One Taste

by Allison Hobbs

  “Regina!” Matt yelled.

  Regina sighed. “Seriously, I’m getting a divorce, so when you do make bail, please don’t come here,” she warned.

  “It’s my home, too.”

  “You’re right,” she said, letting out a tired sigh. “I’ll have my attorney contact you to discuss property division.”

  Matt shouted, but his words were made inaudible by a loud beeping sound, followed by the dial tone. Regina presumed there was a time limit on Matt’s phone call. She gave a mental shrug. Oh, well.

  Maybe she was bone weary from battling for so long to save a doomed marriage, maybe it was the purging of her feelings regarding the death of her son that caused her to tremble uncontrollably. Whatever the case, overcome with emotion, Regina could not hold back the floodgate of tears. Sniffling and crying and feeling suddenly wobbly on her feet, Regina tottered briefly.

  In a matter of seconds, Cochise was off the sofa and at her side, catching her by the arm. He held her in a protective knot as she cried soul-deep, shameless sobs for her lost child—her lost marriage. Cochise held Regina tight until her crying ceased.

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious that Cochise had seen her unravel twice in one night, Regina straightened and withdrew from his embrace. “Matt’s in jail. He’s been arrested on drug charges and possession of a gun. That’s all I know right now. I know you said you came back to get a ride back to Chester, so I’ll take you.” She swiped away residual tears.

  “You can’t drive tonight,” Cochise said firmly. “And I’m not going to leave you here, all alone.” His dark eyes were serious.

  “I’ll be fine.” Her voice rose an octave. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I’m not,” she finally admitted.

  “I can’t leave you here all alone.” He shook his head. “It’s against the Recovery House regulations to stay out overnight, but if it’s all right with you, I’d like to call the house manager and see if he’s willing to bend the rules.” Cochise studied her face. “I don’t mind sleeping down here on the sofa if you don’t have a spare room.”

  If Cochise was granted permission to stay, he darn sure wouldn’t be sleeping on the sofa or in one of her spare rooms. She pictured them together in bed. “Go ahead, make your call.” She waved toward the phone she’d just hung up.

  Giving Cochise some privacy, Regina went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. She shoved thoughts of Matt’s predicament out of her head. Leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping water, her gaze traveling past the dining room and into the living room where Cochise paced, broad chest bare, with the cordless phone next to his ear.

  Her face flushed and her mouth watered. He was such a tantalizing sight. Delicious eye candy! Did she dare hope that such a beautiful, virile man would wind up in her bed, fulfilling her lustful desires for as long as she could stand it?

  She watched as he returned the phone to the cradle. Can you stay? She searched his face for an answer, but his expression was unreadable. He took slow steps toward her, his eyes downcast. His averted gaze warned her to prepare for a letdown.

  Regina turned her back to him and braced herself for the sharp pang of disappointment. Cochise stood behind her, but didn’t say anything. “Well?” She intended to sound nonchalant, but the anxiousness in her tone squeaked out. Regina cringed at the sound of her desperation.

  “Baby, I ain’t going nowhere. I’m staying right here with you,” he murmured, turning her toward him, dissolving her humiliation as he wrapped her in his strong arms.

  Relief and utter joy washed over her. “I need you,” she told him, feeling sexually emancipated. Pulling back a little, she looked at him, her eyes gleaming with raw, carnal lust. “I’ve never needed anyone like I need you right now.”

  Her mouth sought his. He dipped his head, meeting her kiss. Cupping her face, Cochise parted her lips with his tongue, stroking her mouth, licking and tasting her with unabashed passion. Yearning welled up inside, and Regina felt herself melting as liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

  Time no longer existed. One moment she and Cochise were in the kitchen and in the next moment, they were upstairs, and she was lying naked in her bed with her legs spread. Did she walk upstairs? Did Cochise carry her? And when did she come out of her robe and gown? Her mind was fuzzy as if she’d had too much to drink. With Cochise’s head between her legs, his tongue pressed against her clit, she indeed felt intoxicated with pleasure, too disoriented to recall the exact order of events.

