Revenge Is Best Served Hot: 3 Novella Bundle (Revenge Is Best Served Hot (Powerful Women Series))

by C. C. Morian

  “I get it. You thought I was a lesbian then. I pretty much was. But before then—do you remember Jamal?”

  “Sure, how could anyone forget him?” Jamal was this towering black man, incredibly handsome, with skin so dark it looked like ebony. He had the softest voice, which for some reason seemed incongruous with his size and powerful aura. Even Lisa had fantasized about him.

  “Jamal and I dated freshman and sophomore year.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, by the time we met, Jamal was experimenting too.”

  “With what?”

  “With men. He’s bisexual too.”

  Lisa was trying to picture the masculine, virile Jamal with another man. It was hard to do. Yet the thought of it, which she would have expected to bother her, only seemed—fascinating. She felt herself grow surprisingly warm. She’d never thought about men together, not in any way that would interest her sexually. But now, seeing Jamal in her head, his glistening black skin, with a man instead of a woman—it was downright exotic, sensual. “Wow,” was all she could say.

  Lori laughed. “Hard to picture, isn’t it?”

  “Actually, easier than I would have thought.”

  Lori raised her glass in a toast. “Congratulations, you have just moved up a level. Before you can experiment, you have to imagine.”

  Lisa took a sip of her drink, not tasting it, her mind filled with the image of Jamal, naked, now not just with another man, but with her and another man. All three of them, together, making love, Jamal and the other man kissing her, inside of her, inside of—

  Lisa shuddered, but not in fear, she realized.

  In excitement.

  At home, Lisa was a little surprised not to find Dave at the house. She had stayed out later than she had planned with Lori, reminiscing about old times, Lori sharing a few more details on her own sexual experimenting. Lisa knew this was Lori trying to open her mind a little to what other people did sexually. She suspected that Lori thought she needed to just loosen up a little, maybe try something new with Dave. Not that Lori was taking Dave’s side, but even Lori probably considered Lisa a little too conservative.

  It didn’t upset her. Lori was probably right. And the whole range of sexual activities discussion had been helpful; Lori had just never thought about it that way. She was like the salt shaker, plain and boring. Maybe even more like sugar, simple and sweet.

  Well, she’d try a little harder. What safer way was there to experiment than with your husband? Maybe something a little different in the bedroom would remove some of Dave’s frustration and disappointment in their love life.

  Lisa slipped out of her work clothes and reached for a tee top and a pair of shorts. Normally she’d have a glass of wine, but she’d had too much to drink anyway, and she wanted to be wide awake if she was going to try something new with Dave tonight. Well, maybe the little buzz she had would help loosen her up. Just a half a glass. . .

  Shit. She had forgotten the wine, it was one of the stops she had planned to make on the way home, but it had slipped her mind after being at the restaurant with Lori.

  She turned on some soft music, setting the mood, even if Dave didn’t need to feel romantic she still did, and besides, what would he care what she was thinking about? She could be pretending they were in a castle, or on a moonlit beach, in fact she used those exact fantasies now and then when making love to Dave, it was harmless.

  Lisa lay on the bed, letting the music drift over her. What would she be willing to try? She didn’t want to force anything, she wanted to give herself a chance to see what she could get used to. Maybe just a taste of a few different things. Let Dave give her some oral sex, maybe suck on him just a little. Lisa tried to picture it, Dave between her legs, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to watch, her eyes closed. . .

  She spread her legs a little on the bed, trying to make it real, opening herself up slowly, trying to relax, to go with it. Her hands reached down to cradle Dave’s imaginary head, but instead of his thick locks she instead felt smooth skin, she had brushed her own legs, the sensation making her think of a man with no hair, not bald, but shaved, and instantly the man in her mind wasn’t Dave, but Jamal, as she had remembered him from college, his shaven head between her legs.

