The One, page 2
Her body was all dips and curves and valleys. Like the one between her tits as she smashed them together between her arms. The hair at her nape, something else I have a weakness for, was baby soft and sweet. Yeah, the back of her neck was making my dick hard.
Her skin looked unnaturally healthy. Like the kind of skin you only expect to see in photoshop. I wondered if it was as soft as it appeared—a soft dewy pink with not a blemish in sight. By the time I got to her ass, my dick was already sniffing the air. Something tells me that she might be the one to put him through his paces.
For all that I’m attracted to her, curvy women never give me the time of day. For some reason, they always think I’m playing them, so I end up either with a substitute or palm and her five daughters. I guess I could go out and buy myself a curvy belle, but I don’t want that. I want something a bit more involved.
It’s been a while since I gave up looking because although a run-of-the-mill fling or a one-night stand with a substitute might be fine, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna marry any woman except the one I want. And why the hell am I thinking about that shit now? Because her ass is the finest, you’ve seen in a while, if ever.
I don’t know what it is about me and her type or why I was allowed to hear her thoughts tonight. I expect her to backtrack in the morning, of course, but they say a drunk man speaks with a sober tongue.
Steph
Where the hell am I? I felt something hard and firm under my cheek as the little drummer boy was showing his ass inside my head. I tried to recall the night before as I squinted around the room without seeing much since the sun had yet to make an appearance, and outside, the half-dark half-light of predawn was of no help in the room that was a solid black on black.
Oh shit, I’m not wearing my glasses. I can’t see far for shit, but up close, I’m an owl. I saw a flash of grey out the side of my eye, and something tickled my memory. What was that? I remember going to the club with Nat and sitting at the bar. Oh! My eyes widened, and I turned my head to look down.
“Eeek!” I would’ve fallen off the bed had he not snapped awake and wrapped his arms around me.
“Easy sugar.” His voice was like molten sex. I felt a tingle between my thighs. Oh, dear. No-no-no-no-no. You pipe down in there, now is not the time to show your ass. You don’t even know this man.” I could just imagine Ms. Kitty rolling her eyes at me. I’m pretty sure she did say, ‘that’s not what you were saying last night.’
While I was lassoing my cooch, he was dead on staring at me. I clapped my hand over my mouth because, you know, morning breath is a thing. “The bathroom’s through there; help yourself.” I looked down at myself to see the disarray. My skirt was hiked up above my hips, and one of my breasts was in danger of escaping my bra. Full coverage, my ass.
I slid down to the bottom of the bed and rolled into a sitting position with all the dignity I could muster. First order of business, as soon as I closed and locked the bathroom door was to check on Ms. Kitty. “Did you get you some?”
‘I thought I was, but then your big ass passed out.’
“You swear? You didn’t do nothing while I was asleep?”
“Listen, I know you’re accustomed to pencil dick, but we felt that one last night while you were ten sheets to the wind, and he doesn’t have the same problem. If I’d done anything last night, you would’ve known.”
“What do you mean?”
‘I mean, he’s packing enough heat to put us both in traction. Now listen here, you made a promise, and you better keep that shit, or I’ll bleed for a whole damn year.”
“Okay, hush, I promised I’d get you a nice one this time; just give me some time.”
‘Did you not hear my part of the conversation. El snako, will do-o’
“Shh, lemme think about it.”
MACE
Who the hell is she talking to in there? I started to get up and ask her if she was okay, then realized she must be on the phone, no doubt asking her friend to fill in the blanks. I could fill them in for her, but she might not like it. She might not like hearing that by the end of the night, and she still hadn’t awakened. I’d sent my guys home and stayed here with her to watch over her instead of going home to my more comfortable bed.
Or that she’d crawled onto my chest as soon as I laid down beside her after debating whether I should join her or sleep on the leather couch in the outer room. Deciding between sleeping on the hard couch instead of curled up to her curvy warmth was a no-brainer.
Then I’d stayed up all night with a hard-on that didn’t want to take no for an answer, but since I wasn’t about to fuck a drunk woman in my bed who I’d promised to protect, that shit was dead. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt about fucking her and cumming all over her tits.
Then I remembered her talk about my babies, and even in my dreams, that shit made my cock rock hard. I fucked her in every way imaginable in my dreams, cumming in her deep each time. My dick was following along with my thoughts, and with her scent still on me and on the sheets as well, he was looking for something warm and wet to slip into.
“Fuck!” My dick was only too happy to agree. Fucker was like, ‘yeah, let’s do this.’ Great, now I’m having conversations with my dick. Whatever she’s doing in there, she must not have spent the night with a strange man very often because she didn’t even turn the water on as a decoy.
I should be up getting ready to go home and get ready for the day, but for some reason, I’m not even in the mood to go do any of the things I’d been looking forward to last night. I heard a laugh coming from the bathroom and then some more smothered words that did not carry. It was only then that I noticed her purse open on the floor, with her phone in it. My head swung back around to the bathroom. It figures she’s fucking nuts.
