The looming presence was directly behind him and Cruze braced himself for a bullet to the back of his dome.
“You know what it is, man, gimme your watch,” the voice behind him demanded. “Give it up, and . . . and don’t try nothing, either. Oh, yeah, reach in your pockets and gimme your money . . . and your phone, too.”
I’ll be goddamned. This isn’t a hit . . . it’s a fucking stick-up! Cruze almost laughed, but he was too infuriated to crack a smile. Quick as lightning, he pulled his piece and wheeled around and came face-to-face with a big bruiser who was almost as tall as Cruze, and as wide as he was tall. Chubby cheeks and a youthful face revealed an overgrown kid, seventeen or eighteen. Maybe younger.
The chubby-faced teen gawked at the gleaming Glock that was aimed in his face, and then his gaze drifted downward at the metal pipe in his own hand.
Cruze cocked the gun. With a simmering rage, he fixed hard eyes on the juvenile. “What’s wrong with you, young nigga? You ain’t got nothing better to do than try to rob hardworking muthafuckas, huh, fuck boy?”
In Cruze’s darkened eyes, the would-be robber glimpsed a chained beast that was so angry and frightening; the youth couldn’t help taking several steps backward. “Yo, man, I was only fuckin’ with you. I ain’t tryna rob nobody.” Proving his harmlessness, he smiled dumbly and unfurled his fingers. The metal pipe, as ineffective as a water pistol, rolled out of his hand and clattered to the pavement.
In swift motions, Cruze grabbed the pipe and struck the teen in the kneecaps. The oversized boy pitched forward with a loud groan and then stumbled backward, hitting the ground with the force of a massive tree.
Cruze leapt on him. He pistol-whipped the boy unmercifully before pressing the gun against his forehead. “Your punk-ass is a few seconds from dying . . . was it worth it, stick-up boy?”
“Nah, it wasn’t worth it. Don’t kill me, Mister. Please. I’m sorry,” the youth cried through bloodied lips.
Cruze fingered the trigger and then caught himself. What the fuck am I doing? This fool ain’t nothing but a dumb-ass kid. He stood up, cursing as he returned the Glock to his waistband.
Looking down, Cruze noticed blood on his Air Yeezys. With renewed anger, he kicked the boy in the ribs. “That’s for bleeding on my shit, bitch-ass fuck-boy!”
Leaving the bungling thief wallowing on the ground in pain, Cruze took off through the park. When he reached his nondescript rental car, he sparked a blunt before pulling off. As he merged into traffic, the calm that came over him quieted his pounding heart. But the violent altercation with the young punk had awakened something that weed couldn’t appease. Feeling strangely energized by the murder he’d almost committed, Cruze made a sudden U-turn.
It was crucial that he got out of New York and returned to Philly, but the stirring in his groin was relentless, demanding that he make a pit stop, first. There was a long list of candidates to choose from, but Laila Stanley was the closest in proximity.
• • •
Head down to obscure his face, Cruze trotted up the steps of the Brooklyn brownstone and rang the bell. The door cracked open, and he flashed a smile that displayed the set of deep dimples that were sure to melt away any resentment Laila might have harbored against him.
“Hey, baby,” he said in a low, sensual tone.
Eyes wide, Laila gasped, covering her mouth as if she’d seen a ghost. “Cruze? Oh, my God, Cruze!”
“Are you gonna invite me in?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.
Nodding, she moved aside, allowing him entry. Then, after closing and locking the door, she fell into his arms and buried her head in his chest. Clinging to him, she murmured his name over and over. Her slender body trembled and when she lifted her head, Cruze saw the tears that streaked her face.
“Aw, don’t cry, Laila. Shh,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “Come on, baby, don’t cry.”
“How could you?” she sobbed, looking up at him, her eyes filled with pain and relief. “Leaving all of a sudden, the way you did . . . you hurt me to my heart, Cruze.”
Shit. He wasn’t up for a bunch of damn tears. He felt like dipping on her crying ass, but the slow throb in his pants reminded him of why he was there in the first place. For some pussy.
“Shit got crazy,” he said apologetically, “and I had to get ghost, but I never meant to hurt you.” He wiped her tears and then brushed his lips against her cheek and her neck, then cupped her ass as he smoothly walked her backward down the hall toward her bedroom.
