by Xyla Turner
Damn him.
Damn him to hell.
Damn both of them to hell.
Men were of the devil. Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Satan combined. They knew when to strike, how and what would be the best tactic. It had to be a premeditated attack and, in this case, a double team.
Out of the blue and I mean, the five-year blue, Sammy, Ella’s father called me. The fucking man called me. Mind you, my number has not changed and somewhere during the first two years, I thought he would come to his sense. I thought he would come and try to connect with me and meet, see, or hell, want to be a part of his child’s life.
Nope.
Not year one, two, three, four or five. It was year six that Ella would be on this earth and yet has not seen or known a father. The son-of-a-bitch had called me, asking how I was doing. It took me a few minutes to get myself together. Of course, he called while I was on the phone with Mr. West.
“What do you want?” I asked him.
“To, uh, say I’m sorry and I know that I cannot be in your life, but I want to be in my child’s life,” Sammy answered, sounding contrite.
His words of ‘it ain’t mine’ came back like a rushing wind and I hung up the phone. Well, not before I spat, “It ain’t yours.”
He called right back and against my better judgment, I picked up the phone and yelled, “What?”
“Kota,” he used my nickname, the one only reserved for him. “Please listen to me. I’m sorry. You don’t know how much, but I want to make it right. For my child.”
“Your child,” I scoffed. “You do not have a child.”
“Kota,” he murmured. “Please, don’t do this to me. I want to make this right. Plus, I heard you were in New York. I’m here on business and for the rest of the week. I’d like to see her. She’s a girl, right.”
I laughed. Hell, it couldn’t be helped. He didn’t even know the gender of the child that I birthed. Well, that was because I left, went ghost on everyone, no social media or nothing that could tie me to a place.
What was he doing in New York?
“Listen, it’s not that simple,” I told him. “She knows nothing about you or even this notion of her father. Therefore, you coming to stop in and say hi, is not a good idea.”
“So, you won’t let me see my daughter?” he asked in a different tone.
It was almost threatening, so I matched him. “You made it very clear, that it, she or he was not yours. Crystal clear, therefore, no, you cannot see my child.”
That was my final response, because then I hung up the phone and turned it on silent. He had a lot of fucking nerve. The girl would turn six this year and he wanted to see her. Like, oh, here’s your father, say hi, then he’d leave again.
What in the fuck?
To make matters worse, the best mentor I could have, was acting like I did something to him. We went from conversing every day, to barely anything. When I call him on it, the man got defensive, then makes some snarky ass comment when he caught Sammy trying once again to change my mind after I agreed to meet him for coffee. Then Mr. Fucking West kisses me. No, he bites my lip, insinuates that I’m causing him angst and kissed me again.
I damn near died.
Pick me up off the floor, because I was dead. It was no secret; the man was sex on a fucking stick. He was hot as hell, but he was my mentor. Hell, my primary investor. Even when I thought that little display of affection was the reason for him taking me on, I stopped, because he pulled back, said he couldn’t and hadn’t made a move since.
As I mentioned.
Devils, Satan’s spawns, demons from the pits of hell.
All men.
Why me?
I ended up not letting Sammy see Ella, because he had no long-term plans of forging a relationship with her. He did not like that, but I did not give one fuck. What I did not expect him to do was demand a paternity test, that came in the mail a couple of weeks later. I sort of lost my shit, took Ella to school, but called out of work. I never did that, but I was a mess.
What if he confirmed, which he would, that he was the father? What if he wanted custody? What if he took her from me? What if he knew what money I had just come into and he was trying to use Ella to access it? I’d put nothing past him. He watched the show and had to know who Jonah West was and why he was talking to me.
Around ten o’clock the morning that I called out, my phone rang, and it was Mr. West. With every effort, I tried to get myself together and answered. “Hello, Mr. West.”
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” His voice was rushed and urgent.
“Oh, uh, no. Just not, um, myself, today.” I told him. “I postponed all of my meetings. I hope that’s alright. Also, I told HR, I’d be off today.”
“Fuck HR, what’s wrong?” he asked. “This isn’t like you. Is it that time of the month or something?”
There was some commotion, then I heard the train go past, but it wasn’t just in my living room, it was through his phone.
“No, man. I’m not interested.” I heard Mr. West say, but it was not clear who he was speaking to.
“Come on, blood,” a muted, but gruff voice replied. “Mother’s Day is coming up. Get your wife something.”
Oh hell, that was old man Willy.
“Mr. West,” I called.
“Fuck, buzz me up,” he called. “I’m downstairs being harassed by some guy who doesn’t understand the term no.”
Oh shit.
Sliding on my flip flops, I ran downstairs and opened the heavy wooden door, to see Mr. West giving the man a few twenty-dollar bills.
“Keep them.” He waved his hand and old man Willy, winked at me and flashed his toothless smile.
Shaking my head, I laughed and said, “He always gets the white people.”
“Great,” Mr. West shook his head. “He followed me from the train station to your place.”
“What are you doing here?” I stood in the doorway and stared at him.
