It's Wrong for Me to Love You, Part 3

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It's Wrong for Me to Love You, Part 3 Page 10

by Krystal Armstead


  “Why are you fuckin’ with this nigga again?” Ashton shook his head at me. “Do you really love him?”

  I shrunk back in my seat, not looking Ashton in the face, but looking out the window. Of course I loved Jamie. My heart beat for that fool. I could still feel his hands on me and his lips sucking on my nipples. I couldn’t shake the feeling of him, and I didn’t want to, either.

  “I know, I’m all in your mix, but I don’t want to see you get hurt. He’s gonna hurt you.” Ashton assured me.

  I looked at him, shaking my head. “I won’t let him.”

  “I’ve been here for you, Charlene, and you’ve always overlooked me.” Ashton exhaled deeply, frustrated as hell with me.

  I shook my head at him, “Oh, Ashton, I never overlooked you. It’s just I don’t see any use in trying to fix something that isn’t broken. I like where we are in our relationship. You’re my friend—my best friend, and I would like to keep it that way.”

  “The only decent dude you’ve ever been with was my nigga, Aaron. That’s why I never had a problem with y’all being together. He was a good influence on you. He had you getting better grades, he had you studying, he kept you out of the streets, and he kept the niggas out of you.” Ashton’s eyes searched my face.

  I scoffed. “What?”

  Ashton nodded, “Shorty, you know I ain’t lyin’. And as soon as you got the chance, you went right back to your regularly scheduled program of getting dicked down by random niggas daily. Why you continue to live on the edge, I don’t know. All I know is I need you, Charlene. I need you to change because I know you’re better than this. You’re too fine to be living like this. Just let me love you.” Ashton grabbed my hand.

  I sighed, interlocking my fingers with his. His hands were so warm and soft and comfortable. I’ll admit that I felt so at ease with him. But he deserved better than me. I couldn’t give him damaged goods. “I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me, babe, but I am what I am. And you don’t deserve this. You deserve—”

  Before I could stop him, Ashton was leaning in to kiss me. The first kiss was the softest touch I’d ever felt. Then he kissed me again, that time holding my face, fingers slipping up the nape of my neck into my hair. I swear I was lost in the stroke of his lips for a little while. The stroke of his warm, wet lips felt amazing, felt so strong, felt so . . . familiar. My mind instantly took me back to another moment in time where we’d kissed. A memory I didn’t know existed. I’m telling you, it was déjà vu.

  I pulled my lips from his, getting out of the car as fast as I could without as much as a good-bye. And just when I got out of the car, that slut bucket bitch pulled up in a hot red Ferrari with my baby boy in the backseat of her ride.

  Chapter 6: Do You Remember the Time

  Charlene

  I couldn’t shake Ashton’s intense kiss for anything. Why his lips felt so familiar, I had no idea. We’d never kissed, so why did my mind take me back to a time that we did the moment his lips touched mine? I could even remember the cologne he was wearing. I remember the outfit I was wearing. I remember feeling his hands on my bare waist. The memories were too vivid to be my imagination. I thought I was going crazy.

  Meanwhile, I had other business to attend to. I walked up the steps of Kent Sanderson’ office building located in Silver Springs. Jamie was going to lose that phat-ass contract that he had by sticking his dick where it didn’t belong. Kent Sanderson was expecting me. I’d called him the morning of May 30, around 8:30. I made sure to wear something tight, sexy, and silky. Kent liked anything tight, sexy, silky, and with a thigh-high split.

  “How can I help you, Miss Campbell?” Kent smiled, sitting back in his big leather chair. He was a sexy ass white man with an olive skin tone, hazel eyes, and dark hair. He was a real lady killer. He reminded me of the late actor Paul Walker with darker hair. The fact that he’d gotten married shocked the hell out of everyone. The fact that she wasn’t white had the media talking. Y’all already know the deal with white man’s fascination with black women, dating all the way back to slavery. The muthafuckas can’t keep their hands and eyes off us, though they’d never admit it.

  Kent held his hand out, gesturing me to have a seat. “Have a seat, gorgeous.” His eyes traced my silhouette and ran their gaze up my thighs as I crossed my newly waxed legs.

  “I’m here to talk about Jamie Green.” I watched Kent’s eyes trace from my thighs, past my waist, around each breast before looking back into my eyes.