In her room, he stepped back from her and came out of his hoodie and pulled off his shirt. Sniffling, Laila cried harder. “It’s been over a year, and not once did you ever try to contact me. How could you do me like that, Cruze?” She angrily pounded his chest with her fists.
Cruze caught her wrists, and held them tightly. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to wait until the air cleared. But I’m here, now. I’m back.”
“Are you here to stay?”
Cruze bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, baby.” He hated to have to lie to her. Laila was a sweet girl and had been hopelessly in love with him for years. Although the feelings weren’t mutual, she deserved better than being treated like a random ho, but with his dick on lump, he had no choice. He wanted to fuck.
Figuring he’d done enough talking, Cruze began to unzip his jeans.
Insulted, Laila scowled. “Really, Cruze? After all this time, you’re still as disrespectful as ever—coming here thinking I’m supposed to just spread my legs and let you fuck me. I can’t believe you! Without any explanation of where your ass has been, you come up in here and start stripping out of your clothes, expecting me to let you jump back into the pussy—with no questions asked. I’m not giving you shit until I know where the fuck you’ve been.” Eyes narrowed, hand on hip—she waited.
Cruze reached for her. “Come on, babe, it’s not like that. With my lifestyle . . .” He paused and shook his head. “You already know the kind of world I move in, and there’s a lot of shit you don’t need to know. I’m not deliberately being cold. Do you think I like keeping shit bottled up inside? I’d love to be able to come home to you and share my troubles, but right now, the less you know, the better off you are.”
Cruze watched as a range of emotions crossed Laila’s face. He was certain that his remark about coming home to her had given her hope and weakened her resolve. When her features finally relaxed, it was clear he’d successfully torn down the barriers she’d put up.
“The only thing I can tell you, Laila, is that I missed you so bad, it hurt,” he added to speed up the process of getting some dick relief.
She swallowed as her anger subsided and her heart softened. “I missed you, too,” she confessed. Her voice cracked and she seemed to be working herself up to more tears.
Oh, shit. Please don’t start crying, again!
Horny as fuck, Cruze swallowed hard as his intense gaze roamed over her pert breasts and down to the crotch of her yoga pants where a pussy print was evident. Filled with raw yearning, he uttered a primal sound from deep in his throat. “Come on, baby. Take your clothes off for me. Let me see that pretty little body that I’ve been craving.”
Laila’s expression suddenly hardened and she stubbornly folded her arms across her chest. “You ain’t right, Cruze. It’s been more than a year—”
Yeah, okay. And? You already said that shit. He wasn’t trying to repeat himself explaining why again. He moved closer, shutting her up by rubbing on her titties and whispering, “I’ve been having wet dreams about that pretty pussy of yours.”
Laila gazed up at him and swallowed as heat swept through her. No man had ever had that effect on her, except for Cruze. Damn him! With a look of defeat mixed with sexual yearning, she began tearing off her clothes.
As Cruze finished undressing, he could feel Laila’s eyes burning into him. Anticipation scorched through
her veins. He was her only desire. And as angry as she was with him for abandoning her, she couldn’t deny herself him. Standing at six-foot-four, his body was sculpted like a Nubian god, and Laila couldn’t help running her hands over his bulging biceps and rippled abs. She’d missed the feel of his hard body.
“You ’bout to find out how much I missed you,” Cruze warned, before licking his lips. He enveloped her inside his brawny arms and with his lips, he traced a moist path from her neck to her breasts, nibbling and sucking on her nipples, and coaxing desperate little moans from her.
His hand wandered downward, moving past her belly button and then stalling. A long finger made circles around her rigid clit, and then moved a little lower, caressing the seam of her pussy, where hot juices had gathered.
Cruze didn’t tongue kiss or eat pussy because most bitches put their mouths on too many dicks and raw-fucked way too many different niggas. But he had no problem playing in a batch of hot pussy. One finger explored the pooling wetness between Laila’s legs while his thumb orbited her juice-slickened clit.
