by HoneyB
Yeah, that’s not nice, his dick repeated.
What the hell? Since she was giving her pussy to him, he’d take one for the road. Winton unzipped his pants.
Nova smiled.
He stood, removed his clothes. Her lips devoured his head.
“Um, um. I love the way your dick tastes like mango, papaya, pineapple,” she said, slobbering her juicy lips all over him.
Winton fantasized they were filming a porno flick and he was the star. His daily consumption of fresh fruits and eight ounces of pineapple juice used to make his wife love the taste of his dick. At least Nova confirmed his ritual still worked.
“Suck that dick, girl. Take it all in. Spit on the head. Yeah, like that,” he said. Interlocking his fingers behind his head, he spread his thighs wide, slid down, got more comfortable, and a better view of Nova polishing his dick with her tongue.
“Ou, yes! This is the best big black dick I’ve ever sucked. I’ll suck your dick anytime,” she said. Her head bobbed up and down on his.
He watched her. No doubt she was having a good time sucking his dick. She gripped his shaft, held his dick tight, then tea-bagged his balls like a big-mouth bass feasting.
He’d guessed he was wrong. He was a lucky man. He could get for free what lots of men had to pay for. But nothing was truly free. Would Nova demand he keep her on as a client? Maybe he was her rebound, just a good dick to take her mind off her boyfriend until her case was settled. Or perhaps she was getting all the good dick she could before going to jail. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to serve time. As good as he was, Winton wasn’t sure he could get her off as good as she was getting him off.
“Suck it, girl, suck it. Do your thang. Sandwich my dick between those titties and suck the head,” he said.
She did. He watched closely, so he could replay the images whenever he masturbated. Man, she had beautiful titties.
“Come here. Ride this dick,” he said.
“Ou, yes.” She squeezed his dick from the base to the head, then sucked all his precum into her mouth.
“You gon’ fuck around and make me cum down your throat.” Briefly he thought about how he missed his wife’s morning blow jobs. Pa-yah! He slapped her ass, then said, “Saddle up on this horse.”
Nova placed the condom in her mouth, put her mouth over his head, and rolled the condom down his shaft with her lips.
“Ou, girl.” He finished securing the condom down to his nuts, held his dick at the base. “You sure know what to do with that mouth and this dick.”
She smiled. “I sure do.”
The second Nova mounted his dick, she started moaning. “Ou, yeah. Uh, yeah. Yeah. Yeah. You feel so good. Fuck, yeah. I love this dick.” She grunted. “I love this big black dick.” She yelled, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”
Her mouth gaped open. Her breathing became sporadic. Fast. Short. She inhaled. Held her breath.
“Breathe, baby,” he said, slapping her on the ass.
“Umm! I’m cumming,” she said. “Slap me again.”
Winton massaged her clit to help her cum harder.
“Ughhhhh!” he grunted from the pit of his gut. “Fuck! Yes! Ugh!” He shook his head, then kissed her forehead.
Denying himself the pleasure of what he knew was incredible sex was not working when Nova was in his presence. Tomorrow he’d mail her a letter.
Winton leaned back on Nova’s sofa. He had to regroup before getting dressed. Guess he’d done wrong for so long it was harder than he’d realized to do right. Now that his nuts were milked, it would be easy stopping by Isis’s on his way home to give Isis her key back again, but it wasn’t a smart idea to stop by Dallas’s.
Fuck that. Isis had that voodoo pussy too. He’d just mail the damn key to her.
CHAPTER 44
Foxy
Six o’clock, Monday night. No husband. And she was not cooking dinner.
The house was quiet. Peaceful. “This is a good thing,” Foxy said. “I’m going to enjoy me some me time. I’m going to take a nice hot soak in his Jacuzzi with a bottle of merlot and read Sexaholics. Maybe my problem isn’t my husband. Maybe it’s me. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Foxy turned on the bathwater, removed her clothes. “Whew! Sure feels good to be naked.”
