by Cachet
Chapter 12
Terry
Man, it feels good to be back at home. After a week of not seeing Shanair or Kendrick, I couldn’t take that shit no more. I got tired of waiting for her to call me, and decided that enough was enough. As I drove to the house that day I had already made up my mind that if she didn’t answer the phone when I called, I was just going to use my key and walk right into the house. Like I said before, I wanted to know what the hell was going on with us. Shanair was acting brand new, and I had to make sure that she was still mine. I was prepared to beat a nigga’s ass if need be.
Come to find out I didn’t even have to go through the extreme, because my baby answered the phone and it actually sounded like she was happy to hear from me. After sweet talking her for a minute, it turns out she missed me just as much as I missed her. In fact, she showed me over and over again that night after Kendrick went to sleep, and I returned the favor by blowing her back out. I’m telling you, I gave her everything I had. I wanted to show her that nobody else could give it to her like I do.
That was about a week and a half ago and since then we’ve been good. We haven’t argued much since I’ve been back, and I’ve even been spending more time at home like I promised her I would. The Kendrick situation has been forgiven, because the day I came home, I sat him down and let him know that I loved him and would never do anything to jeopardize his safety. By the time I was finished talking, he had his arms around me letting me know that he loved me too. Just to be sure that we were cool I took him shopping and picked up a few Xbox 360 games. He also wanted the Kinect, which is a motion controller thing that just came out. Kendrick loves that thing, and so does Shanair, who is always playing the Michael Jackson dance game with him. I swear they be getting it.
“What are you thinking about?” Brit asks with a perplexed look on her face.
“Nothing, just the fact that I gotta get out of here in a few,” I lie.
There was no way in hell I could tell her that I was thinking about my woman, especially since she thinks she’s my woman.
“You’re not spending the night?” She tosses the cover off, and sits up in the bed with her arms crossed under her now exposed breast.
“Nah, I got some shit to do. I’m throwing a party this weekend and I gotta make sure that everything is in motion.”
“Umm huh,” Brittany rolls her eyes. “How come you always gotta leave now? You used to always spend the night before. Now I can’t get you to stay more than a few hours.”
“Don’t be like that. I just gotta handle some business.”
“Do you gotta handle business, or are you going home to her?”
“Don’t start that shit,” I tell her looking her dead in the eyes.
I was sick of having this conversation with her. A few days after I went back home I slipped up and left my phone lying in the bed. Apparently Shanair had been texting me while I was in the shower, and when I came out Brittany had my phone in her hand. She read all of the messages from Shanair about how much she loved me and couldn’t wait for me to get home that evening. Now normally I would have knocked her upside her damn head for touching my shit, but since her father is a judge and her sister is a lawyer, I’ve been keeping my hands to myself. Those are problems that I don’t want to have. It’s needless to say that Brittany was devastated. She cried and asked me over and over again why I lied to her, but all I could do was come up with were more lies.
I finally admitted that I was in a relationship with Shanair, but I downplayed the hell out of it. I told her that I wasn’t really in love with Shanair, but didn’t want to hurt her by leaving her alone. As the evening played out, more and more lies spilled from my mouth and by the end of the night, I was back between Brittany’s legs pleasing her as if nothing happened. Since then, she has been throwing hints about me moving out of Shanair’s house and shacking up with her. Each time I gave her a different excuse, but it seems like she’s finally getting tired of hearing them.
“Have you started fucking her again?” Brittany asks staring at me with her nose flared.
“What?” I sit up on my elbows. “Why would you ask me that?” I ask avoiding the question.
“Because it’s starting to feel like you’re pulling back, and she can only be the reason why,” Brittany pouts. “Unless it’s somebody else you’re fucking with. You’ve started treating me like I’m some kind of fucking booty call.”
