging on crisp white walls, and a specially designed white calf-suede sectional with two hand-carved South African square tables that sat on a handwoven Persian rug. On the opposite side of the living room was a West African onyx and wood dining set that led to the wide-open and sleekly designed kitchen. Each room had panoramic views of the New York City skyline, including the master bath, which had a glass ceiling and a two-person soaking tub that sat in the middle of the heated soapstone floor.
Collyn slipped her stilettos off at the door, tossed her bag on the sectional, and mixed herself a drink. She carried her glass into her bedroom, where she turned on her CD player, removed her clothing, and slipped into a black spaghetti-strap nightie. She sat in the middle of her bed and lay back against her cashmere pillows as the sounds of Najee filled the room. For the first time since she met Bless, she wondered if she needed to stop fighting how she felt.
Not only was her attraction to him undeniable, but for the past month it had been unshakable.
Though over the years she had had men here and there, there were very few who made it to her bed, and even fewer who made it to her heart.
But then again, her mind told her, she’d been alone for so long, and she was too independent, too strong, and too selfish to give someone the time of day.
She placed her drink on the nightstand and turned over to sleep, yet as she closed her eyes, her mind lost control and her body took over. Her breasts longed to be handled by Bless—kissed, sucked, and played with. Her navel desired to have his wet, luscious tongue slide inside it and then move on to sucking up her melting sugar in intervals of sloppy kisses. She needed his stiff dick to get her grind on and knock the bottom of her pussy into oblivion. She wanted him to pull her hair, kiss her shoulders with playful bites. She wanted to wrap her hands around his thick, masculine neck and demand that he fuck the hell out of her.
Collyn slid the tickling corner of the pillow between her tingling thighs. She opened her eyes and looked at the time: eleven thirty. She couldn’t fight it any longer. She knew she was taking a chance by calling, considering the way they’d left things, but she figured if he didn’t answer or he didn’t seem pleased to hear from her, then fuck it.
She dialed his number and the phone rang three times before he answered. “Yo,” he said groggily.
“You’re asleep?” Suddenly she was nervous. “I’ll call you another time.”
“There you go runnin’ again. It’s cool. I’m not asleep. Wassup?”
She smiled. She was happy he knew her voice. “It’s been a while. I missed you.”
“First time I’ve ever heard that from one of my boys.”
“Well…maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I don’t wanna be one of your boys anymore.”
She could almost hear him smiling. “You diggin’ a niggah?”
Collyn laughed. She hadn’t felt this giddy or this nervous since high school. “You’re so arrogant.”
“And you love it.”
“Yeah,” she said to herself more than to him, “too much of it…”
“So answer my question.”
“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that I’m here. And honestly, I can’t stop thinking about you.” She stopped herself; she was admitting too much. “But I mean, it’s cool if you’re in another space right now. After all, it has been a while since we’ve last seen each other.”
“It’s been a month,” he said. “And if I was in another space, I wouldn’t have answered the phone.”
“I’m just making a statement. I mean, hell, you could be married.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I’m just answerin’.”
“I mean, you could be involved.”
“Look, why you going around and around? I’m not married, I’m not involved, I’m here wanting to chill with you.”
Silence.
“You know what your problem is?” he said. “You always want what you want when you want it. But it doesn’t work that way. Life does what the fuck it wants to do. And all I know is that I’m here and I’m not a man who plays games, so if I wasn’t true, I wouldn’t have even stepped to you.”
“Why haven’t I heard from you?”
“That was your call.”
“My call?”
“Exactly.”
“So what is it now?”
“No games, no secrets.”
She snuggled in her bed, the sound of his voice turned her on by the moment. “And then what?”
“And then it’s just me and you.” Collyn eased her hand down the middle of her thighs. His deep voice sounded like sweet honey over the phone. She imagined him lying in bed naked, with a hard dick waiting for her to melt onto it and defined abs missing her sweet kisses.
“What you thinking, love?”
“Honestly?” She was surprised at her own response. “I’m thinking about how I really wanna get to know you.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“This is just so different.”
“What’s different, beautiful? ’Cause I’m honest about how I feel about you? I’m grown, baby, thirty-four years old, and all I know how to do is be real a
bout how I feel. So if you want me, and you want me to be with you and to please you, then you have to tell me, so I’ll know exactly what to do.”
Collyn closed her eyes. Chills radiated through her, making the desire for him even more intense. Desire stirred between her thighs as he continued to speak. She placed her hand over her silky mountain and played with its peak. “So if I wanted you here, tell me, what would you do?” she squeezed her clit as if she expected juice to flow from it.
“Anything you wanted me to.”
“What if I wanted you to make love to me?” she asked breathlessly smearing her wet finger all over her pussy’s lips.
“Then I would.” His voice dropped a sexy octave.
“How would you start?”
“I’d slide wet kisses down your neck to your plump nipples. And I know they’re fat because I could tell by the imprint they were big enough to fit perfectly on my tongue. Why don’t you touch ’em for me?”
Collyn granted his request, tenderly grabbing her breasts and massaging her nipples.
“Now take your tongue and lick them slowly for me.”
She did, making sure he could hear the gentle smacking of her lips.
“My tongue,” he continued on, “wouldn’t stop at your nipples. I’d lick a wet trail between your legs to your sweet drippings. Mmmm…slide your fingers through that juice for me.” She did as he commanded. “Damn, I wish I could taste that juice. I know it’s sweet. I wish I could have that juice drizzle over my lips. Is it a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Damn, I wish I could drink that shit. Is it creamy?”
“Yes.” She panted as she played in it, took her fingers and let the tips marinate in it.
“Damn I wanna eat that shit. Is it silky?”
“Mmm…yes.” Her chest heaved.
“Can you feel my fingers running through your flesh like fire?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Collyn was trembling with desire. She lifted her legs to her chest in a daze.
“I want you to play with that pussy…you playing in that pussy for me?” he moaned.