Scandalicious: A Novel

by Allison Hobbs

  But she wanted something more. In Melanee’s opinion, it was somewhat normal for a man to be in control, but to be under the dominion of a woman was so unusual and freaky, the idea made her pussy pucker and ooze.

  She touched the dampened patch of her panties, debating whether or not she should make herself cum. No! That was forbidden by Colden; he required her to get his express permission to touch herself. Guiltily, she removed her hand. It was cruel the way he controlled her without giving her any satisfaction. A woman would be much more sensitive to her needs.

  Madam Midnight, I need you, she screamed in her head. Moments later, the butler appeared. Melanee came to her feet.

  “The limo driver has been dismissed for the night. Madam summons you to her bedroom.” The butler wore a sour expression, as though each word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “Really?” Melanee leapt to her feet, raring to go.

  “Remove your clothing and your shoes,” the butler said with disdain.

  “Yes, of course. Absolutely.” Melanee was so happy, she wanted to kiss the look of dissatisfaction off of the butler’s face.

  As if deliberately attempting to intimidate her, the butler didn’t give Melanee any privacy as she undressed. Feeling no shame, she tore off her dress and underwear with such wild abandon, the butler lowered his gaze.

  Impatiently, Melanee walked behind the butler. He seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace. Each step was ominously slow.

  The butler was lucky Melanee didn’t shove him to the side and make a crazy, running dash to Madam’s bedroom. Actually, she didn’t know where it was located and it was the only thing stopping her. The private bath was a vast, open area, with numerous corridors that led to who knows where. There was no telling how many doors she’d have to open to get to the paradise that was waiting between Madam Midnight’s legs.

  Good things come to those who wait! Melanee repeated the words like a mantra during the funeral procession style of slow-walking that the butler was forcing her to do.

  Letting her imagination take over, Melanee thought about the many ways that she wanted to please Madam Midnight. She would prove herself to be a far better choice than that temperamental boy toy, Garrett. Melanee would be a worshipful lover and an obedient sex slave. Madam could do anything she wanted to Melanee, and Melanee wouldn’t require a “safe word.”

  For far too long, Colden had been dispensing punishment in very small doses; Melanee yearned to be taken to the limit.

  Moving agonizingly slow, they finished climbing the stairs. Melanee was getting the impression that the butler was stalling, hoping that Madam would fall asleep before Melanee could serve her. He was a selfish man.

  They passed the bath area, and entered Madam’s private suite from the corridor. He led her through a sitting room, and then opened a set of double doors. It was an amazing room, decorated with timeless sophistication. The heavy oak, four-poster bed with elaborate carvings that ran up and down the posts, made a dramatic statement. The room was filled with a brightly colored blend of various flowers; their fresh-cut scent lingered in the air. The room was majestic. It was fit for a queen.

  In naked splendor, Madam was curled on top of a white, lace bedspread. With her eyes closed and lying perfectly still, she appeared to be asleep. Her ebony skin had been rubbed with essential oils and brought to a glistening shine. The high bun was loosened; the jeweled tiara removed, and her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders.

  “She’s here,” the butler said in a bitter tone of voice.

  Madam didn’t open her eyes. The only indication that she was awake or had even heard the butler, was the swift dismissing motion of her hand.

  With a brisk head nod, the butler took a few backward steps, and then grudgingly turned around, leaving Melanee and Madam alone.

  As if Madam might break, she gently parted her shapely legs. She couldn’t resist running her palm over the neatly trimmed pubic hair. Madam inhaled sharply at Melanee’s tender touch. Using her thumbs, she delicately spread open Madam’s flower, exposing her dark flesh. Gently, she pulled the petals wider apart, and her mouth watered as she discovered the hidden, crimson-colored skin with the juicy, deep-gashed opening.

  “Mmm,” Melanee moaned, gazing at the secret tunnel. She marveled at Madam’s clit as it become erect in response to the exposure and the sweet invasion of privacy.

