“I’m trying to protect Amir and Tori. They don’t need to hear every detail of our marital problems.”
Lincoln nodded, seemingly with understanding. Then he threw an unexpected, low blow. “Yeah, I can understand why you wouldn’t want the kids to know that their mother is a slut.”
“Sarcasm, name-calling, sulking. It’s all so immature…and vicious.” Chevonne shook her head pityingly, as if Lincoln’s resentment was uncalled for.
“I’m not the spouse that cheated, and quite frankly, I didn’t know that there were rules of etiquette in this situation. But since you’re the one that was raised in a well-to-do family, why don’t you school me? What’s the proper code of behavior? What the hell is a civilized man supposed to do when he discovers that his wife is a whoring-ass bitch?”
“Is this name calling necessary? Can’t you behave like a mature adult? What’s done is done. All we can do is move forward now.”
Lincoln gawked at her. “Move forward? Are you serious? Every time I look at you, I see a random dick sliding between your lips.” He glared at her while his hateful words sank in. “Did you swallow, baby? Did you guzzle down that muthafucka’s cum?”
Tears formed in Chevonne’s eyes. Her distress gave Lincoln a small degree of satisfaction.
Chevonne wiped her eyes. “I was going to try to convince you to stay, but maybe a trial separation is a good idea. How can I fight to hold our family together with you constantly making snide comments? Go ahead and leave. Do whatever you want to do. I have to worry about our children—make sure that they’re being raised in a healthy environment.”
Eyes wide with incredulity, Lincoln pointed at his wife. “You destroyed our family. You poisoned this environment when you made the decision to drop your drawers for that muthafucka. Blame your cum-hungry pussy and your knob-slobbering lips, but don’t try to blame me for destroying our family.”
“Must you be so crude?”
“Tit for a tat. Your slut-bucket activities weren’t exactly ladylike, you know.”
She winced. “I’m sorry, Lincoln. You can’t imagine how truly sorry I am. But how long do you think I’m going to tolerate your verbal attacks?” Chevonne said tearfully. “If this is the only way that you can communicate, then you need to go. I’ll help you pack.”
“Don’t turn the tables on me. I’m not the bad guy. I’m the one who was duped. I thought I was married to a wholesome woman—a refined lady—with morals and family values. But I was hoodwinked. You’re really no different than a two-dollar whore.”
“I never presented myself as anything other than a human being. Educated? Yes. From a respected family? Yes. But you’re the one that put me on a pedestal. And now you’re trying to chip away at it—trying to tear me down.”
Being from the ’hood, Lincoln had to claw and scratch for everything he’d gotten. Basketball was his ticket to college and his intelligence led him to what had started out as a promising and lucrative career. A classy chick like Chevonne would have never been within his reach if he hadn’t pulled himself up by his bootstraps. Chevonne had been the ultimate reward—his trophy wife.
Now she was tainted. He gave her a look of repugnance.
Chevonne looked away from his condemning gaze. Eyes lowered, she asked, “Do you want to try counseling—as a last-chance effort? It might help.”
Looking at his beautiful wife, repentant and beaten, he wished he could say something optimistic, but forgiveness was not in his heart.
“I wish you would have thought about counseling before you made that move. The trust is broken. How can talking to a counselor restore the trust that I had in you?”
“I don’t know, but shouldn’t we think about the kids and at least make an effort?”
Lincoln shook his head. “Like I said, I thought long and hard. I’m leaving. And Amir is gong with me when I move.”
Chevonne made a long, croaking sound, as if stabbed with a dagger. “You can’t take my child away from me.”
“We’re over, Chevonne. Nothing can change that. But I’m not going to allow our situation to affect the close bond I’ve built with my son. If I fought hard enough—if I paid for a high-price lawyer, I could probably get Amir and Tori. But I think a girl needs her mother.”
“Amir needs me, too!” There was a wild and desperate look in Chevonne’s eyes—like she was capable of homicide.