  She’d never thought of Jamal that way, she had fantasized about him in college, but being fucked by him, not him licking her, but right now she couldn’t get the thought out of her head, her fingers running over his smooth skin, feeling each bump and contour, amazed, it was so real, even touching his earring. He spread her legs a little wider, she was giving in to him, his large hands on her waist, on her belly, strong but gentle. He was kissing her between the legs, nuzzling her, and for some reason nothing felt dirty now, it felt natural, she wanted this. Now it wasn’t Jamal who was opening her legs, she was doing it for him, she was inviting him in.

  Lisa’s hand moved to her pussy, she’d never even called it that, but that’s what seemed natural now, it wasn’t a vagina, it was a pussy. Her hand slipped into her panties, no, that wasn’t right, she wouldn’t be wearing panties. She quickly slipped them off, her finger finding her folds, stunned by how wet she was, just by thinking of this, about a black man she hadn’t seen in years, between her legs, kissing her most private parts.

  In the back of her mind she thought about Dave coming home, finding her like this, but she brushed the thought away, it would probably turn him on anyway. A little guilt, she should have been thinking about Dave, but that too was swept away as Jamal slid his tongue up through her labia, the tip expertly finding her clit, just brushing across it, and her back arched, wanting more, but now he was just kissing her thighs.

  Her fingers moved to match her dream, avoiding her clit, her hands gliding across her thighs, her labia, and finally, after she driven herself into a demanding frenzy, she used one finger to stroke her clit, like the tip of a tongue. She felt instantly engorged, her clit growing, pushing out, she knew it did this, although she had never seen it, Dave had said so, it had embarrassed her at the time, it seemed so decadent, so primal, like being in heat. But right now it was a signal of her desire, she rolled her clit between her fingers, imagining Jamal mouthing her, over and over, not stopping now, her hands pulling his head toward her.

  She opened her eyes, wild, almost expecting to see him there, between her legs, the fantasy was that real. But only the empty room, the bedspread, her legs opened wide, her own fingers on her pussy. The bottom of the bed, where there was plenty of room for Jamal, on his hands and knees, bent over her, his long, broad back leading to his tight ass, her mind filling it all in, and more, thinking about what Lori had said, and now in her mind there was someone behind Jamal, another man, naked, he was holding Jamal’s hips, positioning himself. . .

  Lisa closed her eyes, it was a crazy thought, she tried to fight it, where had that come from, so wild, so outlandish, so impossible. Yet the more she tried to get it out of her head the more real it became, the details filling in, another black man, meeting her eyes, her eyelids fluttering as Jamal licked her, the other black man stroking his cock, sliding it up and down Jamal’s ass. . .

  Lisa’s fingers moved faster, it was as if Jamal was getting more excited, being turned on by the man behind him, and Lisa could feel Jamal’s excitement through his tongue, she could swear she heard him groan over the sound of the music, his head being forced forward into her, not by her hands this time, but by some other force pushing him forward, into him. . .

  Lisa cried out, her orgasm lifting her hips off the bed, coming harder and faster than she ever had in her life, so turned on by this graphic fantasy, this absolutely incredible, wicked series of thoughts, something she would never have even thought possible, yet so real that even as her spasms ran through her she felt the presence of two other men in the room.

  And neither one of them her husband.

  Lisa’s eyes snapped open. She had drifted off. She glanced at the clock, almost 11 pm, the room quiet, the CD s
he had put on long over. Her legs were still spread open, and she pulled them together, feeling oddly guilty, like she had just been caught cheating.

  Had Dave come home and seen her like that, lying half naked, her hand between her legs?

  Lisa quickly pulled on her panties and ran into the bathroom. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin still warm, from the lovemaking, no, from her fantasy. It had felt like lovemaking, what she imagined lovemaking to be. Even more real than what she did with Dave.

  She peed, splashed water on her face, then padded barefoot down the stairs. The lower level was dark, the only light the one in the hallway she had turned on when she had come home.

  “Dave?” she called.

  The house was empty. She retrieved her phone from her bag, no message from Dave. She was just about to call him, worried, when she heard a car pull up and the garage door open.