STEPH
I found some toothpaste in one of the drawers and brushed my teeth with my fingers before swigging some mouthwash. The bathroom was well stocked, and I snooped but didn’t see anything to indicate that a female spent any length of time here.
A quick sniff of my arms wasn’t too foul, but I wiped them with a couple of the hand wipes on the counter and used the male deodorant just in case. When I’d sat down to pee, I was reassured that nothing had happened the night before because there were no strange liquids oozing out of my snatch and no smell like walking through the fish market at the hottest time of the day.
I say that because he looks like the kind of man to have the kind of sex you read about in books, and every time I read one of those overzealous sex scenes, two things happen, one I imagine the room smells like a hot mess, and two, I give my now ex-husband the stink eye for gipping me in every way possible for a husband to do that shit. Two-minute wonder that he is, bless his heart.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Ms. Kitty, you talking to me again?” Ms. Kitty barely said two words to me in ten years. Ever since the morning after my wedding night and she begged and pleaded for an annulment, and I told her we should give my new husband a chance.
She broke out nine years three hundred and sixty—four days ago. Just about the same time, I should’ve. People always say men think with their dicks, but if their dicks are as sensible as my cooch when it comes to weeding out losers, I can’t say that I blame them.
I combed my fingers through my hair and had to be okay with that because I’d left my purse in the room. Not that I had anything in there that would help, just a tube of lipstick and some powder. I’m not in the habit of spending the night anyplace other than my bed.
I left my wild days behind in college, not that I had many. Even after I got up the nerve to leave my marriage, I didn’t see anyone or actively looked until the divorce was final. I didn’t want to give that she-demon any leverage over me in the divorce since she was already telling anyone who would listen how I’d wronged her precious baby boy. Barf!
I left the bathroom and sheepishly walked back into the room, ready to offer my apologies for what must’ve gone on the night before that facilitated me spending the night. But when I looked up, he had this weary look on his face. Oh boy, I know that look.
“You heard me didn’t you?” My face was fifty shades of red, but I’d promised myself that I was no longer going to hide from life the way I used to when I was too beaten down to care. That’s what I’d spent the last two years doing since the separation.
I’d worked on myself, building up my self-confidence. The only thing I didn’t do was starve myself to lose weight. Life is already hard enough as it is; why should I deny myself my one true pleasure?
I’d gone back to what I loved doing, taken my daddy’s company that he’d left me out of the hands of my now ex-husband, and was living my best life, except for the baby thing; I was flying high. Though in all fairness to myself, the divorce was only finalized a few days ago because Henry the weasel was trying to get half of my company, and there was no way in hell he was getting even one percent.
It had taken two years and lots of money to fight, so I didn’t have to give him a penny. I’d rather give it to the lawyers than him any day. Baby daddy raised one of his eyebrows at me, still with that ‘she’s crazy’ look on his face.
“Who were you talking to, sweetheart?”
have mercy; it wasn’t my imagination; his voice really does sound like that. ‘Sit on his face. That is one silver tongue he’s got there.’
“Shh, Ms. Kitty!” That eyebrow was about to reach his hairline.
“I was talking to Ms. Kitty.”
“And who would that be?” He looked around as if searching for my imaginary friend. With my face bright as the sun, I pointed to my crotch and tried to pretend I wasn’t embarrassed about making a fool of myself.
“You talk to your pussy?” He had an indignant look on his face.
“Doesn’t everybody?” I’m not sure what this new look was, but it looked more thoughtful than judgmental. “So, last night, did we?” I know we didn’t have sex, but maybe we fooled around. Oh, please tell me we did something. ‘I told you your big ass passed out; what do you think he is, a perv? Would you really want to be with a man who would do that? From pencil dick to pervert. Look here, let me do the talking.’
“How?” I started to ask her how she planned to do that but, from his expression, decided it was best if I didn’t have any more conversations with my crotch in front of strangers. I bet I’d just killed any interest he had.
Not that he would’ve had any. The man is a freak of nature. A perfect specimen in face and form, and he looks just as good sitting up in bed with his hair all tousled from sleep as he had walking through the club last night with his fine ass. I licked my lips just as I remembered that he was still looking at me.
MACE
Well, I guess I can’t blame her since I talk to my dick, but I don’t recall us having any in-depth conversations that went on for as long as she was in there chatting. She must have a chatty pussy. I’m still not sure what to make of her. She seems to be a mix of confusing contrasts. Her eyes are vulnerable and innocent, her mouth borderline crass, and her body was made for fucking.
“What’s your name again?”
“Mace. And you?” like I didn’t know.
“Stephanie, but my friends call me Steph.”
“Well, Steph…anie, do you have a car here? I need to get going.” Dammit, why did she get that look on her face? Like I’d kicked her out of my bed after a night of hot sex.
That vulnerability shone strongly in her eyes, and I felt like a bastard when I hadn’t even done anything wrong.
“On second thought, I can run you home.
“Oh, no, that’s okay; I can get an Uber.” She grabbed her purse and slipped her feet into her shoes, and headed for the door.