Walking in on Nova smelling and looking like a tramp as she left Winton’s office, Foxy had indeed asked for more of her husband’s time than she wanted. She’d interfered in his game.
He wasn’t supposed to surprise her by messing up her rotation, coming home earlier than usual. She wasn’t supposed to catch him with that bitch in his office. How many times had he fucked in his office? Foxy had assumed her request for more time went unheard. If he had come home after midnight as he’d normally done, she would’ve had time to douche and bathe as she’d always done. Whose fault was it that her husband discovered Dallas had ejaculated inside her?
Thinking how screwed up her marriage was, Foxy consumed the entire bottle of wine, tossed the erotic novel to the floor beside the tub. The hot and steamy sex in Pynk’s book had her heated. She placed her pussy in front of the jet and stroked her clit. Good thing Winton wasn’t home; she’d take her dick tonight. She came quick and hard.
Foxy rested her head on the inflated pillow, continued playing with her pussy. She spread her lips, clenched her shaft with one hand. Imagining Dallas was making love to her, she stroked her pearl with the other hand.
“Why, oh, why does masturbation feel so good?” She sped up her rhythm.
“Oh, yes!” She closed her eyes, concentrated on her clit. “This shit does not make sense,” she said as her back arched. “Forget holding back,” she said, releasing herself a second time. She yelled, “Goddamn!” Thank goodness for Dallas or she’d have a serious case of carpal tunnel from getting herself off.
She picked up the book, tossed it on her husband’s vanity. “I’m definitely no sexaholic. The freaks in that book are in fuck mode 24/7. When they’re not having sex, they’re thinking about having sex.”
Lifting the lever inside the Jacuzzi, Foxy placed a cap over her hair, stepped in the cold shower to sober up. The pulsating water carried her tears down the drain. “I hate you, Winton Brown!” she yelled.
Where did we go wrong? I should’ve talked to my husband three years ago. Is it too late? As wonderful as Dallas is, God knows, I don’t want him on a permanent basis, and I am not trying to find another husband. Not with all the miserable men I get paid to service.
She exited her husband’s shower. Midnight had arrived. Foxy dried, then moisturized her body, and went to bed alone. She tossed and turned for six hours. Opening her eyes, she saw her husband’s side of the bed was neatly tucked. Winton hadn’t come home again.
Foxy texted DéJà and Victoria. “I’m taking the day off. Please don’t call me.”
DéJà texted back, “I’m running late. Be there at eight.”
Draping a blue, white, and gold strapless maxidress over her head, she adjusted her breasts, then lowered the dress to her ankles. Foxy slipped on a white thong and her blue heels. Checking her appearance in the full mirror, she saw that her hair and makeup were flawless. Foxy eased her sunglasses on top of her head.
As she walked past Winton’s study, she saw he was seated in his bourbon-colored chair with the newspaper in his lap. He must’ve heard her footsteps. Peeping inside the door, she scanned from his feet to his face to his feet again, then back to his face. His reading glasses were on the tip of nose. Damn, he is fine.
She stood tall, giving him an unobstructed view of how good she looked. She knew it. She didn’t need his confirmation. “Have a good day at work,” she said smiling. No need to confront him about what happened. She wanted a day of peace, alone.
“Foxy, we need to talk,” he said. “Come here, gorgeous.”
Sarcastically, she replied, “We can talk tonight. That is, if you’ll be home. If you’re not here, I won’t be here either.”
“What in hell has gotten into
you, woman? I asked you to come here so we can talk.”
Foxy glanced at her husband’s face. Veins protruded on his forehead. Staying in control, Foxy left.
She drove west along Shoreline Drive. Bypassed Victoria’s house, cruised by Dallas’s home, and sped past DéJà’s place. Driving and thinking, she must’ve circled the city twice before parking at the pier.
She wanted to cry but was tired of crying. She had so much to give thanks for. She was frustrated but clothed in her right mind. She was sad but had so much to be happy about. Family. Food. Clothes. Money. Good health. At times she forgot how many millions of dollars she and her sisters had. She opened her purse, placed the bootees side by side in her palm.