His assessing eyes turned on me, then for the first time, he sighed.
“You’re alright,” he made the statement.
“Yes,” I went to answer, but he stepped inside and just bypassed me.
“Mr. West,” I called as he asked me.
“Where’s your place?”
“Really?” I looked at him with my head tilted.
“You scared me, Dakota,” he looked back at me and nodded. “Why did you call out?”
To my surprise again, he began to walk up the stairs, causing me to turn around and see if anyone else saw this man just acting like he owned this place too. Apparently, the walls and lights were quiet too.
I quickly followed him up the steps calling after him, “You do know this is my apartment. I’m not at work and you don’t own this place too.”
“Don’t be a bad host,” he called back as he crossed my threshold, since the door was open. “Offer your mentor some tea or something.”
Devils, I tell you.
Instead of offering him a damn thing, I asked, “Why are you here?” Closing the door behind me, I folded my arms over my chest and stood in front of it.
“I was worried about you. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Are you going to tell me why you caught the train to my place?” I countered.
“Fine,” he shrugged and sat at the dining table, rubbing a large hand through his low-cut, salt and pepper beard.
His eyes hit mine, then he cursed, “You’ve been crying.”
“Mr. West,” I exclaimed. “That’s none of your business.”
“Dakota, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” His voice grew louder, causing me to come to attention.
“Ella’s father wants to get a paternity test.” I unfolded my arms and plopped in the chair. “This is personal shit. Not business.”
“Go on,” he urged.
“That’s it,” I explained. “He wants to get a paternity test. Then he might try to take her away from me or de
mand visitation rights or try to be in my life or…”
“Dakota,” he called my name, but I was getting worked up again.
I continued, “He might even take her back to South Dakota or even try to interfere with this deal. Maybe even try to lay claim to Ella’s inheritance or…”
“Dakota,” Mr. West called again, but also stood up, only to kneel in front of me. “Babe, calm down.”
My breath hitched as I tried to keep my tears in.
“Ella is all I have,” I told him in the ultimate place of vulnerability. “He’s trying to take her away or share her. He didn’t want her. He said on the same night as the Invest in the Best final decision that ‘it wasn’t his.’ He denied her and now five fucking years later, that mother fucker wants to say hi. Who does that? Just come in after five years and wants to visit with her. What for?”
At that point, I was screaming, and tears had begun leaking out of my lids. I felt hands wipe them, then I was being pulled to my feet, where my head hit a hard chest.
“Shhh, calm down.” Mr. West was trying to urge me, but I was gone.
“She’s mine,” I yelled. “He can’t have her. He never wanted her. He wanted my career more than I wanted it and he found out he’s a father and said it’s not his. Now, he demanding a gotdamn paternity test. I swear, men are of the devil. They are the evil workers of Lucifer. All of them.”
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Babe, I’m sorry.”
I pulled back and looked at him, because now he was being really nice.
“And you,” I glared. “You’re all nice, but you are a class A asshole. One that bites my lip, kissed me, and then acts like nothing happened. You are my mentor. Your company invested in mine and you come with your sexy walk, expensive cologne, and ‘handsome and I know it looks, to come into my life and do what? Turn it upside down. For what? To have me wanting you. Dreaming of you. Relieving myself with images of your teeth biting my lip? Is that what you worker of iniquity want? My mind to be a slave to you?”
The man should pull his investment by that omission. I was beyond having fucks to give, though. It was too much. Only God knows what I looked like.
Instead of being repulsed or even slightly offended, Mr. West looked at me under hooded eyes and chuckled. “No, babe. I don’t want any of that shit. Just you.”
Then his head descended and fuck me, I didn’t stop him from biting, then pulling my lip with his sharp teeth.
GOTDAMN.
That was just before he took my mouth in the most scorching hot kiss I’d ever had.
Holy shit.
My body felt like someone set a flame to her and she was not burning but glowing in the back of its precious heat. It was alive and everything that had a nerve, I could feel contract. Nipples, toes, fingers tips, clit, ass, ears and so many more I couldn’t name.
Somehow, we ended against the front door, where Mr. West pulled back and asked, with bated breath, “Tell me to stop.”
Closing my eyes, I knew I did not have it within me to have him stop. I wanted this, though I knew it would be fucked up, but my logical brain said it’s been five fucking years. My lady parts were down for all of it. My brain aligned with the rest. It was the red flags that got outvoted on this one.
Instead of answering him, I lurched forward and bit his bottom lip with my teeth. A feral growl erupted from the wild beast that had me in his arms. Suddenly he hefted up my thighs and my legs were wrapped around his taut body. Mr. West tried to take over the kiss, but I was not having it. So, while he was trying to transition us to room or somewhere to land, I took full gotdamn advantage of kissing him, biting his lips and that deadly tongue of his.
My body did a free fall, causing me to yelp as he dropped me to the bed. But then, I was immediately covered with his hard body and those lips. This time, there was no taking control, he was relinquishing my powers. All while rubbing his hard cock into my scorching center.
My damn.
He smelled so good.
Grabbing what hair I could, I began to pull and meet his thrust as my legs wrapped around his waist.