“Amir needs me! I’ll be damned if I’ll allow my son to be influenced by the opinions and attitudes of a bunch of random dudes. Fuck that!”
Tears flowed from Chevonne’s eyes. She sniffled helplessly. “I’m a good mother. I’d never allow my children—”
“A good mother thinks about her children’s well-being before parting her skanky legs for some out-of-town dick.”
CHAPTER 13
Tonight was the night! She was finally going to have Deon back in her bed. It didn’t surprise her that Deon was in high demand. He put it on her in the bedroom. The extra bonus was his good looks and his thuggish swagger. That curved dick of his was well worth every dollar she’d put on her credit card.
“It’s time for my lunch break,” Vidal called out, his voice carrying to the kitchen.
Anticipating the hot night she was going to have with Deon, Solay wore a secret smile as she replaced Vidal at the counter.
“What’s the weekly special?” a college-aged kid asked, squinting at the chalkboard menu. Solay recognized him as a regular who bought cupcakes three or four times a week.
“No special today,” Solay replied. Though slightly aggravated that the student wasn’t content with the regular menu, she managed a strained smile. “What would you like—chocolate, red velvet, or vanilla?”
The college kid scowled the menu again. “No, I wanted the special.” He left the counter and skulked past the line of waiting customers.
Solay was flabbergasted. This was a first. No customer had ever left her bakery in disappointment. After the kid left, it seemed like every other customer was asking about Screamin’ O’s or inquiring about the weekly special.
She’d been thankful that Melanee was no longer mixing together expensive ingredients and slowing down the production of the regular list of options. Something was going on with Melanee. Her mind seemed to be off in the clouds. Miraculously, she’d fallen back into step with the way that Solay ran her business. Baking Solay’s tried and true recipes only.
Now Solay was a little worried. With Melanee’s specialties being so popular, Solay wasn’t sure if eliminating them had been a good idea. Maybe she should to speak to Melanee; give her the green light to whip up some more delectable treats. But remembering how egotistical Melanee could be, Solay changed her mind. In the future, any specialty on the menu at Scandalicious would be something that Solay created. She’d be a fool to allow her temperamental baking assistant to have that much control over her business.
She checked him out through the peephole. Deon was a sexy sight. She flung the door open, welcoming him.
Solay felt seductive in black heels, a glittery, pale-blue thong and matching push-up bra.
Deon gave her a wide, appreciative smile. “You look gorgeous,” he said and then hugged Solay tight, like they were long-lost lovers.
Her arms circled around his back, fully participating in the warm embrace. Being close to him felt good—too good!
If Solay didn’t have a tight grip on reality, it would be easy to believe the male escort was really feeling her. Maybe he was…they definitely had good sexual chemistry, but that didn’t change the fact that their connection was based on a money transaction. And Solay had no problem with that fact. As long as she was paying, she didn’t have any expectations other than good dick and a powerful orgasm.
Deon cupped the back of her neck, his fingers plunged into her hair as he held her to him. With their hips pressed together in that lingering embrace, Solay felt his dick responding. She drew in a hard breath as she felt the shocking thickness of his dick as it lengthened beneath his
jeans.
His lips brushed gently against hers. A soft moan vibrated in Solay’s throat as she opened her mouth to him. His tongue licked against hers…slowly…teasingly, while his agile fingers unclasped her bra. His hands framed her breasts. He moaned in appreciation as his rotating thumbs brought her nipples to hardness.
Tearing his lips from hers, his mouth moved downward, latching onto one corkscrew nipple, and then the other; making Solay emit agonized moans of pleasure.
The last time they were together, Deon had relaxed her with a sensual massage. She had planned to return the favor, but their panting breath, and groping hands made it apparent that prolonged foreplay was not on the agenda tonight. It was also quite obvious that the heat between them was so overpowering, they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom.
A few strides across her small living room, and they tumbled onto the couch. Hastily, Deon unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans and allowed the denim to fall past his hips. Like a cobra, his dick lay throbbing and coiled inside his boxer briefs. As if freeing a living creature, Solay yanked his drawers down, giving his dick ample room to stretch and swell to a full erection.