  Kent grinned. “Jamie Green? My star quarterback?”

  “I heard that you were thinking of trading him or ending his contract altogether.” I swept my bangs from my face.

  “Yes, Coach and I were discussing the possibility of trading him to Dallas or just ending his football career period. He’s arrogant, cocky, and won’t take any advice. He doesn’t get along with any of his teammates. He’s causing too many problems out there on the field.” Kent scoffed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. What field? The football field or your field? The bedroom getting pretty cold since she got a taste of Jamie, huh?”

  Kent got up from his chair, then walked around his huge cherry pine desk, sitting on the edge of it, facing me. “What difference does it make to you?”

  “Jamie is good, you know he’s good! He’s not just football, he’s fashion, and the muthafucka can sing! Some other team is gonna snatch him up, that’s for sure. He’s already made his mark in history. Some other team is gonna be making all that money that you could be making. He’s worth so much more than y’all are paying him, and you know it. Sure, you have connections, and you could put an end to his football career out here on the East Coast if you wanted to, but he’s got talent. One of the coaches out there on the West Coast who hate you would be glad to snatch him up. He doesn’t need you to get far. You’re really gonna let your ego get in the way of your money? Jamie might have put a dent in your wife’s cervix a few times, so what? Shit, that’s nothing compared to the things that you, me, and a few more chicks used to do when I was back in high school, and way under aged if I might add. When was it we started having sex again? You know, the statute of limitations isn’t up on those several instances.” I grinned.

  Kent looked at me, the air growing tense. He exhaled deeply. “What is it that you want, Charlene?”

  “A renegotiated contract of twenty-two million.” I stood from my chair.

  Kent scoffed. “Twenty-two—”

  “The Forty-niners have been trying to get to Jamie since the first day he stepped foot on your field. Not to mention the Giants, Packers, and Patriots! And every last coach on those teams hates your ass.” I cut him off. “Jamie’s about to sign to an undisclosed record label. Not to mention his sports apparel sales are skyrocketing by the second. Jamie’s the best player this team has ever had. I can get him to leave your wife alone. I can even get him to chill out on the smokin’, partying, and whatever else he does. But we need him here. And I’m willing to do whatever and whoever to keep him here and to keep his career intact. I have so much dirt on the coaches and owners of so many teams, all of who you socialize with. I have enough dirt to put you all behind bars for years, or at least come out of millions to settle lawsuits.” I looked up at Kent as he stood from his desk, six feet two inches from the ground.

  “I know every judge there is to know in every court in Maryland, D.C, and Virginia. No judge will ever convict me off of the word of a few dancers and a slutty runway model.” Kent looked me up and down. “You gotta come harder than that, Miss Campbell, to threaten me, sweetheart.”

  I sighed, looking up into his face. “Look, Jamie is my son’s father. My son loves him. He won’t even sleep without hearing his father’s voice! I’ll do whatever it is I have to do to keep Jamie around.”

  Kent looked at me as he pressed a silver button at the edge of his desk.

  “What, are you calling security on me, Kent? Really?” I folded my arms.

  “Of course not.” Kent grinn
ed, pulling me closer to him, unfolding my arms.

  In seconds, a copper-skinned bombshell entered the room. She was about five feet eight inches without her heels. She had very long, thick dark hair that fell right below her perfect ass. She had breast, hips, legs, and ass for miles. She stood there, dressed in a tight orange halter mini-dress and matching gold Giuseppe Zanotti stilettos, holding a clipboard in her hands.

  “Charlene, meet my wife, Ailani.” Kent held out his hand for his wife to come to him.

  She was breathtakingly beautiful. The sight of her made my pussy twitch. Yeah, Jamie hit that.

  She grinned at me, holding out her hand to shake mine. “Aloha.” She pulled me closer to her by her gentle hands. “Wow, you’re beautiful. She looks like Cassie, Diddy’s Cassie. Honey, doesn’t she look like a lighter version of Cassie?”

  “Yes, she does. I told you she was sexy.” Kent licked his lips.

  “Yes, honey, very sexy.” Ailani looked me over.

  I was speechless. I looked up at Kent.

  He smiled at me, kissing his wife’s bare shoulder. “Now, what was it you said about doing anyone to make sure Jamie stayed in the game?”