  With her nose pressed against the closely shorn mound, she slid her tongue deep into her opening. Holding her buttocks, Melanee surrounded Madam’s rigid clit with her lips, swishing it back and forth with her tongue. Arching her back, Madam thrust her pussy against Melanee’s face; her strong thighs clamped her head. Madam was not lying passively. She was in full control, permitting Melanee access only to her clit.

  With a quick tongue swipe, Melanee was able to capture a few droplets of tangy sweet nectar.

  “Stop!” Madam unclenched her thighs, sending Melanee into a little panic, thinking she had done something wrong and was being sent home.

  “Lie down,” Madam commanded in a throaty voice. Melanee did as she was told, her heart pounding with excitement as Madam Midnight mounted her, planting her pussy on Melanee’s face and sliding it up and down, over her forehead, her nose, her mouth, and her chin. Melanee’s tongue was not necessary for Madam’s satisfaction. Madam gripped the headboard, and rode Melanee’s face wildly. With hardly any air, Melanee was being suffocated by the woman’s pussy.

  She was engulfed in total darkness when Madam’s thighs closed around her face. Deprived of oxygen, Melanee’s arms flailed instinctively. She wanted to lie still and let Madam have her way with her, but it was a normal reaction of survival to try to push Madam aside as she struggled to breathe. But Madam ignored Melanee’s signals of distress, and kept grinding and sliding her pussy all over Melanee’s face.

  “Please, stop. I can’t breathe!” Melanee croaked out the muffled, indecipherable words and tried to wriggle free. Her pitiful efforts to suck in oxygen seemed to entice Madam to thrust and undulate more violently, completely cutting off her air passages.

  At the point when Melanee thought she was going to lose consciousness, Madam began to groan and shake, shifting her weight and in a way that allowed Melanee to finally breathe.

  In the throes of a shuddering orgasm, Madam toppled off of Melanee.

  Choking…gasping, Melanee gulped in big bursts of air. She was shaken to the core by the near-death experience. She’d assumed that Madam had wanted a gentle lovemaking session; she’d been prepared to worship the woman from head to toe. What had just transpired had been rough and dangerous. Pussy asphyxiation was life-threatening.

  As she lay next to Madam, trying to gather her thoughts and wondering what the woman expected of her next, Madam reached over and smoothed her hand along Melanee’s hipbone. That feels nice, she thought, seconds before the hand bunched into a claw.

  “One hundred and one tongue strokes, girl,” Madam hissed, digging her long fingernails into Melanee’s skin. “Hurry, girl. Do as I say. I’ve decided to keep you. You belong to me now.”

  A smile blossomed on Melanee’s lips. Though Madam had strange ways, she still found her intriguing and yearned to be enslaved by her. Obediently, Melanee sat up and scampered close to Madam. As if in prayer, she knelt between Madam’s sturdy legs and bowed her head.

  Madam’s pussy oozed with fragrant juices. Melanee pushed her tongue into the hot depths of her new owner’s pussy, coating her tongue with the sweet and sour cream—a unique blend of seasoning that was unlike any pussy she’d ever tasted.

  She started off with slow strokes, building up a gentle rhythm. She lapped pussy in a leisurely fashion. It was heavenly. She moaned in pleasure as she licked the savory crevice with an agile tongue. She kept count in her head, at first. But intoxicated by the rare flavor, Melanee increased the tempo, losing track after tongue stroke twenty-nine.

  The even breathing that emanated from Madam, hinted that the woman of the house had fallen asleep
, but Melanee wasn’t sure. She dared not stop until she’d reached one hundred tongue strokes, just like the princess required in the film.

  Suddenly the set of double doors burst open. The butler stormed in; his hurried footsteps tapping hard against the marble floor. “Are you an insane person?” He grabbed Melanee by the shoulders and wrenched her away from her feeding place.

  “Madam is asleep. Why would you risk waking her?”

  “But…but,” Melanee stammered, licking at the honey-balsamic film that covered her lips.

  “The limo is here. Get dressed and get out! I don’t ever want to see you again.” Behaving as if he’d caught Melanee stealing, the butler yanked her by the arm and tugged her out of the bedroom. This time, Melanee walked in front of the disgruntled man. All the way down the corridor, the butler poked her in the shoulder with one white-gloved hand; and pushed against her back with the other, forcibly expelling her from the premises, and hoping to permanently banish her from Madam’s life.