Not wanting to have a full discussion about her feelings, I palm the back of her head and pull her towards me. Once she’s close enough, I push my lips against hers and start to pull her body on top of me. Brittany’s hesitant at first, but soon she straddles me. When she breaks our kiss and sits up, I can see that tears are pooled in her eyes. I can tell that she wants me to answer her question, but I don’t have anything to say, because she’s right; I have been distant lately. With trying to work things out with Shanair, spending as much time with her and Kendrick as I can, working and laying pipe to a few other bitches, I don’t have a lot of time to get away. Neither of us speaks; we just stare at one another. A few moments past of complete silence before Brittany sits up, grabs my dick and slowly slides down on top of it.
“Umph,” I grunt when her wetness engulfs me. When she starts to slowly bounce up and down I speak, “Hold on Brit, let me grab a condom.”
“It’s okay, I’ll climb off when you’re about to cum…I promise,” she tells me, still winding her hips.
As much as I want to make her get up so that I can strap up, I can’t because it feels so fucking good. Brittany stares at me intensely as she continues to ride me. The headboard repeatedly bounces off the wall as she rocks her body back and forth. I attempt to slow her pace so that I don’t cum as quick by placing my hands on her hips, but it doesn’t stop her. Brittany is working her waist like a mad woman. It’s almost like she’s trying to prove something.
“I bet you that bitch can’t fuck you like I can,” she tells me, and it’s then that I know that she is indeed trying to prove something. “This pussy is all yours Terry, do you hear me?”
With my hands still on her hips, I lift off the bed and meet her thrust, because I’ll be damned if I let her fuck me like I’m the bitch. Through my half closed eyes, I can see her breasts bounce up and down each time our bodies connect. Her nipples are hard and pointed, begging to be sucked.
“Bring me those titties,” I order, not answering her question.
Brittany does what I ask, and when she leans forward, I wrap my lips around the left nipple.
“Mmm,” she moans as I flick my tongue back and forth across it.
“Fuck,” I groan, “Give me this pussy.”
“I’m giving it all to you baby,” she cries out. “Don’t stop!” Brittany’s back arches and she grinds down hard on me over and over again. “Shhhiiiitttttt!” she yells as she looks me dead in the eyes, while she rocks her hips faster and faster trying to reach her orgasm.
Each time my dick slides toward the back of her pussy, Brittany squeezed her walls around it before releasing it and doing it again. The snug fit plus the wetness inside her sweet spot, is driving me crazy and in no time I can feel my nut building. It starts at my toes and journeys up my legs and toward my nuts. I grip her hips so tight, I’m sure that once we’re done my prints will be embedded in her skin. The feeling is so extreme that I have to bite down on the inside of my bottom lip, as I dig into her because I don’t want to yell out like a bitch.
I can’t hold this nut any longer.
“Ahhh, I’m about to cum.” I say, but Brittany doesn’t budge. Instead she slides her feet behind my calves and continues to ride me as if I didn’t say a thing. “Brit, did you hear me, I said I’m about to cum,” I tell her breathlessly. “Brit…Brit, I can’t hold this shit any longer.”
“Well don’t,” is all she says.
I attempt to lift her off of me, but Brittany still won’t budge. Sweat is pouring down her face and her breathing is hard, as she bucks up and down
on top of me. After a few more strokes Brittany throws her head back and cries out that she’s cumming with me. No sooner than those words leave her lips, I feel her pussy get even wetter. Even though I know that I have no business doing what I’m about to do, I can’t help myself. The pussy is too good and I’m at the point of no return.
“Fuuuuuuck!”
My body shakes and shutters as I slam my waist into hers and pump my seeds deep inside her moist cave. A feeling of relief takes over me, as I continue to slide in and out of her slowly. Once my nuts are empty, shame fills me because I know that I’ve fucked up. I silently chastise myself for allowing some shit like this to happen. I knew better. I should have made her get her ass up immediately, fuck that “I’ll climb off when you’re about to cum” bullshit. My head falls back and lands on the pillow. When I glance up I’m not sure, but I swear that I see a smirk on Brittany’s face before she collapses on top of me. As bad as I want to be mad at her, I can’t because I allowed this to happen.