  As soon as Dave came in Lisa knew he had been drinking. Not a lot, Dave wasn’t a drunk, but his light skin had that reddish tone that he got when he had a few. His pale skin immediately brought back to her the image of Jamal, so black in comparison. She shivered.

  Dave pulled up short, obviously surprised to see her there in the hallway. “Hey, I thought you’d be in bed.”

  “I was waiting up for you,” she said.

  “When I got your message I thought you—I thought you wanted a little time to cool down,” he said. “So I had a few drinks with Steve. Give you some space.”

  “About that,” she said. “I’m sorry about last night. I’ve been thinking about it. You’re right, I haven’t been too fair to you.”

  Dave shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He moved to go past her into the kitchen.

  Lisa reached for his arm. “No, wait. I mean it.” She put her arms around him, wanting to reconnect, needing this to push her wild fantasy out of her mind, this was her man, her husband. She nuzzled into his neck, wanting him to hold her, but he was hesitant, half hearted, she leaned in closer, her face pressed against his skin, taking in his essence, his musk, a soft hit of. . .lavender?

  Lisa knew his aftershave, she bought it for him, he often put some on in the morning, but it would be long gone by now, what was this?

  She breathed in, but it was gone, or her senses already accustomed to it. She pulled back, searching Dave’s eyes, looking for something, but she saw only slightly enlarged pupils and a dash of red, exactly, she suspected, as what her own eyes must look like.

  Lisa shook it off, nothing there, she must have imagined it. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Dave broke away. “I need to grab a quick shower. We were at a bar, it was hot in there.”

  “Sure,” said Lisa, thinking maybe she hadn’t been clear, here she was, asking for sex, something she never did, expecting him to be rushing her into the bedroom. “I’ll be in bed, waiting.”

  If Dave got the hint he didn’t let on, he jogged up the stairs, leaving Lisa standing in the hall. After a moment she turned out the lights and followed him up.

  In the bedroom she started the same CD again, but as soon as the song came on she snapped it off, the first few notes already making her think of Jamal, as if he now owned it, as if it was the soundtrack to a romantic porn movie, if such a thing could exist. She searched through her music collection, nothing seemed to feel right, in the end she turned off the player.

  The bed stared at her accusingly, the impression of her body still on the spread, she could almost imagine where Jamal’s elbows and knees had been, and she felt so weak she had to sit down, it was as if the reality of the bed made the fantasy itself somehow more real. She smoothed out the bed, erasing the evidence of her imagined infidelity, but nothing she did could clear it from her mind, so she pulled the spread off the bed.

  She tried to focus on Dave, listening to the shower, the bathroom door slightly ajar, the only light in the room, the zip of the towel as he dried off, the water running, probably brushing his teeth. She looked down at her body, she still wore just the tee top, she quickly reached under and pulled off her bra. Her legs looked especially naked against the crisp white sheets, yet even though she had very little tan there was a color to them, the remnants of her orgasm. Still warm, everywhere. . .

  The bathroom light clicked off, the room plunged into darkness. Lisa waited for it to click on, Dave liked the lights on when they made love, but the next thing she knew he was on his side of the bed, distance between them.

  She waited, expecting him to cradle her, as he always did, his own version of foreplay, or at least his way of trying to get her to have sex. Tonight though, he did nothing, he didn’t move, the only sound in the room his breathing. Lisa rolled over to his side of the bed, her arm around him, spooning. She snuggled her face in his neck, a part of her almost expecting the subtle floral hint, the lavender, but he smelled white soap clean, the nothing aroma that could just as well be anyone, or a mask.

  He didn’t move.

  Lisa kissed his neck, her hand on his hip, reaching around, initiating. Finally Dave moved, placing his hand over hers.

  “I’m really tired,” he said, his face still away from her, his mouth in the pillow, his tone impossible to really assess.

  The words didn’t really register on her, she’d never remembered Dave not wanting sex, it all took a moment to sink in. Isn’t this what he was complaining about? Not getting enough sex?