“I love you so much, Cruze,” Laila whimpered, her mouth hungrily seeking his. Cruze pulled away. “You know what I want, Laila . . . suck it for me, babe.” He applied pressure to her shoulder with one hand and held the base of his hard, throbbing pole with the other.
Without hesitation, Laila sank to her knees and opened her mouth.
“Mmm,” Cruze moaned as he slid the smooth head between her plump lips. “Suck it good,” he coaxed. She pulled him in deeper, and the moment she applied suction to his hardened shaft, a fire erupted inside him and tiny sparks raced up his spine.
He could have easily lost control and released a hot load of cum right then and there, but he composed himself. With concentration, he was able to stroke in and out of her mouth, slowly and rhythmically.
“Damn, you suck a good dick, girl. That juicy mouth of yours drives me crazy.” Cruze’s dick glided along her tongue in a leisurely fashion, but when Laila puckered her lips around the middle of his shaft, tightening and releasing her hold like a quick-gripping pussy, Cruze’s breathing intensified and he went wild, banging against her tonsils,
Laila deftly relaxed her throat muscles, allowing him to force-fit his lengthy cock down her tight windpipe. Realizing he was close to busting, he reluctantly pulled his burgeoning manhood out of Laila’s neck and smeared his leaking pre-cum all over her mouth.
Looking confused, Laila licked the salty substance from her lips. “What’s wrong? You used to love it when I sucked the first nut out of you.”
“You can suck out the next one, all right? But right now, I gotta bust inside that hot pussy.”
Laila stood up and Cruze roughly tossed her on the bed. Grunting with desire, he mounted her. Knocking her legs apart with his knee, he guided his swollen cock toward her creamy slit.
“Uh,” he groaned as he pumped dick into her depths. Her satiny walls contracted around his thickness, possessively clutching at his manhood as if trying to keep him trapped inside her pussy, forever.
The lock-tight grip Laila had on his dick felt amazing. But he wouldn’t last long if he didn’t put up a fight. Grinding his hips into her hers, he took control, feeding her pussy slow, measured thrusts of rock-hard dick.
After a few moments, he increased the tempo, stroking in and out at a much faster pace. “Ooo, this pussy is so damn wet, I can tell you’re ready for me to gut you. Are you ready, baby?”
“Yeah, I’m ready for you to gut-fuck me, bae,” Laila replied breathlessly.
Cruze let out a groan as he pulled his dick out of her hot snatch. Coated with Laila’s juices, his long, thick meat pulsed with readiness. He yanked Laila by her legs and pulled her into position. Stretching her flexible thighs wide apart, he situated himself in the V-shaped space. He looked down and saw that her dripping-wet cunt was gaped open invitingly.
Showing no mercy, Cruze rammed his dick in so deeply, his nuts slapped against Laila’s ass. With every thick inch that he jammed into her gut, he’d pull out a little before pressing in more.
“Oh, God, I love this big dick. It’s so good,” Laila cried out in passion. “Can’t nobody gut me like you do, Cruze. My pussy needs you, bae. Promise that you’ll stay this time. Please, don’t leave me, again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Cruze mumbled, steadily stroking.
In a euphoric zone where the only thing that mattered was the sensation of plowing through the heated slush that flowed from Laila’s pink, hot gash, Cruze said whatever she wanted to hear. Sweating and straining, he pounded her pussy so hard, Laila curled her toes and her hands gripped the sheets. Driving in hard dick at a rapid speed, her head knocked repeatedly into the leather headboard.
“That’s right, fuck my brains out, daddy. Tear me wide open. Goddamn, I love you, so damn much. You can’t leave me no more, baby. Mmm. You gotta fuck me like this every night. Promise me . . . uhn . . .please,” Laila pleaded as Cruze plunged deep inside her, fucking her in hard strokes, the head of his dick bumping up against the mouth of her cervix.
With every lunge inside her lush body, she grew slicker around his dick. Against her flesh, he rasped, “Come for me, baby. Let me feel your wet pussy melt all over my dick.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” she screamed as she tightened her legs around Cruze’s back. “Fuck me! Mmm, yes—God! Fuck me!”
Her nails dug into his back. Spiraling closer to nirvana, a spasm of delight gripped her pussy. She gasped, grabbing the sheets around her.
Then cried out his name as all the love and arousal she had for him flowed from her body.