  Her clit swelled to a hardened bud. Regina thrust forward, seeking more pressure from his tongue. She cried out as if her flesh had been punctured when his tongue left her clit and plunged deeply inside her. She gasped, whimpered, and writhed.

  Crouched on the floor at the foot of the bed, Cochise held up her long, shapely legs and probed her sensitive insides with his tongue. She clutched the bed covers and then sat up, her fingers clawing his back. Fearing that in the frenzy of passion, she’d tear the flesh on his smooth, well-muscled back, Regina briefly came to her senses and snatched her hands away.

  Acting purely on impulse alone, she leaned back on her elbows and opened her eyes to watch Cochise perform cunnilingus. She couldn’t see his expression; his beautiful features were hidden as he buried his face inside her pleasure zone. But what she could see—his silken dark hair spread across her parted thighs—was such a sensual sight, she shuddered and was suddenly overcome by a rush of vertigo. Her heart lurched, the room seemed to spin, her vision dimmed and she fell back heavily, her head flopping against the pillow as she gave in to the swirling sensation that began moving deep inside her groin.

  Unimagined pleasure ripped through her, causing her chest to heave. Her nerve ends felt raw, exposed. Then her body began to quake in the wonderful aftershock of the first orgasm she’d ever had that wasn’t self-administered. It was the most blissful moment of her life. She felt such peace and fulfillment; she could have easily drifted off to sleep.

  Cochise rose from his crouched position. As he climbed onto the bed to lie beside her, she felt his shaft brush against her thigh. In an instant, Regina was aroused and fully alert. She sat up and gazed at the length of his magnificent body as he lay curled next to her on his side. He was indeed a magnificent sight to behold. She ran an appreciative hand along bulging muscles in his back, his shoulders, and his arms. But wanting something else, her hand wandered over his rippled abdominals and caressed a thatch of dark hair beneath his navel. Her curious fingers moved downward toward the muscle that interested her most.

  Regina touched Cochise’s stiffened manhood and took in a sharp breath. She was briefly paralyzed by the shock of his immense size, then Regina’s eyes widened in amazement. Cochise’s phallus was alarmingly large, much larger than her battery-operated gizmo. Regina couldn’t begin to imagine how many inches the man possessed; he was absolutely, unbelievably humongous.

  “It’s aiight, baby. I know I’m not built like the average man. It’s gonna take a lot of time and patience before I can make love to you the way I want to.”

  “Uh, I…um…” she stammered idiotically. She could feel her face flush. She felt awkward and foolish. She’d never performed fellatio. And judging by the girth and length of Cochise’s throbbing manhood, she doubted she could accomplish the task without choking to death, and she strongly doubted such a massive member could fit inside her vagina. Having sexual intercourse with this hugely endowed man just didn’t seem remotely possible.

  “It’s aiight,” Cochise repeated, as if reading her mind. “What I did—” He paused as he involuntarily licked the lingering taste of her juices from his lips. “I did that for you. I’m cool.”

  The way his penis quivered and throbbed, the way the veins became pronounced and seemed to pulsate with a surge of yearning, Cochise seemed anything but cool.

  Mesmerized by the size and shape of his full throbbing erection, Regina was drawn to it like
a magnet. Driven by lust, she lowered her head and allowed her instincts to take over. Her tongue flicked against the smooth, mushroom-capped head. She licked the tip, tasted the salty secretions that oozed out.

  “Baby? You sure?” he whispered, and then groaned in defeat when her tongue twirled around the outer edges of his large but perfect cap. Regina covered his shaft with her moist tongue, licking it up and down and moaning as if his sex organ were a large, delicious treat.

  She parted her lips, inviting him into her warm, virgin mouth. Cochise slowly eased the head and a few inches of length into Regina’s mouth. For a split second, she was shocked by the sensation of having his rigid shaft invade her mouth, but wanting to please Cochise as he’d pleased her, she determinedly sucked on the portion of aroused flesh he’d slid inside her mouth. Surprisingly, she began to enjoy the feeling of his throbbing hardness sliding across her tongue, caressing her gums, hitting the soft insides of her jaws, slipping to the back of her throat, teasing her tonsils.