I got up and walked her downstairs and let her out the backdoor that led to the back of the parking lot. She didn’t look back as she toddled along, and I realized she hadn’t buckled her shoes.
Shaking my head, I went back inside and turned on the coffee pot, and took the first sip before it was finished brewing. I had a shit ton of things to do today, and none of them involved standing around thinking about that look of hurt in her eyes. I filled my cup and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Her scent was still here, wrapping itself around me. Cute girl! Crazy, but cute.
I didn’t think about her all week. Too busy and too much other shit that took precedence. In fact, I didn’t think about her until I saw her come into my place the following Friday night. Another night I wasn’t supposed to be here; I’d made other plans that fell through at the last minute and decided to swing by here on a whim.
My dick reminded me that I came by here in hopes of seeing her again because she’d been haunting my dreams every fucking night for the last week. Yeah, that’s how much I haven’t been thinking about her. I can push thoughts of her aside during the day when I’m busy doing other shit.
But as soon as my head hits the pillow and I close my eyes, it’s her, I see. Her, with her hair, spread out on my pillow, those big brown eyes staring up at me while I ride her hard, deep, and strong. “Oh, you seen her, didn’t you?” My dick lifted his head and sniffed the air as soon as I panned in on her at the bar.
She was wearing some kind of wraparound dress that flowed down her legs. It was white with big colorful tropical flowers. But it was the neckline that drew the eye. It had a deep decline that showed just the curve of her cleavage and left the observer hoping for more.
I rewound the tape. I wanted to see what else she had going on with the dress, so I went back to when she first walked in. Aha, I see, there was a slit up to very near her crotch, and her legs showed through each time she took a step.
Her skin looked dewy with a hint of bronze-like she’d had a tan, and her hair was up off her neck in one of those fussy intricate things women do with their hair to make men stupid. I went back to the live feed just in time to see her turn her back on the secret camera.
I zoomed in again, this time on the fine hairs at the back of her head. Fuck, did she catch on that I have a thing for that shit? Why would she wear her hair like that? I was so focused on her nape. I didn’t stop to look at what her friend was pointing out to her. I sat forward in my chair and cracked my neck to the left.
Uh-oh! This is bad. I only do that shit when I’m about to tussle; the right’s usually when it’s gonna be an all-out war. I zoomed in on the swinging dick her friend was pointing out to her, then turned on the mic in that sector. I’d promised myself not to eavesdrop on her conversation after they walked in.
The last time had been a fluke, but that’s not what I had them installed for. I did it as a way to keep my customers safe and to keep creeps from out of my place. When it comes to safety, I don’t have that many fucks to give about who says what. If I think something’s gonna help, I’m gonna do it, illegal, immoral, or whatever.
“Ugh, he’s okay, I guess.” That’s the first thing I heard when I turned on the mic.
“But he’s no Mr. Hottie. He won’t make the same beautiful babies.”
Damn straight!
“I thought it didn’t matter who it was with as long as he got the job done. Besides, I don’t think the owner of a nightclub would let you pay him to have his baby.”
“Owner? Did you say, owner? Of this club?”
“Didn’t he tell you? I thought you knew.” Nat answered. Stephanie jumped down off the barstool and grabbed her wrist after finishing her fruity drink.
“What’re you doing?”
“We’ve gotta go.”
“What? Why?”
“He heard me talking to my cooch; now he thinks I’m crazy, and he couldn’t wait to kick me out. Let’s go!”
I stood up from my seat, not even sure why and called downstairs to the guys on the front door because I wasn’t going to make it in time.
“Jaxxon, female black on brown five-three, white dress, big colorful flowers, detain her. Put her in the executive suite and her friend on the other side.”
STEPH
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before we came here.” Okay, ideally, I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Mace Donovan from afar. I didn’t need him to see me or even say hello; I just needed to see him one more time to convince my cooch and my sub-conscience that there was no way he was as perfect as they remembered.
I had to do this against my better judgment because all week, my cooch has been caterwauling something fierce. Apparently, she’d gotten up close and personal with his morning wood and was convinced he was just what she needed to cure her of her ten-year disappointment.
“Hurry, Nat. With my luck, he’d be coming through the door as we’re leaving. I couldn’t stand the humiliation.” That’s right, every time Ms. Know it all started, I’d just remind myself of the humiliation of walking away limping with my shoes half off my feet, wild hair, and raccoon eyes.
I hadn’t noticed the eyes for some reason while I was in his bathroom. Probably because I’d gone cockeyed, but I did think I did a pretty good job of combing my hair with my fingers. I did not. By the time I got out of the Uber, which I’d walked a couple of blocks away to call (Can you imagine if I’d stood around outside the club and he came out and got in his car and drove away)? I’d have died of embarrassment.
Anyway, after that half-assed walk of shame, where I did nothing to be ashamed of so, I got all the humiliation and none of the good stuff; I’d slithered into my house like the one night stand slut I aspired to be and got a look at myself when I had to offload my bladder once again. I damn near thought there was someone else in the room with me. In all my years, I’ve never left the house looking anything but put together.