Mr. West pulled back and uttered through clenched teeth. “Da-ko-ta, make me stop.”
Fuck, the way he said my name. I was so hot.
This time, I push his chest and turned us, so he was on his back and I was on top of him. Moving quickly, I removed his belt, his pants as he helped me by lifting up.
I had to slightly lift off of him, to take off my yoga pants, which is when he grabbed a condom and unbuttoned his dress shirt. When I turned and saw how toned and exquisite his body was, my mouth must have dropped, because he pulled my arm, so I was again, straddling him.
“Ogle later, fuck me now,” he murmured against my lips.
With that, he lifted my hips, so I could line up with him. However, it took a minute before I could actually sit on him fully.
“Fuck, Dakota.” Mr. West groaned as I tried to push past the discomfort, and slide up and down his thick, long dick.
The man was unusually large. Like, what the fuck?
His eyes rolled to the back of his head, every time I slid down. It was like an internal war was coming to its peak within him. His fingers were digging into my hips, even though he let me set the pace in the beginning. Once I was able to sit fully, that was it.
Mr. West took over completely. Fucking me from the bottom and controlling my hips while I bounced on his dick.
“Naughty fucking girl,” he groaned as my ass slapped his thighs. “I’m not done with this tight pussy, by a long shot.”
I pushed his chest, moving him down on the bed, as I leaned over and began to ride the bike all over again. By shaking my ass up and down on his cock, and like the man I needed and wanted, he slapped my ass every other bounce.
“Fuck, make it red,” I breathed against his lips.
Why did I say that?
He slapped me with both hands, until my ass was stinging like a mother fucker.
“Mr. West,” I sighed as he filled me completely with his all-consuming dick.
“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Mr. West,” I slammed down on his cock. “Hard, like that.”
Well, that was all he wrote. With both hands on my flaming ass, Mr. West palmed both of my cheeks, held them against him and fucked me hard until he came, I came, and I think blacked out.
The next thing I felt was his hands traveling up and down my back, as I laid sprawled against his hard chest. Our hot sweat mingled with the sweet smell of ecstasy in the air, along with my stinging ass.
“If I’m your devil, then you are my angel,” he said in my hair, as my eyes fluttered open.
With nothing else to say and to be honest, a little too embarrassed to show my face, Mr. West took the decision from me.
Lifting me up, he carried us to the shower, where he turned it on, while I nabbed the shower cap and then let him wash me. He rubbed on my clit, until I was cumming in his hand and biting on his ear lobe.
No words were exchanged, but it was all in the looks. They said many things, but the ones I heard and that took priority.
This was not over.
This was not just a fuck.
I could run if I wanted to. He’d find me.
Yup, I got all of that from the look. Maybe, just maybe, this was what I wanted too.
9
Jonah West
It was interesting that we men had many sides to our personalities, makeup and delivery of emotions. Sometimes it was not always easy to see which side was operating. Still, recently with Dakota, I could see my gears switching, depending on the situation, from the very beginning. When we first met, it was the protective side that came out. She was young, trying to fulfill her dreams and I wanted her to succeed. Even though she so eloquently said, fuck me, I still took the time to explain why her fucked up attitude would mess her up and ruin opportunities. I took the time to tell her why I said no. I’m not a man that explains myself, but with her, I did
.
Even when I saw her out on the street when I was with Brooke, in the coffee shop, and out there with her Ella’s father, it was the protective side that came out. Again, not a place I often visit. The urge to want to fix her situation and ensure that she had whatever she needed and was taking care of shit, I hadn’t even done that with Brooke or other significant others.
While she was under my employment, I served the role of leader or teacher. As her mentor, I want her to go out there and kill with Skin for Her. I want her business to be so cutting edge, that when she went public, the marketing would be something the press did for us, because the product would be everywhere. Yeah, I’ll get my investment, but her shit will be tight. Even tighter than my other investments ever were. Yup, I was heavily invested.
The moment, when I was ‘casually’ walking past a meeting she was supposed to be in earlier that day but did not see her, I knew something was wrong. This had me switching from teacher, to provider, which is why I knew what was happening. I wanted to provide the answers. This shit had me looking up her address with Human Resources, under the guise of sending her a file, because she was working from home, to hopping on the train to see her, unexpectantly.
This shit led me to hear a fucked-up story of this woman concerned about her beautiful daughter, who looked the spitting image of her mother. This activated the protector in me again.
There was nothing else she needed to say that would have me on the phone with a lawyer, private investigator and anyone else that needed to be contacted to make sure that she was good. To see this strong woman cry, broke my heart in ways that made me want to stop her tears by any means necessary.
My own rules against touching her, getting in her space, breaking my own code of fucking around with clients and employees and a number of other things were blown to smithereens, when I stepped foot across her threshold. I touched those tears on her face. The atomic bomb went off when she began to weep in my arms and fuck me, but when I imagined her in my arms, it was not because of that. I needed her tears to stop. So, I went about stopping them.
Poor decisions, West.
Poor fucking decisions.