  Her hands were moving on their own, her mind not accepting what she had heard, her legs wrapping tighter around his, bare skin under the cool sheets. Dave’s hand tightened on hers, not guiding her, but stopping her.

  “Really, Lisa, I’m just too tired.”

  The enormity of it hit her, and she froze, her hand not quite on his cock, for some reason embarrassed, like she was doing something wrong, the embarrassment mixing with the sadness of rejection.

  “I thought you wanted more of this,” she said.

  She could feel him shrug beneath her. Still without turning he said, “How many times have you told me you were too tired?”

  So that was it. Lisa jerked away, lying on her back, space between them again, staring up at the dark ceiling. “So this is some kind of payback?”

  The bed shifted, he had turned a little, but still didn’t fully face her. “No, I’m just not in the mood.”

  “Okay.” Although it really wasn’t.

  Lisa might have let it go at that, but Dave added, “So now you know a little about how it feels.”

  “So it is payback.”

  “No, I said it wasn’t. But maybe now you’ll understand how I feel when I really want it, and you just say no. It drives me crazy. I feel so—pent up.”

  Lisa didn’t feel pent up. She didn’t need sex tonight, she was going to do it for him, because maybe she hadn’t been fair, hadn’t been mindful of what he wanted. She’d never withheld sex on purpose, never used it as a weapon.

  Maybe Dave was right, it was all about testosterone, hormones, he was still trapped in the body of an 18 year old, needing sex all the time.

  She lay awake long after his breathing steadied into sleep, her eyes open, staring at nothing.

  At one point she could have sworn there was a hint of lavender in the room.

  The next morning when Lisa woke up the bed was empty beside her. She glanced at the clock, it was late, she never slept in, she had fallen asleep in the middle of the night. She’d have to hurry to make it to work on time.

  In the shower, rushing, yet her mind still on the night before, still bothered. Not sure if she was hurt, or angry, or what. Or just wrong about everything, not being fair. Many nights she had in fact begged off of sex, giving just that same excuse, always the truth, though, not realizing that it might be a truth that could hurt, the result no different from her saying I don’t want to have sex with you.

  Was that how Dave had taken it? Had he thought she was sometimes lying, that it had nothing to do with being tired, she just didn’t want to have sex?

  Had she been lying to herself too? She had
n’t always been that tired. Certainly not so tired she couldn’t have sex, or give Dave what he wanted. Was that too much for him to ask?

  She dashed through her morning ritual, her face looking tired in the mirror, the lack of sleep showing in a way that it hadn’t just a few years ago. She was still young, but some things changed faster than others. Was this something that would bother Dave? He’d fallen for her in her early twenties, an age he seemed stuck in himself. How would he react as they aged?

  No lines yet, not even at the corners of her eyes. She could still get by with just a dash of makeup, she never even thought much about it. Today she applied a little more than usual. Finished, but not quite satisfied, she reached for her perfume, just a dash. She hesitated over the bottle, thinking of its scent, nothing like lavender, but reminding her of what she thought she had smelled, and suddenly her knees grew weak, her hand falling to the counter to support herself, the perfume bottle turning over with a shrill clink on the vanity.

  The lavender. Perfume? Another woman’s perfume?

  Had Dave been cheating on her? Is that why he didn’t want to have sex last night?

  Her head buzzed, wild with thoughts, her heart beating, trying to remember any hints, any indications, but she couldn’t think straight.

  She slowly slid to the floor, curling up in the corner between the tub and the wall, naked, feeling very alone.

  Finally she got hold of herself, getting up stiffly, feeling foolish. She was more mature than this, she had just been thinking of how much older she was. Her husband didn’t want sex one night, she thought she smelled a hint of a flower, and she was jumping to the conclusion that he was cheating. Stupid.

  She finished in the bathroom, straightening up the bottles that she had knocked over. Back in the bedroom she opened the dresser drawer for some panties, her eyes drawn to the box of condoms they kept there.

  Lisa tried to ignore it, grabbing a pair of plain white underwear, what she usually wore to work. But the box kept staring at her, looming in her vision, daring her to close the drawer.