Deon was paid to pleasure Solay, but dual sensations overcame her. Her mouth watered and her pussy tightened at the sight of his masculine deliciousness. She didn’t know whether to jump on the dick and ram it inside her moist walls or suck it like it was a big chunk of gourmet chocolate.
“Can I suck it?” She wanted to taste him so badly, her voice cracked with yearning.
“Hell yeah, you can suck it.” Deon grabbed his dick and guided the head to her lips. With her mouth parted, Solay lowered her head. Deon thrust gently, feeding Solay increments of dick.
Careful not to nick or graze his smooth, even-colored skin with her teeth, she drew in as much length as she could handle without choking. His dick had the sweetest flavor, like it was sugar-coated. Solay gulped in several more inches of the irresistible treat.
Deon groaned. “Daaaamn! I ain’t know your head game was all like this! Slow down, girl. You ’bout to make me bust.”
She didn’t slow down. She didn’t want to. Sucking off a big, curved dick was challenging, but also satisfying after she got it secured inside her mouth. Indulging her passion, Solay disregarded Deon’s protests. She put a suction-hold on his dick that made him gasp.
“Stop, baby. For real. You gotta hold up—wait!” Deon tried to ease his dick out of Solay’s mouth.
But Solay kept sucking. Slurping. Taking it all in. His dick was the ultimate pacifier and she refused to give it up.
Unable to hold back any longer, Deon cried out a warning. Solay didn’t take heed. She wanted it. She closed her eyes blissfully as she swallowed bursts of white hot passion.
“That wasn’t even fair,” he said, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.
Solay smiled and licked her lips in satisfaction. “Life isn’t fair.”
“True. True, but I gotta redeem myself.” He shook his head, as if shocked by his lack of self-control.
“Would you like something to drink? You know, something with some kick that might help you recover?”
“Oh, you feeling yourself, now! But, yeah, I could use a lil’ something.”
“Henny, Patrón, Stoli…what’s your pleasure?” Pushing her breasts back inside the cups, Solay readjusted her bra.
“I don’t know why you fixing your bra. Them shits ’bout to come back off,” Deon murmured. He kicked off his sneakers and came out of his jeans and shirt.
“I might as well show off my pretty lingerie until you’re recharged,” Solay said with a taunting smile. She stood and straightened her bra straps.
Solay was ready to leap on him when he stood up, looking edible in his Ralph Lauren briefs. That black tattoo that was draped over his right shoulder was crazy sexy. Deon was hot as all hell. Lawd! But she kept her cool. She was the one in control, and it felt damn good. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled confidently. “What do you have a taste for?”
Deon didn’t answer her. He stared at her; his gaze held a hot intensity that made her heart flutter. The spark of lust between them was palpable, making her legs shake. His eyes penetrated, like a laser that ran from her face down to her breasts.
His serious expression wiped the cocky smile from Solay’s face. Nervously, she moistened her lips.
Deon reached for her hand. “Where you think you going? Get over here, ma.” He pulled her in front of him and his fingers began to tug on the strip of fabric that covered her crotch.
“Don’t you want a drink?” she murmured, feeling her knees weakening.
“Fuck a drink,” Deon growled. “The only thing I wanna taste is you.” He pushed her onto the couch. Ripped the thin fabric of the thong. On his knees, he forcibly pulled Solay’s thighs apart, situating her legs over his shoulders. With her pussy directly in front of his face, Deon burrowed his tongue inside her moist tunnel.
Her hips jerked. She clenched her teeth. Squeezing her eyes shut so tightly, her face was a grimace of sweet pain. What he was doing, the way he was licking her pussy, was giving her a feeling that was so intense, she felt like she could easily lose consciousness. Solay opened her eyes—wide—as she desperately fought to stay alert. But the pussy lashes he was delivering were too much for her. Her eyelids fluttered helplessly. The last thing she noticed before giving into blinding ecstasy were her sequined heels. Caught in a frenzy of sensations as his tongue lashed and stroked her to spasms, one shoe had fallen under the coffee table and the other had been kicked clean across the living room.