  Before I could even attempt to back out of the situation, Kent was undressing Ailani, and Ailani was undressing me. She pulled me closer to her, hands surrounding my waist, lips stroking mine.

  * * *

  Yes, I felt like a slut when I got into my limo that afternoon after having sex with Kent, his wife, and his damn secretary Kimberly for hours. I was so over that life years ago. I got dick on a daily basis, but pussy? Nah, it’s been years. I’ll admit, having sex with those women was a hell of a lot better than taking pipe from two or three men at a time. I left Kent’s office with a new contract for Jamie to sign and the taste of pussy in my mouth. I felt nasty, but I felt good knowing Jamie was in Maryland to stay.

  I was about to hit the road with my modeling agency for a few weeks. I had a show and a few photo shoots down in New Orleans and some in San Diego. I had to do whatever I had to do so I could get Ashton’s kiss out of my mind. Not to mention the things I had done with those women and Kent’s perverted ass to get Jamie a $22-million contract. It was obvious that I’d do anything for that fool. He hadn’t stepped foot near me in about a week. I knew he was feeling some sort of way about Ne’Vaeh. Having sex with me wasn’t going to make him not miss her. Even though I hated to admit it, Ne’Vaeh needed Aaron. Jamie had no idea that she had his baby and then lost it. He needed to know, but I wasn’t so sure that I should have been the one to tell him. He needed to face her and hear what she had to say. I just wasn’t so sure how I was going to get him to go to Atlanta to see her.

  I went home and jumped straight in the shower that afternoon. I damn near scrubbed my skin off. I washed my face, teeth, tongue, lips, everything. I must have brushed my teeth and tongue for a good twenty minutes. No matter what I did, I could still smell and taste Ailani’s and Kimberly’s pussies. Maybe it was the guilt that had my minds playing tricks on me. It wasn’t even 4:30 and I was already fiending for a drink.

  I had my cook, Tahiri, make me a nice strawberry daiquiri topped with whipped cream and red sprinkles. I sat at the bar in my kitchen, reading over Jamie’s contract when I heard the doorbell chime. Hoping it was Jamie, I hopped off the stool, pulling my tiny Victoria’s Secret pink shorts over my ass a little more. Come to think of it, he likes ass, so I pulled my shorts up higher over my belly button. I snatched the contract from the countertop, holding it behind my back.

  “Miss, Campbell, Señor Ashton is here to see you,” Lilia announced, standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

  I sighed, tossing the contract back on the countertop, pulling my shorts down over my ass. I sat back down as Ashton appeared in the doorway, and Lilia stepped out. Ashton was dressed semi-casual, in a gray Gucci shirt, dark gray Gucci slacks, and non-scuff leather Gucci shoes. He must have been on his way to the hospital, or just getting off. He looked so good. My heart was racing, and my pussy was throbbing. I really needed to give my pussy a rest. There was no way I was gonna give her to Ashton, even though she really wanted him.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, sweeping it all over to one shoulder. “Hey, boo.”

  “What’s up wit’cha?” Ashton walked into the kitchen.

  I sipped on my drink as I waved at him, eying the photo album he held in his hands. I swallowed a huge gulp of my delicious daiquiri. “What’s that you got there?”

  Ashton grinned, walking over to me. He eyed my thighs in my little shorts a little bit before sitting down on the stool next to me. “Oh, this photo album from y’all’s dance competition, junior year in high school.” He opened the album, laying it out in front of me.

  I smiled, looking at the pictures. Alisha was so photogenic. I took one of the photos out of the plastic to look at it up close. “Oh my goodness, I remember this! We thought we were so sexy in these outfits! I hate to admit it, but Alisha looked the best in her outfit with all that ass she had!”

  I eyed a picture of Alisha posing in our sexy purple lace outfits for our spring competition in Dallas. I couldn’t remember the exact date of that competition, so I flipped the picture over, hoping she’d written the date on the back. Instead, I found my old telephone number written on the back in Ashton’s handwriting. I looked at Ashton. “Really, dude?”

  Ashton grinned, “Hey, I didn’t have any paper. I had to write it somewhere.”

  I shook my head, putting the picture back in the album. “Putting another girl’s number on the back of your girlfriend’s photo? That’s pretty damn bold, Ashton. And not just any girl, but the very same girl that your girl used to wish murder on! You made that girl hate me, Ashton, ugh! Y’all niggas kill me!”