For the next few minutes I lay in the bed stuck, not believing how stupid I was. Was that her plan all along? Is she trying to trap me with a baby? These thoughts consume my mind. I’m not much of a church man, but at that moment I sent a prayer up, begging God to let this mishap slide. I can’t afford for her to be pregnant. For one I don’t need another baby momma and two, I know that Shanair will fucking kill me if I came home with yet another baby.
“I love you Terry,” Brittany purrs as she lays her head on my chest with a satisfying grin on her face.
I don’t respond, because I can’t. I’m too busy thinking, what the fuck did I get myself into?
Chapter 13
Shanair
Things got better with me and Terry for the first week of him returning home. He stayed in the house with us for a couple of days, before he was back to being gone again. It’s been almost a month since then, and I can honestly say that in that time we’ve only slept together less than ten times. I’m not talking about sex; I’m referring to actually sleeping together. Hell, we’ve haven’t had intercourse since the first week of him coming back. I’m sure I don’t even have to say it, because you already know that I’m highly upset. What woman wouldn’t be? You have a man, y’all live together, but the muthafucka is always gone. That right there doesn’t make sense to me, and I sometimes wonder what the point of being in a relationship with someone is, if you never spend time with them.
There hasn’t been a day that has gone by that Terry hasn’t gotten on my fucking nerves. It’s always something. Let me give you an example. I’ll call his phone and ask what time I should expect him home. He’ll tell me that he’s finishing up and that he’s on his way. Hours will go by and I’ll call again, only to get the run around about what has happened to prevent him from actually making it here. I’ve heard all kinds of excuses from him running out of gas, to him being falling asleep in his car; none of which I believe. I think the most used up defense he gives me is that he’s stuck at some club. I’m so tired of hearing that one, that as soon as I hear the word “club” I shut him down immediately. I don’t know anybody that works that damn much.
Terry is a party promoter. He works for himself, and he throws parties at various clubs or bars. What happens is he books DJs, artists and other forms of entertainment that he knows will pack the venue. Once that part is done, he has to hire someone that will run the door, a photographer and even security. Even then he’s not done, because he’s also in charge of advertising the events, so flyers, magazine ads, and radio shout-outs are also things that he has to handle. The good thing is that he usually hires pretty much the same people for each party, so looking for employees are not a really big issue. He makes decent money as well, which is why I try not to get in his shit so much. I get it, I know that my man is busy, but he should never be too busy for the people that he claims to love.
Take now for instance. All three of Terry’s children are here with me. He called himself picking them up for his weekend, yet he is nowhere to be found. I’m the one who’s stuck in the fucking house with them. Although I love his kids, shit like this pisses me off. It’s like he wants me to be tied down and not able to go anywhere. I barely go out as it is because I usually don’t have a sitter for Kendrick. With my mother away in the nursing home, I no longer have someone to watch him at the drop of a time. Naomi and her husband Derrick, who are his godparents, keep him from time to time, but I can’t push him on them a lot because not only do they not have kids of their own, but they are usually out and about themselves. They actually have Kendrick tonight and here I am stuck in the damn house.
It’s ten-thirty, I’ve just finished feeding the kids, and now they are sitting in front of the TV watching “SpongeBob”. Terry claimed that he was on his way more than an hour ago, and since he hasn’t gotten here yet, I’m convinced that he won’t be here any time soon. The vibrating of my cell phone gets my attention. Thinking that it’s Terry, I snatch it up preparing to flip out on him.
“What?!” I snap as soon as the send button is pressed.
“Damn bitch, is that how you’re supposed to answer the phone?” As soon as I hear her voice, I instantly regret not looking at the caller ID first.
“It’s Shanair,” I remind her of my name, as if she didn’t already know.
“Bitch, I know what the fuck yo’ name is!”