  It was intoxicating—his masculine taste and smell, the husky moans that escaped his lips. When his thrusting movement quickened, Regina braced herself.

  “I’m cummin’, baby,” Cochise uttered, his voice simultaneously breathy and rough. When Regina felt him trying to ease out of her mouth, she began to slurp hungrily, pulling him in and pushing him out in a steady, tantalizing rhythm. His muscles twitched. “I said I’m cummin’,” he repeated, urgently fighting against the urge to explode.

  Regina held him in place until a gush of passion filled her mouth. It was tangy in taste and had the texture of a milkshake. She swallowed without coercion and then licked her lips, content and certain that she had a newfound acquired taste for Cochise’s big dick and his erupting fountain of pleasure.

  CHAPTER 20

  Onika and the cab driver had watched the brawl between Matt and Nazier in astonishment. After Matt peeled away in his van, Onika ordered the driver, “Pull off!”

  “Who’s gonna pay me?”

  “Pull the fuck off,” she shrieked as she saw Nazier stomping toward the car.

  By the time the driver finally realized that Onika was in jeopardy, it was too late. Nazier yanked open the passenger door and swung at Onika’s head.

  “Help!” Onika screamed.

  A look of fascination mixed with sympathy filled the driver’s eyes as he witnessed Nazier pummeling Onika with violent blows. Fearful of his own safety, he didn’t attempt to make a move to rescue Onika from the brutal assault..

  “Where that sucka go with my shit?” Nazier demanded, his eyes filled with rage.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What the fuck you mean you don’t know? That mufucka drove off with my gun and all my shit.” Nazier smacked her across the face.

  “Stop fuckin’ hitting me, Naz. I said I don’t know where he went.”

  “What’s his name!”

  “Matt Wheeler,” she responded before Naz decided to swing on her again. “We live together. He probably went back to the crib.” Onika figured if she could get close to home, she could somehow ditch Naz and lock herself inside the safety of her apartment.

  “Where at?”

  “Uh, we got a place at, um…” She was trying to think of a street close enough to her apartment where she could bail out and not have to run too far, but her mind went blank.

  “Oh, now you don’t know where you live?”

  “I’m trying to think. Damn, I just moved in.”

  “Yo, where did you pick her up at?” Nazier asked the driver.

  “Twenty-Fourth Street,” the driver replied without hesitation.

  Naz yanked Onika out of the passenger seat, pulled open the back door, pushed her inside, and joined her in the backseat of the cab. “How much she owe you?” he asked while tussling with Onika.

  “Thirty dollars,” the driver said, craning his neck and staring at the struggling couple in disbelief.

  “Aiight, I gotchu.” Nazier reached inside one of his pockets and gave the driver a twenty and a ten. “Take us back to her crib and I’ll give you ten more when we get there.”

  The driver nodded. Following Nazier’s instructions, he put the car in gear and whizzed down Third Street.

  “Ain’t you gon’ call the cops or something?” Onika shouted to the driver.

  The driver steered the cab in silence.

  Along with the money, Nazier had also pulled out a pocketknife. “Shut the fuck up,” he warned Onika as he poked her in the side with the sharp end of the knife.

  Onika stood at knifepoint outside her apartment door. Her keys clanged as she fumbled to unlock the apartment door. Hopefully, Puddin would be her saving grace. If her friend came out of her drugged haze, Onika figured they could probably overpower and whip Nazier’s ass together.

  “Puddin!” Onika shrieked the minute she and Naz entered her apartment.

  “You callin’ that nigga?”

  “No, Puddin’s a friend of mine. She’s ’sleep in the bedroom. Matt must not be home. I didn’t see his van parked in the lot.”

  “Ain’t nobody stupid, Onika. Dude probably hidin’ in the closet somewhere.” Nazier grabbed Onika and put her in a chokehold.

  “I ain’t lyin’,” Onika croaked.

  With his arm locked around her neck, Nazier walked Onika around the small apartment, checking all the closets and finally, the bedroom. Sure enough, Puddin was passed out on the air mattress, practically comatose from a megadose of Oxy. Puddin’s tongue lolled outside her mouth and slobber dribbled down both sides of her face, dashing Onika’s hopes of having assistance in conquering Naz.