Hours passed.
“You got good pussy, baby. You da shit,” Deon mumbled as he caressed Solay’s breasts. “If you don’t stop me, I’ma be on that ass all night long,” he warned.
His words—the sound of his voice had Solay going wild. His touch was fire, and she loved the hot streaks that his hands made as they blazed all over her body. It was the beginning of another round—six—or was it round seven? Solay had lost count, and it really didn’t matter. She and her sexy escort couldn’t get enough of each other.
They got it in on the couch, in the shower and in a variety of positions—doggy style, standing up, missionary…like they were working their way through the Kama Sutra. With every sweet stroke that Deon delivered, Solay had yelled, “You’re the best I ever had.” It wasn’t merely sex talk. She meant that shit.
Now they were in lying in bed. Chilling for a few minutes.
With his arms wrapped around her, her back was pressed against his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart, and it unsettled her. He cupped her titties, bringing her nipples to hardness with circling fingertips.
“You tired? Had enough?” Deon murmured.
“Give me five minutes,” she whispered, realizing that she could use a short break. She closed her eyes, relaxing and enjoying the feeling of his touch that had cooled down from red-hot passion to soothing warmth.
She felt blanketed in emotional security, calmed by physical satisfaction—feelings she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She’d fooled herself into thinking that she didn’t need a man, but having Deon so close—feeling his body pressed against hers was so relaxing—so calming. She was reminded of what was missing in her life. She let out a long sigh. Experience had taught her not to get too comfortable with this kind of pleasure. It was a shame that something as basic as having regular sex from a faithful man was as far from reach as the damn moon.
She turned around and faced Deon. Considering it a harmless fantasy, she pretended that he wasn’t dick for rent—she touched his face and kissed him deeply. Their tongues lashed together—a prelude to another round of hot, sweaty sex.
CHAPTER 14
The door that bore the indentation of Lincoln’s fist had been replaced, but the effects of his volcanic explosion still lingered in the household. For the past week, the children had been tense, watching their parents with anxious eyes.
Pretending that
everything was all right, Lincoln and Chevonne went out of their way to speak in civil tones whenever Tori and Amir were within earshot. But their bedroom was the designated war zone. The marital bedroom was the place where Lincoln hurled unkind words and hurtful slurs.
It was past ten at night and Chevonne was lingering downstairs in the kitchen longer than usual. Lincoln assumed that she was hoping to escape the brooding atmosphere of their bedroom, trying to avoid another heated argument. She thought if she wasted enough time in the kitchen, Lincoln would be asleep when she turned in for bed.
She thought wrong. Lincoln brought his pissed-off attitude downstairs. He stood in the entryway, observing her as she unloaded the dishwasher. The emotional pain he was enduring hurt worse than a bullet in the chest. The ragged hole in his heart bled without cessation. Pointing the finger of blame at Chevonne gave him temporary relief, but he realized that this was no way to live.
She turned to him, her expression weary. “Do you want to talk?”
“No. I’m tired of talking…tired of arguing; I want a divorce.” Chevonne had committed the ultimate betrayal, and if he didn’t leave her, he was going to wind up in jail for a crime of passion—a crime that in his mind was justifiable homicide.
Chevonne took in a sharp breath. “We can get past this…we have to.”
He shook his head grimly. “My mind is made up. I’ve been looking for an apartment. As soon as I find one, I’m leaving.”
Chevonne’s eyes narrowed threateningly. “Amir is not going with you! You can forget that. I’m a good mother! I’ll fight you in court over my children, and believe me, I’ll win!” Her words came out in a rush of desperation.
Lincoln let her words sink in. Courts were reluctant to take children away from their mother…even when said mother was a whoring adulteress. Although Chevonne had recklessly gambled with their family’s future, she would still be considered as the better parent in the court’s eyes. A torrent of angry words came to mind, but Lincoln didn’t say anything; he silently seethed.
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