The person on the other end of the phone is Katrina. She’s the mother of Terry’s youngest son, Shad, who just turned three. Although I love me some Shad, he’s a constant reminder of one of Terry’s biggest fuck up. Katrina is your average every day hood rat, who likes to smoke weed, drink and fight all the time. From what I’ve heard she grew up in the projects, and once she was old enough she moved into her own project apartment. Now don’t get me wrong because Katrina isn’t a total fail because she’s a very pretty girl, so I can see way Terry was attracted to her. It’s just the fact that she’s extremely ghetto that takes away from her beauty.
We had been together for a little over a year when I stumbled upon the fact that Terry had another chick pregnant. I was spring cleaning and in the process of moving all of the winter clothes down into the basement. I had just finished packing up all of Terry’s clothing, and was about to lug it all downstairs when something fell out of one of his coat pockets. Not paying it any mind, I continued to drag all of the bags down the stairs. It wasn’t until I was done that I remembered that I dropped something on the floor. As I made my way over to it, I thought that it was nothing but maybe a flyer from one of the parties that he threw because it was faced down. When I turned it eyes damn near popped out of my sockets.
There I was staring at sonogram of a baby. At that time I wasn’t sure if it belonged to Terry or not, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I remember my eyes scanning the photo quickly as I tried to figure out what it meant. If it didn’t belong to Terry, who did it belong to and how did he get it? My eyes landed on the date, and I saw that the ultrasound picture was taking over two months prior, so that meant that whoever it belonged had been well into their pregnancy by then. When I caught a glimpse of the name Katrina Jones, I got weak in the knees, because I knew that Terry had messed with a chick by that name just a few months before that.
Later that evening when Terry brought his ass home, I confronted him right at the door. At first he denied knowing the girl, but when I threatened to call her up—because I still had her number written down somewhere—he went ahead and told the truth. I don’t think I had ever been so hurt in my life. I couldn’t believe that the man that I loved could be so stupid as to get another chick pregnant. I cried and threatened to leave, only to turn around and not only stay, but to welcome his ‘love child’ with open arms.
That was three years ago, and Katrina has been a thorn in my side since then.
As she continues to say a bunch of smart shit in my ear, I look down at the handsome little boy that’s lying in front of my television on his stomach. His head is rocking from side to side as
he fights the losing battle to keep his eyes open. How could something some innocent and cute come from someone so evil? Katrina is a mess, and there is always an issue when it comes to dealing with her. She’s never satisfied with anything that Terry and I do. If Shad goes home and says he’s hungry, she’s hollering about the fact that we didn’t feed him. If he goes home and says that he’s full, then she’ll bitch about us spoiling his dinner. You just can’t win with her.
“Why are you calling my phone?”
“First off, don’t be getting smart.” I exhale, as I try to hold it together. She always finds a way to work my damn nerves. “I’m calling you because Terry isn’t answering his phone and I want to talk to my son.”
I glance back down to the floor, and am not surprised that Shad is now knocked out.
“He’s sleeping,” I inform her, repositioning my body on the couch.
“It’s only a little past nine-thirty.”
“I know what time it—”
“See bitch, there you go getting smart again,” Katrina cuts me off. “I asked to talk to my son, so put him on the fucking phone.”
“First off, I’m not going to be too many more of your bitches.” My voice raises a few notches.
Terry’s daughter, Terrionna turns to look back at me with wide eyes, because she barely hears me curse. She’s seven and Terry’s only girl. She and his son Terrance Jr., who’s five, are with his ex Toya. Now Toya is no problem at all. It could be because she’s married now, and doesn’t give a damn about Terry anymore; unlike Katrina’s ghetto ass who is always sniffing around. While I listen to Katrina continue to rant and rave about what she’s going to do when she sees me, I mouth the words sorry Terrionna. I don’t do a lot of cursing in front of my own child, so I try to do the same when I’m around Terry’s.