  “Looks like she’s out for the count,” he informed Onika with a malicious chuckle. “But she can be dealt with too, if she wakes up looking for trouble.” He loosened his grip around her neck and gave Onika a rough shove toward the living room.

  “What time is that mufucka gon’ get here?”

  “Aiight, look. I wasn’t being honest with you because I was scared. Real talk, Naz. I ain’t bullshitting, Mr. Wheeler don’t really live here.”

  “What?” Nazier reared back, his face set in a murderous scowl.

  “He lives somewhere in Philly.”

  “Where in Philly?”

  Onika shrugged.

  “Bitch, you was driving that nigga’s van, so I know you got a phone number or some kind of way to reach out.”

  “His number’s in my cell phone.”

  “Call him.”

  “Can’t. I sold my phone.”

  Nazier pulled out his phone and handed it to her.

  “I don’t know that man’s number by heart,” Onika said in a shrill voice.

  “Man, this is fucked up.” Naz sighed and shook his head in despair. Onika felt hopeful that he would finally give up and take his ass on out of the crib. But instead of going on about his business, Nazier stood with his arms folded, his gaze shifting around anxiously. When his focus landed on the clutter left by the painters, his eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Aiight, then.” He dragged the metal folding chair into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” he ordered Onika.

  “What for?” she asked apprehensively.

  Nazier bent down and picked up the cylinder of duct tape.

  Instinctively, Onika jerked around and tried to flee the kitchen, but Nazier was quick. He caught her and gripped her by the arm. “Keep fucking with me and I’m gon’ yank your arm right out of the socket. Now, sit the fuck down.” He slammed her down hard on the chair. “Now, let’s see if I can help to refresh your memory,” he said as he unraveled the tape.

  “Come on, Naz. Don’t do me like this. I didn’t burn you. I don’t even know that old head like that. I just mess with him when I need something. He only comes through the crib every now and then.” Onika talked fast and pleadingly, her eyes bulging in fear as Nazier began taping her to the metal chair. She’d had heard stories about people being “duct taped” and had always listened with morbid interest to the harrowing tales of dr
ug deals gone bad, never imagining for a moment that she’d end up in such an unfortunate position. What were her chances of getting out of this alive? Onika searched her memory, trying to recall if any of the duct-taped victims had survived.

  Nazier methodically continued taping Onika to the chair. He didn’t stop until he’d stripped the last piece of tape from the cylinder. By that time, Onika was cinched so tightly, she could hardly breathe. Through sputtering, choked gasps, she begged for her life. “Please…Naz…don’t…kill me.”

  “Kill you! Fuck outta here. I ain’t tryna get charged with murder.” Offended, he grimaced. “But if you don’t tell me where you and that nigga got my shit stashed, you gon’ wish you was dead.”

  “Puddin!” Onika croaked. “Wake up! Naz is in here trying to kill me!” She stretched open her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Nazier drew back his fist and bashed Onika in the mouth. She felt an explosion of pain; her lips swelled up instantly.

  “Yo! Why you put me on blast like that?” Naz demanded.

  Onika tried to scream but fear locked the sound inside her throat.

  “I hope you’re happy…putting me through all this bullshit.”

  Confused, Onika blinked and nodded dumbly.

  “Oh, you’re admitting you’re happy about how that old head played me? That shit’s real funny, huh?” Nazier glared at Onika.

  Onika quickly shook her head.

  “Those packs wasn’t cheap, yo. They gotta be replaced. We talkin’ big money, yo.” He waved his blade in her face.

  Blinking rapidly, she shrank back in fear. “I know how you can get your shit back,” Onika blurted.

  “How?”

  “Call my cell,” she said thickly. “Tell the dude who bought it off me to look up Mr. Wheeler’s number. When you get the number, I can call Mr. Wheeler and tell him to come over—”

  “Man,” Naz said, dragging out the word in disgust. “You sound like a straight nut. Ain’t nobody stupid enough to answer a phone they just bought off a crackhead for five dollars.”