A Hot Mess

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A Hot Mess Page 18

by Edd McNair


  Omari held Joy’s head with both his hands as he stared down at her bobbing head and his meat easing in and out her mouth. This is one thing that I would love to stick around for, he thought. And if fuckin’ a nigga up shows her I care, that’s nothing, if this kind of treatment continues.

  Joy’s phone rang just as the head was getting good, so he held her head snug and concentrated on cumming. It wasn’t the easiest, because he had just came where he’d just left. He held her head snugly and began fucking her face, making her gag a couple of times, which was a humiliating move that turned him on and sent him over the edge. Then, as he released himself, his body jerked, and he watched cum run out the corners of her mouth.

  Omari fell back on the couch, breathing hard. “Damn, baby! You are wonderful. Don’t you ever try and leave me. I’ll kill ya,” he said with a smirk.

  You ain’t gonna do shit but carry your punk ass, nigga. You getting this strictly because it’s part of the plan, and I need you to carry this shit out. Joy headed to the bathroom.

  Then she made her way back to the couch and in Omari’s arm, where they lay in deep thought, until they dozed off.

  Her phone began to ring. She ignored the first two calls, but when it continued, she answered.

  When Minke started asking her what the fuck happen, she put on a show for Omari, yelling and crying for him to please leave her alone and hung up, knowing he would keep calling.

  It was dark when Minke came rushing through the door with a hostile attitude. He was surprised at the sight of Omari.

  When he reached for his waist, Omari sprung on him like a cat, rushing him before he could get his gun, scooping him up, and slamming his body to the floor in the foyer, taking all the air out of him.

  Omari pulled his burner out and started hitting Minke with the butt of the gun.

  Minke was stunned but not hurt. He grabbed Omari’s hand and twisted it. If Omari didn’t roll with it, Minke would have broken his arm. Minke jumped to his feet, and so did Omari.

  Still dazed, Minke pulled his burner and just started busting in the dark, but the shots from Omari’s gun made him hit the ground and start scrambling for cover, then out the door on his knees, until he hit concrete. And he broke into a sprint, headed for his car.

  The blood running down his face as he jumped in his whip told him he’d made a mistake going around there tonight. He took off after seeing the figure come out the door and the gun pointed in his direction. His life flashed before his eyes, coming to the conclusion that he’d put himself in a fucked-up situation over some pussy he wasn’t even pressed for anymore.

  Minke knew he wasn’t in control no more, that Alecia had become one of those ignorant, wild bitches that wasn’t taking his shit anymore. He wasn’t about to fuck up his life because of her.

  He took a deep breath thanking God he’d made it up out that house in one piece. And whatever nigga she had over there that was ready to kill him over her, he could have her. That shit wasn’t worth it to him no more.

  It had become all about the sex and the control he had, to be able to just fuck her any time and shit on her any time, because she had changed, lost her morals, and had no respect for herself. Minke loved her, but hated her for who she’d become, and it was not changing.

  That night he came to the realization that he had to have a relationship with his kids and take of them, but he had to take a giant step back from her.

  Two weeks had passed, and Omari had been there every day, fucking and using her every way possible.

  Joy told him she needed a grand to help pay the rent, or she was gonna be ass out. Since Minke was paying it, and Omari was the cause of him not coming around, he had to come up with it, or understand that she had to work things out with Minke.

  Omari ignored her, but it soon became an everyday conversation, and she stopped fucking him, just like last time, coming up with every excuse she could, the main one being, she was so worried about how she was going to come up with money, sex was the farthest thing from her mind.

  Omari saw all the shit that came with Joy, and began easing his way back out the door. She was the cutest, cuddliest, and most loveable woman he’d been with, but the shit that came with her made it easy for him to step away. She was over the edge. And he made his move. Keeping his distance was the best thing for him and her.

  CHAPTER 20

  The day came for Joy to close on her house, and Andre sat beside her in the lawyer’s office. He had it set up so that his residence was rented before hers closed, and for the last two weeks he’d been living with her. Now they were making this move into her new home, along with her kids.

  Joy was so happy. For a long time, this was what she’d dreamed of. A man she could call her own, and a family she could work hard for and make prosper.

  She walked out of the lawyer’s office with her keys, and a feeling of self-worth and accomplishment, a feeling of not only looking complete, but being complete.

  They traveled to the town house excited and in the greatest of spirits. She had purchased a home, she had reached the American dream, and nobody could tell her shit. They walked up to the door, and as she slid her key into the lock, tears formed in her eyes.

  Andre knew what she was feeling. He hugged her, letting her know she’d done good.

  They strolled around looking at every aspect of her new home, imagining where everything would be placed.

  “You know we have to christen each and every room,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

  Joy rested her hands on top of his and leaned her head back on his shoulder, pushing her hip on his dick and grinding. She could feel him swelling as he guided her to the edge of the loft, and braced herself.

  Andre raised her skirt and pulled her panties to the side. Then he removed his meat from his jeans and slid up inside her.

  Joy pushed back, spread her legs, and stuck her ass up, and he came before he could really get started.

  Joy had told him that she never gave head, that she wasn’t sucking no nigga dick unless he was her husband. But she felt good, and she felt close to him.

  She turned around to him, dropped down, and took his nasty dick that was dripping with his cum and hers into her mouth. She sucked, gulped, and inhaled his dick like it was the last one on earth. Then she stood up and guided him to the next room by his manhood, and he followed without hesitation.

  She lay back on the floor and guided him into her again. Andre was so excited, he was thrusting like a wild horse, until he burst again prematurely. She was frustrated. She wanted to cum.

  She jumped up and pushed him into the master bedroom onto the floor. She pulled his pants down and jumped on his ass, so that his butt bone was in her pelvic region and pressing against her clit. And she began to grind and pump like she was fucking him, until she came, and her juices ran down his butt and in the crack of his ass.

  Joy reached down between his legs and latched onto his thang then buried her face in the crack of his ass and cleaned him of all her cum, down to his balls, until his manhood was down her throat again, rising for the third time.

  She then flipped him over, pulled him up, and went to the next room, where she jumped on top of him and rode him like no tomorrow. She pulled her breasts from her bra, placed a hand on both and pushed them together, and told him, “Suck ’em.”

  Most of the time, sucking did nothing for Joy, but the heat of the moment changed that, and she came again, collapsing on top of him.

  Andre put his arms around her and embraced her every roll with passion. “I love you, girl,” he said, falling back.

  “I know.” Joy smiled and stood up, almost stumbling from her weakness.

  Andre got himself together. It was the middle of the day. Joy had taken off, and he had business. He said his good-byes, got his key, and was out.

  Just as Joy was about to go out the door, her phone rang. “Hello,” she answered, wondering who was calling from the unfa
miliar number.

  “What up?” the voice said. “Where you at?” he asked.

  “My new house.”

  “Where?” the voice asked.

  She told him, hesitant.

  “I’m not far. See you in a sec.”

  Moments later the silver Honda Accord pulled up.

  When the doorbell rang, Joy opened the door, and a smile shot across her face. As she jumped into his arms, he reached down and scooped her ass up in the air, and they embraced for what felt like forever.

  “You christened this living room yet?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered, technically not lying, as he laid her back. “God, I missed you, Booby.”

  “Well, I’m home now, baby. I’m home.”

  Urban Books, LLC

  78 East Industry Court

  Deer Park, NY 11729

  A Hot Mess Copyright © 2011 Edd McNair

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-5998-3195-4

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living, or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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