Three
"Mmm, yes . . . goddamn you, yesss!” Arabia moaned over a sensual beat that poured out through the club’s speakers. She was on her hands and knees, her ass cheeks pulled apart, her pussy splayed open. Behind her stood her six-foot-one anonymous lover, his face hidden behind a black spandex three-hole hood. A mask he wore for extra protection from anyone knowing his real identity despite the fact that every club member was not only interviewed vigorously, but also required to sign a nondisclosure agreement before being accepted into the adult playground.
Whatever.
She didn’t care who or what he was out in the real world. Tonight, he was simply a random fuck. Tall. Dark. And sexy as hell—from the neck down, that was. She didn’t care what he looked like behind that mask. Hell, a gorilla could have been hidden behind the latex for all she cared. All that mattered to her was the way his muscles rippled as he fucked into his lover’s body, and the shrill cries of joy she emitted with each thrust.
It’d taken her nearly thirty minutes to find him. Up on the third floor. Fucking.
She’d stood back quietly, viewing intently for several moments as he rammed his dick—in rapid, piston-like strokes—in and out of the cunt of a pretty brown-skinned woman. He’d slammed his rock-hard cock into her body hard, harder, harder, again and again and again—each powerful stroke making the woman sob with exquisite pleasure.
Arabia had bit her lip, drunk in the sight of the two lovers, feeling her blood heat with desire. She could smell the woman’s pussy as he sliced into her wetness. And mmm, it’d made her mouth water as she watched on with a wicked joy that made her own cunt tingle with need.
She wasn’t a lesbian, but she’d wanted so desperately to snatch him out of his lover’s sex and suck him into her mouth, licking his lover’s cunt cream from his cock. Yes—oh God—yes. She wanted to taste it. Taste her on him.
Times like this—when carnal desire seeped through every part of her—was when she wanted to be unanchored and out of control. It was when she felt the freakiest, the dirtiest.
She stood there, watching, wanting—watering, for what seemed a long while before she’d boldly slipped out of her dress, allowing the garment to flutter to the floor. The club’s music pulsed over her body as she stepped over her dress, and—in her
panties and come-fuck-me heels—sauntered over to the couple, her gaze transfixed on the stretch of muscle covering her prey’s back, his ass, the back of his thighs. Ropes of sweaty muscle tightening with his every thrust. His hips beat against Brown Skin’s soft rounded ass, his dick pummeled and hammered deep inside her.
The Masked Man watched himself disappearing into his lover’s hole, reemerging from each thrust wetter and wetter. Arabia licked her lips, feeling her veins flood with envy. She’d wanted what that bitch was getting.
She’d wanted a good hard dick down.
She’d felt the blood throbbing between her thighs as her gaze danced all over his body. Sweet heavenly Father, that beautiful ass of his. She’d wanted to bite into each cheek, inhale his musky scent, then chew into his flesh. Her pussy had flared at the thought. She’d trembled, her body hot and sizzling from a burning need to be stuffed with cock as she made her way over to them. She’d been so aroused, her nipples deliciously tight, her cunt aching. She hadn’t cared if the two of them were a couple in real life, or not. She’d planned on stealing Miss Brown Skin’s lover away from her, and having her way with him.
She’d slid out of her panties, then tossed them over to a tanned Italian who’d been eyeing her as he stroked his dick. He’d caught her panties—lacy and red—in midair, then brought them up to his nose and sniffed. She’d licked her lips, sliding a hand between her legs and brushing a delicate finger over the hood of her clitoris. Pleasure had splintered fiercely through her body until her clit swelled. She’d bitten back a low moan as she slowly slid two fingers inside the folds of her pussy. Her slit closed around her fingers as they lost themselves deep inside her arousal.
Her eyes fluttered, only for a brief moment, before she’d brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them into her warm mouth. Mmm. She licked her lips, then swallowed the saliva that had begun to gather in her jaws.
She hadn’t minded the eyes that had watched her, hungry and wide, as she stalked closer, beginning to talk dirty over the music, telling Mr. Masked Man to fuck that pussy, telling him how badly she wanted him to fuck her, too, with his big, juicy dick.
Sexual Healing Page 2