  CHAPTER 25

  For the second night in a row, Deon had stayed over. Solay woke up, checked the time and gasped. “Oh, no!”

  Deon cracked an eye open. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  She threw the covers off. I thought I’d set the alarm but I forgot. She rushed around the bedroom, trying to quickly dress. “Your good loving is starting to get me in trouble.”

  He propped himself up on an elbow. “Whatchu mean?” He sounded insulted.

  As late as she was, she took a moment to admire his bare chest. “Look at me! I’m losing it. Instead of getting my ass in gear, I’m gazing at you, wondering if I can squeeze in a quickie.”

  Deon flashed a smile. “Nothing wrong with that.” He patted her side of the bed invitingly.

  “That’s the problem. You got me addicted. I have a business to run. And I’m seriously slacking up.”

  “Down, boy!” he instructed his privates that had risen at the mention of the word “quickie.” He and Solay both laughed.

  “Why is it so hard to balance a relationship and conduct business?”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “What?” she asked quizzically as she pulled a stretchy top over her head.

  “What you just said; are we in a relationship?”

  No, I didn’t let the R-word slip out! “We’re not technically in a relationship.” She made air quotes. “You know what I’m saying.”

  “So what are we doing, Solay? Where’s this going?”

  She fell silent. The tables had turned on her. Asking where a situation was headed was normally her line. “Well, it’s only been a few weeks and you know, I’m just playing everything by ear. Going with the flow,” she said cautiously.

  “I can dig it. It’s all good. We don’t have to put labels on nothing, baby.”

  “I know. Let’s just live in the moment, and enjoy the time we spend together.” Solay knew from experience that the minute she got too comfortable, the most beautiful situation could turn ugly. She had a string of bad romances, and so whatever she and Deon had going on was too good to mess up with labels.

  “Damn, I don’t wanna get outta bed, but I gotta piss.” Deon threw his legs off the bed and stood up. Solay had to avert her gaze or she’d be all over him—stroking his curved dick while licking his sexy-ass tattoo. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Why you closing your eyes like that?”

  “If I look at you, it’s gonna be a wrap.” She sniggered.

  “Look, don’t put nothing else on. Stay just like that. I’ma piss right quick and then I’ma beat that pussy up.”

  “Nooo,” she hollered as he walked past her.

  He came out of the bathroom. “Ready?”

  “We can’t, Deon. I don’t have enough time. I have a rush order. It’s getting picked up in a few hours. My baking assistant has to handle all the other work by herself.”

  “Aye, I’ma get outta your way. I don’t even know why I’m acting all stupid like I’m in high school. This ain’t even my style.”

  “Well, I like the way you act, but I’m in a rush this morning. Okay, Deon?”

  “Yeah, ma. It’s all good.” They smiled at each other for a long moment.

  “Am I going to see you tonight?” she ventured to ask, feeling brave enough to deal with rejection.

  “Do you wanna see me tonight?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  She had skidded around the kitchen, frantically trying to get the order ready for a birthday party at an adult day center. A 100th birthday celebration. Miraculously, Solay had pulled it off. Late nights spent with Deon was really starting to affect her productivity. She had to figure out a way to juggle her business and her love life. She could use some rest tonight, but she also wanted to be with him.

  By three o’clock, the lunchtime rush was over and Solay was finally able to sit down for a moment and catch her breath. She checked her cell, looking for texts from Deon, but there weren’t any. Disappointment hit hard. He usually texted at least three or four times a day.

  She heard the jingle of the doorbell and sighed. Vidal would have to handle the trickle of late-afternoon patrons by himself. Solay didn’t have an ounce of energy left.

  “They’re beautiful. For me?” she heard Vidal squeal.

  “They’re for Solay Dandridge. Can you sign here?”

  “No one ever thinks about me,” Vidal complained.