A part of her felt like driving to her dad’s. Another part just felt like driving. Then there was the part of her that felt like doing nothing at all.
CHAPTER 45
Victoria
Didn’t come this far
To stop being the star
Made my own decisions
Sink or swim
Succeed or fail
The blazing trail
Is rugged
Struggle
Strife
Deception
Confessions
Are all a part of life
Tuesday morning it was Foxy’s day to work the register. Victoria busied herself prepping a tray of raspberry strudel for Foxy’s clients, blueberry scones for DéJà’s clients, and apple dumplings for her clients.
Victoria smiled thinking about the thin man and his wife. She hadn’t heard from them, but surely he’d run out of cotton candy body dust by now. She had a one o’clock appointment with a soccer mom. A recently divorced fifty-year-old mom with a five-year-old daughter and a seven-year-old-son who wished she had remained married to their father.
Divorce wasn’t the woman’s decision. She loved her kids more than life but never envisioned she’d have to rear them alone. Her body hadn’t changed much on the outside. She exercised regularly, enjoyed playing with her kids. What she didn’t enjoy any longer was sex. Her libido was zapped, and she wanted it back.
Interrupting Victoria’s thoughts, DéJà texted, “So how are things between you and Rain?”
She texted back, “I’ll answer that in a minute.”
Exiting the kitchen, Victoria entered their office. Since she was the only one there, she left the office door open, picked up her cell phone, and dialed Rain. She hadn’t heard from him and DéJà’s inquiry was confirmation that it was time for Victoria to make a call. His unannounced drop-ins had driven her mad. His silence scared her more.
Things with Naomi were better but not perfect. Once Victoria totally purged her thoughts of Rain, she was confident her marriage would thrive.
He answered, “Took you long enough.”
“So is no news from you good or bad?” she asked. “We cool?”
“Hell, no, we ain’t gon’ be that until it’s a done deal. And if you try that shit again I’ma beat your ass for real. You know you owe me. I didn’t call you. You called me. You know you want this dick. I’ve got the real thing, baby, and you know it. You know what you owe me or you wouldn’t have called. Right?”
How could she help him? Convince him to get professional help? “Wrong. You’re a sick man. I don’t owe you anything. But I know someone who can counsel you. I think if you deal with your childhood issues, you won’t be so bitter.”
“Fine, then there’s no need for me to delay what I have to do. The women in prison are going to love—”
“Stop it, dammit! Just stop it,” Victoria cried. Rain acted as though he hadn’t heard her offer to help him. He probably thought counseling was for weak or crazy men. That wasn’t true.
With the emotions of a lion going in for the kill of a deer, Rain said, “If I were you, I’d save those tears for later. You’ll need them.”
“Go to hell! Dirty bastard!”
“I’ve been called worse. Since you called me, meet me at one o’clock. My place,” he firmly said.
“I have a client at one,” Victoria explained.
“Cancel.”
“For you? Never,” she said.
“If I don’t see you at one, you’ll see me.”
Victoria exhaled. “I’m so damn sorry I ever met you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re sorry you didn’t marry me.” He repeated, “One o’clock.”
“I can do three after my appointment, but promise me all I’m going to do is talk. I’ll do whatever necessary to protect myself.” Victoria was desperate to make him stop harassing her. She turned her back to the glass window.
“See you at one. Don’t be late,” Rain said, then ended the call.
Victoria placed her cell phone back on the desk and entered the kitchen. Quietly she resumed tending to the pastries, only this time she slammed the pastries onto the baking pan.
“Throw those away,” DéJà said.
“Oh! Shit. You scared me,” Victoria said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Kind of difficult to hear when you’re talking stupid. I called Dad. This time I gave him details so he’s coming for sure,” DéJà said. “He’ll be here at one. I made the decision. You left me no other choice. You know whatever problems we have with men Dad takes care of it, and it’s time for him to step in.”