  Ashton laughed a little, “Naw, you did a pretty good job of that yourself. Y’all red bones singled out the dark-skinned chicks those days, yo. Look at this bullshit. Look at the pyramids. Y’all even had the light chicks on top and the dark-skinned chicks at the bottom. I felt like I was an extra in ‘School Days’ whenever y’all were around!” Ashton flipped through the pictures. “Alisha was beautiful, oh my God, but she never thought she was. Every time I saw her face, I’d tell her how sexy, how beautiful, how pretty she was. My opinion didn’t matter all that much though. She let y’all girls control her view of what she thought beauty was.” Ashton shook his head to himself. “Y’all did a number on my baby, for real. It wasn’t cool how y’all did her. Ripped her self-esteem to pieces.”

  I sighed. He was right. We were pretty mean back then. We used every advantage we could in those days to get ahead. And yes, our complexions did get us a lot of perks. “Yeah, we were the definition of bitch back then, seriously,” I admitted. “I must have apologized to Alisha a gazillion times this year about all the trouble that I caused her.” I looked at him, eyes tracing his profile. “So, where are you off to today, lookin’ and smellin’ all good? Work? Lookin’ like this? Oh, I know them damn horny-ass chickens at the hospital be squawkin’.”

  Ashton looked at me, then grinned a little. “Naw, I worked overnight. A few of the fellas and I are going to a bar in a few hours. You can roll if you want to.”

  I looked up into his face. I’d already had plans that night. I was going out with my manager’s wife and some friends to dinner. “I already have plans, but thanks for the invite. My manager’s wife, Golden, is taken me out to dinner to celebrate this deal we just got with this new makeup line that just dropped in Italy. They want me to be their spokesperson! I’m about to hit the road for about three weeks. I have a few shows in New Orleans and San Diego to go to. I wish you could come; I hate hanging around those models who only talk about dieting and how much money their nigga is spending on them. I really don’t fit in with them at all, but hey, it’s a job.” I noticed Ashton’s attention was over my left shoulder. “Hey, are you even listening to me, Ashton?”

  “Yeah, shorty, I’m listening.” Apparently, he was eying the contract sitting on the
countertop. He reached across me and grabbed it before I could stop him. “What’s this?”

  I gasped, trying to snatch it from him, but he blocked me, trying to quickly read it before I managed to get the contract back from him.

  Ashton laughed out loud, reading the $22-million section out loud. “What is this? Whose is this?” He didn’t get a chance to finish reading it when I got a hold of it, snatching it from him. He looked at the letterhead. “That looks like Kent Sanderson’s logo. You workin’ for dude, too? What is that?”

  “Don’t worry about all that, Super Duper Snooper. It’s not yours.” I rolled my eyes, smoothing out the paper. “Gosh, you’re nosy!”

  Ashton looked at me, “What the fuck did you do to get someone to write you a contract for that much, Charlie? Or should I say who did you do?”

  “It’s not for me, Ashton.” I blurted out without thinking. Shit, you talk too damn much, Charlie!

  Ashton’s stare was so intense that he probably could see straight through me.

  I looked away from him, feeling as ugly as the look on his face. “It’s Jamie’s contract. And before you say anything, I’m fine.”

  Ashton’s temples twitched. “Naw,” he shook his head. “You’re not fine. What’s up with you, Charlie? You fucked that dude and whoever the fuck else he had you fuckin’ and suckin’ on just to get Jamie, a nigga who doesn’t give a fuck about you, a contract that can have him set for life?”

  “No, I fucked Kent, his wife, and his secretary so I can get Jamie a contract that will have my son set for life!” I exclaimed. “I will do anything I can to protect my son, and keep his father around him! My son lives and breathes Jamie!”

  Ashton shook his head at me, “And so do you.”

  I sighed. “I’m just doing what’s best for my son.”

  “Well, what about what’s best for you? You running around every night, fuckin’ whoever and whatever, and you never once stop to think about what you’re doing. You need to get your life, shorty, and stop fuckin’ around. Didn’t Alisha’s death teach you anything? Stop fuckin’ around and get your life together before it’s too late!” Ashton exclaimed, watching me shake my foot anxiously.

 

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