  Solay looked at Melanee with questioning eyes. Melanee responded with a shrug and continued wiping down the counters and tables, puttering around the kitchen without any interest in anything outside of her inner world. But Solay was curious. She eased off the stool. Before she made it out of the kitchen, Vidal pushed through the kitchen door, carrying a huge bouquet.

  “If thug loving gets you all this, I must be doing something wrong.” Sighing, he placed the vase on top of a table.

  Solay gaped at the gorgeous flower arrangement. She ripped open the tiny envelope and silently read the message inside. Just a lil’ something to brighten your day!

  “What’s it say?” Vidal asked impatiently.

  “That’s personal.” She tucked the card inside the pocket of her apron.

  “Well, who sent ’em—a grateful client?”

  “No, they’re from Deon,” Solay responded, breaking into a big smile.

  “It’s like that between y’all?” Vidal looked both surprised and somewhat miffed.

  Beaming, Solay nodded her head.

  Vidal fanned his face. “Whew, Lawd! Now I’m starting to become a believer of all those dire 2012 predictions. Any time ruffians have started sending elegant flowers, I know this world is about to come to an end.”

  Listening to Vidal had Solay’s shoulders jerking with laughter as she texted her thanks to Deon. Vidal was such a comedian, even Melanee was giggling.

  Tomorrow was going to be just as hectic. The woman from the mural event was coming to sample cupcakes…again! Throughout the day, Solay had debated whether or not she should cancel getting together with Deon tonight. Bone-tired and weary, her body was demanding a full night’s sleep.

  After she closed and locked up the shop, she called Deon. “Hey, I should have called you earlier, but I kept debating with myself. Listen, I have to cancel tonight. I’m sorry, Deon, but I’m really beat.”

  “Yeah, I feel you on that. I’m being selfish and not taking into consideration how many hours you have to put in.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “I have to be. I gotta realize that it’s not all about me and what I want. You calling the shots, baby. All you gotta do is let me know when…and I’m there.”

  “My sleeping habits are more like an older person than a twenty-six-year-old woman. I wish you could come over and just hold me while I go to sleep.”

  “I wish I could, too. Times like this is when a foot massage is necessary. I could do that for you and then lightly rub that ass ’til you drop off to sleep, but who am I fooling—I know I can’t cont
rol myself. My dick gets stupid when it’s around you—won’t stay inside my drawers.”

  Solay laughed; she was flattered.

  “My dick acts like it has adult ADHD. I be tryna keep it from wandering outta my drawers—I get it in a chokehold and I be like—‘Yo, what I say? Settle down. Stop fuckin’ with her.’ But the minute I close my eyes, my dick is standing up straight, tryna start some shit. True story, baby. I’m innocent. My dick is crazy.”

  She laughed harder. “Oh, my God, you’re so funny.” Solay needed a good laugh.

  Deon’s voice took on a serious tone. “Next time we get together, I’ma make sure that I rock you to sleep by eleven o’clock. No more keeping you up until the wee hours. True story, baby.”

  “That’s thoughtful.” She wore a wide smile of appreciation.

  “So get yourself some rest, okay, baby? And I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night, Deon.”

  CHAPTER 26

  By nine-thirty Solay was calling it a night. She raised the window in her bedroom, letting in the chilled autumn breeze that would lull her into a peaceful sleep. Under the covers, she let her mind drift. A million fleeting thoughts filled her head, until her thoughts settled on Deon. She clicked on the bedside light to get one last look at the enormous bouquet of lilies, roses, snapdragons, and elegant tulips before she went to sleep. Set in the center of the dresser, the romantic flower arrangement faced her, promising a night filled with sweet dreams.

  Solay rose a few hours before dawn, fully rejuvenated. It was a pleasure to go through her morning routine at a leisurely pace. All that skidding around her apartment in a race against the clock, had taken a toll. But the downside to feeling invigorated was that she missed Deon like crazy. She missed waking up cuddled next to him. She wondered how he felt having to sleep without his arm wrapped around her. She knew that he was knocked out cold at this hour of the morning, but before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her phone and sent him a text with a heart emoticon before and after the words, I miss you.