Victoria gripped the sides of her pan, banged it on the stainless steel table. The raspberry strudels popped up. Some landed on top of one another, others smashed on the floor. Victoria cried, “You had no right to call Dad! I don’t want to talk about this. Is that so bad? I stay the hell out of your business, and I haven’t mentioned anything lately about Foxy’s fucking Dallas. Why me, DéJà? Why?”
DéJà hugged Victoria. She pressed her sister’s head on her shoulder. “Because I love you. And sometimes family have to step in. I’d rather step in than stand by and let Rain keep hurting you.”
“Then why haven’t you said something to Foxy lately?”
“Because Foxy can handle Dallas. And Dallas isn’t homicidal. Rain is. You, my sister, are not in control of your situation. If you don’t want me involved, then you need to tell Dad about Rain.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t tell Dad. If I do, he might kill Rain. You called Dad, you talk to him. I’m leaving,” Victoria said, walking into the office. She picked up her purse and her cell phone.
Slam! Victoria turned around.
DéJà rolled a metal pastry stand with eight shelves in front the office door. Locked all four wheels. “It’s for your own good. You’re not leaving until Dad gets here.”
Victoria opened the door but couldn’t get out. Her narrow body was too wide to slide between the bars. One at the time, Victoria shoved the pans off the rack. Each time a pan fell, DéJà picked it up and put it back before Victoria could maneuver her legs between the bars.
“Satisfied? You’ve ruined all the pastries. We can do this for the next four hours if you want, but you’re not leaving until Dad gets here.”
“Fine! Forget it! You still can’t make me talk to him,” Victoria yelled. Plopping on the ivory desk with her back to DéJà, Victoria dialed her dad.
Clank, clank, clank.
Victoria looked over her shoulder and exhaled. DéJà had placed another pastry rack in front of the pastry rack that blocked the door.
“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” he asked, sounding chipper as usual.
Had DéJà really called their dad this time or had DéJà overheard she’d planned on seeing Rain today? “Hi, Daddy. You coming to see me today?”
“Yes, my angel. Be there at one o’clock sharp just like DéJà insisted. What are my girls up to? Are you planning another surprise party for me?”
Victoria’s cell phone beeped. She glanced at the caller ID. “Daddy, hold on a minute,” she said, then answered the other call. “I can’t make it for one. Is three okay?”
“Hell, no. I’ve already made arrangements.”
Victoria’s ey
es widened. “Arrangements?”
“You’re not going to fool me twice. You try that shit again, and I’ve seriously got something for you. Today is going to be special for me,” Rain said, then laughed.
“You’re sick! You need a woman of your own.”
“Had one of my own. She turned out to be a pussy licker. I’d rather beat my shit than deal with confused women like you.”
Victoria was furious. Naomi had refused to penetrate her. Victoria would rather fuck herself than give her virginity to Rain. “What if I told you I’m not a virgin?”
“You don’t want the answer to that. One o’clock,” he said, then ended the call.
DéJà was in the kitchen talking to Foxy. Foxy was not properly attired for work. She really had taken the day off. DéJà never knew when to quit. Whatever. Victoria spread a sheet on the leather sofa and lay down. Her cell phone rang. Exhaling, she walked to the desk. It was her dad.
“Hey, angel, you forget about your old man?”
“No, Daddy. Can you come now?”
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER 46
DéJà
An hour later DéJà and Foxy greeted their father in the lobby of Crème. DéJà hurried to hug him first. Foxy wrapped her arms around Mason and wouldn’t let go.
“It feels good to hug you too, princess.” Their father embraced Foxy as long as she held him.
This was a rare moment when DéJà could not interfere or overrule Foxy. Mason did not allow any of his girls to interrupt the others’ hugs. And he’d taught them a man never let go of a woman first.
“Daddy, it’s so good to see you,” Foxy said.
DéJà stood behind their father’s back, mouthed to Foxy, “Let go,” then pointed toward the back.